#clearly spending my lunch breaks productively

[dandydemidoesfandoms]

Love In The Air - FMV 5/24

Episodes

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |

Special Episode - Love Sky

Special Episode - Love Storm

Couples

Phayu x Rain | Prapai x Sky | BONUS | The Wedding!

The Engagement

Character Showcase

Phayu | Rain | Prapai | Sky | The Weather Boys | Bisexual Biker Heaven

[tetsuskei]

‘too-too’ - kuroo tetsurō [fluff]

notes: repost. also inspired by work (yay capitalism) and self indulgent. wrote this for a piece of mind, if you will.

warnings: toxic work habits, etc, bad title names, not edited completely

word count: 1.4k

“is everything alright?”

your eyes snap up to your coworker, kuroo tetsurō. he leans against your cubicle. tall, muscular figure moving to look down at you with concern.

you blink, fingers pausing their movements over your keys. “what do you mean?”

kuroo is a strange individual. he’s funny, and nerdy, and a little clumsy sometimes (you’ve seen him burn his hand one too many times with hot coffee). but he has a good heart. one probably made of gold. he’s always genuine when it comes to his actions.

“i’ve just been noticing the boss has been piling a lot of work on you as of lately…i didn’t know if maybe you were overwhelmed.” he suggests, shrugging. he stuffs his hands in his pockets and peers over to the stack of files on your desk. “that all need to get done today?”

you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “no, but they will need to by the end of the week. i can handle it all though, with a couple of late nights. i appreciate your concern, kuroo.” you send him a weak smile.

at work you’re known as the one who can handle anything and everything with no complaints. your boss seems to hold you in high regards to it, coworkers are jealous of your ability, and your family has always been proud of how hardworking you are.

the only problem is, people take advantage of this. they ask for your help on minor things, interrupt you when you’re clearly busy, or assume you’ll have the time and tell your boss you’ll take care of it (without your notice).

kuroo is one of the only people who doesn’t do that. he genuinely comes up to you for conversation and asks about you. he’s taken you out to lunch (usually by force to drag you away from your work), brought you coffee, and always made sure you’re okay.

you don’t want to say his actions have caused a small crush to develop, but you’d be a horrible, horrible liar. after spending so much time with him, you begin to see just how handsome his features are. how sharp and angular his jawline and cheekbones are, how he laughs and has dimples appear, how his hazel eyes sparkle with mischief whenever he tells a (horrible) joke—

suddenly fingers are snapping in front of you and you’re brought back to the present.

“you sure you’re good?” kuroo looks down at you with concern and you feel your heart swell a bit. “you’re spacing out.”

“peachy!” you respond, and feel your cheeks get warm. you hope he doesn’t notice. “I couldn’t be any better!”

his perceptive eyes pensively train on you. “well, I’ll be on my way then. don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“sure.” you nod, smiling.

and just as stubborn as you are, kuroo is more stubborn.

for the next few days, the man is always lingering around when you’re working late.

“what a coincidence, i’m here late, too! need a buddy?” and he’s already invading his way into your space before you can say ‘no’.

you feel as if there’s something he isn’t telling you, but you don’t ask.

the two of you share ordered dinner, chatting and bantering. time goes a lot faster with him, and you think it’s because he’s made you more productive (despite his antics), but you also know it’s because it’s him.

“you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?” kuroo points out again one day. “you don’t have to take on everything by yourself.”

“well, what do you know?” you say spitefully.

he senses your offense, and he knows quickly explains, “i-i’m not saying you can’t handle things, but you shouldn’t work yourself to death. i mean, you’re amazing at what you do, and—“

“look, i’ve been in your shoes before, and i know the feeling all too well. i just know it doesn’t feel great.” he finishes.

“thank you, kuroo.” you smile, “and I’m sorry for snapping at you…maybe i’m just tired and need a break.”

he perks up at this, “then why don’t we go do something?”

you shake your head, “i can’t…i have to finish this.”

“don’t worry. it’s already done.” he assures.

your mouth falls open, “how…?”

he laughs nervously, “well, don’t hate me when I say this…”

you narrow your eyes teasingly. “can’t promise that. but how bad can it be?”

“i rallied up those coworkers you talked to and told them you weren’t available to help them because we’re going on a date.” he confesses, scratching the back of his head. “may have also threatened them to not take advantage of you again…”

you sputter, choking on your food, “a date? like…a romantic date?”

“if that’s what they assume, then yes. which by the way, did you know people think we’re dating?”

there’s another strike to your heart, “they do?! but…how? why?”

he hides his face in his hand, cheeks a light pink, “dunno, maybe it’s because i spend most of my time with you…”

you’re shocked at his words, feeling like you need someone to pinch you. “really?”

“really.” he nods, leaning in towards you. “i thought it was obvious but I guess not…” he laughs.

you shake your head. “i didn’t want to assume anything, so i just thought you were being nice.”

“i mean, yes and no. i always like helping people, but i’d really use any excuse to talk to you.” he admits with a goofy grin. “but i’m sorry if i’ve made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

“no…i just didn’t think you’d feel that way about me, too.”

“‘too’?” he parrots.

you’re quiet for a moment and then say, “well maybe i have feelings for you and wasn’t going to confess unless i knew you liked me back. you do, right?”

“yes! i like you too—too!” he exclaims, probably louder than he means to. “i mean—“

you giggle, “i like you too-too, tetsu.”

he relaxes, like a weight has come off his shoulders. “well, as your date, i say we leave here. one more file to look at and i’ll cut my own head off.” he says.

“agreed.” you nod, standing up alongside him.

you both pack your things up and soon make your way outside. you’re brutally reminded of the cold autumn air as you feel it hit you in the faces.

a shiver comes over you, and you shrink within your own coat, trying to retain any and all warmth.

“here,” kuroo quickly wraps his scarf around you and you quickly smell mint and some form of expensive cologne. you bury you face in it and feel more at ease.

“thank you.” you gush.

he hums, “no problem.”

the two of you quickly find yourselves in an arcade. you both play games and you quickly learn how 1. competitive, and 2. horrible kuroo is at games. to soften his sour mood, you do win him prizes on his behalf.

“i haven’t had fun like this in awhile!” you beam. the two of you leave the arcade, kuroo offering to walk you home.

“i can tell, you haven’t stopped smiling since we left.” he says, chuckling.

“thanks to you, i guess.” you joke.

“you’re welcome, i’ve been losing on purpose just for you.” he admits.

you blink, not convinced. “sure.”

kuroo pouts, “it’s true,” he gestures down to his bag full of toys, “worked out in my favor, too.”

“right, tetsu.” you snicker, smirking.

the ravenette feels his heart swell at your words. “heh. well, more important prize is you, though.” he says cheekily.

“corny, but I’m flattered.” and before he can say another (horrible) pun, you pull him to your height by his work tie before abruptly kissing him on the lips.

this definitely throws the man off as he stumbles a bit, gasping against your mouth in surprised. his lips are soft and a bit chapped, his mouth tasting like candy from the arcade.

when you pull away, you say, “thank you for treating me to an evening like this. i didn’t realize how much i needed it.”

he slips his hand into yours, his large palm enveloping your smaller one in comforting warmth.

“of course. i just think someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to worry about things so much.” he says, a faint blush appearing across his cheeks. “you shouldn’t let them walk all over you. make sure you have boundaries.”

you lean onto his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “you’re absolutely right. but you know what?”

he looks at you, “what?

“the only boundary that was worth crossing, was the one involving you.” you confess.

and in kuroo’s honest opinion, you couldn’t have been more right.

[hasufin]

Almost Paradigm

I know I've posted about this before, but got to thinking about it again.

my spouse and I went to the mall this past weekend. That used to be a pretty normal thing, but now? Not so much.

I recall this particular mall, oh, a bit over a decade ago. My spouse worked there are the time. It was so very busy. It was so busy, they decided to be open for 24 hours on Black Friday. I made food for my then-girlfriend and their co-workers to snack on.

Today? It's a nice place to go if you want to be left alone. If I were to go there now, during the week, I'd find a place which is "open", but empty. The shops are dire, especially the department stores. I'm assuming there's a legal reason they can't close them down, because it's honestly pretty damned depressing to see what remains of their merchandise spread out the (poorly) give the illusion of a fully stocked store, and to look more closely and see the layers of dust on products which haven't been moved or sold in years.

So what's the problem?

Well... it's not that people don't want to go out and shop. They very much do! People are bored and want to have a reason to leave the house. They want to shop and be entertained and have good food and spend time with their friends.

The thing is, shopping malls as they exist now - and as they existed in the previous decades - didn't really offer that. They were personal experiences which you might incidentally do with friends. They were shrines of endless consumption of very particular products. And as the in-person retail market lost ground to the online market, those shopping malls narrowly focused on very specific demographics: "The Fashion Center at Pentagon City" comes to mind. The stores which might appeal to anyone not interested in buying clothes dwindled. The restaurants closed. And then with Covid, the idea of dressing up to go to work waned.

Simply put, people stopped going to shopping malls because there was no reason to go.

And I'm not lamenting that. I don't feel any need for the companies which own these malls to make money; they are not owed a profitable consumer market.

The thing which I find remarkable is the stunning lack of adaptation. There is very clearly a population of people with some disposable income (not as much as there should be, granted, and that's a separate problem), and their wants and needs are not being met. These people swarm to street festivals and independent coffee shops, they're desperate for connection and entertainment. They're simply not interested in the specific things that shopping malls, and the retail sector in general is offering.

The downtown retail sector is equally dire. "Back to the office" has proven to be - predictably - terribly unpopular and really just a holding action by moneyed interests to retain value in their bad investments. Restaurants which relied on office workers buying lunch; shops which expected people to stop by on their lunch break or after work - are closing. This should come as no surprise, honestly. And anyone sensible would have known for a long time that "clothing which lasts a few months" and "sandwiches appreciably inferior to what you could make at home" are not the backbone of a sustainable business model or a viable economy.

And the realistic answer is, first, to look for new answers. We have real estate. We have workers. We have consumers. We have an economy. It's possible to do something with this.

The only way that can happen, though, is for those people with money to be willing to spend some of it. To take some risks, try to come up with things people actually want to do, and make it happen.

And that's not a thing they're interested in doing. They'd rather let their shopping malls decay, close up the pad sites downtown, take the tax writeoff, and declare the entire situation impossible. While they're the only ones who could actually do something about it.

[formulinos]

idt i’m doing a “on the grid: monaco e-prix” because i have no free time whatsoever but what i can say about it was:

- lit race, had fun and so did my beginner friends

- jeandre are two french coded bitches but i like them still; sam bird is an angel on earth and super nice; norman nato was also amazing and stopped to take a pic w me after he was already done w signing; both lucas digrassi and sergio sette camara were also great to us (well, we are brazilians after all). in particular, i had the opportunity to interact w sergio on friday and he remembered me on saturday, it was great; nick cassidy was amazing to a friend and took a picture w her - i was too embarrassed bc of some personal context so i didn’t participate in it but i feel like if i had i would have been able to talk to him for a bit in fact. shame.

- btw, some funny moments: on friday buemi smuggled two ppl without credentials to his garage and security stood silently around but didn’t approach further when they realised everyone was shaking hands and talking to them at envision. that’s bc they were CLEARLY his parents, his dad in particular is buemi w white hair; we saw sam do some social media work while outside the boxes, at some point he fake waved to fans so that pics could be taken of that moment; a friend of mine tried to call andre to take a picture w us because i told her he was my fave out of the all the drivers and he said “oh, i’ll be right back and do it.” it was lunch break. he’d only be back, if he even would, in an hour. he really “we are checking”ded my friend dkdhsksh.

- italian guys by my side cried when the maserati crashed. then they claimed mitch evans was robbed bc of the second SC, i said nick was lucky and they got lowkey mad fkdhsjbs (they asked me who i was supporting on that race, i said nick (bc of reasons) and they said “oh, between nick and mitch we’re gonna go w mitch”)

anyway all in all a great experience, it was tiresome but tbh very good to have all the sessions in one day and things were super well organised in our view. if anyone ever wishes to go to a race in monte-carlo but doesn’t have 1k euros to spend on f1 tickets, i HIGHLY recommend spending only 30 on fe tickets instead and staying at nice or another city close (although nice is probably the best to go as the train to monaco gets super crowded so if you want to get in from any other station between nice and monaco you basically won’t be able to). food has been also cheaper than in paris and days have been super productive in here, i’ve already walked through practically all of old nice and spent the afternoon yday at the beach in menton and then had dinner looking at the sea at villefranche sur mer. all in all a good, hard earned break!

hope you guys are doing well, stay safe and look after yourselves bc it’s miami gp week and that race is ass. forza Ferrari!

[startanewdream]

goodnight kiss

there was this very cute post telling how Ginny kissing Harry goodnight is canon and this idea has been playing around in my mind for a while, so here's a missing moment set during Harry and Ginny's first days of relationship:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time it happens, Harry thinks it's his fault for being too distracted.

They are in the Common Room and in an effort to prove that he isn't abandoning his best friends just because he is dating now—and a bit to set an example for Ron and Hermione, just in case—, Harry spends the evening finishing an essay with Hermione and then playing chess with Ron. And if his gaze keeps drifting to Ginny, well, he won't feel guilty about it.

She keeps winking at him every time she sees him, her concentrated face breaking into his favourite grin and it takes even more effort to not drop everything and go to her side. But he endures and he is really involved in his match by the time he feels her sweet flowery perfume; he turns at once.

Ginny gives him a bright smile, places a soft kiss that ends even before he registers the feeling of her lips, and waves at the other two.

"I can't keep my eyes open one second longer," she declares heavily. "See you tomorrow."

And then she is gone to her dormitory leaving only the trace of her scent and Harry can't stop the feeling that he must have done something wrong.

The thought slips from his mind until two days later, when it happens again. Ginny is standing against his legs, reading her notes, when she jumps to her feet, stretching her back lazily. "I think I'm gonna crash early today."

"History of Magic?" Harry guesses, eyeing her notes.

"What else?” A smirk blossoms at her lips. “Maybe tomorrow you could help me study something more interesting."

"I could help you now."

"Tempting," she admits unashamedly. "But I'm really tired and I'd rather keep my stamina for a happy Sunday tomorrow."

And Ginny winks at him, lowering her head enough to brush her lips against his—Harry opens his mouth, desperate to feel her taste, to pull her closer—but she is gone before he has the chance.

It bothers him.

The next night, after a very productive day—not for studies if studies are limited to subjects taught at Hogwarts, that's it—, when they are finally saying their goodbyes by the stairs to her dorm, Harry doesn’t leave it to chance.

He pulls her into his arms and even as his hands are cupping her face, fingers feeling the strands of her hair, his mouth captures her, tongue searching for a permission that she grants him at once, and then there is only her sweet taste and the feeling that Harry never found anywhere else but in her. A moan escapes her lips—a sound that Harry treasures each time he hears it—and when they break apart, at last, oblivious to the wolf-whistling in the room and a break of nervous giggles, her face is all flushed.

“Wow,” she whispers, beaming, her eyes the colour of melted chocolate. “What was that for?”

“A goodnight kiss,” he says, but it sounds more like a question.

“It’ll be really hard to sleep after this, but I appreciate it anyway.”

And then Ginny does it again—she kisses him softly, a peck he barely feels with the way his lips are still tingling after that perfect goodnight kiss, and she is gone.

What is he doing wrong?

The question keeps pounding on his mind all night and the following day. By then even Ron is noticing there is something wrong, but Harry can’t share his struggles with him. For one, Harry is sure Ron never faced the same trouble: he and Lavender only did full snog sessions. For two, it’s about Ginny. He can’t ask her brother what is wrong with his kiss.

Ginny finds him by lunchtime, meeting him in front of the Great Hall with a small basket and asking him if he doesn’t wanna have lunch with her on the grounds. Harry doesn’t miss the glance exchanged between Ginny and Hermione and this doesn’t help much.

Ginny waits until they are sitting by the shadow of their favourite tree to start it. “So, what’s bothering you?”

If it was anyone else, Harry would ignore it or divert the subject. But he doesn’t know anyone else but Ginny who would ask him directly like that and this is one of the things he most likes about her anyway, so his answer is truthful.

“Am I a bad kisser?”

Ginny blinks; whatever she was expecting, it clearly wasn’t this. “The amount of time I’ve spent kissing you for the last week shows that I think you’re a very good kisser,” she says slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

He pursues his lips. “You’re avoiding kissing me.”

Another blink. “Er… no?”

“At night at last.” Another of his concerns arise. “Is it bad breath? I can brush—”

“I like your breath,” she assures him at once. “I like everything about kissing you actually. In case it’s not obvious, which apparently isn’t.”

“You—you avoid snogging me at night. As in you give me this… this peck and then you are gone and—”

“That’s just a goodnight kiss, Harry,” she replies quietly. “We don’t have to turn every kiss into a makeout session—not that I’d mind, but also… I enjoy every kiss we share.” A frown marks her forehead suddenly. “Unless you’re not happy with them? I get it if you were hoping we’d have more moments, it’s just with classes and—”

“No, no.” Now another panic floods him. “Every moment we spend together it’s… like something I could never have even imagined. Or if I could—it’s better.”

She breathes slowly. “Good. Because I swear even a little peck just makes me… sparkle.”

“Sparkle?”

A blush spreads across her face but Ginny looks resolute. “Yeah, let me try to show you. Close your eyes—and don’t move.”

He obeys her diligently, closing his eyes and standing still even as he feels the shadow of her face over his. And then he feels her lips over his very gently, tugging at his lower lip, then upper lip; he never really appreciated before how soft her mouth feels as he stands there, feeling their brush. Then she places a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, the touch sending shivers down his body as effectively as when they are fully kissing.

“Oh,” he whispers when he opens his eyes to find her staring at him nervously. “I see sparkles.”

A beam draws away any worry from her face.

Later that night, Harry finds Ginny exchanging Charms notes with her colleagues.

“You’ll be staying up?” he asks, glancing at her watch. It’s almost midnight.

“We’re almost finishing the revision for Fourth Grade spells.”

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, go rest. I’m fine. We can meet for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” he agrees, smiling, and Ginny turns briefly to him, sharing a quick kiss—her mates giggle, still unused to them, but Harry hopes to win them over with time.

“Good dreams.”

