#coworkers brought up the other glove while they were looking for it so that was nice!

[constellationguy]

Curl Care

Photo from Pinterest

I know this was second place in the poll but I’m feeling self indulgent. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Today was just like every other day in the salon. Clients were chatty, some border line bitchy but this is hell, so that’s a common trait.

Women came and go, some getting their hair cut, others dyed, and some even permed. And just as the clock struck 3pm in pentagram city your last client of the day walked in.

“Good evening Miss Walker.” You said politely. Miss Walker was a not so nice woman that died in the 70’s and got her hair regularly permed.

“Come sit for a moment while I go get my supplies from the back room.” You told Miss Walker.

“Come back fast, you don’t get payed to lollygag,” she spat at you. Always the micromanager she is.

Going into the back room you took some deep breaths, the last few you could take before having to smell perm chemicals for the next 3 hours. Once you gathered yourself you put your smile back on your face and brought the rolling tray of foils, rods, and the perm solution.

“Alright Miss Walker, you just want your usual correct?” You asked.

“No, I want a Mohawk. Of course I want my usual! Stupid girl.” Always a charm she is.

“Well let’s get started,” you said with a sigh putting your gloves on.

As you started on Miss Walker’s hair the bell on the front door rang indicating a customer walked in. You tried to not pay much mind to it though, you just needed to get through this perm as fast as possible.

“Good afternoon sir, do you have an appointment with one of our stylists today?” your coworker Sarah asked.

“Oh no. I was hoping you could recive a walk in.” A familiar voice responded to your coworker.

“In that cause I can take you, if you could just follow me-”

“Well I was hoping to see Y/n, if she is working today that is.”

“Oh she’s currently busy with a client. I can do your hair sir.”

“Oh I insist. You said she was here yes? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind switching clients with her if you just ask.” The voice got louder as it presumably came closer to your styling room as well as the trailing sound of hurried heels of your coworker following close behind.

“Oh there you are,” the familiar voice spoke from behind you.

When you looked up into the mirror in front of you, you saw Alastor.

“Alastor! What brings you back around these parts?” You asked cheerfully, not stopping your task of doing Miss Walker’s hair.

“I was hoping you could accept me as a walk in, I have an important meeting tomorrow you see.” Alastor replied.

“Oh no you don’t! I had to wait a month for this appointment. You don’t just get to cut the line-” Miss Walker erupted, only stopping when she looked up from her phone to see the radio demon looking at her through the mirror.

“What was that? Care to say that to me again?” Alastor asked as his static popped extra loudly in the room.

“Okay! Yes I can take you Al. Let me just relocate Miss Walker to Sarah’s room down the hall.” You said trying it cut the tension.

Alastor snapped his fingers and Miss Walker as well as anything that would have signified she was here vanished. With a light hum Alastor whipped down the styling chair then sat down.

“It’s good to see you too Alastor.” You laughed lightly.

“Oh of course my dear.” He replied.

“Could you tell me what we are doing with your hair today?” You asked calmly while you started to inspect his hair.

“Well my dear, during my sabbatical I haven’t been taking good care of these retched locks I have but I must look presentable for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Oh don’t say that Al, you make me sad. I love your hair. I honestly think you wear your hair straight to upset me sometimes.” You huffed.

“Well isn’t that a funny thought,” Alastor laughed.

“Well if my hair being straight makes you so sad, you can make it curly again, can’t you?” Alastor promoted.

“Of course I can,” you were smiling so wide and could have jumped out of your skin with joy. Alastor’s curls were the most beautiful things to you. His curls complimented his eye and face shape and his hair was slightly rough but still very soft, you lived for doing Alastor’s hair.

“I’m sure I have a suitable hair mask here somewhere… Remind me do you have a preference of ingredients?” You asked Alastor while rummaging through your product drawer.

“Whatever you think is most proper dear, just not to scented if you could.” Truthfully Alastor didn’t mind what you put in his hair, you’ve done his hair enough to trust you know what you’re doing.

“This one should do. Do you care to take a sniff or look at the ingredients?” You asked again.

“No dear, I trust you.” Alastor replied. You had a feeling he did but hearing him say that made your heart swell with pride.

Before putting on the hair mask you applied a bit of hair oil to Alastor’s scalp and rubbed in it. Taking a generous amount of the hair mask from the container, you warmed the product through your hands for a few seconds before applying it to Alastor’s hair. Alastor’s shoulders stiffened slightly but gradually relaxed as you massaged the product through his hair.

“And won’t you look at that! Your curls sure are resilient Al, look at them sprouting already.” You smiled gleefully.

“That’s quite the smile you have there chérie.” Alastor teased.

“Of course I’m smiling! How could I not when seeing your hair curly makes me so happy.”

“I’m glad I could be of service to you my dear,” Alastor replied to you with a dopey smile similar to yours.

“Your curls are just so unique to you and seeing you with curly hair like mine makes me prideful, not only in my styling abilities about also how my hair looks.” The room fell into a comfortable silence as you two admired each other’s smiles, what a perfect feeling this was.

“Look at that! All curly now!” You smiled brightly as you put your hands in Alastor’s hair and lightly shook his curls. Alastor laughed lightly at you.

“I think you’ve had enough fun dear,” Alastor teased.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go wash this out.” You said while you pat Alastor’s shoulder’s as he got up.

You took Alastor to the tallest sink, the one that had a step stood behind the basin for the stylists. Alastor always shortly laughed when he saw your step stool.

Washing Alastor’s hair was always a relaxing experience for the both of you. You enjoyed playing with his hair and he enjoyed the scalp massage, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

After you washed all the product out of Alastor’s hair you brought him back to your styling chair.

“So you want your curls to look the best for tomorrow yes?” You asked.

“Correct.” Alastor replied.

“You still have that bonnet I gave you yes?” You asked Alastor while you searched for the right curl cream.

“Of course I do, you would be rather cross with me if you had to get me another one,” Alastor rolled his eyes in fake annoyance.

“Perfect. You will sleep with it on tonight to preserve these curls okay?” You told Alastor.

“Oh course dear,” he jokingly scoffed at you.

After warming up the curl cream in your hands you evenly distributed it through his hair, taking out the strands that were naturally falling out as you lightly raked through his hair. After a little scrunching to Alastor’s face framing curls you started to diffuse his hair.

You could tell Alastor was a little wary about the diffuser because you haven’t used it on him before so you briefly explained what it did before you started.

“This handy dandy hair dryer will help your curls dry in place, are you willing to give it a shot or would you prefer to just let your hair air dry?” You asked thoughtfully.

“I suppose we can try this new thing.” Alastor responded, a little weary.

It didn’t take too long to diffuse his hair but when you were done Alastor didn’t get out of the chair for some time.

“What do you think Al?” You asked gleefully.

“It looks perfect chérie, thank you for taking the time for me,” Alastor said.

“Of course I would, nothing makes me happier.” You smiled brightly.

