#but that's just the impression i got personally

[majikkulu]

✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ i'm  not  a  professional  astrologer,  so  they  may  not  resonate  with  everyone—take  them  with  a  grain  of  salt.  consider  the  planets, degrees, etc! these  are  just  my  personal  observations  and  opinions

if  you  have  any  astrology  post  suggestions,  feel  free  to  drop  them  in  my  ask  box,  and  i’ll  make  it  happen!  xoxo.

☁️₊˚੭

⋆⁺₊ your  ascendant  persona  chart  (apc)  reveals  a  more  intense,  refined  version  of  how  you  present  yourself  to  the  world.  it  dives  deeper  into  your  rising  sign,  showing  a  clearer  expression  of  who  you  are.  think  of  it  as  a  magnified  first  impression,  offering  more  than  your  natal  chart.  the  apc  also  explores  how  you  shift  in  different  situations,  especially  when  your  natal  rising  differs  from  your  ascendant  persona.

⋆⁺₊ in  my  opinion,  your  rising  in  the  natal  chart  reflects  how  you  see  yourself—your  inner  self  and  how  you  outwardly  express  that.  it’s  the  balance  between  your  personality's  essence  and  your  physical  appearance.  on  the  other  hand,  your  rising  in  the  ascendant  persona  chart  reveals  how  others  see  you,  how  you  come  across  to  them,  and  how  your  energy  is  perceived  by  the  world  around  you.

⋆⁺₊ take  me,  for  example.  in  my  natal  chart,  i’ve  got  gemini  rising,  so  i’m  talkative,  expressive,  and  always  buzzing  with  youthful  energy.  i  get  bored  easily  and  crave  mental  stimulation—constantly  chasing  new  knowledge,  exploring,  analyzing,  overthinking.  it’s  the  classic  curious  gemini  vibe.  but  then,  in  my  ascendant  persona  chart,  capricorn  rising  takes  over,  and  that’s  where  things  get  interesting.  now  i’m  seen  as  serious,  reserved,  and  cautious—basically  the  opposite  of  gemini’s  free-spirited  nature.  my  face  usually  looks  serious,  and  i’ve  been  called  “bitchy”  or  “mean,”  which  is  far  from  who  i  really  am. this  mix  of  gemini  and  capricorn  gives  me  versatility,  shifting  from  playful  curiosity  to  calm  maturity  depending  on  the  context.  in  most  situations,  that  capricorn  energy  takes  over.  funny  enough,  people  often  tell  me  i  ooze  with  capricorn  traits,  rather  than  the  gemini  ones  i  feel  inside.

✮ ARIES RISING IN APC you’ve  got  this  fearless,  bold  aura  that  immediately  grabs  attention.  no  hesitation,  no  fluff—just  straight-up  honesty  and  fiery  energy.  people  might  find  you  hot  and  a  little  intimidating,  especially  when  you  take  charge  and  lead  the  way.  conversation?  you’re  always  the  first  to  spark  it.  you  thrive  on  competition,  and  it  finds  its  way  to  you  naturally.  your  energy  is  magnetic—too  much  for  some,  but  others  can’t  help  but  be  drawn  in.  rebellious,  decisive,  and  independent,  you  crave  excitement,  new  experiences,  and  constant  movement.  your  actions  can  be  impulsive,  sometimes  reckless,  but  somehow  you  always  land  on  your  feet.  frustration  may  follow  when  things  don’t  move  as  fast  as  you'd  like,  but  chaos?  you  thrive  in  it.  you  radiate  sex  appeal  in  a  way  that  makes  heads  turn.

✮ TAURUS RISING IN APC you  have  that  cool,  composed  vibe  that  makes  everyone  feel  at  ease.  people  are  drawn  to  your  quiet,  sensual  beauty.  you  take  your  time  with  decisions,  always  careful  and  deliberate.  there's  a  calm,  almost  magnetic  confidence  about  you—it's  understated  yet  undeniably  powerful.  you  don’t  show  your  vulnerabilities  easily,  creating  a  sense  of  independence  and  self-sufficiency.  underneath  it  all,  though,  you’re  grounded  and  in  tune  with  what’s  real.  chaotic  spaces  drain  you,  but  you  bring  peace  and  comfort  to  others.  where  aries  is  all  flash,  you’re  slow,  steady,  and  enduring.  your  energy  is  soothing,  warm,  and  draws  people  in  without  trying.

✮ GEMINI RISING IN APC curiosity  and  communication  are  your  driving  forces.  even  if  you’re  not  the  most  social,  people  see  you  as  lively  and  engaging.  you’re  constantly  learning,  always  on  the  lookout  for  new  experiences.  your  energy  shifts  faster  than  anyone  can  keep  up,  and  your  quick  wit  makes  you  fun  to  be  around.  talkative,  expressive,  and  ever-restless,  you  might  leave  people  guessing  who  you  are.  you’re  full  of  surprises—constantly  changing,  adapting,  and  keeping  things  fresh.  your  style?  it  mirrors  your  personality—constantly  evolving.  you  can  be  self-conscious,  worrying  about  how  others  see  you,  but  your  charm  always  wins  them  over.

✮ CANCER RISING IN APC you  come  off  as  a  gentle,  nurturing  soul,  making  others  feel  safe  and  comfortable  around  you.  soft-spoken  but  never  weak,  you  have  a  quiet  strength.  mysterious,  private,  and  sometimes  moody,  you  might  not  reveal  everything  at  first,  leaving  people  curious.  you  feel  deeply,  and  sometimes,  that  causes  you  to  retreat  when  overwhelmed.  intimate  settings  feel  like  home,  but  you’re  also  more  social  than  most  realize.  there's  something  magnetic  about  your  warmth  and  sensitivity,  and  once  people  get  past  the  surface,  they  see  your  depth.  you’re  fiercely  protective  of  your  loved  ones  and  incredibly  loyal,  but  you  need  space  to  recharge.

✮ LEO RISING IN APC you  light  up  the  room  with  a  radiant,  magnetic  energy  that  can’t  be  ignored.  people  are  naturally  drawn  to  you—whether  it’s  your  loud,  expressive  nature  or  your  vibrant  charisma.  you’re  a  people  person  with  a  heart  of  gold,  always  bringing  excitement  and  joy  wherever  you  go.  there’s  an  artistic  side  to  you  that  shines  through,  whether  it’s  in  hobbies  or  raw  talent.  everyone  wants  to  be  around  you  because  you  make  them  feel  seen  and  heard.  you  lead  with  warmth,  generosity,  and  an  infectious  enthusiasm  that  makes  you  unforgettable.

✮ VIRGO RISING IN APC you  give  off  an  aura  of  quiet  confidence.  observant  and  thoughtful,  you  pay  attention  to  the  tiniest  details  others  miss.  reliable  and  practical,  you  get  things  done  without  needing  the  spotlight.  you’re  self-aware  and  often  find  yourself  analyzing  everything  in  your  path.  your  actions  speak  louder  than  words,  and  though  you  might  seem  busy,  you’re  always  on  top  of  everything.  stress  may  come  naturally,  but  so  does  your  knack  for  solving  problems  like  a  detective.  competent,  responsible,  and  always  prepared,  people  trust  you  to  handle  things  when  it  counts.

✮ LIBRA RISING IN APC people  can’t  help  but  be  drawn  to  you  with  your  natural  charm  and  ease  in  social  settings.  you  know  how  to  make  others  feel  comfortable  and  welcome,  and  your  sense  of  justice  makes  you  the  one  who  stands  up  for  what’s  right.  optimism  flows  from  you,  and  negativity  doesn’t  find  a  home  in  your  vibe.  though  you  radiate  kindness,  your  humor  can  be  surprisingly  dark.  you’re  dramatic  in  how  you  express  yourself,  and  you’re  always  quick  to  make  friends.  at  first,  you  give  people  everything,  but  it  can  take  time  for  them  to  truly  get  to  know  the  real  you.

✮ SCORPIO RISING IN APC there’s  a  magnetism  about  you,  one  that  pulls  people  in  or  pushes  them  away.  you  have  a  private,  mysterious  side,  and  your  calm,  composed  exterior  hides  a  fierce  emotional  depth.  you’re  not  easy  to  figure  out—your  thoughts  and  feelings  stay  under  lock  and  key.  but  those  who  earn  your  trust  find  an  incredibly  loyal,  intense  connection.  you’re  fiercely  protective  of  your  boundaries,  and  people  see  you  as  powerful  and  enigmatic.  your  intelligence  lets  you  see  through  people  and  situations,  and  your  empathy  allows  you  to  connect  deeply  with  those  close  to  you.  hardships  may  have  shaped  you,  but  you  wear  them  like  armor.

✮ SAGITTARIUS RISING IN APC optimistic,  adventurous,  and  always  on  the  lookout  for  something  new,  you  have  an  expansive  energy  that  makes  you  seem  larger-than-life.  you’re  always  in  search  of  meaning,  diving  deep  into  philosophy  or  spirituality.  straightforward  and  direct,  you  speak  your  mind  without  hesitation,  though  it  can  sometimes  come  off  as  blunt.  honesty  is  your  signature,  and  you’re  always  keeping  things  light  and  enjoyable.  family  matters  to  you  deeply,  and  you  expect  the  same  loyalty  and  support  you  give.

✮ CAPRICORN RISING IN APC you  might  come  off  as  serious  or  even  a  bit  distant,  with  a  reserved  vibe  that  gives  off  the  impression  of  someone  who's  always  in  work  mode.  people  might  mistake  you  for  constantly  unhappy,  but  that’s  just  the  exterior.  underneath,  you  have  a  quiet  strength  that  draws  people  in.  you’re  committed  to  your  passions  and  interests,  taking  them  seriously  and  with  a  focus  on  stability.  you’re  selective  about  the  people  you  let  into  your  life,  and  even  more  selective  about  what  you  share.  your  presence  can  be  intimidating,  but  those  who  get  past  your  guarded  exterior  see  your  reliable,  supportive  side.

✮ AQUARIUS RISING IN APC you  have  an  unconventional  energy  that  catches  people  off  guard.  a  little  aloof,  a  little  detached,  you  stand  out  without  even  trying.  independent  and  easygoing,  you  have  an  unpredictable  streak  that  keeps  people  guessing.  your  rebellious  side  can  make  you  seem  a  bit  dangerous,  and  you’re  always  changing  in  ways  others  don’t  expect.  you  connect  with  all  kinds  of  people,  from  all  walks  of  life,  effortlessly.  you’re  open-minded,  curious,  and  cool—like  a  more  laid-back,  intellectual  gemini.

✮ PISCES RISING IN APC gentle  and  empathetic,  you  have  an  approachable,  almost  ethereal  vibe.  you  make  people  feel  understood  without  saying  much.  your  kindness  and  compassion  are  evident  in  everything  you  do,  even  when  you  might  seem  a  bit  distant and disconnected.  you’re  highly  sensitive,  and  emotions  can  sometimes  overwhelm  you,  making  you  retreat  to  recharge.  you  live  in  your  own  world,  but  once  people  get  to  know  you,  they  see  a  different  side—one  that’s  outgoing,  bubbly,  and  full  of  life.  you’re  sweet,  and  your  energy  is  almost  ghost-like,  flowing  in  and  out  of  spaces,  leaving  a  trail  of  warmth  behind.

[moontyger]

I've been meaning to reply to this for awhile and it's largely because I feel like functionally, the person above who said formality in English is dying is right. I have seen people claim that, for example, using honorifics when translating Japanese is bad translation and you can demonstrate the same thing in English. And I have never agreed. "Formal Japanese is like speaking to your boss" is something that I've heard a lot, but I don't really feel there's a huge difference in language in (US American) English. All right, so you don't say "fuck" or "shit" or that something "sucks." But how do you tell the difference between that and someone who simply doesn't use curse words? You can't. (And except for the times when I worked for medical doctors, I've always called my bosses by their first name and it would have stood out as unusual if I didn't.)

Like those 5 examples of formality levels above? So A is something you'll only see in written English. It's the language of things like wedding invitations, which have retained formal customs that are no longer used in other areas. If someone is actually speaking like that, I'm at a Ren Faire; this is not everyday language. No one speaks to their boss like this and if you did, it would stand out as very odd - so much so that you might even be spoken to about it because it would be assumed it was a deliberate affectation and possibly even mocking. (But if you're trying to represent the speech of a character who speaks archaic Japanese, it would work for that, but obviously that is not the same as merely formal.)

B is something you might hear, but it is still a little unusually stiff. It sounds like the person is uncomfortable more than they're being formal, like they're asking someone out on a first date. (Though I guess 'formal' is maybe meant to be 'I am terrified to speak to this person'? But I never got the impression that that's quite right.) People would notice if someone were speaking like this and probably flag it as a sign of nervousness, maybe social awkwardness if they did it all the time.

And E is just... do real people speak like this? (Also it's complicated, because if they do, I also feel like this language is not just informal, it's gendered male and coded as young, so maybe it's just a bad example because it's folded so many things into it beyond formality.)

As an aside: this is part of why I think kids are often still expected to use titles when adults aren't. Socially, the US is more hierarchical with children and expects formalities from them that are not expected of adults.

This leaves C and D as the quotidian examples. D is less formal, granted, but would I say it to my boss? Sure. (OK, I actually wouldn't, but that's because I've never called a meal "a bite" in my life. But "wanna grab lunch" seems fine. It doesn't strike me as inappropriate.) So I guess I feel like yes, technically all these levels of formality exist, but most of them are not actually used any longer, so if you're using them for translating contemporary people speaking, results may be very "real people don't talk like this."

Now maybe part of this is that I live in a very informal area of the country. Maybe in other regions they really are using B to speak to their boss. But it definitely isn't a universal thing such that I would feel it was something that could be said of "modern English" in general. (Also all the examples above as well as my perspective are very white, which is of course also a complication with modern spoken American English: there are real racial distinctions. So to some extent it is a hard language to generalize.)

Edit to Add: I also want to note here that this really has changed pretty quickly. People in the 1950s and 60s were much more formal than they are now and even somewhat more formal in the 1980s. You could definitely extrapolate something about politics and some people wanting more hierarchy (and freaking out about the lack of it) from a panic about the loss of formality in spoken language.

I'm so fascinated by languages with different levels of formality built in because it immediately introduces such complex social dynamics. The social distance between people is palpable when it's built right into the language, in a way it's not really palpable in English.

So for example. I speak Spanish, and i was taught to address everyone formally unless specifically invited otherwise. People explained to me that "usted" was formal, for use with strangers, bosses, and other people you respect or are distant from, while "tú" is used most often between family and good friends.

That's pretty straightforward, but it gets interesting when you see people using "tú" as a form of address for flirting with strangers, or for picking a fight or intimidating someone. In other languages I've sometimes heard people switch to formal address with partners, friends or family to show when they are upset. That's just so interesting! You're indicating social and emotional space and hierarchy just in the words you choose to address the other person as "you"!!

Not to mention the "what form of address should I use for you...?" conversation which, idk how other people feel about it, but to me it always felt awkward as heck, like a DTR but with someone you're only just becoming comfortable with. "You can use tú with me" always felt... Weirdly intimate? Like, i am comfortable around you, i consider you a friend. Like what a vulnerable thing to say to a person. (That's probably also just a function of how i was strictly told to use formal address when i was learning. Maybe others don't feel so weird about it?)

And if you aren't going to have a conversation about it and you're just going to switch, how do you know when? If you switch too soon it might feel overly familiar and pushy but if you don't switch soon enough you might seem cold??? It's so interesting.

Anyway. As an English-speaking American (even if i can speak a bit of Spanish), i feel like i just don't have a sense for social distance and hierarchy, really, simply because there isn't really language for it in my mother tongue. The fact that others can be keenly aware of that all the time just because they have words to describe it blows my mind!

[pencil-n-pen]

ALL I DO IS TRY, TRY, TRY

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post prison! spencer x genius fem! reader

masterlist

summary: all your life, you’ve been second-best. Even now that you’ve been chosen to be an agent of the BAU, you’re just a replacement for Spencer Reid. What could change now that’s he’s out?

cw: there is a bit of an age gap, i imagined reader in her early to mid 20’s, nevermind how it isn’t accurate for working at FBI. this is a criminal minds fic, so there are graphic depictions of violence, as well as implied/referenced child neglect/abuse in readers childhood, reader is somewhat a genius

tropes/tags: slowburn on readers end, Spencer is flirting from the beginning, HURT/COMFORT, angst, bit of a sick fic in one scene, bit of soft dom! spencer as a treat

a/n : this came to me in a prophecy. full disclosure i haven’t actually seen the prison arc yet so if there’s any inaccuracies shhhhhh look at the fluff

also !! this is a LOOOOONG one. strap yourselves in. grab snacks and drinks

slipped in some very slight father figure Hotch bc that’s my crack

title taken from Mirrorball by Taylor Swift

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Spencer Reid is absolutely nothing like you’d thought he’d be.

From how the team talked about him, you’d been expecting a short, slight man. Someone quiet and meek and non-threatening.

And Dr. (Agent?) Reid was quiet. But not in the don’t-notice-me way, but in the I-know-what-I’m-doing-and-don’t-need-to-say-it way. He quietly commanded attention and respect. One look at the man told you he was not somebody to fuck with.

He was also really, really, really hot.

It was unfortunate and difficult, truly, because he’s your senior agent, someone who’s got more than a few years on you in both field experience and general age. He’s a genius- insanely good at what he does and there’s no refuting that.

But most of all, he’s kind and respectful and just genuinely a good person. And also good looking. Did you mention that yet?

He clicks seamlessly into place with the team in a way you’ve never managed to do in the time you’ve been with him. And after all, why would you? You’re just the rookie transfer with a bit higher than average IQ. Nothing to brag about. Nothing like Spencer.

You were a data analyst with the FBI before your boss told you: “The BAU is looking for a temporary genius. I put your name in the ring. Hotchner must’ve been impressed with something, cause he picked you. I know you’ve completed the training courses for their team, so pack your desk. You’ve got a new assignment.”

And just like that, every single one of your dreams came true. And then promptly burst into flames and burned to ashes when you realized what exactly your position on the team was: Temporary and replacing.

It makes sense, you guess. The team grew to rely on Reid’s quick wit and intellect. And beyond that, they’re an agent short. And you fit the bill well enough: swift and intelligent. Nothing more, nothing less. It became clear during the first few weeks that no one on the team had any intention of liking or particularly getting to know you beyond a professional capacity. And you get it, you really do. You don’t name the dog you’re gonna get rid of.

With the exception of Penelope. But you don’t think she has the ability to ignore someone without a clear reason.

So you did your job and you were good at it. Held the team at arm’s length even when they warmed up to you. Kept your head down, stuck to yourself. This way, it’s easier to stop yourself from leaning into JJ and Prentiss’s jokes, or to stamp down the glow in your chest from Hotch’s approval.

All of this hard work goes sailing straight out the window and spattering on the concrete below when Reid comes back. Because all it took was one case together- one. And then you’re hopelessly in love with the guy you replaced.

And it’s all kinds of terrible, because it’s Reid. He’s not only your coworker —soon to be ex, because now that he’s back you’ll be out of a job— but he’s also so incredibly out of your league it’s not even funny. But he keeps smiling at you and including you in conversations and saying hi to you and asking your opinion on things during cases as if you would have more to add than he does.

It’s very hard to keep him at arms length. And because Reid is Reid he drags everybody else over with him and then you’re bonding with a team you have a week left with, maybe two.

Spencer Reid has weaseled his way into your life one stupid smile at a time.

—

The case is going terribly.

What started as a run-of-the-mill serial killer case in some nowhere town turned into huge investigation because Spe— Reid figured out its relation to a cold case from a neighboring town decades prior. And then, to top everything off, just so happens to be near enough to your hometown that your mom saw you on the news when JJ was giving a statement.

And now she won’t stop calling.

Prior to this, you haven’t talked to your mom in about seven months. Now? She’s calling upwards of twelve times a day.

“Mom,” You say, tucked in one of the police stations back rooms, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m working, I can’t just come out to see you—“

“But you’ve never visited! And your finally in town, and—“

“I’m not in town, I’m a four hour drive away from town.”

A sigh crackles through the line, her voice tinny. “You know, your brother always made time to visit family, and your younger brothers—“

“Are younger than me and more successful, yes mom, I’ve heard it all before. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to catch a serial killer.”

You snap the phone shut before she can protest, effectively ending the call. You sag against the wall, sighing deep and weary. Exhaustion clings to your bones. It’s not just your mom. This case, being physically close to your hometown, everything— it’s weighing you down. You spend more time in the hotel bed tossing and turning than sleeping.

Even Em— Prentiss had shot you look when you’d came in this morning- though jury’s still out about whether or not it was an are-you-okay look or a you-better-be-good-for-the-case look. You’re hoping it’s the former.

The room you’re in is empty- the precinct that called for the team went under renovation and remodeling last year, so some of the rooms have fallen into disuse, apparently. It’s dusty, and filled with boxes and papers and weirdly, one or two condom wrappers. You wish you were surprised.

Your phone has been put strongly on silent, and you’re not expecting anyone to find you for at least twenty minutes. Of course, you don’t need twenty minutes. You just need five.

You just need to collect yourself for a moment. A few minutes to breathe, to get your mom’s words and the unpleasant memories they bring out of your head; to will the shake out of your hands and the cold creeping in your lungs.

So when the door opens, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Spencer walks in, phone clasped in one hand and a worried expression on his face.

“We’re getting ready to give the profile.”

“Oh,” You peel yourself off the wall, discreetly wiping at your face. You hadn’t noticed the frustrated tears carving lines down your face, “Sorry, I’m coming.”

He frowns as you come closer, and panic begins to beat like a drum in your chest.

“Is Hotch upset? I just had to take a call, I thought it would—“

“Slow down,” He says, raising his hands. “Hotch isn’t upset. Is something wrong?”

“No,” You say quickly, too quickly, because his frown deepens.

“You’ve been taking a lot more calls recently and you’re always upset after they’re over. Is someone bothering you?”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “My mom. We’re a four hour drive away from my hometown. She saw me on the news when JJ gave her statement.”

Something flashes in his eyes when you say your mother, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“You don’t want to see her.”

He says it flat-toned and blank. Like it’s a fact.

It is a fact.

“No,” You confess, “I’ve never been close with my parents. I haven’t spoken to her beyond a text in years, and I haven’t texted her in months. Then she sees me on the news and I’m back on her radar again.”

You chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, the folly of the disappointing daughter.”

He tilts his head, questioning. “You’ve made something of yourself. You’re a special agent. That’s not nothing.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not Doctor or Lawyer or C.E.O or anything else my brothers or cousins have made of themselves, so,” You shrug. “Disappointing.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Spencer says, a small curl to his lips, “You keep all of those stupid people safe by catching serial killers.”