He is sure he will dream about her, but Harry feels this is not the moment to disclose this information. Instead, he just nods. “And you too.”

And for good measure, he lowers his head to place a soft kiss on her cheek, admiring how the blood flushes there as if attracted to his mouth. Harry smiles to himself. Perhaps he can start his own goodnight kiss tradition.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Cat and Mouse Game - Fred Weasley

Title: Cat and Mouse Game Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, mentions of masturbation, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, unprotected sex A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Fred Weasley and very few of them are innocent. This is like 95% filth with some fluff thrown in at the end because I love Fred Weasley and he’s my only source of serotonin.

Tags: @tonksichu​

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

They’ve been playing the same game of cat and mouse since their Hogwarts days. They’d take turns leaving flirty notes for the other to find, grabbing the other’s hand under the table at dinner, pulling the other into a dark corridor for a few minutes of stolen kisses. Not much has changed between them since then, although their games are far less innocent.

“Mail’s here!” Verity calls from somewhere in the shop.

Fred doesn’t move a muscle, his focus completely taken up by the potion he’s stirring in front of him. He and George have been working on a new product for weeks, a candy infused with truth serum that only lasts for one question – the perfect addition to any game of truth or dare. They had planned on launching it next week, but they’re still having problems getting the formula of the truth serum just right.

“For fucks sake,” he mutters to himself when a puff of black smoke rises out of the cauldron. “Too much dandelion root.” He shoves himself away from his desk, stalking over to the sink so he can start over again. He’s so focused on scrubbing that he doesn’t hear George come in.

“Not going well, eh?” George asks, chuckling when Fred drops the cauldron, clearly startled by his brother’s sudden presence.

“I’m going to make you wear a bell for Merlin’s sake. You scared the shit out of me,” Fred groans, picking the cauldron back up. He rinses it one more time before stalking back to his desk. He’s about to start working again, when he notices that George is still standing in front of him. “Did you need something? Or are you just gonna stand there to annoy me?”

George smiles at his brother. Partially because he finds his frustrated demeanor amusing, but mostly because it’ll annoy Fred further. “Oh, I just popped in to bring you your mail.”

Fred rolls his eyes, getting back to work. “Just put it in the tray, I’ll get to it later.” He gestures lazily to the incoming work tray on the corner of his desk, which has started to pile up. He’s going over his notes so he can adjust the amount of dandelion root for the fifth time, when George shoves a letter into his line of vision.

“Actually, dear brother of mine I think you’ll notice that this particular letter requires your immediate attention,” George snickers. He drops the letter on the desk, and with a waggle of his fingers he’s gone.

Fred had only gotten a glimpse of the envelope, but as soon as George has closed the door behind him he pushes his work aside to pick it up. He recognized Y/N’s delicate writing immediately, he had become quite familiar with it during their time together at school.

In fact, he’s been waiting for this letter for the past three weeks. That’s how it is with them. One of them is the aggressor while the other waits for the next letter, waits for the details of their next meeting. It had been Fred’s turn to wait, and wait he had. Most nights he found himself laying in bed, hand around his hard cock thinking about the things he and Y/N had gotten up to during their last rendezvous.

That’s the one thing he truly misses about his days back in school, how easy it was for him to force her hand when he was tired of waiting. He knew her too well, knew how to get under her skin. Whenever he missed the feeling of her hand in his, or when he had nearly forgotten what the inside of her mouth tastes like it was all too easy to get her to make her move. All it took was some innocent flirting during breakfast, usually with Angelina Johnson, and by lunch time there would be a note in Y/N’s delicate scrawl detailing their next meeting time and place on his pillow.

But now he truly has to wait for Y/N to need him. They had gone longer than three weeks before, but that had been during the war, when it was too dangerous to play their game. Fred knows that he could always break their little game, he could owl her any day and have her in his bed that night, but he enjoys the chase, it’s part of the fun.

His mind wanders as his fingers tear at the envelope, wondering which of their games Y/N had chosen for them, silently hoping she had chosen his favorite.

Sometimes their game was romantic. They’d meet at a fancy muggle restaurant, all dressed up. Fred would wine and dine her for hours before he’d take her back to his. Their sex was always slow and intimate. Fred would make sure she could feel all of him and wouldn’t stop until his name was dripping from her lips as she came. He’d kiss her slowly as he came insider her, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

Other times, their game was quick and dirty. They’d meet at a hotel room in London and from the second the door was shut behind them they were all over each other. They’d both be naked in a matter of minutes, their hands roaming each other’s bodies and Fred’s mouth leaving marks on her wherever he can. Their sex was quick and hard, both of them usually on their lunch breaks. Often they came together, and Fred’s lips wouldn’t leave her skin until they were back on the bustling streets of London and parting ways to go back to their lives.

Fred’s favorite game by far was the perfect mix of the others. They’d meet at a muggle club, just a few minutes apart from each other. Fred would arrive first and grab a drink from the bar before settling at a table. When Y/N would enter they’d lock eyes, and the game would truly begin. Y/N would spend the evening doing as she pleases: drinking, dancing, and most importantly, flirting. Fred would watch her from his spot, jealousy and arousal building up in his stomach. He’d let her push it and just as some unsuspecting muggle is trying to get her to leave with him, Fred would swoop in and remind her just who she belongs too. Their first round is quick and dirty, usually in the toilets of whatever club they happen to be at. Then he’d apperate them back to hers, and they’d spend the rest of the evening tangled in the sheets of her bed, kissing softly as he ruined her.

Fred fumbles with the envelope as he pulls the piece of parchment out, too excited to be careful. A grin spreads across his face as he eyes scan over the few words written down. She had chosen his favorite game, and he couldn’t wait to play.

Malibu. Tonight. 10:30.

-

Y/N stands in front of her open closet in nothing but a dressing gown, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she contemplates what to wear. Upscale muggle clubs are not her usual stomping ground and she wants to look perfect, so she’s at a loss for what to wear.

Of course, she could have picked one of their other games. She had plenty of dresses she felt confident in that would have been perfect for a night at a muggle restaurant, but it had already been three weeks since she’d seen Fred last, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for a reservation to open up. A lunch time meet up would have been perfect as well, since her and Fred managed to get naked in under 10 seconds her clothes wouldn’t matter, but she needed longer than an hour with him.

Plus, this particular game is Fred’s favorite, and she needs him nice and riled up for the night she has planned. They’ve only played out this game two other times, but both times Y/N was barely able to walk the next day.

She decides to go with something white, for a few different reasons. For one, Y/N had bought a white silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly last weekend and seeing her in something new and tight will rile Fred up even more.

But mostly, she knows that seeing her in white awakens something carnal in Fred. Y/N had once made the mistake of wearing a brand new set of matching white bra and panties to one of their meetings, and after Fred had ripped her panties off he fucked her hard, growling in her ear about how innocent she looked in white, but that they both knew what a dirty slut she was for him. He had made her cum so many times that she cried from the overstimulation, the only downside was that she had to replace her ruined panties and they had been quite expensive.

Y/N grabs the new white dress out of her closet, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. Three weeks is far too long to go without having Fred both in her bed and just in her life generally. She makes a mental note not to wait that long next time as she heads over to her dresser. She opens the top drawer, trying to decide which pair of panties would really get Fred going.

“Well, if I’m being honest with myself,” Y/N thinks out loud, quietly. With a wicked smile she slams the drawer shut. “No panties it is.”

-

Fred is already nursing a whiskey sour at a table when Y/N strolls into the main room of the club. Their eyes lock across the crowded room, and after sending her a sly wink his eyes trail down her body.

“Holy hell,” he groans, the grip he has on his glass tightening. He can already feel himself getting hard in his trousers just from the outfit Y/N is wearing alone. Fred can tell by the way the lights reflect off of it that the tight piece of fabric clinging to her every curve is made out of silk, his absolute favorite. The fact that it’s white drives him even crazier and he quickly downs his drink, needing to calm himself down.

From where Y/N is standing at the bar Fred has the perfect view of her bum. He absent mindedly signals for a waitress to bring him another drink, his eyes trained on Y/N. Fred has to stifle a groan when her dress rides up the back of her thighs as she leans forward to shout her order to the bartender. He’s fully hard in his trousers now as he thinks about how badly he wants to feel those thighs wrapped around his head.

Just as a waitress sets another drink down on Fred’s table a young man with tousled blonde hair comes up behind Y/N, blocking his view.

He takes a sip of his drink. “Let the games begin.”

-

Y/N feels someone come up behind her, and a moment later she can feel them press up against her. “You come here alone?”

She smiles to herself before turning to the stranger. There’s no doubt that he’s attractive, and Y/N knows that she had positioned herself directly in Fred’s line of sight, so she knows that he’s watching their exchange.

“I did actually,” she drawls, her hand running down the length of the glass the bartender had just set in front on her. “Was hoping to find someone that piques my interest here.”

The man’s eyes follow the languid movement of her hand on her glass for a moment, before he looks into her eyes with a smirk. “Oh really? Any luck so far?”

Y/N takes a sip of her drink, willing herself to keep her eyes on the man in front of her instead of searching for Fred’s. The alcohol burns her throat as arousal begins to build in her stomach. She knows Fred is out there, watching her intently as she flirts with someone who isn’t him. But they both know who she’ll be going home with, and that though alone has her pussy aching.

“I think so,” Y/N responds, her voice dripping with arousal. It’s not due to the man standing in front of her, but he doesn’t need to know that. She looks him up and down, taking notice of his strong hands and long legs. She nods to herself, almost saying ‘yeah, he’ll do.’ She downs the rest of her drink quickly and slaps some muggle money down on the bar. “Care to dance?”

-

Fred’s eyes are trained on the dance floor, his second drink abandoned on the table next to him.  He’s too focused on Y/N, watching her hips sway to the beat of whatever muggle song is playing. Her back is pressed up against the front of the bloke that approached her at the bar, and his hands are gripping her hips. They’ve been dancing like that for at least 30 minutes and Fred feels like he hasn’t even blinked, he’s too entranced by Y/N.

His cock has been aching in his trousers for what feels like hours, and his stomach is a pit full of arousal and jealousy. On one hand he finds Y/N’s actions downright dirty, and he knows he’ll be thinking of how good she looks tonight next time he’s alone in bed and desperate for her touch. On the other hand, he wants to be the one dancing behind her, gripping her hips so tightly he leaves bruises to remind her of him for days after.

Fred clenches his fist, his eyes trailing up Y/N’s body to her face to try and calm himself down. They’ve only been at it for 45 minutes and Fred already wants to storm over and claim Y/N. The first time they had played this particular game Y/N had been shy, and Fred had watched her flirt with a few different guys before she had settled on the dance floor with one. He watched her with him for the better part of two hours before he intervened, no longer able to stand the fact that it wasn’t his hands gripping her bum.

The second time Y/N was bolder. She had spent only 30 minutes at the bar talking to a bloke before they moved to the dance floor. Fred had managed to watch for over an hour that time before his hands ached to touch her and he sent the muggle man Y/N had been with away.

When he first entered the club that evening he had planned on waiting longer. Y/N had made him wait three weeks, and he planned on punishing her by making her wait for him. But now that he’s standing there, watching her move in that sinful white dress against someone who isn’t him he can barely stop himself from stomping over there and taking her right in the middle of the dance floor.

Usually he can contain himself. She’s always driven him mad, but he enjoys their little game too much to break the rules. He loves the uncertainty of the chase, it’s what had drawn him in all those years ago at Hogwarts. Not knowing what the next note would contain, not knowing how long she would make him wait, not knowing what wicked plans she had made for them. Y/N was just as unpredictable as Fred and that usually drove him crazy in a good way. But now, as Fred watches her grind up against some stranger he would give anything to know what’s going on in her mind. Fred isn’t sure if it’s because it’s been three weeks since he last saw her or because she looks absolutely ethereal tonight but he’s ready to end their game early and take his woman home.

Luckily for Fred the song Y/N and her partner had been dancing to fades into another, and the pair head back towards the bar. Fred adjusts himself in his trousers so his arousal isn’t so obvious, before he throws some money on his table.

“Time to end this game.”

-

A light line of sweat has begun to drip down Y/N’s back and she can feel the wetness of her pussy coating her thighs. Her and Darren, she had managed to remember to at least ask the name of the poor bloke she planned on blue balling, had been dancing right in the middle of the dance floor where Y/N knew Fred could see. She could feel his gaze on her as she moved her hips to the beat which did nothing but heighten her arousal.

“So, what are you drinking?” Darren asks as they reach the bar once again. Y/N had suggested they get another drink, needing to take a break from Fred’s stare.

Y/N can smell Fred before she feels him. He’s always smelled the same, like cinnamon, fireworks and something Y/N can only describe as home. She’s about to respond to the question when she feels someone press up against her back. Fred grabs her hips tightly and Y/N has to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

“Actually, I think she’s had enough to drink,” Fred answers for her as he pulls her even tighter against his chest. His voice sends waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body, and she tries to subtly rub her thighs together to try and get some relief on her aching pussy.

Darren glares at Fred, and if Y/N wasn’t so turned on she probably would have laughed. “Oi, mate, d’you mind? We’re having a good time together.”

Y/N can feel Fred’s chest rumble against her back as he laughs, clearly unphased by what Darren had said. She feels Fred lean down, and a shiver runs down her spine as his lips lightly caress her earlobe.

“Is that true, baby? Were you having a good time with him?” Fred whispers in Y/N’s ear before he begins to press light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I was, yes,” she admits, with a nod, her voice shaking with arousal.

Darren looks like he’s about to tell Fred off, but Fred’s lips stop their movements on her neck so he can whisper in her ear again. “But what about me, baby? Are you ready to have a good time with me?”

Y/N is barely able to nod before Fred is spinning her in his arms and kissing her deeply. She can hear Darren say something rude as he stalks off, but her mind is too full of Fred to register it. Fred trails one of his hands down to Y/N’s bum, giving it a tight squeeze, and when she parts her lips to let out a soft moan he takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth.

When Fred breaks their kiss a few moments later Y/N is breathless, her cheeks tinted pink. She chases after his lips, desperate for more but Fred grabs her chin. Her eyes flick up to meet his gaze, and a tingle of pleasure runs through her pussy at how dark Fred’s eyes are.

“You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N,” he growls into her ear. “You show up here in this,” he pauses so his fingers can tug at the bottom hem of her dress before he continues. “Knowing that I can’t touch you.” Fred trails off for a moment, letting his lips press slow kisses up and down the column of her throat. “Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

Y/N lets out a whine, letting her head fall back so Fred’s lips have more skin to kiss. “Just wanted to look pretty for you is all,” she gasps. Fred’s mouth had found her sweet spot and started to slowly suck at it.

Fred hums against her neck, his hands wrapping around her waist. He pulls her body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so Y/N can feel his hard cock press up against her. “You look so pretty baby. And so, fucking dirty. Grinding against some random bloke while I watch, putting on a show for me.”

Y/N is soaking wet at this point, Fred’s words and actions only turning her on further. She pulls his face away from her neck, unable to contain herself anymore. She presses their lips together messily, moaning as Fred’s soft lips move with hers. Their kiss is uncoordinated, but Y/N doesn’t care. “Need you, Freddie. Need you so bad,” she whines into his mouth.

Fred kisses her for a moment longer before he forces himself to pull away. Y/N’s mouth is intoxicating, and he could spend hours just standing there and kissing her. But his cock is aching and Y/N needs him and he can’t deny her anything.

In the blink of an eye Fred has lead them away from the bar and is pushing Y/N up against the closed door of the women’s toilets. He presses their lips together hungrily as he grabs her thigh, hitching it around his waist to give him access to her core.

Y/N moans into Fred’s mouth as they kiss, his right hand gripping her thigh tightly while the other trails up her other leg towards her pussy. A smirk forms on her lips as Fred’s hand inches closer to where she needs him most, knowing that he��s about to discover her little secret.

“You dirty little slut,” Fred growls as he breaks their kiss. He had planned on teasing Y/N by softly rubbing her clit through her panties, but when he finally reached her folds he was met with her dripping entrance. He rubs her exposed clit with his thumb, causing Y/N to let out a long whine. “Look at you. Trying to fool everyone in your little white dress. Pretending you’re so innocent while your pussy is bare, anyone able to get a glance.”

Y/N is barely able to speak, her breath coming out in hard pants as Fred toys with her clit, his index finger beginning to slowly circle her entrance, just barely letting the tip of his finger enter her heat. She opens her mouth to respond, but a moan comes out instead as Fred finally lets his index finger sink fully into her.

“Is that what you were hoping for? Hm?” Fred asks as he curls his finger, smiling when Y/N clenches around him. “Hoping someone else would get a flash of your sweet pussy? Hoping someone else would notice and get a turn with you before me?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, her mouth running dry as Fred adds another finger. Her fingers dig into Fred’s shoulders to try and steady herself as his thumb starts to rub her clit harder. “N-no,” she manages to stutter out a few seconds later when she remembers how to speak. “Did it for you. Only for you. Only want you.”

Fred buries his face in Y/N’s neck to hide the blush that has started to tint his cheeks. Even though they’ve never defined their relationship Fred knows that Y/N doesn’t see anyone else while they’re apart and he doesn’t either. But hearing that she only wants him makes him want to say things he’s felt since he was 15 years old. So he presses kisses into the hot skin of her neck instead, because it’s not appropriate to tell someone you love them for the first time while you fingerfuck them in the bathroom of a club.

“’M close,” Y/N breaths, one of her hands leaving Fred’s shoulder to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She can feel her climax approaching quickly, and with one more curl of Fred’s fingers against her sweet spot she’s tumbling over the edge, Fred’s name falling from her mouth.

Fred fingers continue their movements, his touch much lighter and slower to help her through her climax. When Y/N’s breathing has somewhat returned to normal Fred slowly removes his fingers and presses one more kiss to her neck so he can look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Fred whispers, kissing her deeply once again. He pulls away a moment later, pressing their foreheads together. He’s painfully aware of how hard he is in his trousers and he grinds against Y/N’s bum, trying to get some kind of relief.

Y/N giggles at Fred’s actions, bumping their foreheads together lightly. “You gonna take me home and fuck me? Or should I go find that bloke from earlier and see if he’ll give it to me?” she teases.

Without another word Fred is gripping her tightly and apperating them away.