Just as Alastor was going to leave after paying you had to tell him one last thing.

“Oh! And don’t forget you can drop by tomorrow before your meeting if you want me to fix your hair if anything is out of place.”

Alastor stopped momentarily to face you and replied, “We’ll see what tomorrow brings chérie,” then left out the door, leaving the bell to ring behind him.

[the-cauldron-witch]

To quote @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

for real though

Like 

You have a really tough day

and Raph is like, hey let's hit the gym

and while he's lifting you're telling him about your day

and how frustrated you are

and he offers to let you use the spare boxing gloves (april's old set) and he'll put on the pads

and you just take out everything, and he cheers you on, giving you some pointers but mostly just encouraging

and when you finish and take the pads off, he swats you on the butt with a big hand

and you turn around to give him a look and he's just smiling at you, proud smug look on his face

and says "that's my girl 😏 " 

as he walks out of the gym 

and you're just like

*blushingggggg*

So, here’s a scenario I wrote off of this!

Today can frankly end at any moment, you think. Be it by either teleporting you into the future, the earth opening up and swallowing the entire city of New York whole, or the sun simply exploding, you would take any end to today. It had started off with waking up to a flat tire on your locked bike, the tube punctured somewhere along your ride home the previous day by a stray roofing nail, which forced you to take public transportation. Of course, due to some reason unknown to you, the bus was running behind schedule which meant you were coming to work fifteen minutes late.

Something about the previous shift put a hair across your boss's ass that day it seemed, as he decided to completely rail into you the second you clocked in for your shift. He doesn’t listen to any of your explanations, simply telling you off on the spot as other coworkers awkwardly stroll by passing you a sympathetic glance. You finally managed to start your shift after being set back another fifteen minutes, despite the fact at least four or five other coworkers are late regularly. It wasn’t something you really could argue about though, you needed the hours and talking back to your boss would hinder that.

Then came your worst nightmare right on queue. He was only scheduled for half your shifts normally, but this one coworker made that time especially hellish for you. Constant shameless flirting, pick-up lines, and attempts at physical contact- you finally shouted at him today after the morning you had just had. Snapping at him you spat that you were very much taken and very much happy about it, so he better back the absolute hell off before you called your man to beat his ass. Even though that was a lie, you couldn’t call Raph to deal with this creep, he was thankfully just smart enough to leave you alone for the remainder of your shift.

Which brought you to the end of your day, right now. A storm had blown in from the south, cascading sheets and sheets of rain down over the city from heavy thick clouds. Trudging to the nearest and safest manhole cover, jeans soaking wet and clinging suffocatingly to your lower half made moving incredibly uncomfortable. Your shirt attempted to strangle you as it hugged to your frame like saran wrap, the dampness quickly chilling you to the core as you descended into the sewers cool air.

Storming past his brothers, soaked to the bone and squishing with every step you took, Raph was a little surprised to see you barge into his room from the end of his workout bench and slamming the door shut behind you promptly. You hadn’t even greeted his brothers as you breezed past them, frankly you didn’t feel your mood was of any good company to anyone other than the one person you wanted to be around.

Normally when you strip in front of Raph, he would comment and attempt to get his hands on you or convince you to get into bed with him. With how you slammed the wad of wet clothing into the laundry hamper with an irritated grunt, Raph chose to stay quiet and allow you to explain yourself. He continued his repetition, curling the barbell in his tridactyl hand to his bicep and bringing it back down with control.

It didn’t take long for you to start ranting loudly about your day, snatching a dry towel from his shelf and tousling your hair as you stood stark naked in his bedroom. His eyes didn’t falter from your frame, shamelessly raking over your body, but he still nodded along as you bitched about your boss being an absolute knob head and giving you shit for being late. Finishing his routine Raph got up and walked to his wrack, placing the dumbbell in its rightful place.

You stormed over to your boyfriend's dresser with a huff in silence, your hair sufficiently dry enough for you to get dressed. Raph had insisted on giving you a drawer to yourself, which you were rather grateful for as you grabbed a quick outfit. It was a work-out outfit to no surprise, mainly because whenever you wanted to change it was to work out with Raph in the first place.

“Hey,” Raph called to you, catching your attention as you rummaged for clothes. “Why don’t you go grab April’s old gloves, I'll put on the boxing pads, and we can work out more of this anger” Smiling warmly at you Raph hoped his offer would steer your foul mood in the right direction. Taking a moment to think you agreed, dressing yourself rather quickly and following him out of the room and into the dojo.

Snagging the yellow scuffed gloves dangling from their ties against the wall you slipped them on quickly, more than ready to unleash your pent up frustration. Strapping all the appropriate gear on Raph made his way to the open space with you, holding up the pads and readying himself. Holding up your fists and planting your feet in place you readied yourself, taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself.

“So, what’d that chump say when ya told ‘im the bus runnin’ late?” Raph questioned you, readying himself for the onslaught but also making sure you knew he was listening to your problem. A small but sweet gesture, one that tugged at your heartstrings a little but didn’t extinguish the flame within you.

“Oh, just told me that it ‘wasn’t his problem’-” You began swinging your fists left and right just as Raph had shown you many times before, “And kept telling me that it was my responsibility to the company to get there on time and make sure I call ahead if I’m going to be late!”

“Because you planned to be late, right?” Raph fueled your fire as the sound of blows landing echoed off the dojo walls. As you took two more quick jabs at his right hand the left pad suddenly swung at you, swiping for the top of your head. Ducking with ease you dodged the attack and launched a counter.

“Exactly! Not to mention no one bothers to pick up the damn phone there anyhow, so even if I called it’s useless!” Executing a surprisingly quick three piece set of punches, Raph grinned from behind his boxing pads shielding his face, flashing his sharp canines in a way that always sent a warm glow up from the pit of your stomach to the rest of your body. The feeling was enough to make you pause for a moment, gasping for air after exerting so much energy.

“Nice moves, you’re getting better” It was like Raph knew when to pull you out of your rampage, just long enough for you to center yourself and focus on the task at hand and not lose yourself in the anger. With renewed vigor and a smile that split your face nearly in two, you began swinging and aiming for the pads on Raph’s hands a little faster now. Testing your reflexes and hand-eye coordination Raph began moving the pads for you to focus on, watching you carefully so that he didn’t receive a black eye.

“And then- mmph! That creep at work kept flirting with me again today,” You spoke through your teeth as you remembered the way that vile walking talking HR report sauntered into your personal bubble. “He had the nerve to put his arm around my waist and try to hit on me!” Emphasizing the burning rage inside your chest with particularly harsh punches you continued attacking his moving hands, imagining the disgusting face of your ‘admirer’ was beneath each blow.

“I threatened to call you to beat his ass if he kept it up, it was the only way to get him to leave me alone” Exhaling in a way that felt like a weight lifted off of your chest you took a minute to breath, the cool underground air soothing the burn in your lungs. You had honestly expected a snarl followed by a physically threatening promise towards your coworker, or even for Raph to blow up into his own fit of rage.