“You’re a doctor. Did you just call yourself stupid?”

He shrugs, mimicking your earlier action. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”

You look down to hide the smile on your face but he ducks down, catching it anyway.

“Hey,” He says, eyes catching yours, “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

You (hesitantly) look up to meet his gaze. “Thanks, Reid.”

His face does something weird. Contorts at the words, just for a second. Like he just bit into something sour.

And then it’s gone.

“Of course.”

—

For the rest of the case, everytime your phone rings, Spencer looks at you. You’re getting close to just throwing the damn thing off a roof, if it’ll convince him to stop looking at you like that. You don’t know what to do with it. The look he gives you tastes like worry, and you don’t know what to do about Spencer Reid worrying about you.

You never meet his gaze. You know he’s looking, but you never look back.

Finally, the case comes to an end. Actually, it goes out in a literal blaze of glory— the unsub lights his kill shed on fire.

All of it would have burned to ash if you hadn’t run into the structure and and snatched the murder weapon and the most damning pieces of evidence: the printed photographs the unsub took with the victims.

It’s a win because you saved the evidence.

It’s a loss because Hotch looks pissed while the paramedics check you over.

Well. You assume he looks pissed. You’re staring resolutely at your shoes.

Finally, the paramedic gives you the all clear —just some minor burns here and there, you got lucky— and you no longer have a human buffer and excuse to avoid talking.

The silence stretches out between you two. Eventually, you cave.

“Hotch, I’m sorry—“

He holds a hand up and you clamp your jaw shut.

“Did you not hear me give the order to stay back?”

“I just thought—“

“We are a team, agent. I need to be able to trust not only that you’re going to follow my orders but be able to work together with the team. Now, you’re not doing either of those things.”

You frown. “I do follow your orders.”

He sighs. “You didn’t today. And more importantly, you’re not acting like a member of this team. You don’t call for backup. You don’t ask for help. You do good profiling work, agent. But if you can’t work with this team then we might need to reconsider your position here.”

That… doesn’t make any sense.

Hotch catches the confusion on your face. “Something wrong, agent?”

“I just— I was under the impression that I would only be working with the team for a few more weeks…?”

Now it’s his turn to look confused. “You may have been hired at an inopportune time, and until the first year is over it is a probationary basis, but pending review, you are and always have been a permanent member of this unit.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You didn’t think you’d be staying for long.”

You shake your head, your world turned on its head.

He hums. “You should buy earplugs. Rossi snores.”

You drop your head into your hands.

“And agent?”

You look up.

“You did good work today. You have a team. Learn to use them.”

He walks away, leaving you to process this crisis-inducing information.

So. You’re not leaving the team. You’re a profiler. Forever. This is your job now.

So does that mean you weren’t replacing Spencer? So why were you hired? Anything you can do multiple people on the team can do better. Why would Hotch pick you?

You stare at the pavement, which gives you a perfect view to watch Spencer’s shoes walk into view and hear him settle next to you.

“You’re a little young to be having a mid-life crisis.”

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to respond, partly because you’re not sure what to say, but also, the length of his thigh is pressed against yours and it’s hard to think when he’s emanating warmth and you can’t stop yourself from thinking about how it would feel to touch, skin to skin.

“Well,” You croak, “I did just get some pretty big news.”

He leans back on his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Looking up at him was a mistake. Bathed in the glow of the ambulance and the light from the moon, you can see just how long his eyelashes are, and how his lips move when he says your name.

Oh shit.

“Sorry, what?”

His face twitches in a smile. “I asked if you were okay. You were staring.”

You flush from your neck to the tips of your ears. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

See, he always does this. Most people would end the conversation there and move on. And that’s fine. It’s normal. But Spencer asks. Like he’s interested.

You shrug. “I thought… I thought I was leaving the team in a few weeks. Turns out i’m staying.”

He starts swinging his legs on the edge of the ambulance, though where his almost brush the ground, yours swing several inches above it. “Why did you think you were leaving?”

You laugh softly. “My boss told me the position was temporary. And in my excitement of getting it I may or may not have… not read the paperwork?”

He clicks his tongue. “Oh, honey.”

The tips of your ears burn. “I was excited!”

“To get a job staring at gruesome crime photos?”

“To help people.”

“What? Data analysis not helping people enough?”

“Do I even have to answer that?”

He snorts, his body shaking against yours. “You’re a consulting analyst. That’s the big leagues.”

Now it’s your turn to huff. “Is there a big leagues for data analysis?”

He leans his head down to look at you. “Well, maybe miss smarty-pants over here made a league of her own.”

The shade of red you turn must be visible, dark and bad lighting aside. “You have an IQ of 187. Can you really call me a smarty-pants?”

He tilts his head, giving you an assessing look. You recognize it. He gives case files the same look.

A faint shudder runs down the length of your spine at that precise, clinical gaze.

It should concern you, unnerve you.

It doesn’t.

“No, I’m positive. You’re a smarty-pants.”

You look away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

“Hey, no. Come on, you gotta own up to being a smarty-pants. Otherwise you ruin the effect.”

“Am I supposed to start wearing sweaters and Converse, then?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be owning the smarty-pants look.”

“Do we have to keep the smarty-pants thing going?”

“Took your mind off the burns, didn’t it?”

You blink, realizing that you haven’t noticed the dull sting of the minor burns littering your body for a few minutes now.

But that has less to do with Spencer speaking and more to do with the fact that he’s here. Touching you. If you focus really hard, you can feel the chords of muscle lining his arm.

“Uh,” You stutter, momentarily flabbergasted by the way he’s looking at you. Like it’s important to him— you not being in pain. “Yeah, yeah, I guess. Well. I feel them now.”

“Oh, shame. I guess we’ll just have to keep talking.”

You furrow your brows. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Shouldn’t you be helping finish wrapping up the case?”

He shrugs. “I’m right where I want to be.”

That’s a decidedly very loaded statement that are not going to unpack.

You’re not going to unpack to jolt of pure electricity you feel from it, either.

—

You may or may not have lied about just how sick you were, exactly.

“You know,” Rossi says after you hack a cough into your elbow for what has to be the fiftieth time in as many minutes, “That’s starting to sound less like the plague and more like desperation.”

You sniff harshly, taking a swig of cough syrup and praying this isn’t the king with codeine in it. You didn’t read the label very well. “What do you mean?”

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. “He’s saying that most people on their veritable death/bed opt to sleep comfortably in their own beds in their own homes rather than on a plane to hunt down a violent killer.”

You think if your apartment— it’s cozy, at least, but still a glaring reminder of the reason you told Hotch you were fine to come in- loneliness.

You have heated blankets and warm lighting and books and tea —boxes and boxes of tea— and all manner of things that make you happy. But no amount of things can replace, tangible human connection.

You knew the ache of spending the day in your apartment would sting worse than the cold. Fever, Whatever you have.

“I’m thinking of a word,” JJ says, mock tapping her chin thoughtfully, “Starts with work, ends with holic.”

“I am not a workaholic,” you wheeze. “I am fine.”

“Yes,” Prentiss says, raising her other eyebrow. Oh no. Not the double eyebrow raise. “Because this is exactly what the picture of health looks like.”

To avoid answering, you take another swig of cough medicine.

“Just do you know,” Spencer says, “You’re about one tiny sip of that away from overdosing. I’d cool it on the cough syrup.”

“But I’m still coughing.”

“Have you given it any time to work?”

“It’s been thirty-ish minutes since I took the first dose.”

He levels you with a look at your usage of dose. “Why don’t you wait a little longer before committing suicide via shallow breathing and seizures.”

You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I know how to take care of myself when I’m sick.”

“Is your version of taking care of yourself just continuously taking medicine until the symptoms become bearable?”

“You’re un-bearable.” You snort at your play on words, but grow quiet because when you look up, the entire team is looking at you. “What?”

“You never joke.” JJ says.

“And I think I’ve heard you laugh exactly two times, and I’m pretty sure one of them was a sneeze.” Rossi says, a look of vague disbelief on his face.

You squirm in place. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Uh, yeah it is. You’re definitely too sick to be on a case if you’re laughing.”

“Come on, it was barely a chuckle—“

Spencer looks around. “Yeah, what’s the big deal? I’ve heard her laugh before.”

JJ and Prentiss snap their heads to him in tandem. “What?”

Now he looks vaguely uncomfortable. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

“That’s cause you showed up late to the party,” Em- Prentiss says, “You didn’t meet her when she first came. She was all genius consulting data analyst.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius—“

“Yeah,” JJ chimes in, “I only ever saw her smile to be polite.”

“Wait,” Prentiss says, brows pinched, “You heard her laugh and you didn’t tell us? You knew we were trying to see who would make her break first.”

“You guys were trying to make me laugh? Is that what was happening all that time? I almost called Hotch like, thirty times because I was concerned for you guy’s mental wellbeing. I thought you’d had a nervous breakdown.”

JJ snorts. “Nope. Just tried to see if the rumors were true about all data analysts being robots.”

You cough into your elbow. “You guys make it seem like I was some sort of frigid bitch.”

“Frigid, yes. Bitch, no.”

“Hey!” You retort, then wince as the volume of your own voice makes your head pound harder and makes your throat sting worse, “I wasn’t that bad. Also, I was nervous! I’m the youngest person here by like, a long shot. I wanted to be professional.”

“I for one enjoyed it,” Rossi cuts in, “It was all blunt business. Straight to the point. No beating around the bush or gossiping. A few people here could learn a thing or two.”

“See?” You gesture. “Rossi agrees with me.”

Just about everyone on the plane gives you the exact same look. Hotch especially, who’s stayed silent during the entire exchange, looks troubled.

Once you land (an ordeal that normally doesn’t bother you, but today, had you worshipping the porcelain altar) Hotch pulls you aside.

“Agent,” He says before you climb into the car that’ll take you to the police precinct, “I can’t have an agent not at peak performance on this case.”

You frown. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re too sick to work this case—“

“No, no, I can work, I can do it—“

“—In the field. You’re working from the station until we wrap up. Understood?”

You sigh, knowing when you’re beat. “Understood.”

He gazes at you for a second. “You might want to call out of work entirely the next time you’re sick, you know. The less time you spend resting the longer it’ll take to get better. I expect to see you taking care of yourself at the precinct.”

You blink. “Are you… dad-ing me?”

He almost smiles. “Well, I am a father. It’s bound to come out sometimes.”

The joke soothes your concerns of him being upset with you (again.) You suppose it would’ve been warranted —Hotch never gets upset without a reason— but still. He’s the only one you occasionally struggle to read.

The good news is by the time you make it to the station, your medicine has kicked in.

The bad news is when you get to the station your medicine has kicked in.

“Spencer,” You say, spinning in a spinny chair and staring at his blurry face. “Did you know that elephants have prehensile—“

“Do not finish that sentence.” He says, glancing back at the team, all in various stages of concern, disgust, amusement, and annoyance. “Did you take non-drowsy cough medicine?”

“Yes! I didn’t want to be tired.”

He scrubs a tired hand down his face, then nudges a sealed water bottle across the table to you. “Drink that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But my throat hurts.”

“Drink it anyway.”

You snatch the water bottle, grumbling the whole time as you crack the seal and gulp down the water, not realizing how thirsty you were until this very second.

You lean your forehead on the table head still pounding from the pressure in your sinuses. You feel a prickle in the back of your neck, signifying that the team is still staring at you.

With great effort, you lift your head, tilting your chin up and trying to summon all the self confidence you don’t actually have.

“I am making a fool of myself. Please disregard my actions until I am no longer ill. This won’t happen again.”

Words are hard. Speaking is hard. With a groan, you drop your head back on your arm.

“Ah, there she is.”

“Knew that laugh had to be a fluke.”

“Cold medicine must be working.”

There are other mutterings about stubborn geniuses and workaholics and data analysis and Spencer staying at the station and—

You snap your head up. “I’m fine. I don’t need a baby-sitter. Spencer would be most useful in the field. He’s one of the best shot’s on the team.”

“And when it comes to needing a marksman I won’t hesitate to get him,” Hotch says, “But for now, I need my two geniuses to put their heads together to solve this case.”

Feeling cowed, you avoid Spencer’s gaze as the team files out of the room you’ve all set up in, instead grabbing a file from the center of the table. You really are being stupid. You should’ve stayed home, now you’re a liability, not to mention a walking biohazard. Fuck, why couldn’t you just think before you—

“I can hear you spiraling from over here.”

You lift your gaze, eyeing Spencer who hasn’t even put down the case file he’s reading.

You look back down. “I wasn’t spiraling.”

“You’re really going to lie to a profiler?”

“We’re both profilers.”

“Yeah, well, you have an obvious tell when you’re worrying about something.”

“I do not!”

You hear the quiet shuffling of papers.

A sigh leaves your lips, and you press the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I’m really sorry, Spe— Reid. I didn’t mean to drag you here with me.”

If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t give any indication of it.

“Who said anything about dragging?”

“I know you’re a germaphobe, and I’m a walking biohazard, and now you’re stuck here going over case files and, and I’m a liability right now—“

“Slow down,” He says, interrupting your slew of word vomit. His voice has dropped an octave, gaining a richer note. You should stop thinking about his voice. “I’m fine. You’re fine. The team is more worried than upset. You’re not the first person to come to work sick. And you won’t be the last.”

“They keep staring at me.”

“Because your current state and manner of behavior are disrupting their pre-conceived notions and set opinions of your character.”

You scrunch your nose. “Don’t get all clinical on me,”

You hear a small huff of laughter across the table. “I’ve come to work far worse than hopped up on cold medicine, believe me. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on working the case.”

Slowly, the itching under your skin settles, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat. Eventually, you peel your hands away from your face and do what he says.

Hours pass by in a blur of text and you and Spencer occasionally either bouncing ideas off each other or making small breakthroughs. Spencer handles the relay of information because you can’t really go more than three full sentences without hacking up a lung. Seriously, what is cough syrup good for?

Sometime past midday, you start flagging. The words start blending and smushing together and your head gets harder and harder to hold up. You’re jolting yourself back awake every five minutes, forcing your body to just bear through the illness for the sake of productivity. You got yourself into this mess, you deal with the consequences.

You’re just… so tired. Maybe you’ll close your eyes, just for a few minutes. To get energy. And then you can get back to the case.

Just for a few minutes.

—

“She out?”

“Like a light. Powered through for a lot longer than I expected. But dextromethorphan gets us all in the end.”

A low whistle. “Poor kid. The ‘proving yourself to the team’ phase is rough.”

A hum. “I think it’s more than that.”

A beat passes.

“You got her?”

“Yeah,” Something soft and good smelling, like pine and coffee and something almost rich settles over your shoulders, “Yeah, I got her.”

—

When you wake, your neck is sore but you’re not cold, which is strange considering you remember falling asleep in a table.

Oh god you fell asleep on the table.

You jackrabbit up in place, knees knocking against the underside of the table. Hissing in pain, you tug the warm thing further around your shoulders which is—

Holy fucking shit it’s Spencer’s sweater.

Said man is nowhere to be found, and the conference/briefing room you’re in is dark. Not only did someone turn the lights off (you’re pretty sure you can guess who) but it’s dark outside. Meaning you didn’t just take a short nap.

You slept the entire day away.

Cold dread seeps into your shoulders. “Oh my god I’m so fired. Oh shit. Fuck, Hotch is going to be so pissed—“

The door opens and you stand, whirling around to face the doorway and then instantly regretting it when spots dance across your vision and your head swims.

You stumble, grabbing the edge of the chair for support and squinting at the figure in the doorway.

“Hotch?”

“Nope,” Spencer’s voice rings out in the room, “Guess again.”

You groan, sinking down into the chair. “Am I fired?”

He snorts. “Seeing as Hotch bet that you’d fall asleep before dark, I’d say no.”

“He bet against me?”

“Actually, everyone else thought you’d only last an hour. He bet for four.”

“How long did you bet for?”

He sets a mug in front of you, steaming tea wafting up and warming your face. “Three hours. You metabolize cough syrup better than I thought.”

You take the mug in your hands, warming your fingers but not actually taking a sip. “Mmm. Told you I’ve done this before.”

“I don’t think that’s the brag you think it is.”

You chuckle, which quickly turns into a cough.

“Drink your tea,” He commands softly from across the table, sleeves pushed up around his elbows and papers spread about him.

You dutifully take a sip, something restless growing calm in the back of your skull.

You eye is forearms, hoping the look-over you’re giving them is subtle. (It probably isn’t, but come on. A button down with the sleeves rolled up while you’re wearing his sweater is practically sinful.)

“Do you… want the lights turned back on? I’m awake now, so.”

He flips over a piece of paper, then scribbles something on a sticky note. “You were sleeping. And you have a headache. I can see just fine.”

“My headache isn’t that bad, really, I’m fi—“

He levels you with a look, and you sink a little lower in your chair. “Do you at least want your sweater back?”

“No. Keep it.”

“Careful, maybe I’ll just keep it forever,” You joke.

“I’d be fine with that.”

What. The. Fuck.

You stand, pushing out the chair with a loud screech. “I’m just gonna— bathroom,” You splutter, your face blazing and stomach doing a gymnastics routine, “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Bye.”

You’re screaming internally the entire way to the bathroom, and once you get there, open-mouthed silent screaming in the privacy of a stall.

Because. He said. He didn’t even look up. He just. And he. Maybe he—

No, no, no. You are not about to entertain that notion. Not again. He was just being nice. That’s all. That’s all.

Collecting yourself takes about five more minutes, and then you’re walking back to the conference/briefing room when you realize you never took the damn sweater off. He watched you scramble out of that room to the bathroom he has to know you weren’t using, with his sweater on.

This is the end for you, then. That’s it. It’s over.

You mentally slap yourself. Get it together. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

You re-enter the room marginally calmer than you left it. You slide into your seat, sip your tea (that he made you!) and keep working on the case.

You pretend you can’t see him smirking from across the table.

—

The case doesn’t last too long. The team catches the guy in the act of beating his next victim. Thankfully, you manage to save the poor woman before he finishes his plan, and with being caught red-handed, it’s fairly open and shut. Case closed. Which is great, because you really aren’t sure how many more nights you can suffer through trying to sleep in the hotel bed.

You have this thing, when you’re sick. You can’t sleep anywhere but the couch. Your couch. You figured (apparently foolishly) that it wouldn’t be too bad, since the crux of the issue is that you hate sleeping in your bed when you’re sick, but no. You’d spent every night of the case tossing and turning and coughing yourself out. Your lungs were tired. Your body was tired. You were tired.

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you when you board the jet. “You haven’t been near-overdosing on cough syrup again have you?”

“No,” You grouse, rubbing your face with your hand. “I’m like, not even sick anymore. I just didn’t sleep well.” For several nights in a row.

“Mmm,” He hums, non-committal.

You practically collapse into your usual seat on the jet, hunching in yourself and attempting to make yourself comfortable in the seat.

You blink your eyes open when you feel the seat jostle next to you. “Reid?”

He’s already pulling out a book. “What?”

“This isn’t your seat.”

“We don’t have assigned seats.”

“No, but you always sit over there.”

“And now I’m sitting here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if you want to argue him on the point or not. You decide against it, because arguing will draw attention to the fact that you’re sitting next to each other having this conversation at all.

You settle back into your seat. “Whatever. Hope you’re not a loud page-turner.”

“Is that even a thing?”

You shrug, eyes falling shut again.

After a few minutes, you shiver, unconsciously scooting closer to the warmth of the person next to you, your sleep-addled brain barely processing the fact that it’s Spencer you’re pressing your shoulder into.

He repositions next to you, shoulder jostling you. You grumble, dropping your head to his arm. Now much closer, your nose fills with the smooth, all encompassing smell that is Spencer.

The dull chatter that fills the plane, the warm body next to yours, and, despite your earlier complaints, the quiet, gentle page-turning lull you into an easy sleep.

—

“Are you drugging her or something? I’ve seen her sleep more this week than I have in her entire time on the team.”

“The only drugging she’s done was voluntary.”

“Her neck is going to be so sore when she wakes up.”

“Sore? Mine would be broken if I did that.”

“Ah, the joys of youth.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“She’s a bit young, don’t you think?”

“Emily don’t start—“

“Just saying, Spence. HR would get a kick out of this.”

“Not like it never happens. We’ve all walked into supply closet B at the wrong time.”

“This isn’t meaningless sex though.”

“…No.”

Silence.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A deft hand re-adjusts your head to a more comfortable angle. “I will be.”

—

Landing jolts you into wakefulness and off Spencer’s shoulder. It’s not embarrassing. It’s not. It’s only weird if you make it weird.

When you’re all back at HQ, you pull Hotch aside.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods. “In my office.”

You stalk up the stairs, aware of the eyes following your back. You step into the office, shutting the door behind you and pretending it doesn’t feel like sealing your doom.

He sits, gesturing for you to do so too, but you shake your head.

“I won’t be long. I just wanted to apologize.”

He blinks. “For?”

“I shouldn’t have come in. I was a liability, and it was unprofessional. Next time I’ll act with more discretion.”

Selfish, Your mother’s words echo in your head, your father’s words following suit: Try harder.

He laces his fingers together, resting him on his desk.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

“Because Reid was gone, and you needed a ge— someone smart.”

“Every member of my team is intelligent. That’s not why I chose you.”

He reaches down, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a newspaper clipping.

Your breath hitches when you read the words on it.

“Garcia found it,” He says, scanning the piece of paper. “‘Professor’s Assistant saves college class from school shooter’. You were sixteen.”

You look down at your shoes. “It was the scariest moment of my life. I didn’t— he came in, and I was behind the door getting paper, and he didn’t see me. He… I knew people would die if I didn’t do something. I tackled him. He shot me twice before I managed to kick the gun away. I almost bled out.”

He nods, putting the clipping down. “That’s who I chose. Not the genius. Not the consulting data analyst. Someone who wants to help people.”

He puts the clipping back in his drawer. “I’m not going to write you up for not having a healthy work-life balance. No one in this bureau does, and if they say they do, they’re lying.”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “Now I look stupid for asking to talk.”

“It’s not an imposition. You’re a member of my team. That makes your wellbeing when you’re on the job my responsibility.”

Unable to form a response to that, you manage to stutter out a thank you, and then flee from his office, collapsing into your chair at your desk with a sigh.

A mug is set in front of you. Different mug, same tea, same hand.

“I think you need to reevaluate your opinion of Hotch and what kind of person you think he is.”

You take the mug with a glare. “I was reasonably concerned.”

“You thought you were going to get written up for coming to work sick?”