-

As soon as they land in Y/N’s flat Fred reattaches their lips, keeping it slow and intimate. Now that the rushed part of their evening is over Fred wants to take his time with her. He moves them to her bedroom slowly, Y/N’s fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

They reach her bed just as Y/N has worked the last button of Fred’s shirt, and he breaks their kiss so he can lightly push her back onto the bed. He rids himself of his shirt before he crawls over Y/N and reattaches their lips in a heated kiss. He grabs one of her knees and pulls her legs apart, settling in between them.

“Take this off,” Fred demands, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress. “ I wanna see all of you.” As Y/N takes of her dress Fred fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing it before moving on to his trousers. He falls back onto the bed so he can kick the rest of his clothing off, his cock finally getting some relief from its tight confines.

Before Fred can crawl back on top of Y/N she’s straddling his waist. She acts as if she’s going to kiss him, but at the last second she turns her attention to his neck and starts peppering kisses along the exposed skin.

Fred’s hands come up and grip Y/N’s hips tightly. “You’re such a tease.”

Y/N laughs into Fred’s neck as she kisses it, causing Fred to chuckle as well. While there are many parts of a healthy sex life Fred loves and enjoys, kissing is certainly in his top 3; which Y/N is fully aware of. They had once spent over an hour in one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways with Y/N pressed up against the wall as their lips moved together. It was one of the first times they had met in secret, and Fred still gets butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about it. Which he does far more often than he’d like to admit.

Fred lets her kiss and suck at his neck for a few moments longer before he flips them over, causing Y/N to squeal both in delight and surprise. Fred bites at her shoulder momentarily before he starts to peck her lips several times.

“I was gonna ride you ya know,” Y/N says with a soft laugh in between kisses. Fred laughs as well, one of his hands coming up to cup Y/N’s cheek while the other starts to massage one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her nipple. “Fuck, Freddie. Feels so good,” she moans.

Fred pulls away from her slightly so he can look Y/N in the eyes. “You do look exceptionally pretty when you sit on my cock, my love.” Fred pauses, his thumb rubbing her cheek as a pink blush spreads across it. “But tonight, I want- no I need.” Fred’s sentence is cut short as Y/N grabs him by the neck and brings their lips together.

She kisses him slow, letting Fred take the lead and lick into her mouth. Y/N doesn’t need Fred to finish his sentence, she already knows what he was trying to say, because she feels the same way. After an evening full of teasing and putting on a show for each other there’s nothing either of them want more than to be close to one and other.

“Please, Freddie,” Y/N begs as Fred’s fingers begin to pinch at her other nipple.

Without another word Fred hitches Y/N’s left leg up on his hip and lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly with a roll of his hips, both of them letting out low moans. Fred doesn’t stop moving until he’s fully buried inside her, his lips coming up to suck at the skin just below her earlobe.

“Feel so good, baby. Always feel so good. Oh God-,” Fred’s words cut off with a groan as Y/N clenches around him. Fred rests his forehead against hers so he can look her in the eyes. He pulls out of Y/N halfway before he pushes back in, slowly starting to fuck her. “God I love you.”

Before Fred has a chance to regret what he’s said Y/N is kissing him hungrily, her hips moving to meet Fred’s thrusts. She breaks their kiss to let out a whine as Fred’s thumb starts to rub slow circles on her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Merlin that feels good,” she breaths, tilting her chin up to kiss Fred briefly. “Not gonna last much longer,” she moans.

Fred speeds up his thrusts as he hitches Y/N’s leg higher on his hip so that he’s hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. “Me either, love. Come for me baby.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N is coming, her toes curling and nails scratching down Fred’s back from the pleasure as she moans his name. Her walls spasm and clench against Fred’s cock, helping him to reach his climax. Her moans are cut off by Fred kissing her deeply as he reaches his own high, emptying himself into Y/N.

Fred slows his thrusts down, helping them both come down from their highs, his mouth still moving against Y/N’s softly. After a few final thrusts he slowly pulls out, and rolls onto his back, his hands gripping Y/N’s waist so that she rolls with him and their kiss doesn’t break.

They just lay there kissing for a few minutes, Y/N’s hands tangled in Fred’s hair while his hands rub circles on her hips. Y/N pulls away first, her breathing heavy and her cheeks flushed red. Fred smiles at her and brings one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

They sit there for a few moments in silence, just looking at each other. Fred feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he studies Y/N’s familiar features. After tonight he’s more sure than he’s ever been, he doesn’t want to spend another moment with out her in his life.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Fred says quietly, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment.

Y/N kisses him briefly. “That I look pretty sitting on your cock? ‘Cause I’ve known that for ages,” she teases.

“Well yes I did mean that,” Fred says with a chuckle before kissing her again. “But that’s not what I was talking about. And it’s okay if you-”

He’s about to say something else, when Y/N lurches forward to kiss him. “I love you too you idiot. Always have.”

-

When Y/N wakes up the next morning and turns over she’s disappointed that Fred isn’t in bed next to her. While they never usually spent the night together, last night had been different and she had fallen asleep last night dreaming of what round three would consist of in the morning.

Y/N is halfway through cursing Fred out in her head when she notices an envelope sitting on the pillow Fred’s head had been cradled against only a few hours ago. She grabs it, letting her finger trace over her name written in Fred’s messy scrawl on the outside before she tears it open.

My flat. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that and every single day for the rest of forever. 6 pm.

Love you forever and always.

Y/N scans her eyes over the words several times, letting Fred’s message sink in. She smiles to herself as she falls back against her pillows, her hear swelling with more love than she ever thought possible. “Game over.”

[the-bau-quinjet]

Nervous

Hello! This is honestly just a bunch of fluff (a tiny bit of angst bc Spencer worries about everything) and the reader being very nervous! I am currently writing a sequel to take place directly after this one! Read part two here!

Summary: Reader is arrested by the BAU! Little do they know, she is dating the one agent who is currently on medical leave...

warnings: none!

Word Count: 4954

“Are you sure you can pick her up today?” You are currently running around your apartment, phone held to your ear with your shoulder. You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, but first you have to drop your daughter off at school, and you’re running very late.

 “Babe, yes. I’m almost completely healed and I don’t go back to work until tomorrow. I’ll pick her up after school and then meet you at your apartment when you’re done working. Okay?” Thank God for Spencer Reid. He has been on medical leave for 5 days, slowly going insane. But, it meant more time for you and Lily to spend with him, so you’re not complaining.

“That’s perfect, thank you so much! I gotta go, I love you!” You are in such a daze, you don’t stop to think about the three words that just came out of your mouth. You hang up before Spencer can respond as you wrestle with your six year old to put shoes on. Grabbing both of your coats, you run out the door.

 You met Spencer Reid 9 months ago when he came into the hospital you work in with a concussion and some pretty bad bruises. It was really a chance meeting. Normally, you don’t even deal with patients because you work in research. But, your best friend asked you to run some lab results to a patient’s room and you couldn’t say no. Dr. Spencer Reid happened to be that patient.

 He wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but apparently something happened with the CT schedule, and he was done earlier than expected. So, instead of simply dropping off forms in an empty room, you hit a man with a door. Why he was standing behind the door is still a mystery to you, but you felt awful. This man is in the hospital and to make matters worse, you come along and hit him! With a door! You offered to get him some coffee as an apology, and in his concussed state he said “Only if we can go together.” You’ve since realized that was smoother than he normally acts, but you don’t care. He is the most lovable man you’ve ever met. 

 You met up for coffee three days later, and have been dating ever since. He met your daughter, Lily, on the second date. They clicked instantly. You knew then and there that you would love this man forever. You have not, however, actually said I love you before this morning. But, you’re still in too much of a rush to stop and think about it… or even realize it happened.  

 You pull into the parking garage at the hospital 7 minutes late. Honestly, better than you expected. The morning flies by as you work on research grants and hospital studies. All in all, a pretty average day. That is, until you walk back into the building from your lunch break.

 You don’t get a lot of visitors in the research wing, so it’s strange to see two pretty official looking individuals at the front desk. It’s even stranger to hear your name come out of one of their mouths.

 “Hi there. We are Agents Morgan and Rossi from the FBI. We’re looking Ms. Y/N L/N. Is she here?” That must have been Morgan talking.

 Spencer has told you a lot about his team. You feel like you know them all already with how many stories he’s told you. You’ve been hesitant to meet them though because of Lily. You don’t want her to get too attached to him and his friends if things were to go sideways. You haven’t really dated anyone since her father, so you’re a bit nervous. Spencer, of course, completely understands. He just wants you to be happy. It’s hard not to love him even more at the thought.

 You are immediately thrown into a panic at the sight of the two agents. Your thoughts are running wild with possibilities. They must be here because something happened to Spencer. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. He’s not even working today.

 Your panicked train of thought pulls to a stop when the two agents walk up to you. “Ms. L/N? Can we speak with you for a moment?” You nod, leading them toward your office.

 “Of course. My office is just down the hall.” You can’t help but feel nervous at the prospect of meeting Spencer’s coworkers without him. Especially if it has to do with a case they’re working. These are the people he loves most in the world. They are his family. What if they don’t like you? What if they think you’re an idiot? What if they think Spencer can do better? It also doesn’t help that you know they can tell you’re nervous because you know they are profilers. You sit down behind your desk, offering them the seats on the opposite side.

 “Ms. L/N, you’re in charge of the research department, correct?” Rossi says it like a question, but he clearly knows the answer.

 “That’s right.” You are trying everything you can to get your nerves to settle, but it just isn’t working. You’re basically lying to two human lie detectors, even if it is just by omission.

 “So if items were to go missing from this laboratory, you would be responsible for reporting it.” It was Morgan who spoke this time. It’s hard for you to follow their line of questioning. What would go missing? It’s not like you wouldn’t notice if a fume hood suddenly disappeared.

 “I suppose so, although it depends on what items. We don’t have a specific inventory of commonly used products like syringes and gauze, we just order more when we get low.” You can’t decide which agent to focus on. Your eyes are flicking nervously between both of them.

 “What about human tissue?” When the words come out of Morgan’s mouth, you freeze for just a second. You don’t have any human tissue in the lab, so how would it go missing? Of course, the profilers take the delay in your response to mean something other than confusion.

 “We- we don’t use human tissue in this specific laboratory. We focus on small animal models. The other research lab is responsible for human tissue protocols.” You stutter through your words under the harsh glares of the two agents. It is really not helping your nerves.

 “Then how do you explain this?” Rossi slides a paper across your desk. It’s housed in a large plastic bag with “EVIDENCE” across the top in big, block letters. It’s a form you have never seen before. The kind someone would fill out to transfer human tissue between labs. Your hands shake as you hold the paper, slowly trying to figure out what it is. You almost puke when you reach the bottom. It has your signature as an approval of the request. You drop the paper as if it has burned you.

 “I’ve never- I didn’t- how did-” You’re cut off before you can try to finish your sentence, but you don’t hear what they are saying. You feel the cold click of metal around your wrists, tight enough to just pinch your skin. They lead you back out of the building, to a waiting SUV. You can’t help but be grateful that nobody was there to witness your arrest.

 The ride to Quantico is silent. You keep trying to figure out how someone could have signed your name on that form, but you can’t focus. Your mind keeps drifting to memories with Spencer.

 You remember your first date in the coffee shop a block away from the hospital. He ordered a black coffee only to pour in an exorbitant amount of sugar. He blushed slightly, as if he was embarrassed by his drink preferences, only for his features to transform into a soft smile as you did exactly the same thing. The two of you talked for hours, only ending the date when you had to go pick up Lily.

 You remember running into him in the park with Lily, what you would come to refer to as your second date. He looked ethereal sitting at a table playing chess. Lily ran up to him, or rather the chess board he was sitting in front of, before you could stop her. She wanted to know what the horsey was for. You watched as he patiently explained to the five year old that it was a knight responsible for defending the king. 

He told her how it moves on the board. He told her how it was special because it is the only piece that can jump over other pieces. He must have spent 15 minutes talking to her about this one piece. And she was enthralled. When he was done, he looked around to find the child’s parents only to meet your eye. You’ll never forget the way his smile grew when he realized Lily was yours. The three of you spent the rest of the day in the park, playing chess, walking around the pond, and getting to know each other.

 You remember the look in his eyes right after he kissed you the first time. You remember how worried you were the first time he was injured on a case. You remember Lily asking you if he could be her daddy, and crying yourself to sleep that night because you wanted that too, more than anything, and you were so scared it wasn’t going to happen.

 Then you finally remember he’s picking Lily up from school today. Suddenly, the car ride isn’t so quiet anymore.

 “I need to call someone.” The words come out frantic and rushed. You are absolutely sure the expression on your face screams crazy, but this is about your kid, so you really don’t care. You need to call Spencer. Then he’ll come fix this. Explain how you couldn’t possibly be involved. The agent’s response is shorter than you expected.

 “Why?” Rossi sounds skeptical when he asks it. You would later suppose that he had a reason to be skeptical of you. Right now though? You didn’t do anything wrong so the whole innocent until proven guilty thing feels a little fake to you at the moment.

 “My boyfriend is picking up my daughter from school. I need to call him.” You don’t really know how to tell them said boyfriend is one Dr. Spencer Reid. You weren’t supposed to meet his friends yet and definitely not without him. You aren’t really in the right headspace to be deciding if right now is the best moment to out your relationship.

 “If he’s already planning on picking her up, you shouldn’t need to call him.” It feels to you at this moment that they don’t even believe you have a child. Of course, they must know because they have the one and only Penelope Garcia to find out every little thing about you. Before you can say anything else, they are dragging you out of the SUV and into the building. You are pushed through security into an elevator that takes you to the fifth floor. The BAU. You thought the first time you visited Spencer’s work would be a happier occasion. And that he would be here. The whole situation would actually be kind of funny if you weren’t so worried and nervous.

 The first thing you say when you are lead through the very intimidating glass doors is “JJ.” You would come to understand why that might earns some stares. The whole room is looking at you as if you have grown another head.

 “How do you know my name?” That’s a loaded question. Spencer has showed you pictures of his godson, Henry. JJ happened to be in some of those pictures as he is in fact, her son. Of course, you can’t really articulate that because you are too stressed and nervous to form full sentences. It takes a lot out of a person to be arrested, dragged from their place of work, shoved in a car, driven two hours through DC traffic, and then pulled into the FBI building as a suspect.

 Instead of properly calming yourself down until you can form a complete sentence, your eyes go wide and you say “Henry” as if that is enough of an explanation. If looks could kill, you would be dead.

 “How do you know my son’s name?” JJ’s words are so harsh, you physically flinch.

 “I.. it’s just that… You… Well… I-” You are a loss for words, yet again. You didn’t expect for Spencer’s best friend to ever look at you with such disgust. It’s honestly a little overwhelming to think the people he calls family all currently hate you. Even if they don’t really know who you are.

 “Maybe a few hours in here will jog your memory.” And with that you’re left alone to sit in a cold metal chair and stare at your reflection.

 --

 Throughout your relationship, Spencer has tried not to worry. You frequently come home from work a bit later than you originally planned, especially if you feel like you got a late start. So, when you don’t enter your apartment right at 5:30, he doesn’t think anything of it. When 6:00 rolls around, he texts you. At 6:30 he calls. By the time it reaches 7:00 and he still hasn’t heard from you, he’s actively pacing your small living room. When his most recent call goes to voicemail, he breaks. He packs up Lily’s stuff and the two of them are on the way to Quantico, finding you being the only thing on his mind.

 He replays his favorite moments with you in his mind as he drives from your DC apartment to Quantico. Normally, he’d take the metro, but if you really are missing it’s safer for Lily in the car.

He remembers the look on your face when you realized you hit him with a door. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful person. You looked so guilty, he felt the need to hug you to tell you it was okay. It was a foreign feeling for him. He’s never been one to physically comfort people. Maybe it was the concussion. It was definitely the concussion that gave him the courage to ask you to coffee.

 He remembers the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach when he watched you pour almost as much sugar as him into your coffee. The soft smile on your face as the two of you spent hours talking about anything he could think of to keep the conversation from ending.

 He remembers the utter joy he felt upon realizing the five year old who inquired about the horsey on the chess board is your daughter. He remembers how he felt when he looked up, expecting to find an annoyed parent given that he just lectured a five year old on one chess piece for 15 minutes, but was instead met with your kind smile and loving eyes. He loves Lily just as much, if not more than he loves you.

 He remembers how you hung up the phone this morning before he could say “I love you too.” And now the thoughts he’s tried so hard to block out are circling in his mind. The words repeating in his head, over and over. What if I never see her again? What if I can’t tell her I love her?

 He pulls into the garage, carrying Lily so he can run faster into the building. He puts her down when they finally reach the elevator. She’s been surprisingly calm despite Spencer’s nervous attitude.

 “Spencie, where is Momma?” Spencer’s heart constricts at the sound of her sweet voice. He doesn’t know where you are, and it terrifies him.

 “We are going to find out! How would you like to see my desk? You can play with the cube I showed you at home!” He pulls a Rubik’s cube out of his satchel, placing it in Lily’s small hands. He guides Lily to his desk, telling her to stay there while he looks for his friends. She looks so tiny in his desk chair, he would stop to take a picture if his phone had that feature.

 He finds the team in the round table room. His eyes scan the room, landing on JJ’s concerned expression last. He’s surprised to find Will in the room as well. JJ notices him before anyone else.

 “Spence, thank God you’re here. We need fresh eyes.” Before he can protest, Morgan is filling him in on the events that have unfolded.

 “We brought a suspect in from DC, and she knew JJ.” Spencer’s eyes go wide. If the team is in trouble, that could be why Y/N was taken.

 “When I asked her how she knew me, her only response was ‘Henry.’ Something doesn’t add up.” Movement in the doorway catches everyone’s eye.

 “Spencie, did you find Momma yet?” Lily stands in the doorway, looking straight at Spencer.

 “Not yet sweetheart. I have some cookies in my bag, why don’t you go back to my desk and eat them, okay?” 

“Can I have two?” The little girl holds up two of her tiny fingers, unaware of the confused glances from every adult in the room that isn’t Spencer. 

“Of course, sweet pea. Whatever you want. You can even spin around in my chair!” The child nods before running back to Spencer’s desk. Spencer turns around to find all eyes on him. The entire team wears similar expressions of shock and awe.