“With those swings? I won’t need to beat him, doll. You could whoop his ass all on your own, but I’d love to watch” He gave you a wink, rolling a growl in the back of his throat flirtatiously. The laugh that barked out of you nearly knocked you over, completely caught off guard by Raph countering your anger with his own flirting. He couldn’t help but join your laughter, thrilled with himself at how quickly he turned your mood around from when you blew into the lair like a furious storm ready to strike whomever crossed you.

“Okay, last round,” You held up your hands at the ready, wanting to finish off strong this round. Eyebrows raising in surprise at your eagerness Raph got into position, the smile on his face wordlessly praising your commitment to training. Now that your mood had taken a better turn you no longer had the energy to rant and spit your anger, instead choosing to focus on the training session. In between instructing you to adjust your elbows or watch your footing, Raph encouraged you to try that punch just one more time. Listening and obeying his advice you continued, alternating pads with each swing of your fists.

Two final, harsh, affirmative punches and you both decided to call it a session. Unfastening the gloves from your hands you turned to hang them back on their hook, walking past Raph with a satisfied smile curling your lips and sweat dripping down your cheek. With one pad-covered hand Raph swung low, catching your entire ass with the glove with an echoing WHOP!

Turning to look over your shoulder and peg Raph with a half-hearted glare, you opened your mouth to snip some sort of retort to him. While your mouth remained open, words seemed to have failed you, Raph’s half lidded gaze boring into you with emerald green fire. A toothy grin dimpled his cheeks as he looked down at you with admiration.

“That’s my girl,” He purrs at you proudly before leaving the dojo, heading for his room to return the boxing pads. There is thankfully no one to witness the blush bloom across your cheeks and to your ears and neck, three simple words sending a shiver through your spine.

@thelaundrybitch Message me if you want to be apart of my tag group!

[prettyboypistol]

Okay so how about getting ruined by engineer, bc he got frustrated that others were messing with his work.

So to help take his anger out, you let him go as rough as he wants. And can use whatever toys he wants on you.

Blowing Off Steam || Engineer x M!Reader +18

[Rough Sex][Spanking][Dirty talk][Ambiguous Genitals for Reader][Oral][Engie calling you a "good boy"]

minors dni

A loud bang on a desk made you and your coworkers jump and look directly towards the thundering sound. Dell pointed to the door and demanded in a voice none of you had ever heard come out of him before. It was cold and laced with an edge of danger as he demanded only two words.

"Get. Out."

You had been glued to your place in the room as the other men slinked out(or, if you were Scout, sprinted). Dell glared at you, but you could only put your hands up in a surrendering gesture. You and Dell had been messing around with each other for a couple of months now, but the post-sex pillow talk had really brought you two together.

Dell stormed past you and slammed the door and loudly locked it, only to drag himself back to his workbench as he dropped his head onto the metal table. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. was the only noise that echoed through the garage as he hit his hardhat against the steel. You couldn't help yourself. You stepped forward.

"Dell," You murmured gently, "hey man, wanna talk about it?"

Your Engineer groaned in response. "He's been, pardon my fucking language- fucking around with my machines again!"

"Scout?" You guessed.

"No, Demoman! That bastard's been tinkering with my turrets for a week now!"

Oh, that was a surprise. Tavish wasn't too bad of a person from what you had seen, but you couldn't condone drunken tampering with your man's machines.

"And like, yes the man's brilliant. Fuckin' amazing at bombs and explosives. I've looked over them- uh, them sticky bombs! Brilliant! But that don't give him the right to sneak into my workshop and fuck with my babies!"

"Oh I absolutely agree. There's a difference between explosive intelligence and mechanical intelligence. Two very different fields." You didn't know really what you were talking about, even then, it just felt right to say that. You were speaking off the cuff, and apparently it worked.

"Y'see, I don't think he'd like if I snuck into his testfield and "upgraded" his toys." Dell grumbled, his gloved hand drummed rhythmically onto the table. You tapped on the table to tell Engie that you had arrived at his side, then rubbed his shoulders. He sighed as you tried to work the knots out of him.

Dell let you explore his back through your massage, his temper dulling with every push and knead. Suddenly, you were flipped onto the table with Dell kissing your neck with an open mouth. While you weren't too upset with the change, it was quite surprising.

He tugged your shirt up as his hand slid around your chest, his large hands groped your chest as he sighed into the crook of your neck.

"Y'know babyboy, I think there's a great way to help me blow off steam, if you're willin', of course." Dell murmured before he kissed your ear softly.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Well go on Professor Genius, blow off some steam."

He shrugged his overalls' straps off of his shoulders as he kneeled down, your pants quickly unbuttoned as Dell completely overwhelmed your senses as he went right for the spot he had found that made you hold back a scream that he had found last week. Your hand slapped over your own mouth as he swallowed and laved his tongue in the exact ways that ruined you. God, he was evil.

You had given him fair warning, really! You knocked his hat off, you grasped at his shoulders, hell, you even near-sobbed that you were close! Still, he carried on and took all you had until you couldn't help but kick him away from the oversensitivity. Dell seemed to take that personally, if him grabbing you and placing him over his lap was anything to go by. "Say 'Bee' if I'm too hard." Dell explained. Before you could comprehend what he meant, a harsh smack to your ass made you squeak. Again and again, Dell spanked you until tears welled in your eyes. With every wind up and subsequent slap, Dell grumbled about the situation, accenting every grievance with a spank. After he was apparently done, he manhandled you oh so easily into sitting in his lap. He shushed you and gently kissed your neck and cheeks as his gloved hand reached onto his workbench to grab a little container of lube. He unscrewed the cap and dipped those large and boxy fingers of his deep into the liquid, only to press the slicked fingers against your entrance. "Good boy, c'mon, let me in." Dell crooned. "Let me get inside you darlin'." It felt like seconds, but soon enough Dell lined himself up and pushed you down onto him. God, he was too fucking thick for his own good. His hands on your pelvis tightened as he lifted you up and down in tandem with his hips pumping into you. You felt used. You felt as if he wasn't the Dell you loved, but a man full of horny anger that needed a release. Somehow, that was really fucking hot. "God dammit, I'm so fucking pissed off, love. So. God. Damn. PISSED." Dell ranted as he railed you. Every word was accentuated with a deep push inside you. "Ohhh why can't people leave my shit alone, hm? These nasty fuckin'-" The ranting felt like the horniest dirty talk that could ever be uttered as you sobbed in pleasure. You couldn't do anything but beg and whine as Dell rearranged your guts. There wasn't a real way to tell when Dell was close, but he suddenly switched positions to place you bent over the desk. "Good boy, fuckin' take it. Lemme get you all ruined, okay?" Dell growled as he made your screams bounce and echo off of the walls. You could only let out an excited moan and nod as he sped up. A loud groan and stilling was the only signifier before you were pressed down with rough hands and a chest against your back, keeping you in place as Dell came inside you. A few little pumps to drain himself fully made you sigh and giggle in delirium. "F-feelin' better?" You mumbled. "Yeah." Dell assured as he kissed your back and neck. "Thank you darlin'."