“It was a logical conclusion to draw,” You pause, taking a sip of the tea, which is just as good as it was last time. Actually, it’s slightly sweeter, and it soothes your throat more. “And stop profiling me. What’d you put in this?”

“Stop being so easy to profile,” Spencer says, crossing his arms. “Honey. They didn’t have any at the station.”

It’s quiet for a few moments: him staring at you, you pretending he’s not staring and sipping your tea.

“You should go home.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still sick. Don’t tell me you just can’t wait to write all this paperwork.”

“Maybe I am.”

“No you’re not,” He picks up your jacket from where it’s hanging off the side of your cubicle and plops it in your lap. “Go home. I’ll sick Hotch on you.”

You stand, shrugging your jacket on and pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re a cruel man.”

“Mhm. Sure. Go home.”

You grumble all the way to the door, but quiet when you look back to see him watching you fondly. He gives you a little two finger wave, and with the sheer amount of heat that rushes to your cheeks, you have no choice but leave immediately.

Stupid genius co-workers.

—

The next week brings wellness and a lull in cases.

Unfortunately, that also means you don’t have an excuse to put off your paperwork any longer.

Spencer taps the top of it with a slender finger. “Did it get bigger since the last time I saw it?”

He’s hanging around your desk for… some reason. He came to drop off paperwork from your last case, and then stuck around for some unknown purpose.

“No,” You groan, setting your mug of coffee aside and grabbing the first paper off the stack. “Still the same pile I’m procrastinating on.”

“Good luck,” He huffs, finally turning and walking back to his own desk. It’s still in your eyeline, if you crane your neck a little.

You sigh, grabbing your earbuds from your desk, knowing you can’t put the paperwork off any longer. You’re pretty sure Records is going to start sending you death threats soon.

Making your way through the pile is slow going. It’s terrible. The only part of working with the BAU you hate is the paperwork. It’s tedious and never-ending and it always gives you a headache.

The only times you get up are to use the bathroom and get more coffee. JJ kindly tells you that you should probably leave your mug in the break room after your sixth or so trip. Spencer, somehow, appears in the room, and rattles off the symptoms of caffeine overdose.

You leave the mug there.

You continue working well after everyone else leaves. It gets dark, people go home, office lights go off, and while the pile has largely decreased in size, it’s still not finished.

You have to finish. Hotch had made an offhand comment about turning in your paperwork on time and now you have to finish it. To show him you’re not lazy.

You’ve only got a little bit of paperwork left when a hand taps you on your shoulder.

You yank your earbuds out, blinking blearily. “Wha?”

Spencer’s face swims into view. “Come on, time to go home.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you didn’t fall asleep and forget to go home. They do lock the doors at a certain point. Ask me how I know.”

Your brain is moving like sludge, and it takes you several minutes to process what he says. He continues standing in front of you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

“But… the paperwork.”

“Will be here tomorrow. Come on, up we go.”

You whine as he takes your hands, hauling you to your feet. You attempt to scrub the sleep out of your eyes while messily moving papers about so your desk doesn’t look like a copy machine threw up all over it.

He pushes your jacket into your hands and you shrug it on, grumbling all the way through the doors and out to the parking lot, Spencer in tow. He follows dutifully behind you, and everytime you look back at him to voice your complaints all he does is smile.

“It’s cold.”

“That does tend to happen in winter.”

When you get to your car, he reaches out, tugging on your wrist.

“Hey,” He says, looking down at you, eyes deep pools of some emotion you can’t identify, “Drive safe, okay? It’s icy.”

“My commute isn’t that bad. And I’m,” You break off with a huge yawn. “Not even that tired.”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence, smarty-pants.”

“Oh, so we’re locked into the smarty-pants thing, huh?”

“Yep.” He says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and popping the P.

“Well then what am I supposed to call you? Robot-Reid?”

“How about Spencer?”

His words hang in the night air, mingling in the puffs of air from both of your mouths.

“…What rhymes with Spencer?”

“Sensor, denser, dispenser—“

“Dis-Spencer,” You say, smiling to yourself. “I like the sound of that one.”

“You know dis comes from—“

“The latin word dis, and the prefix is used to denote a reversal of absence of an action, expressing negation, or expressing completeness or intensification of an unpleasant or unattractive action.”

He chuckles, smiling down at his shoes. “That’s why you’re the smarty-pants.”

“Oh please. You know all of that and then some.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You both stand in the cold of the parking lot, neither willing to leave yet.

Before you can think better of it, you dart forward, throwing your arms around Spencer’s neck and mumbling “Goodnight, Dis-Spencer.”

You step away quickly, awkwardly giving him a small wave before hurrying into your car and driving away.

Smooth.

—

The next case is… really rough.

Two spree killers, working as a team. A father and a son; the son was groomed into the lower position.

Not anything you haven’t seen before. Trained for. Studied.

No amount of studying could have prepared you for the cold grip of dread that gripped your throat like a vice when you finally confronted the unsubs, and heard eerily familiar words uttered from the father:

“You’re a good for nothing son! I wouldn’t have had to do this if you weren’t such a disappointment of a child! Why couldn’t you have just been more like your siblings?”

The son was killed before anyone could intervene.

Wrapping up the case left you shaken— you’d watched with hollow eyes as the boy’s body was zipped in a body bag.

A hand landing roughly on your shoulder shoves awareness back into your body and you flinch, hard, whirling around with your shoulders raised to meet the oncoming threat.

Only it’s not a threat. It’s Hotch. And he looks concerned.

You force your body to relax. “I’m sorry, I’ll go help question the rest of the family—“

“Are you okay?”

You blink. “What?”

“Are you alright?” He asks again.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m okay. It just… reminded me of something.”

Hotch purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. He looks he’s going to say something, but then decides against it.

“Help Reid get the last of the evidence. Once you two are finished head back to the station. We’ll meet you there.”

You nod, inwardly relieved about not having to deal with the family members. You might start actually crying.

You sidle up to Spencer who’s tagging blood splatters on the carpet. He wordlessly hands you a pair of gloves. He doesn’t ask. You don’t tell.

You work side by side for the better part of two hours, occasionally conversing with the local police or helping the crime scene investigators tag evidence.

If he knows what’s bothering you, he doesn’t say. You wouldn’t have an answer anyway. You’re far too gone in your own head.

You follow Spencer to the break room back at the station, watching him quietly make two mugs of tea. He presses one into your hands with a gentle command to let it cool for a few minutes. The mug is warm in your hands. Spencer is standing next to you, a mug of his own in his hands. Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

You chant this mantra in your head while you wait for the rest of the team to come back.

Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

Spencer doesn’t ask before sitting next to you on the jet. He just does. He hands you a book, then opens his own.

You don’t read a single page. He must know. Still, he says nothing, just presses a little closer to you when he sees your hands shaking.

The team gives the two of you space when you finally land. You stumble off the jet, trip backpack slung over your shoulder, legs wobbly and breath uneven.

You’re not sure why the case upset you this much. Your parents don’t upset you this much. They just— they make the same kind of comments, and so did that father, except now his son is dead because he killed him—

“Hey,” Hotch approaches you slowly, makes sure you can see him. You hate that he feels the need to do so. “Take tomorrow off. Stay home. Recuperate.”

“I’m fi—“

“We all have tough missions and I would do the same for any agent,” He says, clasping you gently on the shoulder. “Besides. We both know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your lips twitch. “Isn’t there a rule against profiling each other?”

“That rule is for all of you. Not me.”

He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before departing.

You manage to haul yourself into HQ and out to the parking lot, cursing as your cold fingers fumble with your keys. Frustrated tears begin to well in your eyes and you press the heels of your hands to your face, sucking in a shuddering breath and begging it all to just stop.

Someone gently pries your hands open, pulling your keys out of your clenched grip. Your shoulders shake as you heave, gasping for cold night air that burns on the way down.

A hand finds its way to the back of your head, pressing it forward into something warm and solid. Another arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close, while the hand on your head drifts down to your neck, squeezing and rubbing intermittently.

“I’m sorry,” You cry, rubbing your face and smearing your tears across your hands, “I don’t know why, it just—“

“You don’t need a reason,” Spencer says, spreading his hand out wide so it covers the entire nape of your neck, “Sometimes it all just gets to you.”

You nod into his chest, lowering your hands from his face to wrap around his torso, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” You whisper, ashamed. “I’ll dream of it. And them. And it’ll be cold and alone—“

“Come home with me,” He says, voice a little breathless while he holds you closer, “Come home with me.”

He says the last part a little desperate.

You sniff. “Okay.”

You hesitantly pull away from the hug, but not before Spencer’s hand moves from your neck to your face, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks on your face. He drops his head down, and you feel the gentlest brush of lips against the skin in between your eyebrows.

“Let’s go home.”

He tugs you along by the hand, helping you into his little old car, tucking your bags into the backseat. He lets the radio play softly while he drives, loud enough to quiet your thoughts a bit but not so loud as to overwhelm you.

He helps you out of the car when you arrive to the apartment building, carrying one of your bags up the stairs- you’d insisted on carrying the rest of your stuff.

He unlocks the apartment door, ushering you into the warmth and comfort that is Spencer’s home.

It’s exactly like you pictured, if not tidier. A bit more modern than you’d imagined. Books are everywhere of course, but so are knick-knacks and trinkets and other little bits of things that are so decidedly Spencer. There’s even a quilt on the couch.

He sets your bag down by the door. “The shower is down that hall to the left. Use whatever products you need to. Do you have any clothes to change into?”

You chew on the inside of your lip. “In my luggage, yeah, but they need to be washed.”

“I can put them in the wash while you shower. In the meantime, you can borrow something of mine.”

You shuffle in place. “I don’t wanna impose—“

“Please let me do this for you.”

The raw, rough edge to his tone makes you pause. You nod in acquiescence.

He takes your hand in his again, tugging you into his bedroom. With one hand, he opens drawers, handing you his smallest pair of sweatpants, and a large, worn, and incredibly soft Caltech sweatshirt.

“I’ll have to cuff these,” You mumble when he hands you the sweatpants, “My legs are half the length of yours.”

“You’ll make it work, I’m sure. Now shoo. I’ll have laundry and food finished when you get out of the shower.”

The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is clean and neat, and to your relief, houses more than just a five-in-one in the shower. Spencer actually owns multiple products for you to choose from and it hits you while you’re lathering the body wash you chose because of how good it smelled that you’re in Spencer’s shower, showering with his body wash, about to put on his clothes.

You’re going to smell like him. His clothes will smell like him. Everywhere in the apartment smells like him.

You decide to blame the near permanent flush on your cheeks on the heat from the shower.

When you exit the shower, fresh and drowning in Spencer’s clothes, he’s standing at his kitchen island, putting the final touches on two bowls of soup.

You almost tear up again. “You made me soup?”

“It’s widely regarded as a comfort food for people who are ill or otherwise sad, and is most commonly made in the wintertime.”

He gives you a little jazz hand, gesturing to the soup as if saying ta-da!

You really do tear up then.

He’s in front of you in an instant, hands poised to help. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Do you not like soup? I can make something else, or we can order in, or—“

You scrub at your face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You’re just, you’re just really sweet.”

His face softens. “Oh, honey.”

He envelops you in the second hug of the night, except this time you’re crying in earnest now. Your crying about your parents, about the nights you went to bed hungry because your Dad told that you were smart, and to figure something out, but you were too young to work any of the kitchen appliances. You’re crying about your first best friend, who ditched you the second your brother asked her out. You’re crying about all the classes and friendships you missed out on while you were in the hospital with gunshot wounds. You’re crying about how your parents didn’t visit you once. Not even when you were in the ICU.

Spencer holds you through it all, a steady rock against the battering waves crashing in your head.

After a few minutes, you wear yourself out, quieting down to sniffling, your shoulders hitching.

He pulls back, studying your face. “Are you ready to eat some soup now?”

You nod, blinking the final tears out of your eyes. “I got snot on your shirt.”

“That’s why we invented washing machines.”

He keeps up a stream of idle chatter while you eat, explaining all the different major soups in the world and where they came from. It’s a balm against your weary mind, lulls you into peace and safety.

Or maybe that’s just the effect Spencer has on you.

When you finish your food, he takes your bowl, deposits it in the sink, and then takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

“I don’t have a guest room, so you can take the bed,” He says, voice soft. “There’s extra blankets in the closet next to the bathroom if you get cold.”

He turns to leave, but a stab of panic slices down your chest, and your hand is reaching out and grabbing his wrist before you can stop yourself.

He pauses, turning back around. “You want me to stay?”

You take your lip between your teeth. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you in the dark of the room— clad in his clothes, face puffy from crying.

The muscles in his jaw work.

“I can’t do this platonically. If we do this—“

You surge up on your toes, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together so quickly your teeth clack.

He goes rigid, then kisses your right back, hands coming up to cup your face, squeeze your neck, smooth over your shoulders.

You pull away first, looking at him through your lashes with hazy eyes. “I can’t do this platonically either.”

He traces the planes of your face with his thumb. “You have no idea how long and how much I’ve wanted to have you right here, just like this.”

“Crying and sad?”

“Dressed in my clothes, in my apartment, in my bed.”

You pause. “You know, tonight, I can’t, I’m not going to have—“

“I’m not interested in sex with you tonight,” He says, reading your mind, “I just want to get that empty look in your eyes gone.”

“Just?”

“Well,” He says, tugging you down onto the bed with him, crawling under the covers and covering you both, “There are other things. A lot of other things, Like this,”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“And this,”

He pulls you flush against him under the covers, tucking your head under his chin.

“But mostly this.”

He presses one last kiss to the crown of your head.

“Really?”

“Really.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his voice breaks the silence.

“After I got out, all I wanted was something soft and gentle. Having something, someone soft and lovely to hold was all I looked forward to. And then I came back and I met you, with your polite introductions and the way you care so deeply about so much and I knew. I knew who I wanted to hold.”

“Wow,” You breathe, “Yours sounds so poetic. Mine is much less so.”

“Mmm,” He hums, “And what might that be?”

You press your face against his chest and mumble so quietly you’re wondering if he can ever hear you:

“I just wanted you to choose me. I wanted to be someone’s first choice.”

He’s so quiet after that you think he must not have heard you.

You’re on the verge of sleep when you hear his whisper:

“There couldn’t be anyone else for me.”

જ⁀➴

[redisthenewblue]

JESSICA RABBIT like YUU X DORMLEADERS

(This focuses more on Jessica’s personality than her looks!)

So, he probably heard about you from Cater or Ace. When he first spotted you hanging out in the Monstro Lounge—singing and pouring drinks—poor guy didn’t even know how to handle himself! At first, he had his own thoughts about you, but eventually, he warmed up. I mean, when you hit him with that classic line, "I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way," he totally fumbled his words and turned a shade redder than his hair!

He starts to relax a bit with the rules when you’re around, but if you’re up for the challenge of learning all 810 of them (or at least a third of them, which I bet you are), that’s a wholeee different story! Anytime someone shows a little too much interest in you he’s like, “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” Like he loves having an attractive , amazing, dare I say HOT partner but damn is there a lot of things that come as a consequence of such blessing.

And don’t even get me started on how he reacts when you entertain Deuce and Ace’s wild ideas. He loves you to bits, but honestly, you’re stressing him out! Someone save him from the shackles of love🥹‼️

You remind him of the Lionesses back home, embodying their fierce spirit and strength. He never underestimates your capabilities, especially after witnessing someone get their arm caught in a bear trap while attempting to make advances toward you. If anyone crosses the line, he is always prepared to intervene, although he typically ensures that such situations never escalate to that point in the first place.

Your unwavering loyalty is undoubtedly one of his favorite qualities; you are always ready to defend him and are unafraid to remind him to get a grip when necessary. A significant turning point in your relationship came when you allowed him to rest his head on your lap, and this simple act gradually transformed into a cherished routine between the two of you.

Ruggie frequently reaches out to you, expressing his frustrations about Leona and pleading for your assistance in dragging him out of bed and into class.😭 Depending on Leona's mood, he might even pull you down into the bed with him, making it difficult to escape. During nap time, he wraps his tail around your leg like a makeshift sensor, ensuring you remain by his side and do not attempt to leave the bed. Unfortunately, this means you have to say goodbye to your perfect attendance.(RIP)🫡🪦

You and Azul first crossed paths when Floyd and Jade hired you, unbeknownst to Azul, to perform at the Mostro Lounge. After witnessing your debut performance, Azul was so impressed that he promptly offered you a contract, recognizing the influx of new customers you attracted. However, he often feels a twinge of insecurity around you; after all, you are one of the most stunning individuals he has ever encountered (Don’t tell Vil he said that💀)

Adding to his struggles, Jade and Floyd constantly bully😭 tease him, making it nearly impossible for him to focus on his work whenever you're nearby. There was a particularly memorable moment when you accidentally walked in on him changing, prompting him to hide away in embarrassment. Your warm embrace brought him to tears, showcasing the depth of his feelings for you.

In a narrative reminiscent of a mafia boss and his devoted, sweet wife, Azul deeply appreciates your willingness to get your hands dirty in his defense. While he may occasionally take advantage of your fierce loyalty, the silver lining is that you are never entirely constrained by your contracts!🤫

He would totally go above and beyond for you. Out of nowhere, gifts would just show up on your doorstep, which was sweet but also a bit much. You had to remind him that he didn’t need to shower you with presents, but he just couldn’t help himself—everything that reminded him of you ended up in his cart. It got so excessive that Jamil had to step in(per usual)

“Jamil! Do you think they’ll love this?!” Kalim would ask, all excited. And Jamil would just roll his eyes, “You know how they feel about you buying them stuff.” EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU JAMIL‼️‼️

You know you’re always going to be his go-to when he throws a party at the dorm. The whole time, he just clings to you like a koala, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

But things got a bit intense when you almost lost it on Jamil after he overblotted and tried to go after Kalim. Ever since then, you’ve kept your guard up around him. Kalim assured you that everything was cool and that there were no hard feelings. He was pretty happy when you said you’d try to move past it for his sake. But let’s be real, that grudge? Not going anywhere. 💀

Absolutely DANGEROUS couple‼️Like the paparazzi just can’t get enough of you two! You’re probably being followed around everywhere with cameras in your face.

Let's be real, you two must be making music together because when you do, those tracks are hitting the TOP 10 on the BILLBOARD charts in no time! Honestly, you guys are just an absolute power couple, and I applaud you for it(I’m jealous)🫡

But seriously, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near Neige. You go to a ball as his plus one and Neige was there? He pulled out every excuse imaginable to get you away from the guy. Like, “I want to introduce you to a co-star of mine,” or dragging you away and saying“Here’s a good friend of mine!” Come on, buddy, you’re not slick😭

He’s just trying to protect himself from losing anything else to Neige. Please, give him a little reassurance (I’m begging you😞).

So, imagine this: a total gamer who's kind of a loser, but somehow he snagged a super hot girl—like, how did he pull that off? I'm honestly a bit confused about how you guys even met since he rarely leaves his room. But if you two ever did bump into each other, you’d totally be the oddest yet cutest couple around! This relationship is probably the closest to Roger Rabbit and Jessica.

You always listen to him go off about his games, and I mean, these rants can get up to four hours. Trust me, he’s not going anywhere if it’s not with you. His hair definitely turns pink whenever you stand up for him or tell a waiter they messed up his order.

He totally fell harder for you when he saw how you interacted with Ortho. You two hit it off right away and became besties, teaming up to coax Idia out of his shell more. Honestly, it’s just one big happy family! 🥹

So, he was super interested in you, right? Lilia had to really push him to make a move and talk to you, even though you might’ve had the reputation to be a bit unapproachable. But hey, that’s probably why you two clicked so well once you finally met! You both totally bond over the fact that no one really wants to come up to you, even if the reasons are different. It just works out perfectly!

When you joined his gargoyle club, he had to seriously hold back a giggle like a school girl. And let’s be real, even though you weren’t really into gargoyles (he could definitely tell🥸), you showed up to every single meeting, listening to him go on and on about those stone creatures. It’s like he’s convinced that you’re the one for him. So, when people start calling you Lady Draconia, just know that this was no mistake 😭

But here’s the thing about dragons: they get super protective over their mate. If anyone tries to mess with you, they're immediately struck down by lightning. He gets all confused when you shake your head and frown, telling him you could’ve handled it on your own.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

special report | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

scenario: ever wonder how the VIPs watch the games before they arrive on the island? reporter!reader delivers the highlights of each game to viewers around the world. and a certain someone is their biggest fan.  setting: in seoul between the second game (dalgona) and the special game during season 1 warnings: reader can be any gender, but this was originally written with fem!reader in mind; reader also works for the games; they're both just not nice people lol (but we love them anyways!); no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 629 notes: someone in a reddit thread had a theory that the VIPs would watch highlight reels of the first few games and this story popped in my head. salesman is called recruiter here since that's his official title. i love this guy sm (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“And that concludes our coverage for Day 2 of the Games. Please stay tuned for the Special Game, which will take place in two hours.”

You bowed to the camera, only straightening your back upon hearing the director yell “Cut!”. You shuffled the papers on the desk in front of you, then checked your phone. 

Three missed calls. 

You snorted, a small smile forming on your lips. You pressed on one of the missed calls, the number redialing on your screen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the recruiter to pick up. It didn’t even ring once before his smooth voice came through the speaker.

“Finally.”

You sighed, leaning forward to prop an elbow on the desk. “You know I’m at work. You of all people should know that.”

You could picture his cocky smirk.

“Care for a bite to eat? My treat,” he offered, which you accepted. There was still an hour and a half before you had to return to prepare for the Special Game.

You met at the tiny kimbap shop down the street. While you both could afford a fancier restaurant, a cheap, filling meal was all you needed right now.

“So,” you started, pouring hot barley tea into your teacups, “Did you catch any of the last game?” 

He nodded, resting his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table. “Very entertaining, as always. You never cease to impress me,” he praised.

Taking a big sip of tea, you scoffed, “Oh please. I’m the least interesting part of the show.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

Shooting him an unimpressed look, you spoke, “Did you not see the same footage I did? The utter fear when they had to carve out the dalgona?” You laughed, “And when that guy got shot and slid down the slide… You just can’t make this stuff up!"

Pouring some more tea into your cup, you continued, "Seriously though, watching those players carve out the umbrella shapes was priceless. They were so scared!” With a shake of your head, you sighed, “I can’t believe some of them actually passed.” 

The recruiter chuckled, leaning closer to you. “While that was amusing, I found your performance to be far more enticing.”  

A blush crossed your cheeks, but you quickly shook it off, clearing your throat.

“I try my best. By the way,” you motioned towards him, “You’ve outdone yourself with the players this time. A perfect mix of competent and woefully tragic players. I’m not sure which I like more.” You shot him a smile, which he returned.