 “Spencie?” Derek questions the nickname.

 “Sweetheart?” JJ’s more focused on how Spencer responded.

 “Who the heck was that 'sweet pea’ and why have you kept her from me?” Garcia is glaring at Spencer for hiding such a cutie pie from her for however long.

 “She’s why I’m here. Well not her, her mother. We’ve been dating for the last 9 months. I picked up Lily from school today. We were supposed to meet back at her apartment, but she never came home. She’s not answering my calls and I don’t know where she could be.” Spencer breaks down as he tries to explain what’s going on. He can’t imagine a world without you in it.

 “Reid, give Garcia her phone number to track her location. This could all be related to our case. If someone is targeting the BAU, we will find them.” Hotch’s no nonsense tone calms everyone in the room. Again, movement in the doorway catches everyone’s attention.

 “Sir, she keeps saying she can explain everything. I know you said 3 hours, but I think she’s ready now.”

 “Thank you, Anderson. We’ll be right there.” The agent leaves without another word. Hotch turns back to continue filling Spencer in on the case. “Reid, we’ve got a suspect in custody. She doesn’t match the profile, but we think she knows something.”

 “She mentioned a boyfriend in the car. He might know something too.” Morgan pipes in as well.

 “I want to talk to her. If she knows where Y/N is, I have to talk to her.” Spencer is out of the room before anyone can stop him. He’s practically running across the bullpen to get to the interrogation room.

 “Y/N?” Morgan questions to the agents left in the round table room.

 --

 You are so cold. They must have the air turned down to put you on edge. You have finally calmed yourself down enough to form actual sentences instead of useless mumbling.

 “Please. Let me explain! I can tell you everything. Well, not everything, because I don’t know how my signature ended up on that paper, but I can tell you about JJ! And Henry! Let me explain!” You never thought about how weird it would be to know someone could be watching your every move. You feel like you’re talking to nobody as you beg for them to let you explain.

 The door flies open with so much force, you fall out of your chair in shock. There are hands on you, pulling you to your feet before you’ve even registered hitting the ground.

 “Where is sh- Y/N?” Spencer’s tone of voice changes so quickly your brain can’t follow. You just look into his before you burst into tears.

 “Oh thank God. Spencer, I was so scared. I was so nervous when Derek and Rossi came to interview me. I didn’t want them to hate me, you know? Even though they didn’t know who I was. And then I saw JJ, and I got even worse. I mean, she’s your best friend! And she sounded so angry, which was my fault, but I couldn’t even form words to explain myself because I was so sure these people- the people you consider family- were going to hate me and I made everything so much worse. But I-” Spencer knows if he doesn’t cut you off, you’ll ramble endlessly. It’s always like that when you spend too much time alone. As if all the energy you could’ve spent talking to someone pours out of you all at once.

 “Shh, baby, it’s okay. We can explain everything. I’m so happy to see you. To know you’re okay. God, I love you too.” You turn your tear stained face to look up at him.

 “Wha- oh my God. I said that. I didn’t even realize I said it. But it’s true. I love you so much. I can’t imagine a world without you. That’s why I was so nervous about meeting the team. And they wouldn’t let me call you, so I couldn’t ask you what to do.” The two of you continue trying to fill each other in on what has lead you to this moment.

 Hotch and JJ make their way into the room without either of you noticing. They both sit down before either speaks. “Reid, I’m going to need you to leave the room.” Spencer turned around with you still in his arms, your head pulled tight to his chest. He glares at his boss before responding. “No. She didn’t do this. The dates from the case file you gave me, they don’t line up. April 17th, we watched the new episode of Doctor Who and spent the rest of the night discussing theories. April 20th, we went to dinner to celebrate Lily’s sixth birthday. April 22nd we watched Tangled with Lily until she fell asleep and then we…” He trailed off, turning a bright shade of pink. You wiggled in his arms, trying to hide the blush on your face as well.

 “Spence, where’s Lily?” You know he needs to leave if you are ever actually going to get out of this room.

 “She’s at my desk. She looked so tiny in my chair.” He practically has heart eyes as he thinks back to where he left your little girl.

 “Why don’t you go tell her you found me? I’ll be okay.” You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes as you sit back down in the cold metal chair. Spencer looks as though he would rather read Twilight again than leave you, but he reluctantly walks out of the room.

 You start rambling before the agents get a chance to ask you a question.

 “I’m so sorry. I’ve probably wasted so much of your time. I just freaked out when I realized I was meeting Spence’s family. That’s why I know your son’s name.” You turn slightly to look at JJ. “He talks about him all the time, and he’s shown me pictures. I’m so so sorry that you had to worry about your child’s safety because of me. I was just nervous to meet you. That’s why I haven’t met you yet actually. Because I didn’t want Lily to get too attached if something happened and we broke up. Not that I can imagine breaking up with Spencer. I would spend the rest of my life with him if he gave me the chance.” You can feel the tears brimming again. “I really don’t know why my name is on that paper. I never would have signed it! My lab doesn’t use human tissues.” You try to stress that point.

 “Ms. L/N, we believe you. We never thought you were responsible, but it was a suspicious situation. You can never be too careful in our line of work.” Hotch still looks extremely serious, but his tone is slightly more relaxed than when he threw you into this room.

 “Of course. I would’ve thought I was guilty if I didn’t know the truth. Is there anything I can do to help?” You are so relieved to know they don’t think you’re a crazy murderer.

 “We need to ask you a few questions about the people who work in your lab.”

 “Oh. Okay.” You have to actively force yourself not to start rambling again.

 “Do you know any of these people?” The agent shows you three pictures of young women. They couldn’t be more than 25.

 “No…” You can’t put your finger on it, but they look familiar.

 “But?” JJ encourages you to continue.

 “I’m not sure. They look familiar for some reason.” All three women have brunette hair and green eyes. Their face shapes are even shockingly similar.

 “Do you know anyone who looks like these women?” You don’t know how they know that, but you do. They’ve planted the seed, and it instantly grew into a massive oak.

 “I do! Her name is Renee. Um... Renee Watkins. She works in the hospital, in the lab where they run blood tests.” You look at the agents with hope in your eyes. Maybe now they’ll let you leave. They both stand up without saying anything else. Hotch leaves first. JJ stares at you for a minute.

 “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, you’re his best friend. If you hate me, we won’t work. He cares about all of you way too much for me to get in the way of that.” You honestly still feel awful about the unnecessary fear you’ve caused her and her family.

 “He cares about you too. He’s been happier than I’ve seen him in years. I knew something was up, but I didn’t want to push him.” You can’t keep your smile off your face at her words. “Let’s forget about all of it. I’m just going to focus on the relief of knowing nobody is after my son.”

 “Thank you. I really am so sorry though.” You feel the need to keep apologizing.

 “Really, it’s fine. Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

 JJ leads you back to the bullpen. Right as you turn the corner, you can spot Spence playing with Lily and Henry. He’s captivated their attention with a magic trick.

 “He’s so good with them.” Almost involuntarily, your hand brushes over your stomach.

 “He’s always wanted to be a father.” JJ eyes your hand before giving you a rather pointed look.

 “Oh! No, I’m not pregnant.” You let your arm fall back to your side. “He’s just so good with Lily; she asked me if he could be her dad.” You can feel the tears coming again. “I just know that one day I will have that man’s babies.” JJ snorts and suddenly the two of you break out laughing. Your laughter makes enough noise to capture Spencer’s attention, two little pairs of eyes following his lead. All three of them are suddenly running across the room to you and JJ.

 Lily jumps into your arms, much as Henry does to JJ. You pull her close, leaning into Spencer as his arms circle around you both. The moment is interrupted when Penelope Garcia comes running into the room.

 “I’ve got him. Shane Harrison, 28. He dated Renee Watkins in high school. He was recently fired from his position in the human tissues lab at Children’s National Hospital. There are reports of him breaking in, although nothing was reported stolen due to falsified transfer documents.”

 “What made him start killing?” Morgan asks while you and JJ desperately cover the children’s ears.

 “Renee recently got engaged. She posted all about her new fiancée on social media. I already texted you the address.” JJ says a rushed goodbye to Will and the team is out the door. Lily runs back over Spencer’s desk with Henry so she can show him the Rubik’s cube.

 “Aren’t you going to help them?” You turn to Spencer who hasn’t left your side.

 “I think they can manage this one without me. I’m needed somewhere else at the moment.” As if to prove his point, he leans in to kiss you. It’s short and sweet and everything you needed at the moment.

 The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls the two of you out of your bubble.

 “Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia. I’m sure the Genius Doctor has told you all about me.”

 “He has indeed. You’re even lovelier in person.” Garcia is just as bright and bubbly as Spencer described her. It makes you smile to think that the team has her never ending positivity while they are surrounded by so much darkness.

 “We are having a team gathering at Rossi’s tomorrow night. You should both come. And Lily!” Garcia smiles again before walking away.

 “You know that means we have to go, right?” Spencer asks you the obvious question.

 “I know honey. You’re afraid of what Garcia could do to you if you get on her bad side.” You laugh at his pout, pulling him down the stairs and over to Lily. It’s about time you all head home.

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.7 | Brittana

A/N - And just like that, Lockdown 6.0 is upon us LOL. Good news, more time to write. Bad news, boredom looms. Anyway, thank you to those who have left lovely reviews and/or have gifted me with a coffee through ko-fi. I hope you all know that those emails are some of the first I read when I wake up in the morning - instant happiness! 🥰

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Being ambushed by parents ends up turning into a trend for Santana when the following weekend Maribel decides to make a spontaneous trip to New York. Apparently there’s some banquet dinner Eddie is attending which Maribel’s accompanying him to.

The invite was extended to Santana as well, but those dinners are always super boring so she blew it off with an excuse about spending time with Brittany instead since their schedules have been so busy.

What she didn’t expect is for Maribel to make an unexpected pit stop at hers and Puck’s place beforehand, hoping to at least say hi to the happy couple.

Problem is – half of said couple isn’t here.

“Mami, we’re just really busy with this assignment,” Santana tries – hoping that it would be enough to deter her mom for awhile considering Brittany isn’t around. “It’s really getting down to the wire, can’t we see you tomorrow?”

“Ay Santana, I’m already on the way,” Maribel replies in a huff. “It’s only a quick visit and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t you just like…skip it and continue on your way?”

“I haven’t seen you since New Year’s and I came all this way to see you – “

“You’re not even here for me, you’re here for Eddie.”

Suddenly there’s a pause and Santana wonders if that little comment just got her into some hot water.

“Why don’t you want to see your mother?” Maribel asks instead. “Are you hiding something from me? You and Puck aren’t up to something again, are you? Roping in Brittany?”

Santana’s eyes go big and it feels like she’s just swallowed a handful of sand. Her heart rate’s picking up and she’s struggling to come up with an answer. She feels like she’s got a hot spotlight on her; thank God her mom can’t actually see her right now!

“We’re not,” Santana finally says. “Like I said, Brittany and I are just a little busy with this assignment…but I guess we can take a break for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Maribel praises. “We’ll be around in about twenty minutes.”

Santana gulps, “Great. See you then.”

Once she hangs up, she grabs the nearest pillow and yells into it. The muffled screams have Puck running out of his room so fast that he clips the doorframe with his shoulder. A loud thud echoes throughout Santana’s room as Puck stumbles and looks around frantically.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We’ve got a Code Red,” Santana tells him.

His eyes drift down to her lap then back up as he starts to grimace, “Oh. Do you like…need things?”

Santana scrunches her brow but then she realizes what he’s talking about.

“No, not that Code Red,” She explains. “Mom’s on her way. I need to get Brittany over here ASAP!”

“Oh shit!” Puck curses and takes off to the living to start tidying.

The last time Maribel came around for a surprise visit, she basically tore Puck a new one. Long story short, his version of clean isn’t the same as Maribel’s and they spent an entire afternoon together going through the various cleaning products that should be used around the house and what they should be used for.

Meanwhile, Santana rushes to make the call. She just hopes that Brittany won’t give her a hard time for this, hopefully she answers the damn phone!

“Hi?” Brittany answers questioningly.

“Hey,” Santana replies.

“Did you butt dial me or something?”

“What? No.”

“You just – you never call me.”

“Yeah well…I don’t have much time to explain, but I need you to come over like right now.”

“Uhh, I’m kind of in the middle of something.“

“Brittany, please,” Santana begs. “My mom’s on her way over and she’s fully expecting you to be here too.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I’m freaking out, that’s why!”

“Okay, well don’t freak out. It’ll be fine. How much time do I have?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Thanks for the warning.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Look, it took me by surprise too.”

“Alright well, find your cool. We can’t have her suspecting anything’s up.”

Santana nods, already feeling a little calmer. “Just hurry, okay?”

“I’m on my way now. Don’t worry.”

\\

When Maribel comes knocking on Santana’s door, the brunette loses all cool once again because Brittany’s still nowhere in sight. Santana’s looking at Puck, but he has no idea what to do either. Maybe they can stall until she gets here, but how? Maribel would totally think something’s up if they refuse to let her inside!

“Just let her in?” Puck whispers, “We can say Britt went to pick up our take-out?”

“And further confirm that I don’t fucking cook here? No way.”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“I don’t kn –“

“Santana?” Maribel calls out from the hall after another knock. “Hello?”

Puck’s eyes go wide, “She can hear us.”

“No shit, she knows I’m home.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking, fuck! Why am I so stressed out?”

Santana and Puck go back and forth trying to come up with some way to stall, but it��s impossible under the pressure.

“I think we have to let her in,” Santana tells Puck in a grave tone.

Puck looks at her uneasily, “I think so too.”

After checking her phone once more for an update from Brittany – there isn’t one – Santana goes to let Maribel and Eddie in. They’re both dressed to the nines, must be a fancy banquet dinner.

“Hi!” Santana greets, attempting to mask her uneasiness.

She’s quickly embraced in a motherly hug while Puck compliments his coach on his sick suit.

“How are you, mija?” Maribel asks as she cups Santana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Am I?” Santana feels the nerves rattling within her. Where the hell is Brittany?!

“Yes,” Maribel looks her over. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Just tired.”

“Because exams are coming up,” Puck clarifies.

“That’s right,” Santana nods. “Lots of studying to do if I want to ace them.”

Maribel nods, seemingly pleased by Santana’s work ethic.

“Yeah, plus her and Britt have also been super busy with this assignment they’re doing together,” Puck adds. “It’s a lot.”

“Ah yes,” Maribel looks around. “Where is Brittany?”

Santana clenches her jaw and looks to Puck. There’s a guilty smile on his face as he secretly mouths out a sorry. Still though, she has to think on her feet.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Santana replies. It’s not her best work, but it was the first thing she thought of. Maybe they can work with it?

“Yeah, I think she had a bad salad for lunch,” Puck tries again.

Santana glares at him and mouths a shut up that goes unnoticed by Maribel and Eddie.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Maribel frowns.

“Those salads are always a hit or miss,” Eddie confirms. “I try to stay away from them.”

“Don’t listen to Puck. It’s nothing like that,” Santana assures them. “Anyway, exam prep; super intense, long nights, tedious studying. I’m so ready for it to be over.”

Maribel looks apologetically at her, “Don’t work too hard.”

“That’s not what you taught me,” Santana quips.

“I know,” Maribel smiles. “I hope you’re at least wearing your glasses when you’re meant to. You know what all that reading can do to your eyes.”

“I am…”

“And rest, you still need it,” Maribel insists. “A tired mind won’t retain a thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

The four swivel around to find Brittany coming out of Santana’s bedroom. Her cheeks are a little pink – probably from the run over – but she’s her usual cool and collected self as she saunters over.

Santana’s never felt so relieved to see the girl! Question is though, how the hell did she pull off such an entrance?

“Brittany! Hi,” Maribel greets happily. “Are you feeling okay?”

There’s a glimpse of confusion as Brittany looks to Santana for an explanation.

“Mami, I told you she’s not sick. She was only in the bedroom to finish up a call with her mom,” Santana lies.

“Yeah. That was my bad, Mama Lopez,” Puck speaks up.

“Right,” Brittany quickly catches on. “Just my daily phone call with mom. Sorry about that, we can get carried away.”

“Oh don’t be,” Maribel smiles then glances to Santana. “Where’s my daily phone call?”

Santana fights the eye roll, “I’m clearly not as great as Brittany.”

“Now that’s a first,” Brittany smirks as she curls her arm around Santana. “I think you’re plenty great though.”

Santana finds herself blushing, “Thanks.”

There’s another pleased smile on Maribel’s face as she admires the couple. It’s a look Santana has rarely seen when it comes to her past partners and it makes her chest fill with pride. Even months later, her and Brittany still got it!

“Well, as promised this is only a quick visit,” Maribel tells them. “We really need to get going now, but while I’ve got you here: when are you coming home for a visit?”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look. They weren’t looking to make a visit for another few weeks, at least until after Spring Break. Free time is hard to come by now that they’re getting closer to the end of the semester.

“You know Abuela would like to see you both again,” Maribel adds.

Santana’s brows rise, “Would she now?”

“I think she’s warming up to things,” Maribel says vaguely but Santana gets it. “Wouldn’t hurt to come see her though. You know seeing pictures of you two together on Facebook has become a highlight for her.”

“Told you we’re cute,” Brittany jokes as she hugs Santana to her side.

“I should’ve known, she likes every single one them,” Santana quips.

“She wants to spend time with you,” Maribel explains and looks to Brittany. “She wants to spend time with the both of you.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, “Really? Has something changed?”

Maribel only shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her for yourself.”

Santana and Brittany glance at each other, both suddenly curious about Abuela’s change of heart.

“How about you come down for Spring Break?” Maribel suggests.

“Uhhh,” Santana stammers as she looks to Brittany, “We’re going to have to talk about it first. Brittany might have to – “

“Spring Break is fine with me,” Brittany shrugs.

“I thought you were planning on going home?” Santana lies – trying to get Brittany to catch on. “Spend time with your family?”

The blonde only shakes her head, “Nope. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Santana feels herself deflate; usually Spring Break is her time to finally let loose but she guesses there’s not much else she could get up to since she’s fake dating Brittany. She might as well just use the time to reinforce that she’s capable of being in a long term relationship.

By then, her and Brittany would be together for four months – that’s the longest relationship yet! Surely, that’ll have to mean something to her family.