[leastdatablebracket]

FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Solas

He believes all mortal beings deserve to die. He is bald but in a very unsexy way. He exudes zero chemistry and talking to him about romance is like talking to a boiled egg. 

Described by major media as "elf hitler," he dumps you to destroy the world

He is a smelly know it all, and that's before you find out he is a deity in disguise who caused the rift you spend the game trying to fix in the first place and he betrayed you and chopped off your hand

Breaks up with you, disappears without saying anything, plans to destroy the world

Look. I’ll admit I have not personally romanced solas. I am baffled that anyone would WANT to romance solas. I know we all love a waify little elf wizard with questionable motivations but jfc look at him like im trying not to say anything demeaning about bald dudes but he does not wear it well. Also iirc you can only romance him if you’re also an elf and then he’s weirdly rude and dismissive if your character is Into Elf Culture. Look im a huge lesbian but Iron Bull is RIGHT FUCKING THERE why would you do this.

Peter King

Oh I could go ON AND ON but here’s a list: He’s a stalker, he showed up late to a date HE REQUESTED, he killed either your landlord, roommate, or coworker (depending on route) and stuck them in a freezer, lied to the police about it, followed by a car ride either consisting of traumadumping about his family (valid tbh) or him talking about how much he wants to fuck your brains out, then you finding a bloody knife in his glove compartment, asking about it, and him smashing your head into the window to shut you up while he takes you to his house. He is The Worse Datable, as well as The Only Datable because well…he killed the others…and kidnapped you….

FUCK THIS DUDE!!! Country Human looking-ass bitch, I want him dead and obliterated

Many violence, Yandere behavior, cut your leg off in a semi-canon series of illustrations, smashed your head into the passenger side window of his creepy van, chloroformed you in your own house, brought you flowers that were probably tainted with his own blood, given context from another route. Generally a terrible person. Also just very strange to look at :/

He knows what he did….😒

He broke into Y/N’s house and chloroformed them. Generally a really creepy and perverted guy. TK is better :/

Send that man to Worst Datable Hell! Put him in the trash file (he’s a pseudo-sentient AI, similar to Monika, so this threat is valid)! He sometimes looks like a kicked puppy when talking to you, but with your small contributions, we can make him look even more like a kicked puppy! Vote Peter King for Worst Datable Datable Character today! Bonus: Funny canon facts about him! - He can’t swim - He’s allergic to peanuts - He has to wear glasses, but usually wears contacts - He had an emo/goth phase in high school - He’s a YouTuber; he does product reviews - He has very strong mother issues (understandably) - He will respond to and greatly enjoy the nickname “Cockbite” (there are many other names he enjoys, but this one’s the funniest to me)

[thatonegenshinsimp]

I had a hurt/comfort thought where Tartaglia just snaps and says something hurtful when his s/o tried to help him while he was upset, but rather than leaving immediately she just sits there and listens. Letting him just release it out of his system, sorta. O wO ofc she's deeply hurt by it and says she understands when he starts to apologize about it. But if he was going too far then she would snap back, and leave him be for a bit until things settle down.

I’m Sorry (Tartaglia x fem!reader)

Hello anon! Thank you for the lovely request. I was running on like four hours of sleep when I wrote this so it’s probably not the best, but enjoy~

Warnings: Cursing, fem!reader

Masterlist

You had decided to bring Ajax lunch at the Northland Bank, and lo and behold, Signora had been there not too long before you. Needless to say, he was pissed, because she had taken the Geo Gnosis and tricked him into buying her time to do so. However, that didn’t mean that he should’ve let that anger out on you.

You knocked on his office door, hearing him say a faint “enter” from the other side. His blue eyes flicked up from the document he was reading to see you. You smiled, bringing out a box of warm dumplings. “Hey, I know you said you were working late, and that I shouldn’t bother you, but I brought you dinner.” You said, walking in and setting the box down on an unoccupied part of his desk. You sat in one of the chairs next to his desk, noticing how he fidgeted with his gloves. He looked angry, very angry, and though you knew better than to pry, you still asked what was going on.

Tartaglia looked back down at the document and sighed deeply when you sat down, before feeling your hand against his. He let you hold it, his glare deepening. “Hey, can you look at me for a moment, please?” You asked. He stared over at you with the same look. You knew he was angry, knew he didn’t want to talk, but you persisted nevertheless. “What’s wrong? Why are you so mad right now?” You asked, he slammed his hand on the tabletop. “You wanna know what’s wrong? I’ve been here with you for well over a year, away from my family because of my mission here. My bitch of a coworker just completed it right as I was getting ready to myself. She stole that opportunity the moment I got my chance, and not only that, but she also took the Anemo Archon’s Gnosis, so that’s two right under her belt. I failed my mission, and now I have to sit here dealing with these people for another month as I wait for another mission before I can go home! I’ve been working my ass off for a year, and she took my limelight like it was hers!” He yelled, stalking toward you as he let go of your hand. You took a step back, but then decided to hold firm. “Ajax, please calm down, you’re yelling.” You mumbled, watching as his look grew even angrier. “Are you kidding me? After everything I’ve done for you, your words of comfort are for me to calm down? I can’t calm down when I just failed one of the most important missions of my lifetime! I’ll probably never get another opportunity like this ever again. You know what? Get out.” He demanded, pointing to the door. “Ajax…” things were getting worse. “Get out!” He yelled. Your eyes widened slightly as he raised his voice at you, since arguments between the two of you were so rare. You glared at him, before drawing your hand back and slapping him square across the face. You stormed out, slamming the door behind you. Fine then, he wants to yell at you? So be it, but you won’t be talking to him for a while until he apologizes.

After he calmed down a little more, Ajax realized exactly how bad what he’d just done was. He knew how you felt whenever you were yelled at, and he’d yelled at you because there was no one else to take that frustration in the room. He crossed his arms and banged his head against the desk. “Way to go, Ajax. She’s going to ignore you for the rest of the week.” He mumbled to himself. He didn’t know how to apologize when it came to you, he wasn’t good at it, and he certainly wasn’t good at admitting he was wrong. However, what he did know was that you needed space for a bit so that the two of you could cool down, and he respected that. He just didn’t think you’d find comfort in one of the people that caused his anger in the first place.

You ate dinner alone that night, thinking about what happened earlier. You decided to let things cool down for a few days, to give your lover some space, and went to sleep early that evening. You slept peacefully with a clear vision in your mind of how you were going to handle this argument with him. “Things will get better, I’m sure of it. This is just another hiccup we have to get through.” You told yourself, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Childe closed the door to his home and locked it behind him, walking to the kitchen. He was about to call for you when he remembered that you weren’t there. “Why did I yell at her? It wasn’t even her fault in the first place.” He mumbled. He shook his head, before grabbing some ingredients and making dinner for himself. “I’ll apologize tomorrow.” He muttered, before getting dressed in his nightclothes. Ajax didn’t sleep well that night, his mind full of nothing other than you.