“Oh, and the group with the Host? Hilarious,” you grinned. “I can’t believe that 218 and 456 were childhood friends.” You tapped your fingers against your teacup. “But I guess, at the end of the day, trash is still trash.”

The lady running the shop arrived with your food, and the two of you ate in comfortable silence. However, you couldn’t help but notice the recruiter’s intense gaze lingering on you.

Once the recruiter paid, the two of you left the restaurant, and he walked you back to the office. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked, briefcase in hand.

You hummed, “Tomorrow is Tug of War, and there’s still lots to prepare before the final games.” You took a step towards him, a teasing smile on your face, “Why, miss me already?”

He huffed, “I can watch you any time.” Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispered, “But I prefer being near you instead.”

You tilted his head to look at you and kissed him on the cheek. Turning to enter your office, you looked back and called to him.

“Until next time, my dear recruiter!”

He flashed his signature smirk.

“Take care, my lovely reporter.”

[cosmiclily]

Can you write a Vi oneshot y/n is two years younger than Vi and is Jinx best friend. Vi sees y/n as a younger sister since she and Jinx have been childhood best friends while she has had a crush on Vi since she first met her. Jinx knows and teases her about it but is rooting for the reader and Vi to get together. Vi is protective of y/n especially when she sees people flirt with y/n. As they grow up y/n starts trying to move on since she believes Vi won’t ever have feelings for her but Vi does love her but never made a move because she is Jinx best friend and thinks Jinx wouldn’t approve. Vi finds out by Vander that Jinx is helping y/n get ready for her date and encourages her that she needs to confess her feelings before it’s too late and has to watch y/n be in a relationship. Vi confesses goes to y/n place and confesses her feelings and is surprised when y/n kisses her and tells her that she’s always loved her since they were kids the two sleep with together and are each others first the next day reveal their relationship and Jinx and Vander are happy for the two. Fast forward the two are married and have two kids together

BFS - My Best Friend’s Sister - Vi x F!Reader

wc: 4.6k

cw: none, i think.

notes: uhm, i got a little carried away with this one 🤡

anyway, thank you for the request, hope you enjoy! ⋆˚✿˖°

The first time I met Jinx, I had no idea my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t even imagine. We met on the very first day of high school. My first impression of her? The bright blue hair, of course—it was impossible to miss—and the fact that she was insanely smart, like should-have-skipped-high-school-and-gone-straight-to-college smart. Her intelligence wasn’t just impressive; it ended up saving my skin more times than I can count.

One of those times was during our first biology project. The teacher paired us together, and Jinx offered to work on it at her house. She mentioned that her dad wasn’t home and her sister would probably be out late because of basketball practice. It worked perfectly for me because my house was not an option.

So, off to Jinx’s house we went. She lived in this quirky, mismatched house attached to her dad’s bar. The second I stepped into her room, I knew I was in a completely different world. The walls were covered in her sketches—like, really good sketches—and there were mechanical parts scattered around from her various projects. It wasn’t messy, though; it was… creative chaos. Her room had so much personality, like every inch of it told a story about her.

We dove into the project and worked on it for hours. Time flew by so quickly I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until her sister came home. And wow—Vi. That was her name, as I later learned. She was two years older than us and looked incredible in her basketball uniform. She had this effortless confidence about her, like she didn’t even have to try to be cool.

“Who’s this?” Vi asked Jinx, tossing her hair back casually and wiping her forehead with the bottom of her jersey. The motion gave me a quick glimpse of her abs under the loose uniform, and—wow—I definitely wasn’t prepared for that.

“Oh, this is Y/N,” Jinx said before I could even attempt to respond. “She’s in my bio class. We were working on a project, but she’s about to head out.”

I was grateful Jinx stepped in because, honestly, I felt like I’d forgotten how to speak. Vi was… hypnotizing. The way she stood there, so effortlessly cool, it made my cheeks heat up instantly. I was pretty sure I wasn’t drooling, but the tightness in my chest told me I was one awkward moment away from embarrassing myself.

“H-Hi,” I managed to mutter, giving her a tiny, shy wave. My voice cracked slightly, which only made me want to crawl under a rock.

Vi’s lips curled into a teasing smile as she crossed her arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hi,” she replied, her voice warm but laced with playful sarcasm. “Nice to meet one of my sister’s friends. First one, in fact.”

“Hey!” Jinx protested, rolling her eyes. “I have friends.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you do.” Then, turning back to me, she added, “You must be special. Jinx doesn’t usually invite people over. Did she bribe you with snacks or something?”

I laughed nervously, still hyper-aware of her presence. “No snacks, just… science, I guess.”

Vi chuckled, the sound low and almost musical, and it sent a weird flutter through my chest. “Well, don’t let her scare you off. She might be a pain, but she’s harmless.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jinx muttered sarcastically, tossing a pillow in Vi’s direction. Vi caught it with ease, smirking before tossing it back onto Jinx’s bed.

“Anyway,” Vi said, straightening up, “it was nice meeting you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

I nodded, still feeling like I was stuck in some kind of surreal dream. “Nice meeting you too,” I mumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as I felt.

As Vi turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder with a playful wink, and my heart practically stopped. Once she was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“So,” Jinx said, breaking the silence with a sly grin, “you’re blushing.”

“What? No, I’m not!” I protested quickly, though the heat radiating from my face told a different story.

“Oh, you so are,” she teased, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first person to fall for Vi’s charm. She has that effect on people.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, feeling more embarrassed by the second.

──────────────────────

From that day on, I made every excuse possible to go to Jinx’s house. Studying for a test? Jinx’s house. Working on a project? Jinx’s house. Binge-watching the new show we both got into? Definitely at Jinx’s house.

And don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t just because of Vi (though Jinx would totally argue otherwise). I genuinely loved being there. Jinx’s house had this warmth to it, a chaotic but comforting energy that made me feel like I belonged. After I met Vander, Jinx’s dad, the place felt even more like a second home. Vander was the kind of guy who made everyone feel welcome. He’d always crack a joke or offer food, and he treated me like I was part of the family from the start.

But… yeah. My crush on Vi? It only got worse. I found myself lurking in hallways or hanging around the kitchen, hoping to catch even a quick glimpse of her. Every time I saw her, I tried to muster up the courage to start a conversation. The problem was, as soon as I opened my mouth, my brain seemed to short-circuit.

One morning, after a sleepover at Jinx’s, I went downstairs to grab a glass of water. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, but there she was standing in the kitchen in sweatpants and a sports bra making breakfast.

“Good morning,” Vi said, her voice casual as she kept her eyes on the pan in front of her. “Do you want breakfast?”

For a second, I forgot how to form words. “Oh, uh—if it’s not a bother, yeah, I’d like some,” I managed to say, grabbing a glass of water and sitting at the kitchen table.

The silence between us grew heavier by the second as she scrambled eggs, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. My mind was blank—well, except for the part of me panicking about how awkward I probably looked. Desperate to fill the silence, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.

“Did you know that eggshells have, like, 17,000 pores?”

Vi froze for a moment and slowly turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised, like I’d just sprouted a second head. “Uh… no. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” I said weakly, feeling my face heat up. “Fun fact, I guess.”

She gave me a small, amused smile and went back to cooking. But the damage was done—I was mortified. From that day on, I vowed to never start a conversation with Vi unless someone else was there to save me from myself.

Of course, I made the mistake of telling Jinx about the whole thing. She laughed so hard I thought she might pass out, and for the next week, she didn’t let me live it down. Every time we hung out, she’d drop random egg facts just to tease me.

“Hey, did you know an ostrich egg can support the weight of a grown man?” she’d say, smirking.

Or: “Apparently, chickens can lay blue eggs. Do you think Vi would be impressed if you told her that?”

──────────────────────

During our sophomore year, my crush on Vi only grew worse. I didn’t miss a single one of her basketball games—not one. Did I know anything about basketball? Absolutely not. I couldn’t even follow the rules half the time. But it didn’t matter. Watching her on the court, seeing her light up whenever she scored, and that radiant smile she wore when her team won—it was enough to keep me coming back.

Of course, I dragged Jinx along to every game. She didn’t care much for sports and made a point of complaining loudly about how boring it was, but I think deep down she knew why I was so invested. “You’re hopeless,” she’d say with a smirk whenever I got flustered after Vi waved at us from the court.

The best part, though, was after the games. Vi always made a point to come over and talk to us. Well, to Jinx mostly, but she’d smile at me, too, and ask me questions like, “What did you think of the game?” or “Did you see that last play?” And every time, I’d stumble through some vague answer because honestly, I’d been too busy staring at her to pay attention to the game itself.

Being around her made me so happy. Just those small moments of acknowledgment, those little smiles and casual conversations, were enough to keep my heart racing for days. But deep down, I knew the truth: Vi only saw me as Jinx’s younger friend. A little sister, at best. She’d made that painfully clear on multiple occasions.

Once, when we were all hanging out after a game, someone jokingly suggested that I had a crush on Vi. I don’t even remember who said it—maybe one of her teammates—but I remember how Vi laughed it off immediately. “Oh, Y/N? She’s like a kid sister,” she said with a grin, ruffling my hair like I was some kind of puppy.

It stung, but I tried to play it off, laughing along even as my chest tightened. I told myself it didn’t matter. Having her in my life at all, even as a friend or honorary sibling, was better than nothing. But the truth was, every time she called me “kid”, it felt like a gentle reminder of how impossible my feelings for her really were.

──────────────────────

After Vi moved to college, I knew I had to let go. The multiple reminders that she only saw me as a kid—Jinx’s best friend who told weird egg facts—played on a loop in my head. I told myself it was time to move on, to stop clinging to a fantasy that would never happen. But trying to move on was so much harder than I expected.

I started looking for pieces of her in everyone I met. Every girl I got to know, every potential crush—I couldn’t help but compare them to Vi. How a girl would act a certain way, and the first thing I’d think was, “Vi would never do that.” Or if someone treated me poorly, I’d find myself muttering, “Vi would never treat me like that.” It wasn’t fair to anyone, but it was like she’d set this impossible standard that no one else could meet.

I’d only see her during winter break when she came home for the holidays. And every time, I’d convince myself that I was over her. I’d spent months trying to push her out of my heart, convincing myself that I was ready to move on, that I’d grown out of the crush. But then she’d walk through the door, her hair tied back, that easy smile on her face, and all those carefully constructed walls I’d built would come crashing down.

The feelings would flood back, twenty times stronger than before. It was like no time had passed, like I was still the same lovesick kid who couldn’t even hold a conversation with her without blurting out the first time that came to mind.

It became a painful loop. I’d spend most of the year trying to heal, trying to forget her, only for everything to unravel the second I saw her again. Seeing her with new eyes—older, more confident, and more out of reach than ever—made it even harder. She’d tell us about college, about her team and the new people she’d met, and I’d smile and nod like I wasn’t aching inside.

Jinx, of course, noticed. She always did. “You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?” she asked me one night, not unkindly.

I didn’t even bother denying it. “It’s not like I can help it,” I said, shrugging helplessly. “It’s just… her.”

Jinx sighed, shaking her head. “You’re gonna have to let her go someday, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It was a pattern, a piece of me that I couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how hard I tried to move on, Vi had become this impossible figure in my life—someone who I loved deeply but knew I could never have. And every time she left again for college, I’d start the process all over, trying to forget her, trying to move forward, only to be thrown right back into the same cycle when she came home.

──────────────────────

Senior year was chaotic. Between applying for colleges, writing essays, and preparing for exams, Jinx and I barely had time to hang out. But at least we were both focused on our futures. Amid all the stress, though, something good did happen: a new transfer student arrived at our school in the second trimester. Her name was Ava. She was tall, athletic, and impossibly chatty.

Ava was different, she was the kind of person who could talk to anyone and make them feel at ease. It wasn’t long before the three of us were inseparable, hanging out together whenever we could. By the time we finally had a breather, it was almost Christmas, and things had shifted. Ava and I had started dating. We hadn’t officially gone out on a date yet, but with classes winding down, we finally had the chance to.

But just when things seemed to be falling into place, Vi came home for the holidays. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I’d convinced myself that I was over her, that I had moved on. But the second I walked into her house, I saw her standing there, and all those feelings I thought I’d buried rushed back like a tidal wave.

She was leaning against the doorway, effortlessly cool in a casual outfit, talking to Jinx. She laughed at something Jinx said, and the sound of her laughter hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, just watching her, telling myself over and over that I was with Ava now, that I was past this. But seeing Vi again made it feel like I hadn’t moved on at all.

She turned and caught my eye, her smile softening as she waved. “Hey, kid,” she said, her voice light and teasing, the same as always.

I waved back, trying to mask the rush of emotions flooding through me. “Hey,” I replied with a smile, turning to Jinx for a distraction. “Are you free to help me with my outfit for my date?” I asked, pretending that everything was normal, even though my heart was doing flips.

Jinx grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Date night, huh? Sure, I’ve got you covered.” She shot a playful glance at Vi before pulling me toward her room.

As I followed Jinx down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the way Vi’s gaze lingered on me for just a moment too long. Maybe I was imagining it, but part of me wondered if she had noticed my discomfort, my attempt to shield myself from the rush of emotions that still tied me to her.

Once we were safely in Jinx’s room, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to convince myself as much as Jinx.

“You sure about that?” Jinx asked with a knowing smile. “I’ve seen that look before. You’re definitely not fine.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just… trying to keep it together. I thought I was over her, you know? But the second I saw her again…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jinx said softly, her voice carrying an understanding I hadn’t expected. “Listen, before you get into this relationship with Ava, I think you should talk to Vi. I know you think she’s this impossible person to reach, but you’ve liked her for so long, and you deserve to know where you stand. Give it a shot, at least. You have my blessing, you know.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I said, pushing the thoughts aside as I pulled a few outfits out of my bag, trying to distract myself with the decision of what to wear for my date.

The night passed in a blur, but on my way home, Jinx’s words echoed in my mind. It wasn’t fair to Ava. I was starting something with her, and yet I couldn’t shake the weight of my feelings for Vi. How could I be with someone when my heart was still stuck in the past? Maybe Jinx was right—maybe I owed it to myself, and to Ava, to talk to Vi and finally face whatever was left unsaid between us.

What did I have to lose? Next year, I’d be moving out and I’d never have to face this awkward tension again. But if I kept pretending, kept pushing my feelings aside, would I ever really be able to move on?

It was hard to ignore the familiar ache in my chest, the one that seemed to tighten every time I thought of Vi. But Jinx was right about one thing: I couldn’t keep dragging Ava into something if I wasn’t emotionally available. It wasn’t fair to her. I needed to know, once and for all, if there was something left between Vi and me.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was running out of time to make that choice. If I didn’t talk to Vi now, I might never get the chance. So, what was stopping me? Fear? The same fear that had held me back all these years?

──────────────────────

I texted Ava, asking if she could come over earlier than we had planned. I had made up my mind—she should be the first person I talked to. If I was going to sort through this mess of emotions, I needed to be honest with her, no matter how hard it felt. As nervous as I was, deep down, I knew that what I was doing was the right thing.

When I heard the soft knock on the door, my heart jumped into my throat. Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

“Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Ava stood there, her tall frame filling the doorway, her face puzzled but kind. Her brown eyes searched mine, like she could sense something was off.

“Hey,” she said slowly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah... well, no,” I admitted, stepping aside to let her in. “Do you wanna come in so we can talk?”

Ava hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping inside. She followed me to the living room, where we sat across from each other on the couch. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice soft but direct.

I swallowed hard, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Ava, you’ve been nothing but amazing. You’re funny, kind, and so easy to be around. But... I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”

Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words before they left my lips. “When we started talking, I thought I was ready. I thought I was over... someone from my past. But seeing them again recently made me realize that I’m not. And it’s not fair to you to start something when I’m still trying to sort through those feelings.”

Ava’s expression softened, but I could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “So... this person, they’re the reason you’ve been hesitant with me?”

I nodded, guilt twisting in my chest. “I didn’t mean to let it get this far without telling you. I really like you, Ava, and I didn’t want to hurt you. But I need to be honest—with you and with myself. I can’t give you what you deserve if I’m still stuck on someone else.”

She was quiet for a moment, processing what I’d said. Then she let out a small, humorless laugh. “Well, at least you’re honest about it. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt, but I appreciate you telling me now instead of dragging it out.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” she replied, though I could tell it wasn’t. “You’re doing the right thing. And for what it’s worth, I hope you figure it out—whatever it is you need to do. You deserve to be happy too.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, all I could do was nod. We sat there in silence for a little while longer before Ava stood up to leave.

As I walked Ava to the door, she turned back and gave me one last hug. It was warm, yet it carried a bittersweet finality. "Take care of yourself, okay?" she whispered before stepping away.

I stood at the doorway, watching her retreat down the sidewalk, the weight of the conversation still pressing on my chest. But just as Ava disappeared around the corner, I noticed someone else walking toward me.

Vi.

Her flushed cheeks and uneven breathing told me she had been running. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a look in her eyes I couldn’t quite place—somewhere between urgency and worry.

“Am I too late?” she asked, her voice breathless as she approached me.

“Too late for what?” I asked, utterly confused. What was she doing here? Why did she look so distressed?

She paused at the bottom of the steps, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. When she stood upright again, her eyes met mine, and I saw something there I hadn’t seen before. “Yesterday, after you left, I talked to Jinx and my dad...”

Her words hung in the air, unfinished, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

“Okay... and?” I prompted, unsure where she was going with this but unable to ignore the flicker of hope rising in my chest.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, her usual confidence faltering. “Jinx told me everything,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “About how you’ve felt... for years.”

My stomach dropped. “She what?”

“She told me,” Vi repeated, taking a tentative step closer. “At first, I didn’t believe her. I mean, how could I? I always thought you just saw me as... Jinx’s annoying older sister.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But the more she talked, the more I realized how blind I’ve been. I guess I just didn’t want to see it.”

I was frozen, my mind spinning. “Vi, I—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Let me finish.” She stepped onto the porch, now standing just a few feet away from me. “After I talked to Jinx, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I talked to my dad too, and he basically told me the same thing Jinx did—that I’ve been an idiot for not noticing what was right in front of me.”

Her words hit me like a wave, and I struggled to process them. “Vi, what are you trying to say?”

She took another step closer, her expression softening. “I’m saying that I might’ve been blind before, but I’m not anymore. And if there’s even a chance that I haven’t completely screwed this up... I want to try.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Try what?”

“You and me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you still feel the same way, I want to see where this goes. I know I’ve probably hurt you by being clueless all these years, and I’m sorry for that. But I don’t want to miss this chance. Not anymore.”

I stared at her, my heart racing. This was everything I had ever wanted to hear, but it felt almost too good to be true.

“Vi...” I started, my voice trembling. “You don’t have to say this just because Jinx told you. I don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“I’m not,” she cut me off firmly. “This is me, finally realizing that I’ve been pushing away something—someone—who means more to me than I ever let myself admit. So, what do you say?”

Her eyes searched mine, filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope, and for a moment, all the words I could’ve said vanished from my mind. Talking had never been my strong suit anyway, and I knew there was only one way to show her exactly how I felt.

I took a deep breath, closed the small gap between us, and kissed her.

The world seemed to freeze for a second. Her lips were soft, and the warmth of her touch was more grounding than I ever imagined it could be. For a heartbeat, I worried she might pull away, that maybe I’d misunderstood her words or her intentions. But then, she kissed me back, her hands gently resting on my waist, pulling me closer.

Every emotion I had bottled up for years seemed to pour into that kiss—every moment of longing, every glance I had stolen, every dream I thought would never come true. And now, here she was, holding me as if I’d always belonged there.

When we finally pulled apart, her forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath. She chuckled softly, her voice warm and teasing. “I guess that’s one way to answer.”

I smiled, still too overwhelmed to form a coherent sentence. “Words aren’t really my thing,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“They don’t have to be,” she said, her hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. “That was pretty clear.”

──────────────────────

And that’s how I find myself today—married to the love of my life, Vi, with two beautiful daughters who are the perfect mix of chaos and joy. Sometimes, when I look at her across the dinner table or watch her playing basketball with the girls in the driveway, I can’t help but wonder how different things could have been.

If Jinx hadn’t told Vi about my feelings, would I have ever found the courage to tell her myself? Would we have gone our separate ways, lost to time and distance, living entirely different lives? Would destiny have been kind enough to let us meet again later in life? And even if it had, would the outcome have been the same?

I think about it often—how fragile our connection once seemed, teetering on the edge of a confession that might never have come. It’s a reminder of how one brave moment, one nudge in the right direction, can change everything.

Jinx, of course, loves to remind me that she’s the reason for my happiness. “You owe me big time,” she says with a grin every time the story comes up. And honestly, she’s not wrong. If it weren’t for her meddling—or as she calls it, genius matchmaking—I might not be sitting here today, surrounded by the family I never dreamed I could have.

But destiny, as unpredictable and wild as it is, seemed to have a soft spot for us. It gave me the love of my life, someone who challenges me, grounds me, and loves me unconditionally. And while the what-ifs might linger in my mind from time to time, I know one thing for sure: I wouldn’t change a single moment of our journey.

Because every twist, every hesitation, every step forward brought us here—to this messy, beautiful life we’ve built together. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n pulls her family into a trending prank where you pretend to embarrass your partner in front of your family…i wonder how drew reacts?

based on this ask!! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog , and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

WARNINGS: i think maybe one curse word?, just pure fluff really, me crying because i used ‘mom’ instead of mum because they’re american </3 (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SECOND PERSON +

Drew always tried his best to make a good impression on your parents. Even after three years of dating you, meeting them countless times, and attending every family barbecue or holiday dinner you invited him to, Drew still got a little nervous around them. You found it sweet, honestly—how this confident, charming actor, adored by fans worldwide, could still feel the need to impress your mom and dad.

You were currently spending the week at your parents' house, a cozy rural home in Vermont that felt like a world away from the bustling chaos of Los Angeles where you and Drew lived.

Drew had taken the week off from filming to join you, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. That was, until you saw a TikTok prank trend earlier that morning.

The prank was simple: embarrass your partner in front of your family by saying outrageous things and watch them squirm. You couldn't resist. Drew had pulled plenty of pranks on you in the past, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for some playful payback.

While Drew was in the shower, you shared your plan with your parents.

"Are you sure he's going to find it funny?" your mom asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, he will," you grinned. "Eventually. After he panics a little bit."

Your dad chuckled. "I'm in. But I'm not holding back—I'll really sell it."

Your mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are terrible."

"We'll keep it harmless," you promised.

By the time Drew emerged from the shower, fresh and smiling in a casual hoodie and jeans, you were ready to set your plan in motion.