“Well sure,” Santana sighs in defeat. “I can’t imagine spending my Spring break any other way than by returning to Lima.”

Maribel gives her a gleaming grin, “Perfect.”

\\

Once Maribel and Eddie head off to their banquet, Santana and Brittany collapse together on the couch. Puck hands them both a beer before cracking one open for himself and taking a seat opposite them.

“Way to sell it,” Puck raises his bottle. “Great work! It was cool to see you two in action like that. I can see why everyone eats this shit up. You’re pretty believable.”

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Santana quips.

“Looks like I came right on time too,” Brittany says.

“Yeah about that,” Santana looks to Brittany. “How the hell did you get into my room?”

“The window?” Brittany shrugs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t locked.

Santana’s eyes go wide, “You climbed through the window?”

“Well yeah, how else would I have gotten in? Through the vent?” Brittany jokes.

“Good thing we’re on the first floor,” Puck chuckles.

Brittany nods and clinks her bottle with his. Meanwhile Santana just stares at the blonde with her jaw slack. Not only did she run over here, she went through the effort of climbing through the window too!

The girl is crazy.

Santana doubts she would’ve gone to the same extent. No way she’d try getting her ass through a window, that’s just too much. But still, she supposes some thanking is in order.

“Well, I appreciate you going through all that,” Santana says bashfully. “I didn’t expect my mom to just pop up like that so…thanks for coming here so quickly.”

There’s a half-smirk on Brittany’s face and Santana anticipates her poking fun at how Santana’s actually thanking her for something, but it doesn’t come. Brittany just continues smiling as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for,” She tells her.

\\

Over the following days, Santana and Brittany often run into each other at the library. It’s not Santana’s preferred place to study but it’s hard for her to concentrate sometimes with Puck around.

Although Santana and Brittany are in the same place, they often sit separately.

Brittany keeps to her lone table in the study area while Santana sits somewhere in the upper level because she likes the view of the exit. It’s kind of like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that tunnel being the designated hour she makes herself study.

However, on one particular day all of the tables in the upper level are occupied. Santana finds herself scowling at the randoms before making her way down to the level beneath – where the study area is kept.

Like always, Brittany’s sitting alone near the back and Santana finds herself walking over to her without a second thought. She wasn’t planning on sharing the table with her, just maybe say hi and leave her be, but as Santana approaches the table she finds something unexpected there:

Spanish for Dummies

Intrigued, Santana’s eyes roam the table and find all sorts of similar books on the Spanish language mixed in with Brittany’s actual coursework. Then Santana takes a peek at Brittany’s laptop, trying to figure out what has her so consumed that she’s yet to notice her standing there.

There’s a little green owl going over conjugations – Spanish conjugations – and Santana watches as Brittany jots down notes as she mouths whatever words she hears through her headphones. Santana’s completely dumbfounded and pulls up a chair, the motion finally causes Brittany to jolt and turn.

Blue eyes spark with surprise before the headphones quickly come off. The girl looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Santana can’t help the fascination.

“Santana!” Brittany gasps. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s the library,” She answers simply. “I’m here to study.”

“Oh, duh. Of cour – “

“Are you teaching yourself Spanish?” Santana interrupts.

Brittany looks from her screen to the books on the table to Santana. She seems a little timid as she minimizes the program on her laptop. Santana wonders if she’s going to attempt to lie, but there’s too much evidence against her. There’s no way she could convince Santana that she’s doing otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Brittany admits with a nervous laugh. “I am.”

Santana quirks her brow, “What are you doing that for? Surely not for fun?”

Brittany shrugs, “The shows on Univision are great but I’m tired of reading subtitles.”

“Really?” Santana doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s like…a lot of work. Besides, I thought nerds like to read?”

Brittany gives her an unimpressed look, “Well…I also figured that if I knew a little Spanish then it’ll give Abuela and I something to bond over. I remember your aunts mentioning this one show she likes so I’ve kind of been binging it.”

“You’ve been binging telenovelas?” Santana asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah, the drama is addicting.”

“Oh wow,” Santana sits back. “So you’re serious about this?”

“Aren’t you?” Brittany replies.

“Yeah, but this is a new level.”

“Don’t you want to be as convincing as you can be?”

“There’s convincing and then there’s this,” Santana jokes. “Your over-achiever tendencies are showing again.”

“You jealous?” Brittany fires back. “I know how much you love it when your mom compares us.”

“I’m not jealous,” Santana turns up her nose.

Brittany smirks, “Just checking. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea.”

“Technically it was Puck’s.”

“Whatever,” Brittany says. “I’m going to do all that I can to make this work because I’m committed. You continue doing…whatever it is that you do.”

Santana tenses her jaw at the jab. It reminds her of the game they played before– the constant one-upping of each other – and she wonders if they’re still playing it.

She thinks about how she accidentally introduced herself to Brittany’s parents as her girlfriend. She remembers how Brittany now has to keep up this façade with them too thanks to the slip-up. She thinks about who this Artie guy is and why Brittany’s parents were wondering where he went.

But most importantly, she thinks about how underwhelming she is as a girlfriend.

She’s nothing like Brittany; she isn’t kind and sweet and she isn’t someone people take home to meet their parents. Santana’s the girl that helps you get over your ex, she’s the one college girls experiment with, she’s down for one night stands, down for no-strings-attached kind of hook ups – she’s not actual girlfriend material.

And oddly enough, she kind of feels bad that Brittany’s stuck with her for the time being. This fake relationship thing wasn’t meant to go beyond convincing Maribel, but that’s exactly what’s happened now thanks to her big mouth.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Santana says after the guilt starts setting in.

“I want to,” Brittany tells her.

Santana sighs; yet another reason why they’re so different.

“Learning a language just to get Abuela to like you?” Santana explains. “Don’t you think that’s kind of going overboard?”

“Not really. It’s kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well yeah, I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” Brittany replies. “Why not start now? Plus I meant what I said about the subtitles thing. It would be so much easier not having to read.”

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head, “How do you find the time? I’m swamped with studying and assignments and cheer practice. Here you are learning another language for fun.”

“I kind of have a photographic memory.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Of course you do.”

“I’m joking,” Brittany smirks. “I have a bunch of techniques that help cut down on the amount of time you’re actually studying so you don’t spend all your time doing it. I could…teach you some if you want?”

Santana lifts her chin, “I don’t need a tutor.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Brittany laughs. “Why are you always so quick to be on the defense?”

Santana crosses her arms and looks away, “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany grins. “I’ve got a study session with Puck on Thursday. I think it’s actually going to be at your place. We can not share study tips then if you want?”

Santana lets the offer roll around in her head but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.

“I might be around, depends if practice lets out on time.”

“Okay,” Brittany nods then looks at her laptop screen before glancing back at Santana who has yet to move. “So are you sitting with me now or…?”

“Oh!” Santana jolts to stand up. She gathers her bag from the ground and looks around for an empty table, but they’re all occupied.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Brittany tells her without looking away from the screen. “You can stay if you’d like.”

Santana looks around indecisively. She’d rather study alone, but that doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment. She can’t go home either with Puck around, so she guesses staying with Brittany is the next best thing.

“Okay,” Santana replies. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Brittany says.

Santana moves to the opposite end of the table while Brittany gathers her things in order for Santana to have more room on the table for hers. They sit silently like that working on their respective things for awhile, getting lost in their work.

Brittany ends up leaving the table for a moment and Santana barely notices until she’s placing a coffee in front of her.

“Oh thanks,” Santana smiles at the unexpected gesture.

Brittany doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile as she sits back down.

Another moment later when Santana gets peckish, she pulls out a bag of trail mix. She barely gives it a second thought when she places it between them so that Brittany can have some too if she wants.

\\

When Thursday comes around, Santana ends up leaving cheer practice on time for once. She’s quick to get out of there so that she can wash up and change out of her uniform before Brittany arrives, but she finds that the blonde is already there by the time she gets home.

“What up, Lopez!” Puck calls out to her as he sits with Brittany at their tiny dining table.

Brittany looks up too, her eyes moving from their work to Santana who lingers by the front door. There’s a small smile that begins to curl her lips and Santana finds herself returning it with her own little grin.

“Hi,” She greets as she kicks of her tennis shoes. It was meant for Puck but it seems that it’s directed at Brittany.

“Hey,” Brittany replies.

“How was practice?” Puck asks, just now lifting his head from the work before him.

“Got bumped up to flyer,” Santana says casually although it’s pretty exciting news. She comes around to the kitchen for a drink, “Erica apparently has brittle bones from what Coach says.”

“No way!” Puck cheers, “That’s so awesome!”

“What’s a flyer?” Brittany asks, looking between the two.

“The girls that do stunts in the air,” Santana answers.

“Oh,” Brittany’s brows rise. “That’s…isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“You worried about me?” Santana teases as she comes around to sit on the stool next to them. She crosses her legs, her cheer skirt hugging her thighs tightly. “Didn’t you say cheer was boring?”

Puck grins as he looks to Brittany for a rebuttal, but the blonde looks stumped.

Actually, the blonde looks distracted.

When Santana realizes that she’s staring at her legs, it’s like a personal victory for her. It was only a matter of time before the skirt wins!

Puck notices the distraction too and glances between his friends, a knowing smirk starting to form.

“Anyway,” Santana says as she finishes off her glass of water.

The sound of her voice breaks Brittany from her trance, but blue eyes are dark with something Santana’s familiar with but has yet to see on her. It makes her smirk; she’s missed having that kind of power over someone. It’s the sexual magnetism, it never fails her.

“Might hit the shower now,” Santana adds before looking to Brittany. “You going to be here much longer?”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Okay,” Santana can’t help the flirtatious tone now that she knows she’s got Brittany wrapped around her finger. The teasing is the most fun she’s had in awhile! “Maybe you can show me some things once you’re done with him?”

Brittany gulps, “Yeah sure.”

Puck notices what Santana’s doing and interrupts, “Uh…what’s happening right now?”

“Can it, Puckerman,” Santana waves off although her smile remains devilish. “What’s the point of having a fake girlfriend if I can’t fake flirt with them too?”

Brittany’s face goes a little red as she finally snaps back to reality.

“You call that flirting?” Brittany jokes.

“Fake flirting.”

Brittany shakes her head as she smirks, “I still don’t understand how you pick up any girls.”

“Judging by the look that’s been on your face since I walked in, I think you do.”

Puck looks back and forth between the two again like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“How about I order a pizza for later?” He suggests in attempt to break up the bickering before it escalates.

“Sounds good,” Santana says without taking her eyes off Brittany.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “Sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck replies and looks to Santana. “Go shower now. You’re distracting everyone.”

“She’s not distracting me,” Brittany said pointedly.  

Santana quirks her brow and smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, Britt-Britt.”

She lets her hips sway in that well-practiced way as she leaves the room. She doesn’t have to look to know that Brittany’s yet to stop staring and she struggles to hold back the laughter as she gets ready for a shower.

\\

Despite the teasing game she played earlier, Santana sits in Puck’s place at the tiny dining table across from Brittany with a scowl on her face. This studying thing? She’s had enough of it.

“This is pointless. Education is pointless. I’m gonna become a stripper instead,” Santana huffs.

“You'd probably make so much money!” Puck jokes from his place on the couch.

“Probably? Please,” Santana lifts her chin. “I'd make it rain every night!”

Puck laughs and throws his arm over the back of the couch to look at the pair.

“What do you think, Britt?” Puck presses with a smirk. “Think Santana would make it rain?”

Santana smirks too and looks to Brittany for answer.

“I think…I'm kind of hungry,” Brittany says. “How far away is the pizza?”

Santana’s smirk falls at the way Brittany deflects the question. Since Santana’s return, Brittany’s been a little quieter. Santana figured she’s just stuck in study mode and that she’d loosen up eventually, but she’s still waiting.

“I should probably head over now actually,” Puck realizes after checking his phone.

“Take me with you,” Santana jokes. “I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Brittany sighs, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know that’s a struggle for me.”

“True,” Brittany jokes. “Hey, if we finish this chapter tonight I’ll let you use my pretty pens to take notes?”

"Tempting, but I don't need your pretty pens,” Santana says flatly. She rests back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “What I need is alcohol and several orgasms. I clearly didn't think this fake dating thing through. I've never been so sexually deprived.”

Puck goes to grab his keys, “And on that note – I’ll be back in a few.”

Meanwhile, Brittany just snickers to herself but she isn’t laughing with Santana and it has the brunette frowning.

“What?” Santana questions as Puck leaves.

Brittany shakes her head, “It must be so hard for you to keep it in your pants for once.”

“You have no idea. Who knew that the last time would be the last time. I sure didn’t!”

Brittany shakes her head again and goes back to her work. It makes Santana feel a little on edge and straightens up in her chair.

“I'm obviously joking,” Santana adds and it makes Brittany look up. “What's it to you if I wasn't though?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany asks.

“Your interest in my sex life.”

Brittany scoffs and looks back to her work, “I'd hardly call it an interest.”

Santana folds her arms across her chest, “So you're secretly some kind of prude?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Brittany sighs and looks up at her again, “Why are we even talking about this?”

Santana notices the change in her tone and perks up. She abandons her work all together in favor of leaning in.

“Because it's way more interesting?” Santana presses. “I know you're trying to deflect, you might as well just answer. If not, I'll assume the reason it gets your panties all in a twist is because you're secretly jealous.”

“I'm definitely not jealous.”

“So it’s the other option,” Santana says. “You’re a prude.”

“No!” Brittany huffs. She softens when she realizes she raised her voice. There’s a timidness to her when she explains, “I just, I guess I believe in developing the feelings part first before the physical happens.”

Santana softens too but for a different reason. It’s more so confusion than anything else.

"Why?” She asks.

“Because with feelings it's better,” Brittany says simply.

“Are you kidding?” Santana quips. “It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Brittany looks at her sympathetically. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. God, who hurt you?”

Santana didn’t expect her comment to strike a nerve. The memory of short blonde hair and a cunning smile sneaks its way past Santana’s defenses as she mutters, “One guess.”

Brittany looks at her curiously before something clicks, “Oh. The girl.”

Santana doesn’t like where this is going and pushes away the overwhelming feelings that beg to bust through. She walls herself up, holds her chin high and swallows back the lump.

“Yeah well,” Santana brushes off. “I think it's pretty unrealistic to go out there thinking every potential lay has to be relationship material first. Where's the fun in that?”

Brittany continues to eye her like she’s wounded and Santana hates it.

“The fun part is getting to know someone first so when it does happen,” Brittany pauses as she bites her lip. “It's meaningful.”

Santana averts her eyes, because staring into Brittany’s makes her feel far too exposed. Instead she retreats in on herself to place she’s comfortable, she takes the attention off of her.

“Gross. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic,” Santana jokes.

Brittany sighs through a soft smile, “Call me old fashioned I guess.”

“Super old fashioned,” Santana quips. “Like, are you telling me you've never had a steamy quickie with a random? Everybody's got one.”

Brittany looks away and as she smirks, “Of course I have. I’m not that innocent.”

Santana perks up, “Really? Miss Goodie Two Shoes getting down and dirty without before being properly courted? God, I want details…”

Brittany snickers, “Not happening.”

“What?” Santana shifts in her seat excitedly. “Come on, what's a little girl talk between friends or are you the type that doesn’t kiss and tell because lame.”

Brittany looks up at her and smirks, “You saying we're friends?”

“Will it get you talking?”

Brittany laughs, “We should get back to work now. You've derailed us for long enough.”

“Come on, Britt-Britt,” Santana coos jokingly. “We've been at it for hours. I'm burnt out, sober and in dire need of sex.”

“None of that is my problem.”

“Sure it is,” Santana jokes. “The least you can do is tell me a couple of your kinky stories to get me through the night.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Brittany gives her a look, but Santana just bats her eyelashes. It makes Brittany laugh and she softens once again.

“Actually, I might be able to help you out.”

Santana sits straighter, “It was only a matter of time…”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Get over yourself. Not every girl on campus wants you, including me.”

Santana laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Britt-Britt.”

“Anyway,” Brittany continues, “I'm talking about a swanky party – a ball even.”

“A ball, you say?” Santana’s interest is piqued.

“Totally.”

“You've got my attention…”

“Well, there’s going to be an open bar, free food, an excuse to dress up and let loose. That ticks off two out of three on your list.”

Santana quirks a brow, “And the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There's gotta be a catch.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany slumps. “It's the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

“The what?” Santana deadpans.

“The Brainiacs’ Ball,” Brittany clarifies. “It's open to all the academic decathlon clubs across the city, this year we’re hosting. The team with the highest winning percentage is named and also the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is given out. It's the biggest night for the club.”

“Oh, hell no,” Santana chuckles. “There’s not enough free alcohol in the world to get me to go to that. Count me out.”

Brittany starts to frown, “What? Why?”

Santana shakes her head, “One of your matches was enough. I'm not going to a party where I have to be surrounded by all of you at once.”

“It won't be that bad,” Brittany sighs. “It's a night for celebrating. No trivia unless you count the bad puns you might hear.”

“I've seen the guys on your team,” Santana explains. “I can't be liable for the feelings I'd definitely hurt if I were to be around them. I’d be triggered by pocket protector.”

“But you'll mostly be with me,” Brittany tries.

“That doesn’t really help your case.”

Brittany gives her a look, “Well, I kind of need you to go.”

“You need me to go?”

“Well yeah, I don't want to be the only one there without a date,” Brittany reasons. “Plus wouldn't it be suspicious if you didn't go considering we're a thing?”

Santana lets out a laugh, thinking that she’s finally caught on.

“So that it explains it,” She says.

“Explains what?”

“The coffee the other day, sharing study tips, being here,” Santana goes on, “You’ve been setting yourself up to ask me to your dumb ball.”

Brittany tenses, “'First of all, it's not dumb.”

“Sorry. I should've said nerdy,” Santana clarifies.

“I wasn’t doing those things for this,” Brittany tells her. “I was… I did them to be nice. We don’t always have to be at each other. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.”

Santana shakes her head as she gets to thinking. She knows Brittany’s cunning too, she knows that she can play games so who’s to say she wasn’t playing this time?

“I'm not going,” Santana replies. “You can tell people I'm sick or something.”

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “Right. So this relationship thing only works when it's in your favor?”