The next day, you woke up early to take commissions from the Guild, and quickly made your way to Wangshu Inn. Smiley Yanxiao sent in a request earlier, and you were the one who got it. You walked there, taking your time, and quickly got him the crab meat he needed for the kitchen. You then made your way to Mount Tianheng to complete a time trial and then to Cuijue Slope to deal with some Treasure Hoarders that had been causing trouble for the Guild for a while. You took a break to eat lunch, taking out the food you’d made earlier and eating it as you looked around at the beautiful cliffs and mountains.

By the time you got home, you were exhausted. You collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. However, when you woke up the next day, you saw a note on the kitchen counter, which was addressed to you from Ajax. The note said: meet me at Liuli Pavilion for lunch, please. I want to talk- Ajax. You decided to take him up on the offer, and got ready to go out.

Ajax nervously fidgeted with his gloves as you walked up, before looking at you. “Hey, I-” “Follow me, I’m not talking to you here in the middle of the harbor.” You interrupted him, taking his hand and leading him to a more secluded spot. He didn’t know what to say, how to apologize, so he took a deep breath before looking at you. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, I wasn’t thinking straight yesterday because of Signora’s actions, and-” he stopped when you hugged him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tightly. “I just wanted to help, I’m sorry.” You mumbled, causing him to shake his head. “No, please don’t apologize to me, I’m the one who yelled at you. That was on me, not you. Please don’t try to take the blame for this.” He pleaded, hugging you back. “We can spend the whole day together if you want, just please don’t try blaming yourself for my actions.” He whispered, lifting his hands to cup your face. He pressed his forehead against yours, holding you there. “Can you forgive me for saying those things to you?” He asked, smiling softly as you nodded. When he tried to pull away, you kept him there, before leaning in close to him and stretching on your tiptoes to press your lips against his, kissing him. “The whole day, huh? In that case, how about we just head home? I’m exhausted from commissions yesterday, and I still have injuries. Besides, I’m feeling selfish today, do you mind if I have you all to myself?” You asked, causing him to shake his head. “Home it is.” He replied, sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to your place. “How about I cook dinner tonight, too? I have a really good recipe for dumplings that Zhongli taught me a few weeks ago.” He suggested, watching as you nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You replied, leaning against him.

The rest of the day, he took care of you, tending to your injuries and cooking for you. By the time the two of you settled down for the night, you had a soft smile on your face. “Thank you, Ajax.” You whispered, laying down against him as you spoke. “I’m sorry we fought, I’ll try not to yell at you again.” He mumbled, resting his head on top of yours. “Thanks for taking care of me today.” You muttered, pressing yourself against him. “It’s no problem, thanks for forgiving me.” He replied, closing his eyes. “I love you.” You whispered, looking up at him. He smiled, pressing his lips against yours. “I love you too.” He said, holding you close to him as the two of you fell asleep.

[damnbluewires]

She set up her instruments for a routine autopsy, and realized she has run out of gloves. Having no one else in the facility to fetch them for her, she headed out to the supply closet down the corridor. The lights were muted, but she liked it that way, being used to stay overtime. The work was indeed grueling and demanding, but this, staying this late, was out of her own volition. Not to be a walking stereotype, but she much preferred the company of the cold, dead cadavers to the company of her cold, and emotionally as good as dead coworkers.

Not mentioning, that the cadavers were far better conversationalists as well.

She didn't choose the profession because of her gift, it was more like the gift chose her because of her profession. Yeah, that didn't make sense to her either.

All she knew is that one day she was opening up some old man's chest cavity to investigate the potential cause of death, and the bastard started hitting on her.

She had nerves of steel, never even as much as grimaced during all of her training, despite how bad the smell was, but this, she must admit, made her yelp and stumble onto her metal tray. She eventually was just glad nobody was there to make fun of her. Apart from the man with a scalpel still poking out of his ribs.

She learned that day, that sometimes she can see the corpses rise from the dead, for exactly ten minutes, before collapsing back, that time for good. What surprised her more, was that most of the people who were brought to her morgue were already more or less prepared to die, so they were just glad to have one last opportunity to have a chat with her.

She adjusted to that new aspect of her job rather quickly, never once thinking of quitting. She would stitch some poor sod's guts back into their body, while talking to the other next in line, about nothing in particular. She would listen to odd stories, treasured memories, and what it felt like to die. It was rather nice, all things considered.

She mused on that, as she grabbed a new box of gloves from the supply and headed back.

The one she had today was some bloke they found in the alley in a pool of blood. What was odd, is that he had no injuries on him. She would have to ask about that.

She put the gloves on, rechecked the instruments, took a scalpel, and started to feel for the right muscle to open the chest from, with practiced grace. When she found the right spot, she began the incision, and heard an inquisitive and amused: "Not even going to buy me a drink first?"

"I don't drink, thanks. Half a year sober." She answered, unfazed as ever. She wanted to continue the cut, but realized it's probably impolite to do so, and raised her eyes at the man, who was dead silent.

He was quiet for a while, and then uncertainly mumbled: "…Congratulations?"

She smiled at him, "Thanks! It has been hard to resist drinking something you know you shouldn't, but it just felt so damn good. You know?"

"I might be aware of the feeling, yes… But, hold on, why am I the stunned one? Why are you not running away, screaming?"

"And miss all the fun? Plus, that honestly sounds exhausting, and I have some more people after you, so I'd rather not waste that energy." She rationalized, while the man tried to collect himself. What the fuck?

"Right. Because the corpses coming to life is just another Tuesday for you."

"It's Wednesday, actually," she beamed again. "But, yeah! Pretty much." Is this hell? Was he finally in hell?

"Are you a demon of some sort?" There was no other explanation.

"Aw, flattery? And who was asking about a drink first?" Yeah. Hell. Most definitely.

"But, no, just your average clerk. Say, how did you end up in that alley? I've been dying to know." That's it. He had to get out of there.

"I have to get out of here."

"Oh, no, you don't. I don't need another runner, thank you very much."

He swooped off the metal bed and bolted to the door. Which was locked.

"Look, I know you are confused, I shouldn't have started with the jokes, but I really need you to go back to the bed. You will collapse somewhere on the street in less than ten minutes, and I really don't need another cop on my ass."

He paused his attempts to get the door open. "You have a cop on your ass?"

"Had one in my ass also, but that was long ago."

He slowly turned at that, and stared at the mortician, who was still just sitting idly on her stool with an innocent smile.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you will be dead again soon, and won't be able to tell anyone."

"I have been dead for a while now."