The four of you were gathered around the dining table, enjoying your mom's homemade lasagna—a dish Drew had raved about during every visit. You decided to start small.

"You know," you said casually, "Drew actually told me he doesn't like your cooking, Mom. He says it's too... plain."

Your mom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Really?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Drew's head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. His eyes widened. "What? No! That's not true at all! I love your cooking!"

"Hmm," your mom said, narrowing her eyes. "That's funny, because you always seem to clean your plate."

"Exactly!" Drew said quickly, holding up his hands. "I do, because it's amazing! I don't know what Y/N's talking about. I would never say that!"

You bit back a grin and focused on your lasagna, mumbling, "If you say so."

Drew shot you a bewildered look, his brow furrowing. You could tell he wanted to press you on it, but he let it go—for now.

Later that evening, the four of you were in the living room watching a football game. Your dad had always been a big fan, and Drew had made it a point to bond with him over it.

"He doesn't actually like football, Dad," you said offhandedly during a commercial break. "He told me it's boring."

The room went silent.

"What?" your dad asked, turning to Drew with a stern expression.

"No, no, no!" Drew stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I never said that! I love football! We've watched games together! We’re both huge fans of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

"You mean the team you pretended to like just to get on my good side?" your dad said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew looked like a deer caught in headlights. "No, I swear, I really like them! I even looked up their stats before we came here so I could keep up!"

Your dad folded his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we had something, Drew."

"I—Mr. Y/L/N—I mean, sir—I promise, I'm not lying!" Drew's voice grew more frantic, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

When your dad turned back to the game with a dramatic sigh, Drew leaned over to you. "What's going on?" he whispered.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

The final straw came later that night when you were all sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dessert.

"Mom," you said with a sigh, "Drew said he's still hungry. He wants you to make him something else."

Drew nearly choked on his forkful of pie. "What?! No, I didn't!"

Your mom gave him a sweet but pointed smile. "Well, Drew, if you don't like the pie, I suppose I could whip something else up for you."

"I love the pie!" Drew insisted, looking panicked. "I never said that! Y/N, why are you doing this?"

You shrugged again, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

When your parents finally went their separate ways—your dad retreating to the living room and your mom heading upstairs to fold laundry—Drew cornered you in the kitchen.

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't give me that," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been throwing me under the bus all day. First the cooking thing, then football, now this? I swear I didn't say any of those things!"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe you did, and you just don't remember."

"Y/N," Drew said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "Are you messing with me?"

Before you could answer, your parents reappeared in the doorway, both looking serious.

"We need to talk," your dad said, crossing his arms.

Drew paled. "About what?"

"About all these things Y/N's been saying," your mom added. "We just want to know if there's something you need to get off your chest."

"I—I don't know what she's talking about!" Drew stammered, his hands flailing as he tried to explain himself. "I love your cooking, Ms. Y/L/N and sir, I love football, and I would never ask you to make me more food! I swear!"

That was it. You couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, doubling over as tears streamed down your face. Your mom quickly followed, and even your dad cracked a smile.

Drew stared at you all, realisation dawning on his face. "Wait... this was a prank?!"

"It was a TikTok trend!" you gasped, clutching your stomach. "I had to try it!"

Your mom patted Drew on the shoulder. "We're sorry, Drew. It was all in good fun."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't believe you all ganged up on me."

"You've pulled worse pranks on me," you reminded him, wiping your eyes.

"Fair point," he admitted, pulling you into a playful headlock. "But don't think you're getting away with this. I'm going to get you back."

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, grinning up at him.

As Drew laughed along with your parents, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have someone who fit so seamlessly into your family—even if he was already plotting his revenge.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one :’)) i really hope you enjoyed it my lovely !!

i’m still trying to figure out a master list, so fingers crossed i’ll have it up tonight !! but for now, you can click on my personalised tags to access my fics <3

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated !! <3

[mortallyfuzzytyrant]

Expanding on being Olrox's best friend.

My genuine belief is this friendship would form on mutual respect. It's clear Olrox is someone who doesn't take his true loyalties lightly. And he is beyond tired of people who are power hungry or buy into group mentalities.

I believe you would have met Olrox during a time of hardship for yourself. You being a humble individual who merely wanted to exist. Though, of course, the world wouldn't make such a thing so simple.

Olrox has basically spent his entire life forming alliances to get by. He found you trapped as an abstract entity being used by vampires. He found it distasteful but didn't do a thing at first.

Discovering you had a consciousness was a point of intrigue for him. You could think and feel. Hearing you speak wasn't surprising but amused him nonetheless.

You two held conversations now and again. It became obvious to you that Olrox merely sought out for himself and couldn't care less about the ambitions of the vampires that held you. You decided quite quickly you liked him.

He quipped about your abusers and boasted about his lover. Admittedly, it rubbed you the wrong way he sat by as you were made into a toy. But this man was the closest thing to what it was like to be treated like a person, so you clung to your brief interactions.

Plus, he was funny. At least you were getting something out of this. Olrox was keeping you sane.

You within an inch of your mental capacity each day. You were in pain and long past tolerant of others.

You were aware of what happened to Olrox's lover. You have no idea why he told you. He did it so matter of factly.

The way he always smirked when talking to you was replaced with a bitter scowl. His demeanor was a far cry from how playful and snarky he was before.

Instinctively, you offered your wish for his peace with the matter. You even complimented his lover. You saw him briefly. You were....more perceptive than average, let's put it that way.

Olrox's expression was unreadable but it was clear he absorbed your words.

Olrox had been put in charge of commanding you at some point. You spent more time together. Your being was still confined but your consciousness good stretch for eons.

You didn't mind Olrox commanding you. He was far kinder and just did what was necessary. Perhaps he wasn't exactly overly familiar. But he treated you as something akin to a lieutenant. Rather than a dog.

You formed a habit of calling him "master".

He never said anything. But somehow you could tell it bothered him. You thought it was because he wasn't fond enough of you to even consider you a servant. Still. You were attached and refused to stop.

One day you were pushed too far by the vampires that kept you. You were in agony.

After they left, you begged Olrox to set you free. You called him master like you always did. His green eyes pierced into you. You must've looked absolutely pathetic. Even without a face or body.

Something about the way he stood there enraged you. And the next time the other vampires came to make use of you, you did away with them all. Many more came to attack but your blind rage stopped them.

Olrox's smile as he watched you was irritating.

As much as you liked the guy, you were beyond tired of being viewed as a pass time. You aimed for him. And funnily enough, you did your fair share of damage.

Olrox got close enough to your prison. Imagine your surprise when he released you.

"You almost killed me." The laugh in his voice was baffling.

You had a better chance of doing that now that you were free. You didn't find it worth being impressed over. At least, not from his perspective.

You blinked as he simply turned to walk away.

Odd as it was, you instinctively thanked your master. Your previous rage was dwarfed by your confusion at Olrox's contradictory actions. All you could muster in your daze was gratitude.

Olrox replied with saying he had no idea who you were referring to.

You blinked.

"You're smart enough to slaughter a group of fools beholden to their delusions of grandeur. And another who stood by even as your screams carried over the ocean." Olrox smirks. "I think you're long past that."

You blinked. Smart, he says.

Olrox shrugged at your confusion. "You choose now of all nights to end them. Or us. I suppose I'm included in that. You've been watching the moon, haven't you? Being free now...Why, I don't think the night has ever been so beautiful. Wouldn't you agree?"

You were baffled at what he was implying. You insisted on calling him master.

He tutted your fixation on that.

"That's what no one ever told you. You don't need masters."

You gaped.

He smiled. "You figured that out all on your own. Everyone here is dead. You made an attempt on my life for my inaction. In what world does someone like that need anyone?"

You went quiet. Olrox was going to leave. You watched him go.

"You may follow me. If you wish." Olrox said without turning or stopping.

Your breath hitched at him reading your desires so easily.

"On one condition."

You bristled. Of course no one ever offered company without a catch-

"Never call me 'master' again." Olrox frowned pointedly at you.

You gaped. An odd request. But...You found yourself silently agreeing, following quickly.

Olrox smiles. A lot softer than you were used to. "I would like to see an actual form in front of me."

You blinked. Was that his way of...encouraging you?

You flushed, solidifying yourself the moment you were outside.

Olrox hummed. "Imagine hiding something this captivating. You're foolish about the strangest things."

You felt you should have been offended. But tears found their way to you. As shrewd as he put it, he undoubtedly called you beautiful.

You two knew each other for centuries and now you were attached to the hip in the open world. You were there for the murder of Julia. Olrox thanked you greatly for assisting in tracking her down but told you to stay out of the fight. You kept to the shadows and proudly watched your beloved friend triumph.

Richter was hardly conscious of everything around him. He froze at Olrox kneeling before him. Your presence felt more like a dream rather than what he was actually seeing. He wasn't sure he had actually seen another vampire there. It was intentional on your part, you hadn't wanted to give Olrox trouble and used your abilities the moment you spotted Julia. Your eyes have haunted Richter's nightmares for years. Though he is unable to tell if it was Olrox's or not. He doesn't remember you.

Mentioned this before, but Olrox allows you to hang onto him.

It's incredibly common place for you to rush to Olrox and put your hands on his chest and lean on him.

He responds with a hand on the small of your back. He'll fully embrace you if you've been separated during battle.

He will full on guard you with his body if it is needed. Though, it's rare. You are a strong vampire.

Full disclosure if he despises someone that flirts with you. Massive protective brother energy.

"Cunts need washings before they speak."

"Olrox!"

Olrox and you use endearments on one another. "Love" and "darling" are the most prominent. But pick your poison of birds, flowers or gems you compare each other to.

You were not amused by Olrox targeting Mizrak. Out of all the men he chose to ove on" with, a hypocritical human of the cloth wasn't in your pickings of the list. You saw Olrox running into his bad habits with him. It worried you.

You had a distaste for Mizrak from the start. It was sealed when he barked at Olrox.

You hissed. "Small mutts shouldn't bark so loud."

Olrox couldn't find it in himself to listen at first. It had been a while, but you knew he was still grieving.

You stayed by his side to offer support but you were waiting for him to throw the whole man out.

You whimpered and touched Olrox's forehead after what Drolta did to him.

"Olrox, love, your pretty little head is hidden."

You were enraged but simply allowed Olrox to take a breath and hold your hand while offering a soft kiss.

It's actually funny how much you have a "you can do better" attitude regarding Mizrak.

To a point Olrox has tickled you with a feather when you go on too long.

Thankfully, your intervention wore Olrox down and he was thinking far more clearly.

Either you healed Mizrak or let him die peacefully.

Regardless, he was weighing down your best friend over your dead blood sucking body. Watching Olrox chose immortality for someone a second time wasn't something you were going to allow.

I feel like being Olrox's best friend would be so nice. Olrox having all that love and trust in you to keep you close and being able to vulnerable. Olrox is the type of friend that you would be attached to the hip with at all times and would be so gentle and caring. Especially considering it's clear Olrox's orbit is scarce due to his past and how he feels about people in general. So his best friend is someone he'd be incredibly protective of and would cherish.

Olrox and his best friend would have tons of witty banter that both pokes fun at the other while also remaining wholesome and affectionate. Though the ones directed at others is ruthless and cutting. Olrox is for sure that friend you sit by and judge others with. You two have this telepathic connection (either literal or metaphorical) where you don't even need to look at each other and you just- react the same way to situations and people's stupidity, both facial expressions and body language. You two are menaces when it comes to being in other's presence. Regardless if it's holding a conversation or being in combat.

Olrox has gently tutted you to behave yourself on rare occasions but you can tell by his grin that he was absolutely encouraging your mischief. He even whispers his own quip in your ear every now and then, adoring when you giggle in response. You two are the biggest gossip buddies in private, making each other howl with laughter discussing what you think about recent events or the people you've ran into. Olrox would be helping you either bathe, do your hair, or simply sharing the bed with you all the while.

Olrox's voice is noticeably softer and thinner with you. Olrox keeps you close by having a gentle hand on your shoulder, waist, or having you cling to his arm. Olrox will often pull you to him and kiss your temple. Or on the side of your cheek. Either as a simple gesture of affection or giving you a swift goodbye in the rare times you two have to separate. Olrox will also hold you to his chest if you're hurting. Olrox seems harsh but for you he actively practices the utmost tenderness when comforting you.

Goodness forbid someone else caused your distress. Olrox will be absolutely feral if anyone dares cause you harm. You are his dear friend and he cherishes your spot in his life. He'll be damned if he lets someone disrupt that, even in the smallest ways.

[lying-on-floors]

oh my gawd, they were roomates...

Thanos/Su-bong: One time, when Nam-gyu was mad at me, I asked him for a glass of water, and he brought me a glass of ice. I asked him about it, and he told me to "wait for it to melt."

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: *Gently taps table*

Se-mi: *Taps back*

Min-su: What are they doing?

Thanos/Su-bong: Morse Code.

Nam-gyu: *Aggressively taps table*

Se-mi: *Slams hand down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: Se-mi isn't answering their phone.

Min-su: I'll call. *Puts phone on speaker as it's ringing*

Nam-gyu: We tried multiple times already. What makes you think--

Se-mi: Hello?

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Thanos/Su-bong: Not if they consent to it.

Se-mi: Depends on who you're stabbing.

Min-su: YES?!

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Thanos/Su-bong: I've already sent good vibes your way. They're coming . There's nothing you can do to stop them.

Min-su: This is the most threatening way I've ever been cheered up.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: I prevented a murder today.

Se-mi: How?

Nam-gyu: Self-control.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Thanos/Su-bong: That's one of my biggest fears. Like, if I ever woke up as a donut...

Nam-gyu: You would eat yourself?

Thanos/Su-bong: I wouldn't even question it.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: Is something burning?

Thanos/Su-bong: Just my love for you.

Nam-gyu: The toaster is smoking!

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Min-su: How petty can you get?

Nam-gyu: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: Look, I may not be a saint, but it's not like I've killed anybody. I'm not an arsonist. I've never found a wallet outside of IHOP and thought about returning it but saw the owner lived out of state so just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground.

Se-mi: That last one was oddly specific and makes me think that you did do that.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: This was a mistake.

Thanos/Su-bong, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh at one day!

Nam-gyu: But not today.

Thanos/Su-bong: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Thanos/Su-bong: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Se-mi: Seize the day, seize the night, what's the last one?

Thanos/Su-bong: Seize the dick.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《��《《《《《《《《

Thangyu (highschool) becoming friends...

Thanos/Su-bong: So, you like cats?

Nam-gyu: Yeah.

Thanos/Su-bong: *Tries to impress him by slowly pushing a glass of the table*

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Nam-gyu: Do you love me?

Thanos/Su-bong: We're literally married.

Nam-gyu: Yeah, but as friends or--

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Thangyu (highschool) before dating...

Thanos/Su-bong: You got a date yet?

Nam-gyu: No.

Thanos/Su-bong: Well, you do now! Get up and hold my hand!

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Min-su, nervous: Se-mi, there's something I need to ask you--

Se-mi: Finally! You're proposing!

Min-su: How'd you know?

Se-mi: Sweetheart, you dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Min-su:

Se-mi: I even picked it up once.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Thangyu and Se-mi come in from outside, soaking wet.

Nam-gyu: Min-su, you love us, right?

Min-su: Normally, I would say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won't like.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Thanos/Su-bong, standing in their bedroom doorway, staring at Nam-gyu, drunk as hell.

Nam-gyu: Babe, are you...coming to bed?

Thanos/Su-bong: No, thank you. I'm sure you're a lovely person but I have a boyfriend.

Thanos/Su-bong: *Sprawls out on the floor and falls asleep*

Nam-gyu:

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Nam-gyu: So, explain to me how you accidently set lemon on fire??

Thanos/Su-bong: Microwave for 40 minutes.

Se-mi: Why were you microwaving a lemon??

Thanos/Su-bong: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells, and I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges. But I couldn't find the pots.

Min-su: Did you burn an orange, too?? How??

Thanos/Su-bong: Microwave for 40 minutes.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

Min-su: We call that a traumatic experience.

Min-su, turning to Nam-gyu: Not a "bruh moment."

Min-su, turning to Se-mi: Not a "f in the chat."

Min-su, turning to Thanos/Su-bong: And definitely not an "oof LMAO."

Also, I've not forgotten Gyeong-su, he just doesn't live in the same apartment as them. He def is invited to the hang out, though.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Girl and Her Boys