Santana frowns at the harshness of Brittany’s tone, something that doesn’t feel right coming from the blonde.

“What are you talking about?” Santana huffs. “That’s not – “

“We always do what you want,” Brittany interrupts. “Whatever makes you look good but this one time I ask you for something and it's just a flat out no?”

Brittany’s face has gone a little red and Santana’s further surprised – she didn’t think it was this big of a deal. She doesn’t grasp why Brittany’s so worked up all of sudden. Why would she want someone there with her if they didn’t want to be there in the first place?

“Look, it's better if I don't go because if one dork in clunky black glasses wearing suspenders and a hideous bowtie crosses paths with me I won't be able to contain myself,” Santana argues. “I'll end up hurting someone's feelings and you said it yourself, it's a night for celebration.”

Brittany looks at her like she’s hit a new low. Hell, maybe she just did.

“You're unbelievable,” Brittany huffs as she stands and starts gathering her things.

“What?” Santana watches her with a sudden ache in her chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Clearly,” Brittany mutters. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“All because I don’t want to go?”

Brittany shakes her head, another bitter laugh escaping her.

“No,” She says gravely. “It’s because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Santana tenses at the way her words drip with disdain, but at the same time it puts her on the defense.

“Well sorry that I’m not like you,” Santana argues. “Sorry I can’t just slip into character with ease and be your perfect fake girlfriend whenever you want. Sorry I’m not on all the time like you are.”

Brittany just stares at her for a moment, studying Santana’s face before she speaks again.

“Just when I think I’ve figured you out,” Brittany continues. “Just when I think you’re actually a half-decent person and that maybe beneath this prickly exterior of yours, there’s actually something – someone – deserving of…of a friend you go and prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Santana slumps back in her chair, dejected and defeated.  

Even if Brittany didn’t physical hit her, those words sure did. She can’t even speak as she watches Brittany gather the last of her things and storm out. What’s worse is that she swears she sees blue eyes tinging red just before she turns away.

Santana slaps her hand at the table when the door slams shut behind Brittany. She instantly feels the sting of wood on her open palm.

Why? Why does she always have to screw things up like this?

\\

Puck comes through the door just a minute later, looking confused as well.

“So I just passed Britt in the hall,” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, she left.”

Puck slowly closes the door behind him, “Why?”

“Because,” Santana lets out a long puff of air. She feels the lump forming again in her throat, strange and unwelcome. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Dude,” His face falls. “Please tell me you didn’t try to make a move on her. The games earlier were cute and all but – “

“No,” Santana quickly answers. “I didn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?” Puck asks. “She looked really upset.”

Santana presses her lips tightly together, she’s almost ashamed to admit the truth.

“She wanted me to go to some ball with her,” Santana says dismissively. “I told her no.”

“You told her no?” Puck quirks a brow.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Puck frowns. “After all the stuff she’s done for you, you can’t?”

“Look, I can see where I fucked up okay?” Santana snaps. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Puck shakes his head as he backs off. “You really are an idiot.”

Santana agrees but she doesn’t tell him that.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” Santana tries convincing him. “It’ll be nothing but those academic decathlon nerds and not just the ones from Brittany’s team. It’ll be like ten times that! They’ll be from all over the city and you know how I am around the general public especially when I’m provoked. I could screw up and expose us both. It’s too risky.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, just listens to her excuses.

“I can’t do it,” Santana tells him with finality. “I can’t. Brittany might be pissed at me right now, but she’ll see it’s for the best. I’d just ruin her night because I don’t know how to act anyway. She’ll come around, she has to.”

“Sure Santana,” Puck dismisses and goes to flip open the pizza box. “So…does this mean I can have her pizza too?”

Santana just shakes her head, “Shut up.”

[cades-outsider]

Older Johnny Lawrence X Reader

Warnings: Sexual-ish themes, smidge of angst!

Late Nights

Recently you’ve been very caught up with work, you worked as a nurse at West Valley High that’s actually where you met your boyfriend Johnny.

FLASH-BACK

It was another stressful day at work as you had recently got a lot of injured students today, and like other school nurses you didn’t just give them ice you actually helped them.

You clean up your office a little bit as you finally take a seat in your office chair. The kids at West Valley actually admired you, you helped them not only physically but mentally if they needed it.

You enjoyed your work very much, it gave you something to do which you liked. Soon someone barges into your office causing you to jump not expecting it.

A man walked in, blonde hair and blue eyes and he also had a busted lip and cut open forehead. "Hey this is the nurses office correct?" He asks squinting his eyes a little.

"It is, you need some help there?" You question referring to his face.

"Uh yeah thanks" He says as you get up from your chair and show him where to sit.

You go to your cabinet and grab out your needed supply’s for his wounds, soon you walk back over to him placing the products around him for easy access.

"So how’d this happen?" You hum curiously as you dab some alcohol on a cotton ball before gently pressing it to his forehead.

He hissed slightly "got into it with a couple uh- kids" he clears his throat as you focus on his wound.

"Let me guess Kyler and his friends" You sigh as you place antibiotic on a bandaid and seal it on his cleaned wound now working on his busted lip.

"Hm, so that’s his name- he’s a d*ckhead" He slips before slouching his shoulders.

"I agree with you there" You chuckle as you glance at his eyes before sealing his lip with a bandaid.

"I’m Johnny" He says holding his hand out for you to take.

"Y/n" You smile, before shaking his hand.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" You question.

"Uh this ones been giving me a time" He lifts up his shirt to reveal a huge bruise on his stomach.

You wince "well I cant give you pain medicine but I can give you some of this" You say holding up a tube of numbing and pain cream.

He nods his head okay as you slip on a glove before gently pushing him to lay on his back on the bed. "Aren’t you gonna take me out first?" Johnny jokes with a smirk causing you to look up and let out a small laugh.

"Maybe..." You hum before applying cream to your fingers and gently rubbing it on his huge bruise and around it as well so the pain wouldn’t spread.

"Thanks" He mumbles as you put up the products.

"It’s no problem Johnny" You smile.

"Hey are you hungry?" You question.

"I could always eat" He smiles suggestively.

"Well I get off for my lunch break, so let me take you out" You ask taking off your nurse coat.

"Sounds like a plan"

FLASH-BACK OVER

Yeah that always seemed to fluster you every time you thought about how you both met. Work had been very stress full for you and you knew that it probably made Johnny feel some type of way since you hadn’t had any time alone with him.

It’s been like a week before you actually had a couples moment and you both live together in the same apartment now. Which happened to be Johnny’s, after about a year and a half of dating he asked you to move in with him and you agreed.

Johnny actually really wanted to spend some quality time alone with you but you were always so busy and he didn’t want to bother you so he stayed quiet.

He actually rekindled with Ali, though you didn’t know. He was actually meeting up with her to catch up on somethings seeing as you wouldn’t be home for a while he decided to catch up with Ali.

But what he didn’t know is you took work off early so you could plan a date with him. Obviously you hoped he would’ve be home and when you pulled up the driveway to your apartment complex you were happy to see that he wasn’t there.

That gave you time to prepare for your date, you cleaned up the kitchen, living room, every other room in the apartment and of course the bed room. You even added a few... extra things in the bed room.

You made a four course dinner for you and Johnny, got dressed in nice clothing and added one candle in the middle.

This whole set up took you about 2 hours plus the time for the food. You were honestly surprised Johnny wasn’t home yet but you didn’t think much about it.

You say in the kitchen chair for about three hours and Johnny still didn’t show, you even texted him once or twice asking if he was okay.

You signed sadly as you stared at the now cold food that sat in front of you, you put the candle that you never lit back up and turned off all the lights.

You walked into the bed room and put all the special things up that you had in sight, along with changing into a long comfortable shirt and putting your hair down before getting comfortable in bed.

You were about halfway asleep when someone came into the apartment though you didn’t hear because of the fan being so close to you.

Johnny turned the living room light on so he could see walking into the apartment. The light illuminated into the kitchen so he saw the two plates full of food.

His heart breaks as he drops his jacket on the couch, he looked around and noticed how sparkling clean the apartment looked to which made him feel even more guilty.

He opened the door to the bedroom, the creaking caused you to lift your head up and look at the door, squinting your eyes.

"Johnny?" You mumble tiredly.

"It’s me love" He mumbles still feeling guilty.

"I’m sorry for being late... and missing whatever you had planned..." Johnny mumbles walking closer to the bed.

"It’s okay..." You mumble feeling the disappointment rise in your chest again.

"Where were you anyways?" You question curiously.

"An old friend from school, she came down and we talked for a bit" He says honestly.

"Oh... Ali?" You question, Johnny had told you about Ali before as you were getting farther into the relationship.

"Yeah" He reply’s honestly.

"I’m really sorry Y/n" He apologies again.

"It’s fine Johnny" You say a bit more harshly than intended.

"Well it’s not my fault you’ve been busy all week" He mumbles, clearly pressed.

"Well I took the day off to plan this whole get up for us but ohhh you’d rather be with Ali instead" You fire back.

"Hey that is not fair" He points out.

"Neither is sitting at a table for three hours waiting on you" You hiss.

"Come on I said I’m sorry" He says once again as you sit up against the head board.

You rub your hands over your face "what are we doing?" You chuckle.

"What do you mean?" Johnny questions, clearly clueless.

"I mean why are we going back and forth with each other like this" You question.

"I don’t know, maybe because it’s the only way we know how?" He questions.

"Well it’s time to find a new way" You reply before crawling over to him and placing your lips on his, startling him at first.

He places his hands on your hips as you straddle his legs, you pull away breathlessly "now I’m hungry so do you wanna eat?" You question.

"I’m having my food right now" He mumbles before flipping you over and kissing down to your thighs.

Well, let’s just say the night didn’t only end in you yelling out Johnny’s name but him getting his four course meal.

_______________________________________________

This was requested from Wattpad

[rhenuvee]

PDA pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: No story line, just moments :P

Warnings: The gif... + it’s in the title, George having enough of your bs again, mention of the booty, suggestive moments

Link to pt 1: PDA pt1 (Yeah so there’s 500+ freakin notes on it holy crap)

Yeah so I just kinda wrote this during my English class...

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

You always enjoyed the free days you got from work. You usually helped out in the shop when you weren’t working your regular job. Fred insisted you relax in the flat, but you wanted to spend more time with him, which meant working. 

You didn’t mind it really. His shop was full of excitement, you’d take it over a boring office job any day. 

“Love! Where’d you go?” called his voice from the top floor. You were sitting on the counter on the bottom floor already ready, and taking a sip of your tea. Your ears perked as you watched your boyfriend fiddling with his tie. As soon as he spotted you, a toothy grin came upon his face but quickly disappeared once he saw you on the counter.

“(Y/n)...” he sighed quickly trotting down the stairs while fixing his tie up and heading towards you. You hopped off the counter and leaned your back on it, knowing he was going to say the same thing again.

“Why don’t you go back up and rest?” he asked rather quietly while stroking your cheek. You put down your teacup.

“Freddie, you don’t need to worry about me, I’m wide awake.” You were hoping your cheerful voice would convince him- you were telling the truth after all. He sighed again, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want you to work on your free day.” 

“And I’m not. I just want to spend more time with you.” 

Yours and Fred’s relationship consisted of lots and lots of affection- George was unfortunately a witness to it. You loved the cuddling after a long day after work, the tight hugs once you came home, the silly kisses when Fred was hyper... Maybe it was just missing him after your hours apart during work, or purely being so proud of what he accomplished. 

“Addiction? That’s not very good, love.” he teased, smirking. You gave his arm a light push and shook your head. A tease he was. “And I offered you to join me in the shower, but you said no.”

“Because every time you ask me and I say yes, your hand is on my butt before I even step foot into the shower.” He laughs at this, which you push him a little harder for. You pause and turn your head to the front of the shop, where the ‘No PDA’ sign sat in all it’s cardboard glory. 

“Are we being too much? I don’t like being annoying to George.” you said biting your lip.

“Hm? Don’t worry about George, he’s just being crabby. And I thought you liked breaking the rules.” The shit-eating grin on his face made your face hot. He pinned you against the counter, hand brushing your waist.

“Well, I don’t, until you rubbed off me.” You poked his chest playfully.

“Did I?” He asked teasingly and getting closer to you. Before you could answer, the door flung open and a few customers entered. 

You quickly pried yourself off your boyfriend and fixed your shirt which was ruffled by the counter. You glared at him and scrunched your nose. He in turn winked and stuck out his tongue at you. Fred chuckled at how frantic you looked, compared to the customers who were too late to notice the PDA that was about to happen. 

---

There weren’t any problems with customers, and the day seemed to be passing slowly. It wasn’t until there were only a couple of people in the shop at the moment, and your boyfriend decided to walk towards you. He wrapped his built arms around your waist, and his chin rested atop your head. You were a bit surprised, but smiled when you felt the familiarity of his touch.

“Fred, you almost scared me.” You said putting one hand atop his, and the other pushing the skiving snackboxes to look nice. He didn’t say anything.

“What is it Freddie?”

“Nothing...” he mumbled. “Just- you gotta stop being so bloody cute.” He took your free hand and rubbed it with his thumb. His head was in the clouds lately, you noticed. You remembered that was the same hand you had the scars from the blood quill. Your heart swelled at how sweet he was being.

“There are people still here.” you whispered. “Merlin, no wonder George can’t stand you.” you scoffed. He unwrapped his arms around you to turn you to face him.

“But that’s because we broke the no PDA rule...” You noticed that he mumbled the last bit, trailing off a little. You were left speechless as his hand was brought up- his index finger to tilt your chin up and his thumb to trace your bottom lip. You never realized when he got so close to you, but you did now as he leaned in and-

“Excuse me, Mr. Weasley!” You quickly coughed and pulled away. A small kid about eight years old tapped Fred. The little boy cocked his head in confusion as he saw both of you in an- *cough* interesting pose. Your boyfriend, quick and clever as ever, pretended and made an excuse.

“Hello, sorry I was fixing her... apron!” He said quickly bringing a hand to your back and fiddling with the tied string. You rolled your eyes, the boy giggled at how silly Fred’s tone was. 

“You know how clumsy she gets- now what did you need help with?” You glared at him as he was whisked away by the kid, but also noticing that your apron strings were now undone. You shook your head at how much of a troublemaker Fred was.

---

As soon as Fred was done recommending a product to the boy, he walked over to where you were standing with your arms crossed. You were lucky that the last few customers had already exited before this. Surprising as well, since it was just before your lunch break.

“Yes?” He asked. You stayed put in your crossed arm form.

“’Yes?’ You call your girlfriend clumsy and you say ‘yes’?” 

“Well, you didn’t let me finish, darling.” Fred leaned against the shelf slightly and threaded one of this hands through your loose hair. “She’s a little clumsy, yes- but she’s also smart, funny, kind, drop dead gorgeous...” He placed a kiss somewhere on your face for each thing he listed. You blushed at his words and placed your hands on his forearms. 

“And sometimes she looks like a pygmy puff early in the mornings, but- hey! Ow!” 

“Well then I think you’re just a right prat.” He gasped dramatically at your statement which made you laugh. 

“That hurts...” he said softly with a pout trying to sound in pain. “Care to make it up to me?” And just like that, his cheeky nature returned. He asked the question while tapping his lips with his index finger- you knew what he was implying. 

“You, Fred Weasley are too much for me.” You sighed bringing him in for the kiss he was wanting all this time. He happily leaned in as well, connecting your lips together and moving in sync. 

You couldn’t even focus, let alone control where those hands of his were touching you; one on the nape of your neck, and the other on your waist. He purposely backed you up a little against the shelf, careful not to knock any of the products over. It caused him to push his lips more, and soon slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fred. (Y/n).” called George quietly from just outside his room. You heard him, but Fred didn’t seem to.

“Fred...-” you said in between breaths, hardly able to say his name. You tapped him on the shoulder to signal him to pull away. He groaned as he listened, not wanting to stop.

“To be fair she was staring at my arse, first.”

“Fred!”

“Ew... fix your clothes wouldn’t you, children.” said George putting the jacket he was holding in front of him to cover the view of you. 

“George, where have you been, mate? Haven’t seen you much this morning.” inquired Fred. He was right now that he mentioned it. You only saw George a bit this morning, but he often seemed like he was rushing.

“I have a date.” He said. You and Fred’s eyebrows raised. You were all living with each other yet he gets a date out of the blue?! 

“Georgie, that’s great! Who’s your date?” you said happily before your boyfriend could spit out something offensive.

“I have a date with Angelina.” He said pursing his lips and nodding his head. His behaviour was oddly monotone despite having a date. You squealed in excitement for your two best friends who have finally got the courage to make something happen.

“Oh bloody hell, I have a date with Angelina... what am I going to do, what do I say?” Turns out George was just a little nervous. You and Fred both giggled. You bid George goodbye as he walked out the shop door. You were happy for him, and Angelina- you noticed the shy smile on his face as he walked out. You knew it was going to go well for them.

Just as a short moment of silence came over, Fred suddenly had a thought in mind.

“Wait, does this mean that ‘No PDA’ sign is no more?” He asked with a large grin upon his face. Oh god, you knew how this conversation was going to end.

“We don’t know if George’s date is going to go well.” You said shrugging. You knew it would, but you were trying to counter him. Fred’s eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘really?’ 

“Well...” he started with a smirk appearing and his hands reaching to your hips again. “Why don’t we find out? Test out its limits?” 

You shook your head, both at how sneaky he was being, and to also try to mask the red on your face. 

“Frederic Gideon Weasley...” you said in a tone attempting to be demanding. You watched as he bit his lip, clearly knowing what you were going to say. Why did your boyfriend have to be so attractive? You were also leaning into his touch, and that’s how he knew he had you.

“You are way too much trouble.” you said pointing a finger to him.

“Was that a yes?” he asked cheekily. He knew you were trying to avoid his question.

“It wasn’t a no.” you said trying to supress the smile on your face as you were whisked away to your bedroom by your loving boyfriend.

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

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[h2bakugou]

Idk if you do these kind of requests or not, but Amajiki, Tomura, Chisaki and Kacchan and their gf who’s on her period and she’s feeling low and just not herself???

a/n: i do hun! i did a similar period hc but this is different and i haven’t done these characters so here ya go love!

headcanon: them with a s/o who’s not feeling good on their period

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

»»————-　★　————-««

tamaki amajiki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tamaki is a sweetheart. He is there for you and will hold you until you feel better.