"Oh, really? Would love to know about that, if you come back and sit down. I'd offer you a coffee, but I will have to be the one to clean up the mess later, and I would honestly rather not."

He did come and sat back down.

"I don't drink coffee anyway." He said, almost to himself.

"What do you usually drink then?"

"Blood of my enemies."

"Ha! And i thought i was the one with dark jokes around here." He didn't say anything to that.

"So, back to my original question, what were you doing in that alley?"

"Drinking the blood of my enemies." He said deadpan.

"I complimented you way too soon, that joke was only funny the first time." She said, and he swears, she almost sounded disappointed. He should not care. He really shouldn't. But…

"You should try it. Tastes better than any alcohol in the world."

"It does sound good, I can't lie. But I bet Becky's blood will be gross no matter how much I hate her. She's on that new 'raw meat' diet. She adds butter to her coffee!" She made a disgusted noise and a face, and his head spinned a little. Must be from the disgust as well. Must be…

"I can understand raw meat, but butter in coffee? Really? Some people just do not care about what they consume, I swear to g-" The word stuck in his throat. He forgot for a second he couldn't say it. But the mortician seemed to not catch that.

"I know, right! But I do prefer my meat cooked. I honestly don't know how I'm not a vegetarian yet. The sight of blood doesn't make me hungry at all."

He quirked his brow at that, "Not even a little bit?"

"Not in the least. Just reminds me of my job. I do love my job, though, comes with its perks."

"Like what?"

"Like talking to you."

She smiled at him yet again, and something warmed inside the place where his heart used to be. But her smile vanished, as she raised her arm to check the clock. The ten minutes must be coming to the end, and she was dreading being in silence again. Alone. Always alone in the end. Only these rare moments of genuinely nice company is all she ha-. She froze. Twelve full minutes have passed.

It was the man's turn to smile at her confusion.

"What's wrong, doc? Forgot to put in the time of death?" He seemed to be amused all over again. "You are a bit too late for that. About two centuries too late."

She looked up at him, for once lost for words.

"I told you I was dead for a while now."

"So, in the alley…"

"Yes, I was actually drinking the blood of my enemies. And it did have a strange aftertaste. Maybe that horrid diet trend is spreading." He mused.

"You are not a ghost?"

"Ghost?! I am deeply wounded by that assumption. I am something much better than a mere ghost." He lowered his voice seductively. "I am a vampire."

She blinked. "…Like in twilight?"

"Oh for fucks- Why is that the first thing people think about? There was not a single vampire in that whole production."

"There are vampires in movie production?"

"In good movie production - yes."

"I have so many questions."

"So how about that drink? Bubble tea sounds good? There is a good place just across the road, and it is still open, I know the owner. Meet you there in ten." And with that, he winked, transformed into a bat, and flew out the window.

She sat there for a while. And then snickered, starting to get ready.

"Curiouser and curiouser…"

okay I had a BRILLIANTLY UNHINGED story idea for someone to write

a mortician has the magical ability to speak with the dead so she doesn't realize anything is unusual when one of her corpses sits up and starts sassing her

only to discover that her conversationalist is actually a vampire

and said vampire very confused about why the mortician isn't freaking out, normally this prank gets 'em every time

[ajaegerpilot]

in BC the NDP govt raised the minimum wage by $1.30, so my wage raised by something like 10 cents lmao so I’m again being paid minimum wage and last week a customer was getting huffy abt me not wanting to do a return with no receipt in cash and i literally said ‘ come on man, I’m being paid minimum wage’ and he settled down

[pellucid-constellations]

Always You, Forever

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take you away from it all. This time, you might just let him. 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of abusive parents 

a/n: I’m in love with 40s Bucky!!! This is based on this request. 

Masterlist

The rain was merciless against your skin as you ran down the streets of Brooklyn. The heels you had been forced into pinched against your toes, and your satin gloves soaked water into your fingertips. You knew you should have waited for the car to come get you, but your mind was racing too fast for you to form a coherent thought. 

Occasionally, the cut on your cheek burned when a salty tear mixed in with the rain. Bucky wouldn’t be happy when he saw that; Steve would probably try to fight your dad. 

When the small apartment building you longed for finally came into view, you raced up the rickety old steps. Bucky always told you not to run on them—especially not in heels—the groans from the aging wood gave him a heart attack whenever you bounded up too quickly. Normally, you would listen to him. Not today. 

Your knocking was loud enough to wake the entire unit. You beat your hand against Bucky’s door relentlessly, praying that he wasn’t out with some girl for the night or over at Steve’s. By some stroke of luck, the door whipped open with a force, your best friend on the other side rubbing his eyes and looking half asleep. 

“Buck,” you choked out, tears blurring your vision. “I told them.” 

He looked wide awake then, grabbing your arm and pulling you into his quaint apartment. Your sopping wet clothes seeped into his sweater as he pulled you tightly against him. You vaguely heard the door shut over your tears. 

“Hey, hey. Doll you’re okay,” he quieted. He ran a gentle hand over your head. “Deep breaths, sweetheart. Who did you tell? What’re you talkin’ about?” 

It took a while for you to garner enough air into your lungs to speak, your words muffled by Bucky’s chest. “My parents. I told them I want to go to school. That I didn’t want to marry that—that awful man.” 

Bucky’s hands stilled for a moment, his arms pulling you closer to him. “I thought you had that gala tonight? The one for your Pa’s company. You told me you were going to wait and tell him when he wasn’t stressed about it.” 

“I was! But then he brought Robert to be my date and he just kept touching me,” you sobbed. You felt Bucky’s sharp inhale. “And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I told them I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to marry Robert and I wasn’t going to spend my life being his pretty little wife with no purpose. But then he… my dad he—” You lost your voice to another round of body aching sobs. 

“Hey, sweet girl. Look at me,” he pulled away, taking your face into his hands. You could tell the exact moment he saw the bruising cut; his brows shot up in surprise and his eyes narrowed in silent fury. “What the hell is that?” He whispered. You winced as he ran a gentle thumb over your cheek. 

“My dad,” you sniffed. Your tears ran over his fingers. “He was so angry with me. I don’t—I don’t think he meant to. But he told me it wasn’t my place as a woman. Told me that I had no right to go to school. When I argued back he just—just snapped. In front of all of his coworkers. So I ran here. I’m sorry, Bucky. I know you like to go out dancing on Fridays but I had nowhere else to go.” 

His head was shaking before you could finish your apologies. “You know I’d always choose you over any of those broads. You and Stevie; you two are my priority.” 

You’d heard him say that many times. The three of you had been inseparable since grade school. You met Steve first—he was at the school nurse for his asthma when you came in with a broken arm. He sat with you the entire time it took for your dad to get there, offering you words of comfort through his gasping breaths. The next day, he sought you out to see if you were okay, and wherever Steve went, Bucky was sure to follow. 

“God, doll. I just wish you would let me take you away from all of this,” he mumbled against your head, his lips dampening from the rain soaking your hair. 