Platonic Stobin + Eddie || wc: 2.3k || rating: G || tags: platonic love, platonic fic, platonic stobie (steddin?), tooth-rotting fluff, humor || Robin's worried the boys have some shenanigans planned for her Spring Band Concert... and she's right

~~~

If Eddie Munson had just watched Steve’s basketball game like a normal person, instead of a nonconformist lunatic, everything would’ve been just fine. Robin really should’ve known better, shouldn’t have been surprised when he showed up carrying a giant sign with Steve’s name and player number on it that read ‘best ball shooter’ with a little devil on it. 

Whenever Steve had the ball, Eddie screamed louder than the most obnoxious dads. At some point, the man pulled a damn kazoo out of his pocket along with those stupid, plastic hand clappers to celebrate Steve’s first three-pointer. 

Everyone was staring, the boys on the bench turning to sneer at him. She could feel the people around them slowly scooching away and her face burned with embarrassment. Finally, after two rounds of the Star Spangled Banner via kazoo, she turned to beg him to sit down only to then catch Steve wave out of the corner of her eye. 

She could see the blush across his face, not from exertion, but from a smile so wide that it glistened in his eyes. Eddie waved, face on fire. Robin gave him a scathing side eye when he’d turned to her and said “What, I just wanted him to notice me,” with a mischievous glint to his smile.

Robin had assumed Steve would be the bigger person and move on. He never said anything after the game, only smiling ear to ear like a puppy dog after doing a particularly impressive trick. However, she greatly underestimated her soulmate’s ability to be an absolute shit head.

Which is how a typically casual Friday night at the Hideout for Eddie’s gig turned out to be exceptionally uncasual and supremely atypical. 

She was clad in head-to-toe pastels. Nancy hadn’t agreed to come to the show, but she allowed Robin to rummage through her closet, fully on board with her and Steve’s shenanigans. Robin had picked out a pair of white heels, lavender stockings, a frilly, pink dress, and– her piece de resistance– a white cowboy hat. 

Steve’s outfit was made up of his own clothes, just taken to new heights. He wore not one, but two polo shirts, the white collar underneath popped up over his pale pink polo on the outside. His acid washed jeans looked tighter than normal, and he’d paired them with shiny, white, Adidas high-tops. Robin had laughed as she dug through his glove box on the ride over, pulling out her favorite electric blue sunglasses for him to wear. They tied the entire outfit together.

Steve had suggested making signs, “In case he can’t hear us when he’s on stage,” and definitely not as payback. All in all, they were pretty impressive. Each one dripped glitter over the sticky bar floor, although the pink puff-paint held together nicely. Robin was particularly proud of her own sign, ‘rock and roll is for sinners and winners’. She was, however, surprised when she read Steve’s ��I’ve got the devil in me’ sign. They’d made a bit of a spectacle of themselves, waving them high above their heads as they screamed along to the few lyrics they actually knew.

The band razzed Eddie about it, but none of it mattered in the long run. Robin remembers the embarrassed flush scrawled across Eddie’s face when he caught sight of them. He’d strutted across the stage, trying to move as far from them as possible. Much like the small crowd of confused regulars creating a wide, empty space around them. In the end, Eddie always came back, smile wide and genuine and full of love.

So here Robin sits, stewing with anxiety while trying to think of what they’ve got planned now that it’s her turn. She fiddles with the trumpet in her lap as she waits for the Spring Band and Orchestra Concert to start. Her black slacks from last year are uncomfortably tight around her hips, and the white blouse her mom picked out keeps snagging on the back of the too small plastic chair she’s perched on. The garbled mess of voices ringing through the gymnasium matches the zinging swarm of bees in her stomach.

She frantically scans the crowd in front of her, but doesn’t spot them anywhere. Robin’s parents and grandparents are going to be here and she knows the boys will have something obnoxious planned. They’ve been suspiciously nonchalant all week, almost sickeningly nice.

But when the freshman band starts playing, she still can’t find them, surprised they’re not sitting up front. She tries to look around but can’t find them in the crowd. Disappointed, she starts to wonder if they actually forgot. Robin did her best to bring up the concert as little as possible, not wanting to give them time to plan anything extravagant. She wonders now if that was a mistake.

When it’s finally time for the upperclassmen’s turn, she’s forced to give up her search. She plays her melodies, counts her bars, and tries to forget about how her boys aren’t here, knowing there must be a hell of a reason to miss it. 

The brass section dwindles down to the woodwinds. The notes fade out completely, leaving a one beat pause before the flutes are supposed to take off in a frenzy. Robin hates playing songs like this. It feels like a cheap trick, some kind of gimmick her music teacher comes up with to see if he can pull one over on unsuspecting families who think the song has finished. 

It works, like it always does. Soft, scattered applause breaks out in the crowd. Her teacher’s smug smile is wiped from his face as loud, obnoxious clapping echoes off the gymnasium walls. The kids are failing to contain faint giggles and snorts of laughter. Even though this happens almost every year, it’s definitely never this damn dramatic.

Robin sits up just a little bit higher to peek over the winds section and, sure enough, in the dead center of the crowd, there’s a head of frizzy, curly hair standing tall and proud. Aside from the outburst, Robin’s actually impressed Eddie managed to dress up a bit. He’s wearing what has to be one of Steve’s navy button down shirts along with his nicest pair of black skinny jeans, sans rips and holes.

Apparently being in a band doesn’t translate to understanding when a song is actually over. He glances around, red bursting over his cheeks as everyone stares back at him. Robin has to stand slightly to catch a glimpse of Steve sitting next to him. Her best friend is slowly sinking down into his chair in a fruitless attempt to hide. He’s wearing a light blue button up, most likely with his beige slacks. Steve’s flush is somehow an even brighter shade of red than Eddie’s. He’s hiding an awkward laugh behind his fist, and Robin can’t help but smile wide and unguarded at the mirth shining in his eyes. 

These two absolute idiots.

Eddie opens his mouth, but thankfully whatever he’s about to say is cut short by Steve grabbing a hold of his shirt sleeve and yanking him back down into his seat. Robin manages to catch Steve’s eye, and he breaks out into a stupid, adorable puppy-dog grin. He does his signature little finger wave. She snorts, matching his gesture.

Eddie leans in front of Steve’s face to look at her between rows of heads and waves manically back and forth. Robin’s fully laughing now as she waves back. There’s an elbow in her side and before she can snarl at the guy next to her, he nods towards where the conductor stands glaring at her, hands hanging in the air waiting to continue the piece. 

The flutes start up, but it’s still a few bars before her first note. So of course her eyes stray to the clarinets. Vickie’s already looking at her, smiling small but genuine. Beautiful and divine. Vickie rolls her eyes fondly and Robin only replies with a half-hearted shrug. 

The boys manage to make it through the rest of the concert without causing another scene. The conductor prompts the band to rise for a bow, and polite applause breaks out throughout the crowd once more. That’s when she hears it– hell, everyone in the school probably hears it. 

Eddie and Steve wolf whistle at the same time. It’s followed by an eruption of plastic clapper applause and shouts of ‘Go, Buck!’ and ‘Hell yeah that’s my Birdie!’ Robin can’t contain the bubbles of happiness bursting in her chest, leaving her light as air. 

She looks out and sees Steve holding another homemade sign covered in glitter that reads ‘Buckley blows the best horn’. Just as Eddie explodes a confetti popper– what Robin assumes is the first of many he has stashed in his pockets– the principal appears out of thin air to scruff them both by the neck and drag them out into the hallway. She can’t read his lips from this far away, but she can see Eddie yapping away, completely unbothered. 

Fuck, Robin truly loves these boys. Her goons, her dinguses, her schmucks.

The band leaves through the side door, heading straight to the music room to store their instruments before meeting their loved ones in the cafeteria. 

“Hey,” Vickie says, out of breath from jogging to catch up, “you did a really good job.” Robin doesn’t think Vickie could specifically pick her out from the rest of trumpets–at least hopefully not– but she takes the compliment anyway. 

“Thanks,” she shouts, a little too excited. And in typical Robin fashion, has zero follow up comments. So they walk down the hall together in silence, students around them buzzing with excitement. 

Vickie clears her throat, and bumps her shoulder against Robin’s. “It’s really nice your boyfriend came to watch you play.” Vickie sighs, deflating, “Wish mine had, anyways.” 

Robin doesn’t even process Vickie’s second statement before screeching, “I’m not dating Eddie Munson! We’re just friends.” 

“Oh,” Vickie smiles, emerald eyes wide and beautiful at Robin’s little outburst, “I guess I meant Steve Harrington. Everyone knows you’re dating. And, I mean, I see you two together in the morning sometimes– not that I’m stalking you or anything,” but her adorable stumbling doesn’t matter in the face of Robin’s blatant disgust. 

“Ugh gross absolutely not, he’s like my brother. My dingus, my very platonic soulmate. Like a long-lost twin separated at birth kind of thing, but also way more annoying.” 

“Oh good,” Vickie answers. Her eyes grow large, mouth falling open in shock as she stutters, “I’m sorry, I mean… It's not good. But it’s not, not good. You know?” 

Robin actually doesn’t know, so she just smiles, bumping shoulders again because the spot where their shoulders touched before is still tingling and she wants more. Vickie relaxes next to her. They’re quiet after that, but it’s a good quiet, filled with stolen glances and hidden smiles. It’s not until they’re both headed back towards the cafeteria when Robin finally realizes what Vickie said. 

“I’m sorry your boyfriend couldn’t make it,” Robin placates, hopefully drawing up enough of a fake smile to make it seem real. She does feel bad for Vickie, but she’s not sad about it. 

Vickie pulls her lips between her teeth into a thin, angry line. She groans in annoyance, and it’s the most Robin’s ever seen her complain, almost always a bubbly ray of sunshine. It reminds her of when Steve gets bitchy, and she love it. “He could’ve made it if he actually wanted to be here,” she huffs. “Apparently going to a party with his friends is a better way to spend his Saturday night.” 

Robin’s eyebrows are raised when Vickie turns to look at her, causing her to scoff out a laugh. “I know, I shouldn’t complain,” Vickie says, obviously not meaning a single word, “but the person you’re dating is supposed to watch your crappy, high school band concert, right?” 

Person. 

Vickie didn’t say boyfriend, she said ‘person’ you’re dating. It probably doesn’t mean anything… definitely, for sure doesn’t. It still doesn’t stop Robin from blushing like one of the hundreds of women Steve hits on every day at work. Fuck, she’s no better than one of Harrington’s bimbos. 

“They should definitely be here.” Robin smiles at her sympathetically, and Vickie thanks her before they walk into the noisy cafeteria. “I’ll see you Monday?” Vickie asks, heading off to visit her family. Robin nods, feeling the dark blush blossom on her cheeks as Vickie smiles, eyes shining with delight.

Robin finally spots her own family, and it’s standard procedure. Congratulations from her parents, telling her ‘Nice job’ and ‘You all sounded so good’ but it’s the comment from her grandmother, whispered in her ear in a tight hug, which catches her off guard.

“Your boy’s waiting for you,” she nods over Robin’s shoulder. She turns to find Steve grinning his dopey I love you smile at her. It’s her favorite, something special just for her. Lost in her soulmate’s gaze, her grandma gives Robin a soft elbow to the stomach to grab her attention. “I think you found yourself a good one.”

And honestly, Robin can’t find it in herself to spout her usual arguments of ‘he’s not my boy,’ because Steve is hers. He’ll always be hers just like she’ll always be his. They still love each other, still plan to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s just not the kind of love most people expect. 

It’s a kind of love that’s theirs, and theirs alone. 

Well, and Eddie’s too, of course.

Robin smiles back at her grandmother, a wet sheen to her eyes. “Yeah, I really did, didn’t I?”

[magiturge]

How did Hank and Sheriff first meet? And develop their relationship further?

well.. for their first meeting, you know. it left an impression.

with hank momentarily hesitating on the trigger to relish in the success of their rampage, just to lay with their brains on the table. it’s a lasting image.

in terms of developing their relationship more i need to back things with more context lest i wake some day, read this and feel a harrowing emptiness.

so if you’ll take a seat, pardon me, it’ll be long.

hank killing sheriff left a lingering grudge on him, printed on his mind for the years to come and as a result, hank became the target of almost any anger that came of the sheriff. even if more of sheriff’s mental strain and break came from jeb, his anger would funnel towards hank because his wrongdoing was more cut and dry than what jeb did to him.

the grudge festers and it’s almost as if it’s been put on a pedestal, kill hank j wimbleton, get your get back. give them the bullet you owe them, straight to the dome. you’ve got a force of men behind you, a fortress of some kind so do something with it. get that revenge.

and yet, those feelings aren’t reciprocated, because it was never that personal for hank.

..

the question here is “what does it mean to be recognized and acknowledged by hank j. wimbleton?”

what does that mean?

it’s what the sheriff wants, or atleast thinks he wants. for hank to get it into their head when he finally takes the shot that the sheriff is above them. you’ll see that i reign above you, that i’m better than you and you won’t get that jump on me again. you’ll answer to me, i’ve got the edge over you.

it’s just that hank doesn’t care.

even hatred isn’t reciprocated.

..so when they cross into the industrial sector, perhaps on their way to a different mission, and a particular grudge bearing cowboy puts his boot down, with years of actually toughening up under his belt, things are different.

somethings are the same though.

because when they have a spat on the wall of the industrial sector, and despite sheriff’s grand improvement in his capabilities in combat, when he gets slipped under and hank gets the upperhand, what does it do?

it relishes on the trigger, just the very first time.

because hank doesn’t respect anyone, hank doesn’t respect the sheriff.

and that’s how it gets its victory rugpulled out from under it, because he isn’t a defenseless coward anymore, he’s a coward that’s got a tougher shell and knows a way around a gun.

this should feel good, that he gave hank that bullet to the dome he owed him, but it doesn’t. not because he feels guilt, or remorse but that feeling that clarity that.. he’s watched hank clearly die in front of him long ago, and they came back. they always came back. even in a more grody, wretched shape they came back.

what made this death any different. and what stops them from coming back and chasing him down for this loss.

you’re acknowledged, at what cost.

one thing i like to clarify with hank, is they don’t have an issue with dying itself, but they have an issue with the way they die. if it was a stupid reason, a win stolen out from under it, bullshit that makes it all an inconvenience.

and that was all 3.

this is where i like to imagine they begin to have reoccuring spats between the two of them, across the industrial sector. ending in tight draws, be it from mutually sustained injury or sheriff ducking under the bullets of his own men into safety, a scummy tactic to escape his own loss.

..

hank is fragile. even in their hulking, tall and ominous frame they’re fragile. a network of bodies that don’t belong to them but they bear anyway. skin that isn’t theirs, grafted onto injuries. a heart that beats oddly, an inorganic jaw, muscles meeting the end of recruitment.

they’re a skilled killing machine, but they’re not immune to bodily exhaustion.

when you’ve got a score to settle, a petty useless on and off fight, with an equal parts FRUSTRATING target to catch. a practical moving turret, a once aimless useless coward knowing his way around a revolver, it gets exhausting.

so even when you’ve got the motivation to fight on, at some point, your frankenstein’s monster of a body will fail.

i’ve neglected to mention throughout this on sheriff’s side, he’s been continuously ruminating on just getting hank to buzz off again. that anger got washed away in victory and the clarity of this useless, resource wasting spat comes in.

so when hank’s body gives out in exhaustion, and they’re staring at each other. instead of gunning him down he..

..runs.

instead of keeping it up, he runs. instead of making sure hank is dead, even knowing as he glanced that the body is still moving, he runs.

..something about hank, is that it views many things through the lens of how optimal it would be in combat.

and the choice of a coward, turning his back on them, choosing to not shoot him dead like any reasonable mercenary would, his ‘stupidity’ was intriguing.

that’s how it begins.

because one of you is a script, and the other an actual entity. there are differences to be worked with.

their relationship develops more in the way of trial and error as hank is a rather independent, socially avoidant person in the sense it has little use for small talk, talking to people in general, sparking a conversation. sheriff also holds a certain image of hank in his mind as a killing machine incapable of grasping things like affection, friendship, even the idea of caring for someone, being considerate.

hank doesn’t have faith in anything, it just does.

sheriff has little expectation, but hungers the most.

it’s all still a cat and mouse chase, still with knives and guns but with an addition of chasing down thoughts and emotions.

a curious, intrigued desire to understand.

because you’re peculiar, and you did something stupid. you’re not the same as i last remember you being, a coward that put up so little of a fight and ran. you know what you’re doing now, and that irritates me.

sheriff is the most human of the cast to me, having had a social life, a job, a rational and completely reasonable fear of someone chasing him with a gun with intent to kill. a seldom seen sense of self preservation. he’s jaded and he’s desensitized but he doesn’t forget.

those kind of human treats, those luxuries of affection, of consideration and care.

hank doesn’t know that by default, it’s taught, it’s learned, it’s attached.

they never stop fighting, but they also never stop exploring each other.

they never normally vocalize their want of the other but they never stop digging their nails into each others skin when the embrace isn’t tight enough.

it’s a rocky, unpleasant and jagged path they’re walking..

and it feels good.

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART ONE

kang-saebyeok x fem!reader

synopsis: desperate to find a place to stay, your former high school friend ji-yeong let’s you crash at her apartment for the week. but things get complicated when her roommate doesn’t seem too happy about your arrival.

wc. 1.6k

warnings: none? | authors note: first ever fic woo-hoo! will try to finish this fic series before classes start next week but not sure how many parts this will end up being lol.

(nowhere girl masterlist)

“No. Absolutely not.”

Ji-yeong groans and throws her head back in tantrum. But if Sae-byeok says no, then it’s a no. Always being firm on her stance, it’s practically impossible to make Sae-byeok change her mind.

“But she’s literally right outside of the apartment building. Come on just one week and she’ll be gone like that!” Ji-yeong snaps her finger and shoots her roommate a sly smile. But because Sae-byeok was anything less than swayed she had to resort to pouting. “Please, Sae-byeok. After I ran away she was the only person willing to let me stay at their place until I got back on my feet. It’ll be awkward if I couldn’t do the same for her. And—And she’s such a sweet girl, nothing like me because I know you’d hate the idea of having two me’s running around!”

Sae-byeok rolls her eyes. She put herself through mental and physical obstacles to finally be able to afford to rent an apartment with Ji-yeong and to finally be the guardian Cheol deserves. After two months of tranquility in their new place, Ji-yeong suddenly wants to bring a fourth person into their tight knit sanctuary. A total stranger—she can’t imagine the discomfort Cheol will feel. It took him an entire summer to get used to Ji-yeongs presence.

“No.” Sae-byeok says, unamused.

“I will do you and Cheol’s chores for a month and you can hog the television as much as you want I won’t complain! Come on, just one week.” she crosses her fingers and begins batting her eyelashes.

Sae-byeok pauses to think for a minute.

“Just one week.”

“Yup! One week.” Ji-yeong nods.

“And you have to pick up Cheol from school on Mondays.”

“Ugh, fine whatever. So, is that a yes?” Ji-yeong groans. When Sae-byeok hesitantly nods she raises a fist in the air in victory. “Yes! Thank you, Sae, thank you! I’ll bring her up now—don’t worry she’s as harmless as a butterfly.”

Ji-yeong sprints to the front door and Sae-byeok slumps down on the couch. She grabs the throw pillow closest to her and presses it to her face to let out a massive groan. By the time Sae-byeok finishes letting out her frustrations on the pillow she hears the front door swing open and two people giggling like schoolgirls.

“Sae-byeok come here I want to introduce you to my ex-guardian angel!” Ji-yeong says, enthralled.

Frowning, Sae-byeok removes the pillow off her face and sluggishly gets off the couch. She’s not looking forward to this dreadful upcoming week with you around.

From first impressions, Ji-yeong was right about your delicate appearance. From your light denim wash overalls to your chipped pink nail polish, you were definitely the opposite of both Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong aesthetic wise.

“Hi, Sae-byeok it’s so nice to meet you!” you greet bashfully and give her a courteous bow. “Thank you so much for letting me crash here for a bit. I’ll do my best to not be a disturbance or anything like that.”

The moment you locked eyes with Sae-byeok you felt intimidated. Ji-yeong previously warned you about her cold nature so you braced yourself to be iced as you made your way to their apartment.

Sae-byeok bowed back ever so slightly, her hands dug deep in the pockets of her sweats, and her lean body easily towering over you.

Ji-yeong sensed that the tension was about to become awkward so she grabs you by your arm and leads you to her bedroom.

“My bed is small but we can definitely both fit as long as you don’t mind a little contact.” Ji-yeong explains.

You glanced around her room. It was messy, with posters placed crookedly on the wall, socks and undergarments scattered all over the floor, and a bag of open chips on the undone bed.

“Oh, uh, I’ll just sleep on the couch I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already have.” you say, laughing nervously. Was it too presumptuous of you to oppose her offer because of her messy room? You didn’t lie technically. You did feel ashamed to have to ask Ji-yeong for this huge favor.

“Are you sure?” she raises a brow.

“Positive.”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Ji-yeong was sworn to secrecy by you not to tell Sae-byeok why you had to stay at their place temporarily. But Sae-byeok isn’t annoyed because she wants to know what happened to you, it’s because she had the decency to let you stay so she has the right to know some backstory—but Ji-yeong remains tight lipped.

Sae-byeok was firm on having her walls secured throughout your stay.

The day you arrived, all Sae-byeok kept worrying about was how Cheol will take the news as she made her way to pick him up from school.

When you and Cheol met, the boy timidly greeted you before scurrying off to the room him and Sae-byeok share. He remained there for the rest of the day and Sae-byeok had to pull her roommate aside to tell her about how awful this plan was and that you had to leave immediately.

“She’s making him uncomfortable!” Sae-byeok argues.

Ji-yeong rubs her fingers on the sides of her temples. “Calm down, jeez. I’m telling you Cheol will warm up to her—“

“He shouldn’t have to warm up to her because she shouldn’t even be here.”

“Sae-byeok, you’re being dramatic. Just give him a day or two and he’ll be fine trust me.”

Sae-byeok wasn’t happy about this situation at all.

The morning after, Sae-byeok wakes up alone in her room with no sight of Cheol. She doesn’t think much of it at first since it’s Saturday, until she remembers that you were here. So she leaps from her bed and basically sprints to the living room. And to her complete and utter surprise, she sees you helping Cheol draw on a sketch book.

“Be careful with oil pastels, they break easily if you put too much pressure on them so draw on the paper lightly.” you advise the boy, your voice soothing and assuring.

Cheol’s tongue poke out between his teeth in concentration as he scribbles lines across the paper.

That’s when you sensed a set of eyes on you. You whip your head around and end up making eye contact with Sae-byeok.

“Morning.” you mumble to her before focusing back on Cheol’s painting because you can’t look into her eyes another second longer.

Sae-byeok inhales and exhales deeply before making her way to the kitchen. She’s conflicted. Cheol never became comfortable with someone this quickly. What, just because you can draw you are so likable?

Soon after, Ji-yeong pops out of her room in her work vest. When she heads towards the kitchen, she takes one quick glance at you and Cheol before smirking.

“I told you.” she whispers to Sae-byeok. The taller girl only scoffs as her response.

You appear right after. “Good morning, Ji-yeong.”

“Hey. Did you sleep well on the couch?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks again—for everything. Both of you.” you say. You suck in a deep breath, hesitant and careful with your actions. “So uh, I’m working later this afternoon at the art gallery I told you about. I was wondering if you’d all like to go see the art there? All free, of course.”

Sae-byeok raises an eyebrow. Was this your way of getting into everyone’s good graces?

Ji-yeong shrugs. “Why not? It sounds cool. I get off work early today and Sae-byeok—“

“Is busy.” Sae-byeok cuts her off.

You nod. “Of course, no problem.”

“You are?” Ji-yeong retorts.

Sae-byeok throws her a glare trying to communicate with her eyes to tell her to be quiet. Ji-yeong gulps.

“Oh, yeah you are. Sorry I forgot.” she laughs. “But I can go—and take Cheol, of course. That poor boy needs to explore the world and I’m sure an art gallery will cultivate his—“

“Stop talking.” Sae-byeok through her teeth. You look back and forth at the girls, nervous that you’re about to start a squabble between them.

“How about next time?” you say. “I’m interning there until the end of summer break so you guys have plenty of time to schedule a day to come visit.”

“Great!” Ji-yeong beams. She grabs the sandwich Sae-byeok has been preparing for herself and stuffs it in her lunch box. “I gotta go I’m already late so see you guys later!”

Sae-byeok mutters curses aimed at her roommate. She begins prepping another sandwich until she realizes that you were still standing there fiddling with your hands.

“What do you want?” she asks, hostile yet quiet in classic Sae-byeok fashion.

Your eyes widen and your face becomes flushed at her aggression, almost forgetting what you came here to do.

“I just wanted to apologize if I overstepped my boundaries.” you explain, your gentle voice being a contrast to Sae-byeok’s. “I was working on my art project and I saw your little brother was watching me curiously so I let him play around with my old oil pastels. I hope you don’t mind.”

Sae-byeok sighs. She tilts her head slightly to observe Cheol who was in his own world coloring. She never even considered to buy him anything to draw with—she can only afford enough for food and shelter.

“It’s fine.”

Not wanting to pester her any longer you go back to the couch. Cheol starts explaining his drawing but you start zoning out trying to decide if you should just walk out of this apartment and never look back. Right now, you would rather venture out on the streets than have Sae-byeok constantly ice you for a week. But can you really survive out there? Maybe if you just avoid her for the entirety of your stay you will be fine.

[fanged-fanfics]

Creatures Commandos platonic request, can you do Dr. Phosphorus x Child! Venom Reader (the only difference between them and OG Venom is that they can withstand extreme heat.), I need this radioactive skeleton man to be a dad again.