He’s a little shy but he really cares about you, and when it comes to the people he cares and loves, this boy will go to the ends of the Earth for you.

Soft kisses on your cheek or forehead.

Holds you in his arms while you play with his hair or snuggle into his neck.

When you’re not feeling your best, Tamaki is there to reassure you. Granted he struggles too, he hates seeing you like this.

“Bunny, you’re amazing, please don’t say such awful things about yourself.”

His indigo eyes are full of love and meaning, and you can clearly tell that he wants to say more, but will leave it at that for now.

Knowing that Tamaki has his own struggles with things like that, it really means a lot to hear him say that to you. 

Tamaki knows how to take care of you and will probably not leave your side unless you need him too, or want some space. 

Sleeping with Tamaki is one of the purest forms of love honestly. He’s holding you close while still allowing you to move if you ever get uncomfortable. His fingers delicately trace shapes and words out on your skin as your snoring softly beside him.

It’s nothing weird or funny, he’s not trying to pull any stunts, it’s just the two of you, sleeping, or worn-out and resting.

It’s him loving you and making sure that you’re feeling okay. 

It’s him reassuring you that you are precious and that bad days happen and there’s not much you can do but let them pass.

love this soft boy !!

»»————-　★　————-««

tomura shigaraki

»»————-　★　————-««

As much as I am a Shigaraki stan, I feel like this man’s first reaction would be disgust.

“What is coming from where?”

“It’s called menstruation-”

But on a real note, he probably never had a proper sex education class, and everything he learned about anatomy and stuff was either picked up from someone else, or learnt about from a game or movie.

Onto the headcanon stuff, overall I feel like once he comes to terms with what’s happening, he’s protective and caring.

Doesn’t like when the members of his league, let alone the people closet to him in both platonic and romantic ways, get hurt.

So seeing you in almost constant discomfort and pain is agonizing to watch.

By your side most of the time unless you want him to leave you alone, which is a struggle because he is persistent and bratty in the best ways.

‘I’m not leaving you-”

“Tomura, I just want some space.”

“Shut up and let me hold you.”

He takes your huff as a sign of agreement, but eventually it’s those same arms that you wanted gone, the arms you’d fallen asleep in.

Tomura probably acts like he’s the one on the period.

He’s ordering Dabi, Kurogiri, or anyone else who steps into view to get things for you so he can watch you 24/7.

Okay but as annoying loving as Tomura is, I could also see him getting frustrated with you.

“You clearly don’t feel good so just lay down and get some rest!”

“But I don’t want to!” You’re pacing around the room you share with Tomura while he stands by the door.

“Lay down.” Tomura orders.

“Make me.”

It’s a simple phrase that comes with varying consequences, this time, it’s being slung over his shoulder and tossed onto the bed, force down by him just laying on top of you like a human blanket.

“T-Tomura! That hurts!” You breathe out.

Eventually rolls off of you and just holds you close, getting some much needed rest.

Hates seeing you look down on yourself during this time because he truly loves you. He’s learned to love because of you.

“You’re the only idiot I tolerate in this shit hole. You’re fine the way you are.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

Maybe he isn’t the best with words, but his actions, aka the hoards of hugs and kisses, are what show you he cares.

In the nicest way possible, he is the epitome of “alright babe i’m in the pad isle, what size pussy do u wear?” but he’S LEARNING

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Katsuki Bakugou is probably one of the most sensible guys to help you when you’re on your period.

He’s going to be there for you, bring you snacks if you need them, provide warmth and cuddles when it’s time to sleep or if you have cramps, but he also isn’t going to put up with you if you get grumpy.

He knows that that kind of stuff tends to happen, and he doesn’t want to make it worse by angering you more. He’s struggled with restraint, but when it comes to you, it’s both easy and challenging.

He wants to be there for you, but he knows you might need your space.

When he sees you talking down about yourself or feeling low, this man is going to beat the shit out of you verbally. He’s showing you love and affection by yelling at you. All kind words of course.

“You’re fucking beautiful! And you’re not worthless!”

“Suki, it’s one am-”

“But you’re mumbling about how you aren’t good enough and that’s bullshit.”

“Alright alright, I get it, I’ll stop.” You say softly, closing your eyes while trying to fall back asleep beside your loud boyfriend.

“Yeah you better or I’ll have to kiss you, dumbass.”

“Kissing me is a punishment?”

“You know what I meant!”

He’s flustered

Holds you close when you can’t get comfy.

Kisses you a fuckton oh my god.

Kisses you when you say bad things about yourself, kisses you to show he loves you, kisses you when you’re kinda grumpy, kisses you when you’re not mad, you get the idea.

He just wants to see you smile, and kissing you is one of those ways that makes you flustered and makes you smile that goofy smile that Bakugou fell in love with.

I mentioned this in another headcanon, but this man’s hands are period cramp relievers- place those bad boys over the pain and relax.

They’re warm, and big, and it’s also cozy and securing laying in his arms.

The best way to lay on Bakugou is to get up under his sweater and tuck yourself onto his chest, placing his hands over your sides and dozing off.

He’ll steal a few kisses, and probably take a cheesy selfie to set as his lockscreen later, but he’s not far behind you in the sleeping department.

Genuinely doesn’t see how you don’t see yourself like a goddess. But nonetheless, he will never stop complimenting you and reassuring you.

He loves you so much, and he’ll be damned if you see yourself as anything less than what you are, and that’s truly amazing.

»»————-　★　————-««

kai chisaki

»»————-　★　————-««

This man is smart, arrogant, and driven, but sometimes he can be a bit of an asshole.

Will obviously be at your side if you need anything, after all, you are his top priority.

This could go a few ways. If he’s comfortable with you, and overcoming his mysophobia, he’ll do everything he can and is comfortable with to make sure you’re okay.

If he’s still struggling with germs, he may not be physically affectionate, but he’ll do his best. 

I feel like Chisaki probably shows his love through gifts, or at least to an extent he’ll try to show his love with presents.

But when he comes to terms with his feelings, he’s a man of words. He’ll say how he feels before he shows it. And it’s hard because actions do speak louder than words. And sometimes not being able to kiss or hug Chisaki is hard.

But his reassuring really hits different. Because Chisaki isn’t one for affection. He runs a gang, or a section of a larger gang. He didn’t have time for relationships before he met you, and he probably could’ve gone years before he ‘settled down’ if he hadn’t met you.

So hearing Chisaki tell you that he loves you and that you are not disgusting or pathetic, you know it means something.

You’re fully tended to when it comes to things like snacks, drinks, hygiene products, it’s all taken care for and Chisaki wouldn’t have it any other way.

He is here to take care of you unless he’s told otherwise. If it’s space you want, he’ll give it to you, but not before he knows you’re completely okay and that you won’t need anything while you want space.

If he’s comfortable with getting physical, his hugs are sweet. Just being held by him is a blessing. His kisses are even better. It’s always a private thing, he’s not just going to whip his mask off and kiss you in the middle of the hallway, despite how much he’d want too.

Chisaki works and he works hard. So it wouldn’t be rare if he only ever cared for you at night/during the morning. Of course he’ll spend time with you during lunch or if he’s got a break, but he can’t spend every minute of the day with you.

But I think not seeing him constantly is what makes spending time with him that much better.

You’ve got something to look forward too, as does he. He enjoys coming back from a long day, to take a nice shower and climb into bed with his favorite person and hold you until you both fall asleep.

Kisses you on your shoulder, neck and cheek the most. Hugs you from behind and cuddles you by wrapping his arm over your side, having your back pressed to him.

He genuinely hates seeing you talk down about yourself, but he’s not going to constantly remind you that you’re gorgeous and nothing is wrong with you.

It’s hard to love yourself, but he knows deep down that you’re special and you’ll realize it sooner or later.

Overall, Chisaki is a pretty sweet guy, but he’s resilient and reserved. He knows what he wants, and he’ll do anything in his power to make you feel better.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[felassan]

Article: ‘The Most Powerful Woman in Gaming Wants to Make EA Loved Again’

Laura Miele is helping direct the company toward a future where it’s more attuned with consumers.

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

[rest of article under cut for length, pasted as Bloomberg has an article read limit]

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

It’s something many gamers have wondered about EA for years. The $40 billion company, one of the biggest in gaming, is responsible for Battlefield, Madden NFL, and other megahit franchises. But many gamers have long seen EA as a necessary evil, resenting the direction in which it took some games and bristling at its aggressive attempts to extract money by charging extra for digital items in games that cost as much as $70 upfront. This dissatisfaction was no secret in 2018: Gamers spent their days filling up Reddit and other message boards with free advice for EA—but many felt its decision-makers weren’t listening.

EA’s leadership knows it has to improve that relationship, and Miele is a key player in its efforts to do so. Her focus group asked for new content for Star Wars Battlefront II and requested new types of games. Miele quickly assigned 70 people to the Battlefront development project, which dramatically improved its net promoter score, a measure of how likely people are to recommend the game. She also prompted EA to create a skateboarding game and committed to reintroducing its college football franchise, the two genres at the top of the influencers’ list.

In a sense, the guy at the meeting became a stand-in for all of EA’s long-suffering customers in Miele’s eyes. “I wanted to do right by this player,” she says.

As chief studios officer, Miele manages 6,000 staffers and thousands of contractors globally. She oversees EA’s 24 studios, where she makes personnel decisions and sets strategy, and she’s reshaped how the company uses analytics to create and market its games.

In the process she may have become the most powerful woman in gaming. In a 2019 International Game Developers Association survey, fewer than 30% of the more than 1,100 respondents were women, and few if any hold a more central role at such an important company. “It’s a tough place for a woman,” says Peter Moore, who was Miele’s boss when he was EA’s chief operating officer. “It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but she battled her way through.”

Proving good intentions is more important for EA than ever, as the business model of gaming continues to shift in ways that have the potential to alienate customers. Like its rivals, the company is increasing its focus on free-to-play games, making money through sales of digital products such as outfits and weapons for characters.

There are signs it’s succeeding. Apex Legends, EA’s free-to-play hero shooter game, has posted more than $1 billion in sales since it was first published in 2019, and it continues to grow. “The way to succeed with free-to-play games like that is to listen to and engage your customer base and earn their loyalty through incremental purchases,” says Doug Clinton, managing partner of the venture capital firm Loup Ventures, who says Miele deserves much of the credit for Apex Legends. “It feels like a proof point for her that the company is adapting well beyond traditional disk sales.”

Miele, 51, was born in San Francisco but grew up on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. She got her start in games—the kind that require a board—during family nights, when she pitted herself against her brother in Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, and backgammon. While attending the University of Nevada at Las Vegas, she worked at architectural companies. By the time she dropped out she’d moved on from receptionist positions to more senior roles, while gaining a reputation for organizing lunch-hour card games with her co-workers.

Miele landed a job as a project manager at Westwood Studios, a video game developer best known for Command and Conquer, in 1996. She eventually took over all marketing for its parent company, Virgin Interactive.

It wasn’t always a hospitable atmosphere: Miele remembers her colleagues expecting her to take notes at meetings, then clean up afterward. “That is just not something I would do today,” she says. “I adapted a lot because I was so passionate about what I was doing. I found my voice along the way.”

When EA acquired Westwood in 1998, she stayed on. At the time, the company did revenue forecasting by looking at sales data once a month and putting together spreadsheets by hand. Miele was tasked with developing more advanced analytics. She hired a group of data analysts, nicknamed “the Jedi,” and had them build EA’s first statistical regression models to examine sales trends, seasonality, and preorders. It took almost two years to put the system in place, but it overhauled the company’s business processes, and executives were soon using it to determine how to invest in advertising and promotions. “I loved how data and analytics can inform your judgment and your gut instinct,” Miele says.

Miele also decided to make one major break with EA’s existing business practices. In 2011 about 80% of game advertising budgets were spent on TV ads. But she saw how much time gamers spent online and decided to spend the bulk of the ad budget for Battlefield 3 on digital, downplaying other types of ads and cutting the TV ad budget to only 30%.

Messing around with the plan for Battlefield 3 was a good way to make people nervous. Miele remembers two executives calling her in for a meeting and demanding to know why they weren’t seeing billboards for the game as they drove in to the office. “It was scary for me, too, and I don’t blame our executives questioning me on that,” she says. But the game ended up being EA’s fastest-selling, moving more than 5 million copies in its first week. From that point, Miele’s marketing strategy became the standard for the company.

When EA signed a 10-year deal with Walt Disney Co. in 2013, Miele became Star Wars general manager. In 2014 she took over publishing operations, marketing, and other key areas, first in the North American region, then globally in 2016. At the time, the game industry was moving from physical disks to digital downloads, transforming its relationship with retail partners such as Walmart Inc. and Best Buy Co.

Miele was in charge of smoothing things over, explaining that EA would start competing with them for customers even as the retailers accounted for the largest portion of the revenue. “I never said to them, ‘Hey, see you later, we are moving on,’ ” she says. “It was, ‘How can we move forward together?’ ” EA began making physical cards with digital credits that its retail partners could sell at their stores, allowing them to share in the revenue from digital sales.

EA’s studios are spread around the globe, and Covid-19 altered Miele’s routine radically. “It was a very difficult year, and I’m really proud about how our company showed up,” she says. “I considered myself a wartime leader last year. You had to get in a bunker with everybody.”

Days became an endless progression of Zoom calls. To keep up with gamers, Miele started spending evenings listening to Clubhouse chats while answering work emails. Because she hasn’t been on the road, she’s also had more time to dine at home and play board games or Apex Legends and The Sims with her 16-year-old twins. As the pandemic retreats in the U.S., her schedule might change, but she still envisions providing more flexibility to her employees to work from home and office. “I do think we’re going to have a different work environment as we go forward,” she says.

Miele is itching to get back to the studio visits. She’s helping steer EA further toward smartphones. The company plans to release mobile versions of Apex Legends globally this year and spent $2.1 billion in April for Glu Mobile Inc., a mobile game publisher, while also preparing the next releases in its existing franchises. “I think the next Battlefield and the mobile shooter games, along with how successful the M&As come out will be key litmus tests of her management this year,” says Matt Kanterman, an analyst with Bloomberg Intelligence. “Her scope is clearly rising.”

— With Dina Bass and Jason Schreier

[source]

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Match Made in Heaven - Harry Potter

Title: Match Made in Heaven Pairing: Harry Potter x Granger!Reader Summary: Harry spends most of his days living amongst muggles to avoid the fame that follows him in the wizard world. Concealing his identity isn’t a problem until he falls in love with a muggle that seems all too familiar. A/N: For the anon that wanted Harry falling in love with a granger!reader without knowing she’s Hermione’s sister. This is noncanon compliant, as Hermione never obliviates her family. Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!

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

Harry spends far more time in muggle London than he ever imagined he would. He rents a decent sized flat in a muggle apartment building, shops in muggle clothing and food stores, and he even finds himself taking the tube or bus over apperating or the Floo Network. Harry loves magic and he loves being a wizard, but after spending the first 18 years of his life in the wizard world limelight, he craves a sense of normalcy.

In the muggle world he isn’t Harry Potter the boy who lived. He’s Harry Potter, the guy I sat next to on the tube. Or Harry Potter, my quiet neighbor who always says hello. In the muggle world he’s just Harry Potter, and he really likes that. He likes being able to go to a restaurant for a meal without being asked for his autograph, and he can buy his boxer briefs without being stopped for a picture.

Of course, he’s still fully involved in the Wizarding World. He pops into Diagon Alley for all of his magical shopping from time to time, he has a drink at the Leaky Cauldron with the boys from school every Saturday, he has a job at the ministry that he loves and every Sunday he conceals a random field in the country side so he can spend hours chasing around a golden snitch on his firebolt. Harry has even popped into Hogwarts for guest lectures or just to see Hagrid.  And of course, he’s at the Burrow frequently, whether it’s for a major holiday, birthday or just for dinner on a random weekday.

Harry doesn’t hate the wizarding world he just prefers the anonymity living in the muggle world gives him. So, it really only makes sense that he falls in love with a muggle girl too.

“If you ask me there’s far too many options for something as simple as milk. Milk is milk, is it not?”

Harry turns to look at the young woman standing next to him at the grocery store, and his jaw practically drops when she does the same. This woman is by far, the most beautiful woman Harry has ever seen. There’s something familiar about her, and yet he can’t quite figure out what it is. She gives him a warm smile, and Harry does his best to return it.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I sometimes grab a different brand hoping to notice some kind of difference and there never is.”

She laughs, turning to look back at the milk. “Well what’s your go to then? I’ll try yours if you try mine?”

Harry bites his lip. This is by far the strangest interaction he’s ever had with a muggle, but he finds is quite enjoyable. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Harry and the woman both reach into the cooler case, and their hands brush when they reach for the same bottle of milk. Harry pulls his hand away quickly, a slight blush painting his cheeks. The woman turns to look at him, the warm smile still on her face.

“Clearly you have great taste in dairy products,” she says playfully, and Harry can’t believe that a woman this beautiful is flirting with him. She grabs the bottle they both had gone for and hands it to Harry.

“You know what they say, great minds think alike,” he jokes, nodding in appreciation as he grabs the milk. He places it in his hand basket and watches as she grabs her own bottle. “I’m Harry,” he introduces.

The young woman turns to face him as she places the milk in her own basket. “I’m Y/N, it’s wonderful to meet you Harry.”

Y/N stretches her hand out and Harry grabs it, trying to ignore the spark of electricity that runs up his arm at the contact. As their handshake ends the woman gives him a wave, but Harry grabs her arm lightly as she turns to leave. “Wait, Y/N. Would you like to get dinner with me? Tomorrow night.”

Harry is just as surprised by his boldness as Y/N is. He’s usually not one to be so outgoing, but he’s become fascinated with this woman in the few short minutes they’ve known each other, and he has to see her again.

“I would love that,” she responds, the warm smile that Harry is already fond of returning.

“Brilliant,” he says, smiling back at Y/N. “There’s this diner that I love that’s not far from here. It’s called Barney’s, maybe you’ve heard of it?.”

Y/N chuckles. “I know Barney’s. I go there like, once a week.” She pauses. “Same favorite milk brand and same favorite restaurant? I think maybe we’re a match made in Heaven, Harry.”