You’d heard him say that a few times as well. The first time was right after you turned eighteen. Your mother had just informed you that you were to be engaged to Robert, the 30 something accountant at your dad’s business firm. Your family was elated; uncles and aunts were calling nonstop to congratulate you. You smiled and bared it—until you met up with Steve and Bucky that night. 

Bucky held you as you cried in his arms—much like your current position—and Steve threw you sympathetic smiles and offered you the chocolate he hid under the baseboard of his bed. When Bucky proclaimed he would marry you himself, the room went silent. Steve knew about your feelings for his best friend; you had told him on one of the many nights Bucky left you two to go on a date with his girl of the week. 

But you and Steve concluded that it was impossible. You knew Bucky lived for the thrill of his lifestyle; for his constant nights out and summer flings. Getting married was a responsibility you weren’t sure he would ever be ready for, let alone with you.

He had brought up the idea a few times after that, mostly when things were getting rough with your family. Just marry me, sweet girl. He would say. I know I ain’t an accountant like that Robert, but at least I’m not 30. You subtly turned him down each time. You were in love with Bucky; you didn’t want him to marry you out of pity or obligation. You weren’t sure if your heart could take that. 

“Don’t say that,” you whispered. “Don’t say that to me again. Not now—not when my wedding is just months away.” He pulled you back again, gaze darting to the cut on your cheek and then up to your eyes. 

“I know I don’t have much, not compared to the way you’re used to livin’. But I’d take care of you, doll. I could make you happy. You could go to school, become a nurse like you’ve always wanted. Maybe we could pop out a few kids. I can work overtime at the docs and buy you one of those nice houses like the Franklins have.” 

His words were like honey in your ears. It was everything you had ever wanted, but it was also everything you had ever feared. A life with Bucky, yes, but one where he married you just to keep you away from your family. You wanted love, not sympathy. 

“Just stop, Bucky,” you pushed back against his chest, creating distance between you. “You and I both know you don’t want that. I’m not going to make you marry me just cause you feel like you have to.” 

“I want to, doll. I want you to be happy. You’re one of the most important people in my life. Y/n, I—well I—” he stuttered, eyes looking up to the ceiling as his face scrunched up in contemplation. 

“I’m not going to make you do this, Bucky. I’m not like any of the girls you go out with. I would be like a responsibility to you; a chore. I mean, you’ve never even taken me dancing. How can you wanna marry a girl you’ve never danced with?” 

“A chore?” He closed in on you again, hands grasping your waist and pulling you against his body. “Marrying you would be the furthest thing from a chore, I can tell you that.” Your skirts dripped water onto his carpeted floor as he swayed you gently. “And as for dancin’, I just couldn’t bring myself to take you to the same joints I’ve taken all those other girls. Was waitin’ for something more private.” 

He reached for your hands, placing them carefully behind his neck. “Something more like this.” And then he danced with you; soaked to the bone with rainwater and looking a mess, he danced with you. His eyes never left yours as he moved you around the living room, passing the small frames on the wall of his family, of Steve, of you. Your cheek still stung and your shoes still pinched at your toes, but the way he was looking at you—so full of adoration and longing—none of that mattered. 

“I’d have to be the craziest man in Brooklyn to not wanna marry you,” he admitted. Your lips parted in surprise. 

 “But you’ve never said—” 

“I know I haven’t. Thought I was doin’ you a favor by keeping my feelings to myself. I really can’t offer you much, doll. I don’t even have a record player to dance to with you. But after today, I don’t think any of that matters. Can’t let anyone put their hands on my girl.” 

“Your girl?” You gasped. 

“‘Course, sweetheart. You’ve gotta know you’ve been my best girl ever since I saw you runnin’ around with Steve with that cast on your arm.” 

“But all the girls,” you countered. Bucky leaned back and spun you around—once, twice. “You’ve been going out with a different girl every week. Ever since you got this place of your own.” 

He closed his arm around your middle, pushing your back against his front and lowering his mouth to your ear. “Distractions, doll. I already told ya. I was tryna do you a favor by staying away. Thought it’d make it easier if I was pretending it was you I was holdin’ every night. Gotta say, it didn't work out too well.” His Brooklyn drawl wrapped its way around your heart. 

“So every time you offered to marry me?”

“It was the real deal. Just didn’t wanna scare you away, so I acted like it wasn’t. Truth is, sweetheart, if you agree to marry me, I might just keel over right here.” 

You whipped around in his arms and placed your hands flat against his chest. Too many thoughts were running through your head. Your father would be expecting you home soon and your mother was probably worried sick after you ran off, but Bucky wanted to marry you. He wanted to have a family and buy you a house and grow old with you. And not in the way you’d been dreading for the past few years. 

His calloused hands cut off your thoughts as they came to wrap around your wrists. “You look like you’re thinkin’ hard, sweet girl,” he tilted his head to meet your eyes. “Why don’t I get you outta these wet clothes and give you some time to think. I got some of that coffee you and Steve love.” 

“You hate that stuff,” you countered, scrunching up your nose. 

“Yeah, but my girl loves it. Come on, let's get you changed.” 

A few minutes later you were properly dried and wrapped in one of Bucky’s largest sweaters—one of the expensive ones you had gotten him for christmas. You were cramped onto his tiny couch with a mug of instant coffee warming your hands and Bucky’s thigh pressed to yours. You were careful not to get too close; you didn’t want to test your newfound luck. 

Apparently he was having none of your distance because a second after you sat, he had you pulled into his lap. The coffee jostled around the rim of the mug as he situated you to his liking, your back now supported by one of his arms while the other was thrown across your thighs. You sat like that for a few moments, letting the hot liquid quell your nerves. 

“I don’t mean to rush you, doll, but you’re silence is scarin’ me a little,” he said, warm breath hitting your cheek. The pads of his fingers danced across your legs. 

“Did Steve know?” You asked. 

“Huh?” He sounded bewildered. 

“Did Steve know that you—well that you uh—” 

“That I’ve loved you for just about my entire life?” He finished for you. You felt your face heat up as you shyly nodded. “Yeah, guess he has. I mean I talk about you whenever you’re not there. Punk’s gotta have figured it out.” 

“Well, what the hell. What a damn sneak,” you mumbled into your mug. 

“Whoa! The mouth on you, doll. Not that I don’t disagree here, but what’d Steve do to deserve that?” 

“He knew!” You shouted. Bucky carefully removed the coffee from your expressive hands and placed it on the side table. “He knew I loved you too! And he never even said anything. That little sneak. I used to cry in his room over you, Bucky, and he never said a word.” Your wide eyes turned to meet Bucky’s bright smile. It reached his eyes and lit up his face. 

“You love me too?” He asked, clearly ignoring your fit over Steve. “You really love me? A girl like you, always decked out in fancy clothes. Always the most beautiful dame in the room and you love me?” 