Y/N was abandoned by their family as a toddler, which gave them extreme abandonment issues, they get attached to Phosphorus and he lets them because they can touch him and he misses being a dad. You cannot tell me that he DOESN’T miss being a dad.

☆ Of Flames And Little Flickers — Dr. Phosphorus & Venom!GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff, Familial || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pokolistan wasn't exactly the worst place to bring a kid, most figured. But most people weren't on a mission to keep an insane purple villainess from tearing up the local government. Phosphorus didn't exactly find the idea of you tagging along to be a fond one— he loved having you around, but this could easily become an assassination mission at the flip of a dime. Considering what you had to go through before, he didn't wanna risk you getting any more hurt. But your abilities were deemed too valuable to go without, so there you were, traveling locked up in the same car with the rest of the monsters.

The long plane trip gave you jetlag more than anything, and you didn't manage to get good sleep after being dragged out so early to get on the flight. After Phosphorus forcefully positioned Weasel to the other side of the car, he made sure you could sit beside him. You were in a staring contest with GI Robot before Phosphorus gently nudged you, pointing out to the window behind his head. "See all that, kid? It's riding on your slimy little shoulders to keep all that from blowing up" he said. He made a motion with his hands to mimic a combustion, flaring a little brighter as he made the sound effect himself. You laughed at the display, and he chuckled while rubbing the top of your head.

"Not too worn out, yeah? We got a big day protecting this princess" he asked you. You shook your head "Nuh-uh. It's just... early". "Well, it's midday by now, kid, a little too late for 'early'" Phosphorus responded back. You groaned, sitting back in your seat "Why did it feel like we got dragged out so soon?" You complained. "Timezones, bud" Phosphorus said "Had to get up early to be here on time. It's a whole new country". You paused, soaking in the reminder of the unfamiliar landscape. You scooted closer to him, grabbing hold of his sleeve. Phosphorus wrapped his arm around you in return. Jeez, it'd been 15 years since he was able to have this. Someone who could stand to be near him, and who actually trusted him enough to lean on.

"You getting tired there, little hellraiser?" He asked, seeing you beginning to nod off. You stubbornly shook your head, mumbling in protest. He chuckled once more, pulling you up close to his side. To the average person, it was deeply scalding and searing to the touch. But to you, it was like being pressed against the warmest heater that could ever be offered. Your wide eyes slowly fall shut, feeling the comforting repetitive motion of Phosphorus petting your back to soothe you. Your head falls onto his form, using him as a foundation to lean on. He'd been that ever since you arrived, really. Support, stability, a shoulder or hand to reach out to. A jaded and crude support beam at times, sure, but he did his best to conduct himself at least a little bit around you.

While you slowly drifted to sleep, Phosphorus kept his gaze on you, seeing how you were able to relax against him. It was a familiar sight, one that made what was left of his heart ache. He looked up, seeing Bride not far at all taking note of it as well. He held a finger over where his mouth used to be to signify quiet. The stitched lady gave a sigh that showed she wasn't very impressed but, well, when was she ever? Phosphorus moved his coat to wrap it around your shoulders for extra protection, using a hand to shield you from the sun. He gently pet your back a bit more before simply keeping his gaze looking around for you both. No one could tell except for Phosphorus himself, but this time, he really was smiling.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

So...... If we are playing fair then, that means every single person that Biden just Pardoned is 100% guilty, including Milley and Faucci?

I see I see. Btw. I've said this before but I'll say it again. Blanket pardons should not be legal. You should have to define a crime prior to giving a pardon. Unless of course the person is already in jail in which case you can pardon them for those crimes.

However. It is the case that people who were supposedly guilty of trespassing on public property mind you, have been rotting in jail for years while literal pedophiles abusers and want to be dictators roam free. Like Gavin newsom. Who should be guilty of gross negligence given his lack of response and lack of preparation for the LA fires. Or Andrew Cuomo. Who killed up to 15000 people in nursing homes by putting covid positive patients into those places. Along with at least four other governors. And then there's Faucci. A man who literally helped fund gain of function research which has been illegal to fund or participate in for a while now.

Stack that on top of experimenting on beagles by letting flesh eating flies eat their faces after you cut their vocal cords and I would say that it is very possible that this man deserves to be in prison for a litany of things. But, I do not believe in any capacity these people deserve to walk. Because the difference between them and the January 6th people is the fact that a lot of the people arrested and put in prison didn't even do anything wrong. Most got changed with "trespassing" despite never having qualified for that charge. Meanwhile people have done sit-ins in pelosi's office aoc's office and several other locations by storming in and just sitting in. None of them are in jail for freaking trespassing. Same building no less. The only difference is the political leaning. And that's after we found out more regarding the FBI's participation in January 6th. No fewer than 26 agents on the ground mostly people meant to incite as well as informants.

Trump should find a way around the pardons to get Faucci. And it's more impressive to me that the liberals actually want to spare him considering that he's partially responsible for covid since he helped fund it. If nothing else he should be charged for gross and negligence. And a blanket pardon should never be a thing. You should only be able to be pardoned for things that are able to be proposed. And it doesn't have to be "admittance of guilt" it can be, "potentially charged for". But every single state should press charges against Faucci.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 128 (Aspirations and Life Lessons)

The mood at the campsite the morning after Elsa Bjerg-Watson's death was strange. They were still in shock, and Conrad headed for his tools as soon as he woke up. He needed to channel this guilty feeling into finishing the upgrades on the treehouse, especially since no one else could do it.

But the imaginative young boys had turned the playhouse into a pirate ship overnight, which just made Conrad think about Rafa. He knew, thanks to Oliana and Leila, that Melissa had made her way to Sulani, but he hadn't heard from her or Rafa since.

Ash woke up smiling after spending the night in the treehouse. Officially a Creative Genius, his mind spun with a thousand ideas from the minute his eyes opened!

River made breakfast while Conrad checked on Jett. "I'm okay, Mr. Gordon. My dad said death is just a part of life. I just have to be there for my friend Jada."

He was impressed with Jett's cool-headed nature, but the event was tough on Conrad and he kept a close eye on the kid. He knew Jett was Heather's biological son, but that made no difference. He was a kid who'd seen something traumatic, and Conrad knew how grief could change a person.

So did Jett's father, Everett, who'd lost his mother in a housefire as a child. The town priest kept a close eye on his son, too, but Jett surprised everyone with how quickly he seemed to accept death.

Cassandra called River after breakfast and broke the news of Bernadette's passing, encouraging them to stay with their friends. Michael was out for a bike ride around the ruins when she phoned, but when he learned of the death of the family dog on his return, he was heartbroken.

Having dealt with pet death a few times himself, Ash was the first to open up to his cousin. Despite their differences, Ash was maturing, and today Michael needed a good friend.

"Bernadette's in a good place now," he said, playing with one of Greyson and Jett Pancakes' Omiscan dolls, brought back from one of their mother Spencer's trips to Selvadorada. "Bernie was in a good place before, but this other place is just as good. My mom says so, and she's a vet so she definitely knows."

"But Aunt Heather couldn't even help her," said Michael sadly.

"Sometimes animals are too old and too sick. Like people. But Bernadette remembers you just like you remember her, so you can think about each other all the time."

Ash's advice helped his grieving cousin, and later, River chatted with Conrad while he continued the upgrades and the boys ran off to play.

"Michael loves him again - says Ash has him convinced they could build a shovel large enough to dig to the other side of Simlandia. It's a good thing he has you, or he might turn out like Malcolm."

Conrad laughed. "Malcolm's not so bad. In my line of work, I've met worse."

"Like George Brindleton? You said his son hated his guts, right?" Conrad nodded. "That's a pretty good life goal: Raise your kids so they don't live in an abandoned lighthouse or go to prison just to get away from you."

"I don't think you've got anything to worry about, Riv. Michael and Sammy got the best."

"Mike told me once he wished I had a cool badge like you instead of a yellow hard hat," he said with a laugh. "Broke my heart."

"You love that hard hat."

"It makes me look taller."

As the upgrades slowly neared completion, they cut their conversation short when Greyson joined to direct Conrad's hammering. "Is that how you're supposed to install the lights? Where's the socket go in the middle of the forest?"

The sun had set by the time Conrad finally hooked up the fairy lights, but with this they called it a day. The community treehouse was complete, and the boys made up some cardboard decorations to change the pirate ship into a castle - more befitting of a town like Henford-on-Bagley with all its medieval ruins. They'd sleep in the treehouse or their tents for one more night, and in the morning they'd all return home.

Ash would be picked up by Ray Pierce and taken to San Myshuno for an extended Easter Break with the Landgraabs, but before then, Conrad finally found a way to talk with him about Ben and his dog.

"You were really good with your cousin today, and you were really nice to Jett after what he saw last night. I'm proud of you."

Ash smiled. "Thanks Conrad. But I was telling them the truth. Death isn't so scary, and ambrosia brings anyone back who doesn't want to be dead!"

"Ambrosia shouldn't be used that often. It's really difficult to make for a reason."

"Why did you and Mom learn to make it, then?"

"The ghosts who do want it are few and far between, but those who need it usually need help, so your mom and I decided to help ghosts like Felix together."

"Are you helping any other ghosts?"

He spoke carefully. "We are. We're going to help Ben and his dog."

Ash stared at him, wide-eyed. "I thought Ben might be a ghost! But his dog doesn't seem like one. I couldn't see through them like Felix Psyded. And Captain Whitaker let me pet him."

"Captain Whitaker wasn't see-though?"

"No, and his fur was wet because it was so snowy! Was he see-through when you saw him?"

Conrad nodded. "Why did you think Ben was a ghost?"

"He was surprised I could see him. But you've seen him, so it's not that weird, right?"

"Ben said I can see him because he's a great uncle or something, several generations back." But Ash wasn't related to Ben...

The young genius thought carefully, his mind undisturbed by these ghostly revelations in a way Conrad scarcely understood. "When I was really young, I had a bad accident," he said. "I don't remember it, but Nan (Nancy) said I died before doctors and the Watcher brought me back..."

Conrad's stomach dropped remembering that awful day, Heather's guilt-ridden hysteria, and her belief that a curse had come for her son. "That's not a bad theory," he reasoned, and Ash smiled proudly. "I'll ask Felix what he thinks. You're really okay with all this? Elsa's death? Bernadette? Seeing ghosts?"

He shrugged. "If the ghosts I see look like Ben and Captain Whitaker, I don't even know they're ghosts. Just sims who need help, right? How are you helping Ben and his dog?"

"Ben says he wants us to give ambrosia treats to Captain Whitaker and adopt him so he can finally cross over."

"Is crossing over for ghosts who don't want to float around anymore?"

Conrad nodded. "It is."

"I think it's a good idea to adopt Captain Whitaker! Mom loves strays; why haven't we adopted him already?"

Conrad laughed. "We've been a little busy, and now that your Aunt Hazel lives with us, the house is pretty full!"

"Yeah, but...it's rude to make Ben wait to cross over!"

He couldn't argue Ash's logic and smiled. "Tell you what. After you get back from spending Easter with the Landgraabs, we'll go out to Deadgrass Isle together and bring Captain Whitaker home."

"Yeah! Let's do it!"

Despite the theme of death running through their weekend in Isle of Volpe Park, they had a community treehouse, improved friendships, and life lessons to show for the experience.

In the grand scheme of things, the weekend project was a smashing success! ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

I want you guys to help guide Ash's future now that his aspiration is complete, so look out for a poll VERY soon!

[rhiannonsknife]

— BUT I’M A CHEERLEADER (part 4)

— summary: the party at lottie’s & its aftermath.

— warnings: friends to lovers. lots of fluff. the highly anticipated nsfw content. mdni. (this takes place in their last year of school. all characters in this are 18+!!)

the ‘post game hangout’ at lottie’s is in full swing by the time you and nat arrive in her car.

you half expect it to be a repeat of cheer squad gatherings: loud music, sharp glances, and judgment lurking behind every corner. but as soon as you step into lottie’s house -a massive place, bigger than any party you’ve been to before- it becomes clear this is a completely different world from what you’re used to.

it’s also much more of a party than just a ‘hangout’, but neither of you minds.

“lottie really knows how to throw a party, huh?” you say, glancing around. nat grins, giving you a playful side-eye. “she’s got the biggest house, so she kinda has to,”

the sound of music and muffled laughter spills from inside as you approach, punctuated by the occasional cheer or shout from someone already a few drinks deep.

“we don’t do small, cheerleader!”

“i can see that,” your eyes sweep over the pristine lawn and the line of cars already parked in the long driveway. nat gestures towards the door. “ready?”

you nod, even though you can feel the nerves bubbling up inside you. it’s not the party itself that unsettles you, it’s the fact that you’re walking in with nat. for all the teasing from the yellowjackets earlier, the lines between what you feel and what you’re allowed to feel still seem blurry and fragile.

the inside of lottie’s house is just as impressive as the exterior already gave away: the foyer opens into a sprawling living room that’s packed with people lingering in groups, red plastic cups in hand, the atmosphere buzzing.

nat nudges you with her elbow while you’re still busy taking it all in. “come on,” she says. “let’s find the others!”

just like that, you let her lead you through the crowd. there’s no weight of curious stares and whispered commentary you expected and nobody minds as you two make your way through the living room. when you finally reach the kitchen, it’s no surprise to see van perched on the kitchen island, a bottle of something strong-looking in her hand, while taissa leans against the counter next to where van’s legs are dangling, caught up in a conversation with jackie.

“hey, look who decided to show up!” van calls out, waving at you both.

nat rolls her eyes. “you just saw us on the field an hour ago,”

“yeah, but this is different,” she teases, hopping down from the counter to greet you. “field nat is all serious and intense. party nat’s a lot more fun. and hey-“ she leans in conspiratorially toward you “she’s even more fun when you’re around!”

nat shakes her head, but you can see the faintest hint of color creeping up her neck. “i’m grabbing drinks!” she announces to the group, shooting you a quick glance before disappearing toward the living room.

you’re left standing awkwardly near the doorway until jackie waves you over to join them. “c’mon, don’t just stand there!”

you hesitate but ultimately follow her lead, perching on the edge of the counter while van leans in, her grin mischievous.

“sooo…” she begins, drawing out the word. “how long’s this been a thing?”

you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

“when did you and nat figure this thing out?” taissa chimes in.

“i don’t- there’s no- what thing?”

jackie gives a soft laugh. “come on, don’t play dumb! nat’s been acting like a completely different person lately. more focused, less grumpy. it’s cute, really!”

tai leans in, her voice low but teasing. “it’s pretty obvious. she’s been head over heels for you since, what? the arcade?”

your cheeks heat as you stammer, “we’re not- she hasn’t- there’s nothing going on!”

jackie exchanges a knowing look with the two. “if you say so,” she mumbles teasingly over the edge of her cup.

van, on the other hand, doesn’t let up. “c’mon, it’s fine! we’re just saying it’s nice to see her like this! she’s, i dunno… softer? it’s not a bad thing!”

you laugh awkwardly, unsure how to respond. before you get the chance to tell them that there really isn’t anything going on, nat returns, drinks in hand. the others exchange more looks as she strides over.

“there we go,” she says, handing you a cup, her fingers brushing yours briefly in the process. even as you take it from her, your mind is still reeling from what van, jackie and taissa just said. nat, head over heels for you?

“so,” she asks. “what did i miss? what are you guys talking about?”

“nothing,” van says innocently, her grin suggesting otherwise.

“right…” nat says, slowly lifting her cup to her lips.

the conversation shifts after that, the others diving into lighthearted banter about the game, but your mind lingers on what they said.

you glance down at nat once, catching her watching you out of the corner of her eye. she quickly looks away, taking a sip from her drink, but the small, almost shy smile that follows makes your pulse quicken.

all throughout the conversation, you’re hyper-aware of nat’s presence below you, standing close enough to where you’re perched upon the kitchen counter for you to smell the faint scent of her cologne and feel the warmth that radiates off her even though she’s not quite touching you.

the others are deep in their talk, laughing about some ridiculous inside joke that you don’t quite understand but can’t help smiling at. you feel lighter than you have in weeks, lighter than you ever did amongst the cheerleaders, like you’re finally where you belong.

still, your gaze keeps drifting back to nat, the reason why you’re here to begin with, why you get to belong like that.

it’s the shift of the music in the background, a louder, more fast paced song, snaps you out of your thoughts. a few people filter onto the makeshift dance floor that lottie has cleared in the living room, swaying awkwardly at first before finding a rhythm as a larger group gathers.

you glance back at nat as an idea begins to take shape.

“do you wanna dance?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended but still enough to catch only her attention. nat freezes mid-sip, her eyes widening slightly as she looks at you like you’ve just suggested something completely outrageous. “dance?”

your nod, grinning despite the nerves. “yeah, you know…where you move around to music. it’s kind of a thing people do at parties?”

her lips twitch into a smirk and she sets her drink down on the counter. “i know what dancing is, smartass. i just don’t…do it!”

“why not? scared you’ll look stupid?”

she scoffs, crossing her arms. “i don’t look stupid. just don’t like it. it’s not my thing,”

“come on!” you plead, now drawing the attention of the others as well. “just one dance! for fun? for me!”

for a moment, nat looks like she’s about to argue again, her brow furrowing as if she’s searching for an excuse. but then her eyes meet yours, and whatever she sees there makes her hesitate.

“show us how it’s done scatorccio!” van interrupts her train of thought, already urging her forward.

“fine,” nat mutters, pushing herself away from the counter, then waiting for you to hop off after. “but, i swear to god, if i step on your toes, it’s on you!”

you laugh, grabbing her hand before she can change her mind. “deal,”

you don’t need to turn your head to feel the eyes of all three girls on you as you make your way across the room.

leading her to the dance floor, you notice the way her hand lingers in yours, her grip firm, like she’s still not sure what to do with herself. the two of you find a spot near the edge, the lights dim and the music low, and you turn to face her with a grin.

“see? not so bad, right?”

“you haven’t even started yet!”

you turn so your back is to her front, already swaying to the rhythm of the song. nat hesitates for a beat before resting her hands awkwardly on your waist. it’s stiff and a little awkward at first, but the warmth of her touch sends a pleasant shiver through your body.

“relax,” you tease, moving against her. “you’re not being graded on this!”

she huffs out a laugh, her shoulders loosening just a bit. “easy for you to say. you’re probably great at this! you’re a cheerleader!”

the two of you settle into an easy rhythm, and while nat is still clearly out of her comfort zone, she starts to relax, her movements becoming less stilted. you can still feel the eyes of her teammates watching from the kitchen, but for once, you don’t care who sees. it’s just you and nat.

at one point, she leans in just a little closer. her voice is low and her fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans as she murmurs, “this isn’t terrible,”

you laugh, your heart skipping at the new proximity. “told you so!”

the music flows seamlessly from one track to the next yet nat doesn’t leave the dance floor after the first song like you half expected her to. instead, she stays, her presence warm behind you, her fingers gentle on your waist.

even as the upbeat tempo shifts to something a little slower, you’re quick to tug her hand, keeping her on the floor so she won’t flee from you.

“not letting me off that easy, are you?”

instead of replying, nat spins you gently, making you laugh as you end up face to face, more suited for a slow dance like this. instinctively, you drape your arms over her shoulders and lace your fingers behind her back.

nat’s body seems much more relaxed now, her grip on your waist softer, her movements less self-conscious. you’re still swaying together, but there’s something gentler about it now, something intimate, with the soft glow of the lights playing across her features.

at this point, you’re hyper-aware of her hands on you and how close she’s standing. so close her hair brushes your cheek when she tilts her head, so close you can feel the shudder in her breath, sending a shiver down your spine that you hope she doesn’t notice.

“you’re getting the hang of it,” you mumble.

“don’t push it. this is already way more than just one dance,”

“it’s called making up for lost time,” you counter. “you’re doing great!”

nat snorts, shaking her head. “dont lie! i’m terrible at this!”

without hesitation, you tighten your grip on the back of her neck, pulling her gaze back to yours. “nat,” you say softly, catching her attention. “nat, seriously, you’re really not,” you insist, meeting her eyes.

the room seems to shrink as the two of you sway to the slower rhythm. the din of conversation and laughter fades into the background, leaving just the soft hum of music and the warmth of her presence in front of you. you glance up at her through your lashes, heart racing at how close she is. her gaze flickers down to meet your eyes, then drops lower, to your mouth, and for a moment, the world feels like it tilts on its axis.

the song begins to fade, and before either of you can move, someone takes over the stereo. the slow melody is abruptly replaced by an upbeat, fast-paced track that jolts you back to reality.

nat groans dramatically, stepping back with a shake of her head. “that’s my cue to get off this death trap!”

you laugh, reluctantly letting her slip away. if it wasn’t already, the party is in full swing now, with people around you shouting and singing along to the lyrics.

you follow nat, intending to tease her about her endurance, but something else catches your eye as she brushes her hand over her face: the faint smudge of black along her lower lash line, where the eyeliner she always wears has started to smear.

“wait,” you stop her just before she reaches the comfort of the kitchen the other yellowjackets seem to have claimed. “your eyeliner’s all smudged!”

“what?” nat frowns, her hand flying up to touch her cheekbone, wiping at her eye in an attempt to fix it. “are you serious?”

“stop,” you chuckle, reaching out to still her hand. “you’re only gonna make it worse! come on!”

“i can do it myself,” she protests, though she doesn’t pull away.

you tug her down the hallway, weaving through the crowd toward where you assume the bathroom is. even though she grumbles something under her breath about not caring how she looks, she doesn’t let go of your hand.

you close the door behind you, and nat stands just inside, her posture uncertain. 

“sit,” you order, pointing to the closed toilet seat. “i’ll take care of it.”

she blinks before sitting down, knees pressed together, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap.

nat watches you, tracing every movement you make as you open your purse and pull out the small makeup bag. “do you really carry all that around with you?” she asks, her gaze meeting yours in the reflection of your mirror.

“hey! it’s for emergency touch-ups! comes in handy now, doesn’t it?” you laugh. “i could also leave you to look like a raccoon, if you want?”

nat huffs, shaking her head. “fine, fine. just get it over with.”

you turn around and step in, your knees brushing lightly against her legs. carefully, you move your fingers, steadying the eyeliner pencil.

“don’t make it weird,” she mutters.

you lift her chin gently to get a better angle, brushing her cheek with the pads of your fingers. “i’m not, i promise,”

nat doesn’t flinch when you trace her waterline, her eyes looking up as she stays still, her breath catching just a little as you work. there’s an undeniable pull now, an electric charge that shoots up your spine every time you glance at her.

you try to focus on the task, try to steady your hands, but it’s hard to concentrate when nat is so close. your heart beats louder than the soft scratch of the pencil on her skin.

“almost done,” you murmur.

when you finish, you lower the pencil and meet her touched-up eyes. they're wide as they turn to meet yours, her lips slightly parted. you don’t step back like you probably should. you don’t even remove your hands from her cheeks, where they still sit firmly.

there’s only the two of you and that undeniable pull. you’ve tried pushing it away, you’ve tried ignoring it. you’re tired of pretending like it’s not there.

you inhale deeply, your fingers tightening on her face and nat’s eyes fall to your lips. this time, it’s not a stolen glance either. it’s there, right in front of you, with neither of you bothering to hide it.

you’re about to close the space between you, when the door suddenly bursts open with a loud bang.

“guys!” van’s voice bursts through, full of energy and excitement. “you’re not gonna believe this, but-“ she stops mid-sentence when she sees you two, the scene frozen in place. for a beat, all three of you stand there, the room suddenly feeling much too small. van blinks a couple of times, clearly processing the intimate scene she’s interrupted, then grins from ear to ear.

“randy lost a bet and is jumping in the pool fully clothed!“ she announces. “but i guess you guys are…busy in there. i’ll leave you to it”

she’s already turning on her heel again, clearly not wanting to miss out on it. “remember to use protection kids!” she calls as she rushes down the hall. “don’t want any surprise bets on the way!”

you pull away just slightly, your heart still thudding loudly in your chest.

“uh, yeah,” nat says, clearing her throat, the moment slipping away from you. “we’ll be out in a minute!”

the second the door clicks shut, you and nat both exhale, as if you’d been holding your breath this entire time.

“i-“ nat starts but, for once, she doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“uh- i guess we should-“ you gesture over to where van had gone.

“yeah. yeah, definitely.”

you both stand in silence for another moment. for one last second, you think she might reach for you again. but she doesn’t. instead, nat takes a step back toward the door.

“wouldn’t want to miss out on that,” she says with a slight, uncertain grin, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

randy, true to his words, does make the fully-dressed dive into lottie’s pool, which earns him laughter and applause from the spectators surrounding the scene. the water splashes high as he emerges, dripping wet and grinning like a madman.