Harry blushes and scratches at the back of his neck. “Perhaps so. I’ll meet you there tomorrow? Say 7:30?”

“I’ll see you then.”

-

“You’re going on a date?” Ron asks Harry in surprise the next day at work.

Ron and Hermione are always trying to convince Harry to move to Diagon Alley above Flourish and Blotts so they can be neighbors. They’re always telling him how quiet it is, how their owl doesn’t seem out of place to their neighbors and how nice it is to be surrounded by people that are like them. One of their efforts to convince him to move is to invite him over for dinner at least once a week. Ron has just invited Harry over, and he respectfully declined.

Harry rolls his eyes at Ron. “Why is that such a surprise.”

“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly have the best track record with women,” Ron points out with a chuckle.

Harry narrows his eyes at Ron. “Either way,” he says, not wanting to admit Ron is right, “I’ve got a date tonight so I’m going to have to skip out on dinner.”

“Fair enough, mate. So, who’s the lucky lady? A bird we went to school with?” Ron asks, knowing Hermione will want all of the details.

Harry shrugs. “Just a muggle I met last night at the grocery store.”

Ron gives Harry a look of surprise. “Last night? You met a girl and asked her out in the same night? That’s definitely a first for you.”

“Oh, shove it. You act like you’re the king of romance or something. How many years did it take you to grow a pair and ask Hermione out?” Harry teases, dodging the rolled-up ball of parchment Ron tosses at him. “We bonded over the fact that we like the same type of milk.”

“Muggles are weird man,” Ron says with a laugh, turning back to the pile of work on his desk.

-

“So, what do you do for work?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her drink.

Harry takes a sip of his own drink to give himself time to think of an answer. This is the only downside of living amongst muggles: trying to figure out how to explain the magical parts of his life. He somehow managed to stutter through a decent explanation as to why he keeps an owl as a pet, but he always gets nervous when it comes to his career.

“I work in law enforcement,” he responds a moment later. “I’m a detective of sorts.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Wow, that’s quite impressive. Being a detective at such a young age. I bet you’re a natural.”

Harry blushes, and takes a bite of his food to hide it. He’s almost glad that Y/N can’t know the truth about the more magical bits of his life. Being an Auror is less impressive when you know that Harry didn’t even graduate from school and was able to walk onto his job because someone decided that Harry would be his downfall when he was only an infant. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

“I’m working part time at the public library while I finish up medical school,” Y/N explains with a smile.

Harry scoffs playfully. “You’re sitting over there knowing you’re in medical school and calling my career impressive? You are far too humble, Y/N.” Harry feels a sense of pride when Y/N blushes and looks away. “So why medical school?”

Y/N shrugs, trying to brush off Harry’s kind words. “Both of my parents are dentists, and I wanted to make them proud. I spent a lot of time with them growing up, hanging out in the office. I watched them help person after person and it was inspiring. Made me realize I want to do the same thing.”

Harry absolutely melts at Y/N’s words. Harry has lived his whole life trying to make his parents proud. They gave their lives to help keep the wizarding world safe and all Harry wants to do is the same.

He clears his throat. “Seems we have that in common as well.”

“Your parents are dentists?” she asks with a laugh.

Harry laughs as well, shaking his head slightly. “My parents worked in a law enforcement type field. They were killed, when I was young because of it. They dedicated their lives to keeping me, and countless others safe. And all I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid was make them proud and do the same.”

Y/N gives Harry a sad smile as she reaches out to touch the hand he has resting on the table. Harry allows her to intertwine their fingers, smiling when she squeezes them lightly. “That’s amazing, Harry,” she says softly. “You seem like an amazing person, and I’m sure they’re proud of you.”

That night when Harry gets home he pens out a quick letter to Ron, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his as they kissed goodnight still fresh in his mind.

I think I’m in love.

-

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Y/N whispers, unable to keep herself from giggling.

It’s been a few days since his date with Y/N and Harry hasn’t been able to get her out of his head. He recounted the date several different times to both Ron and Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley had even asked him about it when he went to the Burrow for dinner. Each time he thought back to what happened he found himself getting happier and even though he and Y/N were going to see each other that night, Harry needed to see her again. So, on his lunch break he picked up some coffee and headed to the London Public Library.

Harry holds up the cups of coffee, a smile spreading across his face. “Got time for some coffee?”

Y/N returns his smile and nods. She comes out from behind the desk she had been working at and gestures for Harry to follow her. Y/N leads him out of the library and over to her favorite bench in the courtyard. It’s under a great big willow tree, and Y/N often spends hours out here, just enjoying the warm summer breeze, thinking about nothing.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight,” Y/N says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around them.

Harry shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee to keep from getting flustered. “I wanted to see you again, and I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he admits honestly.

In lieu of responding, Y/N touches Harry’s cheek lightly and leans in to kiss him. Their lips move together softly, and when their kiss breaks both of them are blushing slightly. “I’ve been dying to see you again as well.”

Harry bites his lip before he leans in to kiss Y/N again briefly. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” he murmurs, pressing their lips together again.

There are only a few people in his life that Harry has ever immediately felt comfortable around, and not very many of them are female. Whenever he’s around a woman he has a romantic interest in, Harry tends to get all clammy, and he works himself up so much he doesn’t know what to say. But he’s never felt that same awkwardness with Y/N. Ever since they first locked eyes Harry felt a sense of familiarity with her, and he feels like he can say anything around her.

Y/N smiles against Harry’s lips, her brain fuzzy. She hasn’t stopped thinking about him since that night at the grocery store. She wasn’t one to usually strike up a conversation with a stranger, but when she saw Harry just standing there she felt this need to talk to him.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” she says with a quiet chuckle when their kiss breaks.  “I never thought we’d get this far.”  When Harry knits his eyebrows together in confusion, Y/N brings a hand up to cup his cheek. “When I saw you in the store that night I thought you were cute, and I had to say something to you. And then I just started waffling on about milk. I figured it would freak you out or something.”

Harry laughs, and grabs the hand Y/N had placed on his cheek so he can intertwine their fingers. “I’m not gonna lie, I did find it a bit odd. But in an endearing sort of way,” he adds, not wanting to make Y/N feel insecure. “You are by far the most interesting and beautiful person I’ve ever met before. And I’ve met some weird people, so I’d take that as a compliment.”

“You don’t really mean that,” Y/N responds playfully, lightly shoving Harry’s shoulder. “You’re just trying to get in my head, throw me off my game so you win at minigolf.”

Harry laughs and squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You’re on to me, love. You’re bloody on to me.”

-

“Do you think I should tell her?” Harry muses, looking up at Ron and Hermione. They’re eating lunch together in the cafeteria at the ministry, and Harry’s mind keeps wandering to Y/N.

“Tell who what?” Ron asks, his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

Hermione hits Ron’s arm, rolling her eyes playfully. “Harry’s obviously talking about Y/N, Ron. Considering she’s all he talks about these days.”

Harry blushes. “Anyway,” he drawls, not wanting to acknowledge that Hermione is right. “I’ve been thinking about telling her about me. Ya know, that I’m a wizard.” Hermione drops her fork and Ron looks at him wide eyed. “What?”

“Harry you know you can’t do that,” Hermione scolds. “It’s against wizard law to reveal yourself to a muggle.”

“Well you can if you marry them,” Ron adds, causing Hermione to pinch his arm. “Ow, what was that for?” he asks, rubbing the spot.

“Harry hasn’t even asked Y/N to be his girlfriend yet, marriage is certainly not an option for him right now and I don’t want you putting ideas into his head, Ronald,” Hermione retorts.

“And who said the idea wasn’t already in his head,” Ron responds, gesturing wildly towards Harry. “He’s been in love with her since their first date.”

Hermione turn to Harry then. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders, a sheepish look on his face. “She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Hermione. How could I not be in love with her?”

“You’ve only been seeing her for a few weeks, Harry,” Hermione says softly. “I just think it’s far too early to say you’re in love with her.”

“I know what I feel,” Harry insists, his tone becoming harsh.

Hermione gives Harry a look. “If you really love her then why not make things official? Then you can revisit the whole wizard thing in a year or so.”

Harry looks down, picking at his napkin. “It’s not that I don’t want to make things official. But the more I let her in the harder it is to explain away the magical parts of my life.” When Hermione places her hand on top of his Harry looks up at her. “I already have to hide so much from her. I’m afraid that if I lie even more she’ll just get tired of it and leave.”

“Harry,” Hermione says sadly, squeezing Harry’s hand. “I know, it’s scary. But I don’t think now is the right time to reveal everything to her. And if she feels as strongly for you as you do her, then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agrees reluctantly, wanting to move on. “So, how are the plans for the engagement party coming along?”

-

“What’s on your mind, love? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Y/N comments, looking up at Harry.

Harry leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. It’s been a few days since his conversation with Ron and Hermione and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. Deep down he knows that Hermione is right, that he should wait to tell her about him. But he also knows how strongly he feels for her already, and that he wants to let her in to every part of his life.

“Just been thinking about you. Us,” he says a moment later, pulling her closer into his chest. They’re cuddled up on Harry’s couch, watching some film he hasn’t paid an ounce of attention to.

Y/N hums and sits up so she can properly look at Harry. “Thinking good things, I hope.” Her tone is light, but Harry can tell there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Harry reaches out and lightly grips Y/N’s chin so he can bring their faces together and press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Always good thoughts when I’m thinking of you,” Harry says softly as he pulls away. “I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks but,” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Y/N. Even if it’s far too early to say that and you don’t feel the same quite yet.”

“Oh Harry,” she whispers, before closing the gap between them. Y/N kisses Harry slowly, trying to reassure him and convey all of her feelings for him at the same time. “I love you too,” Y/N murmurs when they finally break apart. “I knew we were destined to be together the moment we reached for the same milk,” she jokes.

Harry chuckles and kisses her again briefly. “If you’re going to be with someone for the rest of your life it’s imperative you have the same taste in dairy products.”

“Rest of your life?” Y/N asks quietly, a pink blush on her cheeks.

Harry sputters, his face heating up as well. “I. I well. Um. Y-you know. I um.”

Y/N giggles at how flustered Harry is and presses a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, love. While I’m not saying we should run out and get married right now, I’m not opposed to that happening with us someday in the future.”

Harry smiles at Y/N, his heart fluttering in his chest. While it’s not a marriage proposal, it’s the promise of something more and it’s good enough for Harry. “Are you busy Sunday evening? I’ve got this party thing to go to in the afternoon but there’s something I want to show you.”

“I’ve got this family thing for most of the day. I’m not sure when it’ll be over, but I can sneak away, make time for you,” Y/N responds sweetly.

Harry kisses Y/N hard, the movie they had put on long forgotten.

-

“Harry! There you are!” Hermione greets excitedly, coming over to hug Harry. He arrived at The Burrow for Hermione and Ron’s engagement party well over an hour ago, but both of his friends had been busy talking to their other guests. So, he just grabbed a drink and milled about, occasionally stopping to talk to people from school.

“Hermione,” Harry greets, returning her hug. “You look wonderful. You’re glowing.”

Hermione blushes and releases Harry from her hug, choosing to grab his hand instead. “Come with me. I want you to meet some of my family.”

Harry follows behind Hermione dutifully, finishing off the rest of his drink for a bit of liquid courage. He would have been happy sticking to the shadows for the rest of the afternoon so he could slip away to meet up with Y/N, but he’s going to be the best man at the wedding in a few months, so he should probably mingle for just a bit before he heads out early.

“You remember my parents, right?” Hermione asks as they reach a small group of people.

Harry nods and releases Hermione’s hand so he can shake her parent’s hands. “Of course. Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“And this is my sister,” Hermione says, causing Harry to look at the girl who has just arrived.

Harry turns to shake her hand, but all of the air gets sucked out of his lungs and his mouth runs dry. “Y/N?” Harry asks, surprised.

“Harry?” Y/N responds, sounding just as shocked as he does.

“What are you doing here?” They both ask at the same time, causing them to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“I went to school with Hermione and Ron, they’re my best friends in the entire world,” he explains, trying to ignore the fact that everyone around them is starting. “Hermione’s your sister?” When Y/N nods Harry continues. “That’s why you seemed so familiar when I first met you. You guys have the same eyes.”

“Care to let the rest of us in on what’s going on?” Ron asks, looking between Y/N and Harry.

Harry reaches out and grabs Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Y/N is the girl I’ve been seeing the past few weeks.”

After Y/N and Harry explain their whirlwind romance to Ron, Hermione and the small crowd of Weasley’s and Grangers that has gathered around them, they sneak off together to the corner of the large tent, leaving quite a few perplexed people behind them.

“I can’t believe you’re the Harry. The one I’ve heard about practically non-stop since I was 13,” Y/N teases as they take a seat at an abandoned table.

Harry blushes, squeezing Y/N’s fingers. “I can’t believe Hermione never mentioned having an older sister.”

“From what I remember you three were always getting into trouble back at school. She probably just didn’t have the time,” Y/N muses with a laugh. Y/N pauses, reaching up to cup Harry’s cheek. “I can’t believe that out of all the times we could have met, we finally met in the milk section of our local Tesco.”

Harry laughs at that and he turns his head so he can press a kiss to Y/N’s palm. “I’ve been stressing for weeks about whether or not I should tell you the truth about me. About what I am and who I am. And as it turns out that was all for nothing because you already knew all about it, even if you didn’t realize it.”

Y/N leans forward and kisses Harry lightly. “I kind of had a bit of an inkling that you we’re just some normal bloke,” Y/N admits sheepishly.

“What gave it away?” Harry asks in shock. “I thought I was pulling it off quite well,” he huffs.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully. “Harry, love you have a pet owl in the middle of London. That’s a bit of an odd pet to keep. Unless you’re a wizard.”

Harry chuckles. “Alright you got me there.” Harry pauses, frowning slightly. “Although this ruins my plan of sneaking off early to see you so I could tell you I’m a wizard. I guess we’ll have to just stick it out until the end of the party.”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at Hermione and Ron. “I dunno, my sister and Ron seem quite busy,” she comments with a grin. “There’s so many other people here, do you think they would notice if we slipped away?”

Harry returns Y/N’s grin before he kisses her briefly. “Even if they do, who cares? I’m sure I’ll get an earful from them tomorrow either way.”

Y/N and Harry sneak out of the tent hand in hand, ready for whatever curveball life throws at them next.

[tobiosmilktea]

hi!! if rqs are still open may i ask for hcs of tsukishima, atsumu, iwa and possibly hinata of s/o doing the wotakoi dance with someone other than them?? thankuu babie!!

the wotakoi dance w/ tsukishima, atsumu, iwaizumi, and hinata

— t. kei

i bet my entire life that this man would hate every second of watching you and yamaguchi do this dance the entire lunch period

then again, he was the one who said no so he basically had no right being annoyed as he was now, but after yamaguchi had to stop midway through to take care of something with yachi, kei wouldn’t necessarily mind taking his place

especially when you would look a bit disappointed, he decided to throw you a bone and learn it with you after school ended

he might be smart and pick up on things quickly, but tsukishima really can’t dance for shit no matter how easily it is

you were surprised he even had the patience to sit and learn the entire dance while being stubborn about it

lowkey, the only way you would even have his attention for that long is giving him a reward for every move he does right (he asks for kisses most of the time)

i’d say it probably took you two to finally get the dance down after a good hour and a half of bickering with each other, but that’s only learning the entire dance

it took probably another thirty minutes trying to record yourselves on tiktok bc tsuki kept messing up both on purpose and because he doesn’t have a single rhythmic bone in his body

on the outside, it’s clear he isn’t enjoying it, but seeing you so eager to learn and film this dance with him, he swallowed a bit of his pride just to see that adorable smile on your face that he likes so much

he acts as if it was the worst thing he had to do all day, but on the inside he’s glad to have spent time with you

besides, he got free kisses in the end so that’s a win for him

— m. atsumu

god, this man is jealous

he had every right to be anyway considering he was the one who brought up the idea to you in the first place

then again, this guy can’t dance for shit and you were getting annoyed at how much he was messing up

like seriously, he had to search up a wholeass dance tutorial on youtube even though the moves were super simple

eventually, he decided to take a brief break after trying to learn the first five seconds of the routine after an hour, you decide to ask osamu to learn it alongside with you

atsumu was too busy eating while you and his brother were just casually following the dance as the opening played

he would come back from the kitchen saying, “i was gone for five minutes and you’ve already replaced me.”

he’s a bit offended but it’s more playful than it is serious

atsumu will forcibly kick his brother out just so you can dance with you again, but i think this time he’s super focused and determined to learn this dance with you asap

lowkey, i can totally see him posting the final product (after a million takes) on tiktok just so he can flex how cute you two are together

— i. hajime

honestly, he’s not surprised you ended up learning the dance with oikawa

it’s not like iwa said no to doing the dance with you, it was more like he didn’t even get a chance to answer when oikawa beat him to it

you walked up to them in between classes and asked if they wanted to learn the moves with you during lunch. before poor iwa could even open his mouth to speak, oikawa was already pulling you away to the side to learn in

i don’t really think iwaizumi is the jealous type, especially for little harmless things like this, but he does get annoyed when his best friend has his s/o’s attention the entire time

oikawa would definitely notice the slight indifference in his expression while he watched you two, prompting him to definitely rub it in his face

he knows if he teases iwa about it enough, he’d blow up and try to spend more time with you

if anything, oikawa’s doing both of you guys a favor

iykyk 

i can totally see iwaizumi forcing himself to learn the dance with you after school has ended and you two are hanging out in his room

— h. shoyo

similar to atsumu, this guy is clearly offended you would even think to do the wotakoi dance with someone other than him

out of all people, you chose to do it with kageyama, like ???

with verbally and loudly express his confusion and jealousy

this would happen during lunch and the entire day hinata would have an attitude towards you and kageyama just because

even after school ended hours ago and right after volleyball practice has ended, hinata would make a 10-minute slideshow presentation on why you, his s/o (he specifically put emphasis that you’re his), should do the wotakoi dance with him instead

it’s quite convincing ngl

it’s safe to say that it was the best presentation he has ever given and it’s not even graded or for school

even poor kageyama was oddly expression even though he could literally care less

in the end, hinata’s just glad your video of you two doing the dance went viral