you don't catch half of it, too preoccupied with watching nat from across the yard, laughing with the rest of her teammates. you should have kissed that smiling mouth when you had the chance.

by the time the party begins to wind down hours later, only a few yellowjackets remain. the energy in the living room is mellowed but still full of warmth. van and taissa are the last women standing, still swaying to the beat of some toto song that's playing from the stereo. on the couch, shauna and jackie are curled up together, their heads close, their low murmurs barely audible over the fading music.

you stand near nat, a comfortable silence between you two as you observe the scene.

“guess it’s time to go,” nat says quietly, fiddling with the carabiner on her jeans as she searches for her keys. “lottie!” she calls, catching her attention from where she's chatting with laura lee -the only one of the group who’s still completely sober.

nat untangles the keys and holds them up. “i’ll leave the car here for the night, alright? just move it if it’s in the way!” she explains, setting them down on the table.

“you two heading out?”

“yeah, just walking home,” you tell lottie, nudging nat with your elbow.

“alright,” she hums, waving goodbye. “good night,”

“night!” you both call out to the group before turning to leave.

the cool night air is refreshing after hours in the suffocating warmth of lottie’s place and the streets seem quieter, the house fading in the distance as you walk side by side.

her hand brushes against yours every now and then, but neither of you makes a move just yet. the streetlights flicker above, casting soft golden light on the pavement ahead. you don’t speak right away, both of you settling into a comfortable silence as you walk.

the distance to your house is surprisingly short, but every step feels like it lasts a little longer than it should, like neither of you is ready for the night to end. it’s strange how just walking with nat feels like it could stretch into infinity, and you’d be content with that.

when you do reach the front porch, you stop, hand resting on the railing. nat lingers at the bottom of the stairs behind you, her own hands shoved in her pockets, not in any hurry to leave. you turn to face her, your pulse quickening in the stillness of the night.

finally, you find your voice: “thanks for tonight, nat,” you say. “i…i had a great time!”

for a beat you stand there, frozen in place, wondering if there’s more you’re supposed to say. your eyes meet hers again. you could say goodbye. you could walk inside, end the night, and pretend like there’s nothing more to it. but the moment feels too big, too full of things unsaid for you to walk away from it.

you turn fully to face her, your heart racing just a little. before you can second-guess yourself, you stumble down the stairs and grab the collar of her jacket. nat doesn’t have time to react, her eyes widening just as you pull her toward you, and in one swift motion, you press your lips to hers like you’ve been dying to all night.

everything pauses. the kiss is unexpected, quick, and electric. a mix of everything unspoken between you two. all the tension that’s built up over the weeks, all the doubts and fears, dissolve in that single, raw moment. nat’s body goes still, as if neither of you can quite process what’s happening.

then, almost as if waking up, she finally responds, her hands gently cupping your face. her lips move against yours with a softness that you hadn’t expected from nat: she’s slow at first, cautious as if she’s waiting for you to change your mind. but you pull her in closer, deepening the kiss without thinking.

the moment shatters only when you hear the faint sound of a car driving by down the street. you both jump apart then, but not far enough to break the connection. breath comes a little quicker now as you stand there on the porch, eyes locked, saying nothing.

the car drives by, leaving you invisible in the shadows of your house.

a beat.

you don't even register jumping back into motion, but suddenly, you're both stumbling back toward the door, lips locked again, hands moving instinctively, pulling each other closer. your heart beats faster with every step, every touch. you can't get enough of her.

you reach the lock, fingers fumbling with the key for a moment before it finally turns, letting you slip inside. the door closes quietly behind you, carefully pulled to avoid a sound. inside, it is quiet and dark, the house hiding you as you stand there, just breathing. nat’s forehead rests against yours, both of you too lost in the moment to speak, but the tension is still there, palpable.

nat breaks the silence first, her voice low, barely a whisper. "are we...doing this?"

you smile, your thumb brushing across her jaw as you pull her back into another kiss, slow and deliberate, like you're both savoring every second of it. you don't pull away at all this time. instead, you guide her to your room, the distance from the door to your bed feeling like miles.

you stumble against furniture and walls on the way there, giggling into each other’s mouths as you try to find your way.

when you finally make it to your room, you're both panting heavily, your hands still holding onto each other as if afraid one of you will slip away if you let go.

all the past weeks have come down to this.

nat leans down to kiss you again, even slower this time, her hands coming to rest on your waist, her fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. you press yourself against her, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as though you both can't help yourselves anymore.

“we have-“ you murmur against her lips between kisses. “-to be quiet!”

nat smiles softly, nodding, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmurs, "i think we can manage,”

you grin in relief. carefully, you make your way to the bed. the only sound is the soft rustle of clothes being discarded, and then the warmth of her hands against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“i’ve never-“ you begin as you toss nat’s leather jacket over your chair. your teeth dig into your lower lip nervously, both because you’re admitting this to her and because you know what’s still to come.

“hey,” nat nudges your chin so you’re looking back up at her. her hands reach for your cheeks, the cold metal of her rings pressing against your skin. “it’s okay. you’re okay”

you nod on a shaky exhale and nat’s smile softens, mirroring your expression.

“we don’t have to-” she starts, but you're already cutting her off.

“no!” the word comes out too eager, too rushed, and you feel your face heat. “no. i want to!”

no matter how appreciative you are of her patience and assurance, you do feel ready. you had been the minute she’d first kissed you under the porch light (perhaps even long before that), when her chapped lips started moving against yours slowly.

nat nods once, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and your eyes fall to her mouth, helplessly transfixed. “okay” she says quietly. “okay...”

she's on you in seconds, her lips capturing yours again, her weight pressing against you until your back hits the mattress.

your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer, and she hums into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. nat’s fingers skim your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her nails dragging lightly over your skin. goosebumps rise in their wake, and you shiver involuntarily when her rings brush your bare side.

nat pulls back, her lips grazing yours as she grins. “cold?”

“a little,” you admit, breathlessly.

nat's teasing smirk only grows as she sits back on her knees, perched over your legs. her hand rests flat against your lower abdomen, just above where your shirt has ridden up, while the other ghosts over your ribs.

you reach for the one pressing against you, your thumbs circling her wrist to pull it in. you hold her hand up between you, examining the metal bands on each finger for a brief moment before leaning forward. one by one, you kiss the tips of her fingers, your lips hovering over the cool metal as you move lower.

above you, nat sucks in a sharp breath.

you glance up, and her wide, surprised eyes meet yours.

your finger brushes over her knuckles as you tug one ring free, then another. nat’s gaze follows every movement, and when you press another gentle kiss to her now-bare fingers, a tremor runs through her. you set the rings down on your bedside table and turn back up to look at nat.

the tension between you hums like a live wire, but it's not overwhelming. it's something else entirely, something that feels right.

nat swallows hard, her lips twitching upward. “better?” she asks.

“yeah,” you rasp. “way better.”

you sit up to meet her halfway this time, giving her room to peel your shirt off and toss it aside. it lands on the floor by the side of your bed softly, leaving you in a plain black bra. still, her eyes rake over your chest both hungrily and with an adoration that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen playing out on nat’s features.

“you’re so-“ she says, her fingers twitching like she’s resisting the urge to reach out. once again, you take nat’s hand in yours and guide it to cup your breast. you both exhale simultaneously, adjusting to the new sensation. she must feel your hardened nipples through the fabric, judging by the way her gaze drops and she bites her lip.

experimentally, nat’s thumb flicks the pebbled nipple, instantly drawing a shuddered moan from you.

“nat, off,” you manage, head lulling back already.

thankfully, she complies: nat reaches around your back and smoothly unhooks the clasps. while holding the eye contact, she pulls the fabric off, exposing your bare chest to the chilly night air. she discards it carefully, letting it join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“you too!” you urge, fingers impatiently reaching for nat’s tank top. she smiles but helps you get it off and throws it aside, revealing the red bra she’s wearing underneath. the sight takes your breath away, and you’re stunned into silence. unlike nat, you can’t help yourself but blatantly stare.

“you’re so pretty,” you finally whisper, leaning in to kiss the swell of her breasts that spill from the bra.

nat’s now bare fingers tangle in your hair as she guides you, letting you have this. you mouth at the fabric eagerly, yet before you can pull it down, nat pushes you back into the sheets.

you don’t feel exposed like you thought you would in this position, even though you evidently are: with your hair sprawled out around your head on the pillows, your nipples hard and on full display, and your chest heaving rapidly. you can feel the wet patch in your underwear.

nat leans over you and begins kissing down the expanse of your upper body. her mouth trails down the valley between your breasts, leaving the faintest marks in the places where she sucks on your skin just a little harder.

“so pretty,” nat mumbles absentmindedly, her calloused fingertips roaming your sides. they fall to your pants next. with both eyes closed and your head thrown back into the plushy pillows, you nod.

“please,” you whisper into the space between you. a space that’s yours and nat’s only. “please!”

“i got you, cheerleader,” nat says teasingly. you blink an eye open to see her staring down at you. her hands spring into action, skilled fingers unbuttoning your jeans before unzipping them and peeling them off your legs. you kick them down the edge of the bed, leaving you completely bare except for the thin, soaked fabric of your underwear. nat must see the stain on the fabric from where she’s sitting between your knees.

her palms press flat against your legs, brushing up their length until they land on the flesh of your inner thighs and nudge them apart. if she hadn’t seen your arousal before, the pleased smile on her face when her eyes land on your crotch speaks volumes.

“holy shit,” she mutters, her voice husky and low.

you want her, you realize, more than you’ve ever wanted anything else before. you want her fingers, her mouth, whatever nat is willing to give you. you tremble with the force of allowing yourself to feel this kind of want, to let it take over you without any attempts or reasons to oppress it.

“nat,”

her eyes flick up and her fingers instinctively reach for the waistline of your panties, a silent question hanging between you.

“yes!” you nod. “yes please!”

instead of taking them off right away like you had expected, nat begins kissing up your inner thighs, occasionally letting her tongue dart out to lick over your skin.

“can i…?” she husks when her nose practically nudges the crotch of your underwear.

too impatient to deprive yourself of it any longer, you hook your fingers into the hemline yourself and push them down past your knees.

nat smiles up at you softly before she lets her eyes drop to your naked form. you can feel all the places where your wetness is sticking to your thighs, the air making you hyper-aware of all the wet spots.

“god,” she groans, her fingers running through her bleach blonde hair. “look at you…” she brings her other hand up to gently spread you open and take in the sight of your body bare before her.

you spread your legs a little wider for her, gasping when nat’s thumb brushes your clit for the first time. your soft moan makes her crawl up your body, her lips meeting yours in a searing kiss to hush you, her fingers gliding through your arousal.

“nat,” you moan against her mouth. “nat, inside.”

thankfully, nat understands. your body tenses when she slides them into you with a soft moan of her own, then immediately relaxes when she smiles against your lips. you feel yourself fluttering around her as you take nat in greedily.

“good?” she breathes, motionless until you nod erratically. that’s when she begins to move.

immediately, she’s drawing obscenely wet noises from between your thighs that echo from the walls around you. you gasp at one particular good thrust against your walls, her fingers curling against a spot that causes your eyes to roll back in your head.

you moan as your head falls back against the pillows and your mouth hangs open against nat’s. you cling to her body breathlessly, reaching around her back as her fingers work themselves deeper into you.

“mhm, i know,” nat gently whispers, “i know, that’s it, i got you,”

all her praise goes straight to your cunt, sending another wave of pleasure surging through your body. your hand finds hers through the haze and you lace your fingers together. you need to feel her, need to know that she’s still there.

“you take my fingers so well,” she praises, each word accompanied by another thrust. you nod once again, her voice sending you spiraling and gushing more arousal all over her fingers.

“i’m gonna put my mouth on you now, is that okay?” she asks.

“yeah!” you instantly assure, eyes turning to the ceiling above, mentally bracing yourself for the sensation of her lips and tongue on your pussy. “yeah, please!”

she doesn’t kiss your body as thoroughly this time for the sake of reaching her destination faster: only brushes her lips over your stomach briefly before getting comfortable between your spread legs.

your hands curl up in her hair tightly in anticipation and nat hums in response before her mouth closes around your clit and sucks. nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the actual feeling of nat scatorccio's mouth.

you can see her eyes through her sweaty bangs, catch the way they roll back in head at the first taste of you.

“oh, nat!” you moan, louder than you should, but neither of you cares. you arch your back off the soft sheets, grinding yourself against nat’s broad tongue until you feel your stomach coiling and tightening in pleasure. there’s an unrelenting tension building up there, one that’s just waiting to snap. she lets you chase your orgasm, allows you to move however you please.

“are you close?” nat murmurs against you, her fingers sliding back into your cunt so suddenly you shudder. it seems harder for her to thrust into you now, with your walls tightening around the digits.

“i think so” you manage breathlessly.

nat, spurred out by this, doubles her efforts and dives right back in, flicking your clit with her tongue and curling her fingers against your g-spot. it’s so much. it’s not nearly enough. it’s perfect.

nat sends you over the edge in mere seconds.

“that’s it,” you hear her praising.

with a cry of nat's name, you cum against the feeling of her mouth and fingers. you can still sense her voice talking you through it, but it feels distant with the pleasure rushing through your veins.

her hand squeezes yours through the orgasm, grounding you as you tremble with pleasure. not once does she take her eyes off you as you ride out the waves of your height.

only when your body stops shaking, nat pulls out, clearly not wanting to push you to a point of overstimulation. someday, you think to yourself, you might ask her to. but not tonight. tonight you want to enjoy the new experience with her and the tenderness of nat’s touch.

the next time you open your heavy lidded eyes, nat is lingering above you. she’s watching you recover through wide, curious eyes.

“hi,” she whispers when she notices.

“hi,” you chuckle, still breathless.

“was that…” nat trails off, biting her lips. “okay?”

instead of a verbal response, you cup her cheeks and crane your neck to gently kiss her lips. you can taste yourself on them and have to fight back the urge to lick your arousal from nat’s mouth.

“more than okay,” you whisper then.

you’re spinning her around before you know it, kissing nat with newfound determination as you press her into the mattress.

there’s a long night ahead of you.

the room is dim now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the streetlight outside. nat is perched on the windowsill, the cool night air blowing in through the open window. she exhales smoke, the grey tendrils curling lazily in the air before disappearing into the darkness, and you watch her.

“can i ask you something?” nat’s voice is soft, her eyes lingering on the street outside.

you nod, drawing your legs closer to your chest you as you sit beside her. “of course,”

she turns to you, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “what does this…what does it all mean for us? i mean, after everything with your ex, i want to be sure, you know? i don’t want you to feel like you have to rush into anything or that i’m, like, pressuring you,”

you can tell nat is trying to be careful for your sake, but it’s obvious her mind is already on what’s next. you want to reassure her, to let her know this is what you want, something that feels right in a way nothing ever did with your ex.

“nat,” you begin “it’s okay. i do want this. i want you. i’m not going anywhere!”

she blinks at you, her gaze softening as the words settle between you two. she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke drift out of her mouth with a sigh. then, she sets it aside on the sill, her fingers tracing a light path along the window frame.

“i just want to make sure I’m doing this right,” she murmurs. “i mean, i kinda jumped into it with you. and, look, i’ve never really been one for...all of this, you know? i want to take my time with you. show you that i want this!”

your eyes widen just slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. “you want to take your time with me?”

nat looks away for a second, clearly flustered. “i know, i know. it sounds fucking ridiculous, but…yeah. i do. i’ve never really done this right with anyone before, and i want us to take this slow!” she glances back at you. “not because i don’t want you! god, i do! it's cause i really do want to…swoon you properly”

you laugh, a light sound, your heart swelling with affection. “you’re really something, you know that?”

“a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, but you can tell there’s none of her usual sarcasm behind it.

you pull nat a little closer, your fingers brushing against her hand. “i’d love that,” you whisper, meeting her eyes. “i’d love for you to…” you grin, making a vague gesture. “swoon me”

before she can say anything else, you kiss her. it’s slow, sweet, the kind of kiss that feels like it could go on forever if you wanted it to. eventually, you do have to pull away to catch your breath.

“i’m not going anywhere either,” you assure. “take all the time you need, nat. i’m right here!”

she grins, a little sheepish but undeniably happy, and leans in to kiss you again, this time with more certainty, more trust.

“deal,” she murmurs. “but, for the record, i do want to be your girlfriend. if that’s…something you want, too?”

just when you thought this evening couldn’t get any better...

“yeah” you confirm, smiling so widely your cheeks ache from it. “that is something i want,”

weeks later…

the air is warm, bordering on too hot, a hint of summer heat creeping into the car despite the ac as the engine hums quietly. the smell of fresh grass and the distant sound of chatter from the graduation ceremony echo outside, but inside, it’s just the two of you.

you and nat are in the backseat, both of you in your graduation gowns, caps discarded carelessly on the passenger seat. the gowns, those stiff, awkward, and uncomfortable outfits, are crumpled around your bodies as you make out.

your girlfriend’s lips are warm against your own, her hand tangled in your hair as she urges you against herself. her laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you break the kiss just enough to look at her, eyes practically sparkling with mischief.

“we’re going to be late,” nat murmurs between soft kisses down your neck, her voice teasing. “they’ll be looking for us, and then we’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

you laugh, a soft, breathless noise that blends with the hum of the engine, and shake your head. “who cares?” you press your lips against hers again. “i’d rather be here with you!”

nat grins, a little breathless herself now. “yeah, me too.” she leans in again, but pulls back just as quickly, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. “we’re literally getting our diplomas in, like, 10 minutes. and we’re in the back of my car, making out. that doesn’t exactly scream ‘responsible graduates,’ does it?”

you both burst into laughter, the sound of it filling the space of her car. “let’s just skip the ceremony and do this all day,” you tease, your fingers brushing over her gown, feeling the fabric slide beneath your touch.

nat laughs again, pulling away to look at you with that same fond, playful expression she always has when she’s teasing you. “we could,” she says, “but i think the others might kill us!”

you chuckle, then glance out the window briefly. the ceremony is happening just outside the school, with enough room for all your classmates to gather for one final moment together.

you know this is it: this is a chapter closing. but for now, it doesn’t matter. all that matters is this moment. with nat and the heat of summer beginning to settle in around you.

her fingers brush your cheek, pulling your focus back to her. “we should really get out there,” she says, though there’s no real urgency in her tone. it’s clear that she wants to stay here with you just as much as you do too.

“i know,” you reply softly. then, after a pause, you add: “in a second!”

“in a second,” nat parrots, her voice full of affection. “just a few more minutes…then we can go face the world together, as graduates, yeah?”

you nod, your heart racing as her tongue briefly slips past your lips, deepening the kiss. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes your skin, the free one creeping up beneath your gown, pushing your bra up and…

suddenly, there’s a loud knock on the window.

you both freeze, breaking apart so fast that nat accidentally bumps her head against the roof of the car. “shit!” she mutters, rubbing the back of her head as you whip your gaze toward the window.

outside, van is standing with a huge grin, tapping the glass with her knuckles. the rest of the team is waiting right behind her, all of them smirking knowingly.

“hey, lovebirds!” she calls, loud enough to make sure you both hear through the glass. she leans down so her face is level with the window, cupping her hands to block out the glare of the sun. “you two realize we can see you, right?” she says. “pretty sure the rest of the parking lot can too!”

nat groans, dragging a hand over her face while you stifle a laugh. she opens the door and climbs out, glaring half-heartedly at van. “ever heard of knocking quietly?” she grumbles.

“oh, i did,” van replies, her grin widening. “you just didn’t notice. wonder why…”

nat flips her off, more playful than anything. “you’re so annoying!”

“yeah, yeah.” van waves her off, completely unbothered. “let’s go, casanova!”

you climb out after nat, smoothing your gown and trying not to blush too hard under the knowing smirks of the yellowjackets gathered around.

jackie and shauna have their arms looped casually around each other as they exchange a look. “about time,” jackie says. “thought we’d have to drag you two out ourselves!”

nat snorts. “i don’t think either of you could’ve managed that!”

“don’t tempt us,” shauna fires back with a grin. “we’ve wrestled worse!”

“anyway,” taissa cuts in, grinning as she straightens the yellow sash draped over her blue gown. “can we get moving before we miss the ceremony?”

nat mutters something under her breath as she adjusts her own gown. you glance down, realizing the fabric is slightly askew where it had bunched up in the car.

“here, let me-” you step in closer, smoothing out the material over her shoulder and down her arm. your hands linger a second longer than necessary, and when you look up, nat’s gaze is soft.

van groans loudly, dragging out the sound and snapping you out of it. “oh my god, you two. we get it! you’re gross and in love! can we please go now?”

nat ignores her this time, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together under the loose fabric of the gown sleeves as she tugs you toward the others.

by the time you reach the staging area, you've all settled into an easy hum of excitement. parents and relatives of your classmates chatter nearby, camera flashes going off as the graduates start lining up.

nat pulls you aside, letting the others shuffle ahead for a moment.

“everything okay?” you ask, your voice low.

she hesitates, glancing at the bustling staging area where the rest of the yellowjackets have gathered. then her eyes return to yours. “yeah, it’s just…this is it, huh?”

you tilt your head, smiling softly. “graduation?”

“no, i mean…this. us. life after this,” she says, her voice dipping quieter. “it’s all gonna change!”

your chest tightens at her words. things with you have been going well these past weeks. great even. life after graduation had been something you always purposefully avoided. you didn’t want to ruin your last weeks of this by worrying about what would come after.

now, before you can let the thought spiral, nat squeezes your hand. “not in a bad way,” she says. “i just…i want you to know, whatever happens now, wherever we end up, you’re it for me. you know that, right?”

it’s such a simple thing, the way she says it, but it hits you like the sweetest punch to the gut. you smile at her, your chest full of a warmth you can’t quite describe. “you’re it for me too, nat,”

before you can process what’s happening, the words tumble out of nat. “god, i love you!”

it’s barely above a whisper, but it’s there: raw and real and so perfectly nat. your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening as the weight of her confession sinks in.

she freezes, clearly realizing what she’s just said. “i- i mean-” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she starts to backtrack. “you totally don’t have to say it back or anything! i just-“

“i love you too!” your voice cuts off her rambling. relief washes over her face, and she lets out a breathy laugh. “you do?” nat asks, like she’s scared she misheard.

you nod, stepping closer until the space between you is nearly nonexistent. “yeah, nat, i do”

she grins, her hands coming up to hold your face as she leans in. you kiss her back just as eagerly, forgetting for a moment that you’re supposed to be at graduation, that there’s a whole crowd of people right around the corner.

only the sound of a camera click jolts you both back to reality. you pull apart, turning to see jackie standing a few feet away with a polaroid camera in hand and a smug grin on her face.

“oh, come on!” nat groans, her hands falling from your face as jackie waves the photo in the air.

“this is going on the fridge,” she teases, holding it just out of reach.

“give it back!” you protest, laughter bubbling out of you as nat starts toward her. “come and get it!” jackie taunts, taking off toward the rest of the group.

you glance at nat, who’s already chasing after her. without thinking, you follow.

van watches the scene unfold, shaking her head with a grin. “they’re never gonna make it on time,” she says.

“totally worth it,” taissa replies, smirking as you and nat disappear into the crowd after jackie.

somewhere across the field, the cheer squad is frantically fixing their hair and makeup, their voices filled with nervous chatter. you don’t even notice. for the first time in what feels like forever, they’re the furthest thing from your mind.

the only thing you can think about is nat: her laughter, her smile, and the way her hand feels in yours as you chase after jackie.

and as you run, breathless and alive, you realize that all of this was supposed to happen. that you are exactly where you're meant to be.

— a/n: thank you all so much for reading! this was my first actual fic “series” with multiple chapters, so i hope i did a decent job covering everything 🐉 anon requested!! i appreciate your support & feedback so so much! thank you, thank you, thank you!! <3 (also the last sentence might be a chapter 1 reference…)