“You’re right on the nose, Barnes.” And then he was kissing you. It was a hungry kiss, the kind where nearly two decades of pining found its way onto your lips. He pulled you closer and closer, until the only thing left for him to do was run his hand over the back of your head to keep you in place.

When his other hand felt the scab marring your face, an angered grunt filled his chest and he kissed you harder. He was kissing you until you were dizzy; until the only thing that you could feel were his lips and his hands and his legs under yours. 

“No one’s ever gonna touch you again,” he said against your lips. “Not Robert, not even your Pa. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let someone put their hands on you.” You couldn’t respond—his mouth was already back on yours. 

When you pulled apart some time later, dazed and out of breath, your chest felt lighter. Bucky smiled up at you with that boyish charm that felt like home and an elated laugh fell from your lips. “Does this mean we can get hitched? Cause I kinda have somethin’ for you.” 

Bucky shifted back a bit, reaching down between the couch cushions. You looked at him in confusion and gripped his shoulders to stay atop his lap. 

“Ah, here it is. Been keepin’ this in here for ages. Ever since the first time I asked you. Remember that time? Anyways, figured no one would come in here and try to steal my couch, so it would be the best place for it,” he went on, pulling a small box out from under you. “I know it’s not much. Doesn’t even compare to that rock on your finger right now. But I can get you a better one later, swear it.” 

And maybe it was the excitement of the night or Bucky’s arms around you or your leftover adrenaline from the kiss, but when Bucky opened that box and showed you the ring, another round of tears escaped your eyes. 

“Hey, sweet girl, don’t cry. You like it? It’s my Ma’s actually. Asked her for it the day after you cried over dumb old Robert. Was thinkin’ after I get you a new one we can pass this one down to our kids.” 

“I want this one, Bucky. I want to keep it. It’s so beautiful,” you choked out. He reached up to wipe your tears away and pressed a kiss to your damp cheek. 

“Anything for you, doll. Anything.” You quickly discarded the ring on your finger, placing it haphazardly on the couch. Bucky delicately took your hand into his and put his ring—the right one—in its place.

“There, right where it belongs,” his lips pressed over the diamond. “Right where you belong, too. I’m gonna fix this all for you, sweetheart. I’m gonna give you the life you deserve.” 

And you knew he was telling the truth. Because wrapped in Bucky’s arms in that small apartment that creaked too much when it was windy and had a leak in the bathroom when it rained, was right where you belonged. His Ma’s ring would create tanlines where there weren’t any before, and you would be happy, even if only for a short while; even if the war you’d seen in the papers were to take him away.

[sluttyten]

the cinderella search

summary: you’re a staff member at SM, and during the annual Halloween party, you go dressed as Cinderella. Enter Johnny as Prince Charming. You talk, you flirt, he falls in love, but you forget to tell him your name before the night ends, and thus begins his Cinderella Search.

length: 10,615

tags: near-strangers to lovers, bed sharing, fingering, dry humping, fluff, light on the smut compared to some of my other works tbh

Growing up, Cinderella had always been your favorite fairy tale. You just really loved the glamor and romance of the story, the idea of dressing up all beautifully and mysteriously, going to a ball to be noticed by the Prince. 

And once you grew up, you still had that fantasy tucked away in the back of your mind, made more real when you entered the idol industry by joining SM Entertainment as a staff member. You were just a minor staff member, not important enough to be a manager (though that was the dream), but you were around idols so often that the fantasy was there, prodding you in the back of your mind.

There were days when you dreamed of being swept up in a Cinderella-style romance with one of the idols in the company. 

“I can’t blame you one bit,” your close friend Jiwon tells you one day. She’s a makeup artist for the company; she’s seen their bare faces, seen them up close and personal, and having worked there for longer than you, she knows various artists under the company better than you do. “I won’t disagree with you at all that a secret romance with one of them would be amazing. Just like a drama. I want Kyungsoo to be my prince charming.” She sighs dreamily. “I can’t wait for the Halloween party.”

That’s exactly what you’ve been talking about almost non-stop since you first heard that it was happening this year. With the party not having happened for a few years now due to one thing or another, this year it’s come back with a bang, and when the memo was put out that every staff member was invited to come in costume as well, just as a celebration for how hard everyone’s worked, it’s all that pretty much everyone’s been talking about. You’re excited that you get to go, that you get to dress up as well, and what caused Jiwon to start gushing about D.O. is you mentioning that you wanted to go dressed as Cinderella.

“Promise we can get ready together?” She asks you. “I really, really want to do your hair and makeup, I can already picture it.” Jiwon holds her fingers up, framing your face between them. 

It helped that you already had the dress to wear for your costume. You’d spotted it a few years ago in a thrift shop, and because of your pure love for Cinderella, as soon as you saw the dress, you knew that you had to have it. Sure, it had been collecting dust in your closet for a couple years, but now you had found the perfect use for it at last.

The day of the Halloween party, Jiwon comes over just as she’d planned, taking as much of the day as she possibly can to make you up and style your hair to make you look like the Cinderella of her imagination. She’s just going simply, wearing all black with some cat ears, some whiskers drawn on her face, but most of her attention to detail is poured into her work on you. 

By the time she finishes the last touch, you’re ready to leave. Already you’re going to be cutting it close to showing up late, so as she drops her brushes back in the bag she brought, you grab your phone, and make for the door.

“Oh no, you’re not finished yet.” She snakes her hand around your arm, bringing you to a halt. Jiwon tuts at you. “Cinderella can’t go to the ball without her mask.” 

Like a true fairy godmother, Jiwon pulls a beautiful mask out of the makeup bag. “I saw this when I was shopping for my costume, and I knew it would just be perfect. You can’t be Cinderella and have everyone know who you are, that goes against the point of being Cinderella, right?”

She carefully sits the mask on your made-up face, ties the ribbons around the back of your head, trying not to disturb the work she put into your hair.

“Can we go now, fairy godmother?” You ask. “Before midnight, preferably.”

The fairytale vibe of the night truly hits home once you arrive at the party’s venue. Everyone’s in costumes, and at first it’s overwhelming because you can’t immediately distinguish the idols from the staff from the higher-ups in the company. As you and Jiwon step inside, you can only make out a few distinct people. 

Red Velvet’s Irene is dressed like an actual goddess, complete with an array of stars in an arc around her (an interesting choice that definitely makes sure no one gets too close to her). You spot Chanyeol standing tall over the group of people he’s talking with too. And then you see him.

Prince Charming.

Johnny Suh. 

He looks breathtakingly handsome, wearing a white uniform adorned with golden tassels and medals. His hair is gelled back from his face, and he’s in the middle of laughing at the princess beside him, though her back is to you. Johnny literally looks like a prince with his face full of sunlit radiance, and in that moment your heart yearns. You wish you had a Prince Charming, but it’s clear that this one already has his princess.

And then she turns around with a flip of her long, dark wavy hair.

You burst out laughing so loud that Jiwon hits your arm to make you quiet down. 

Hendery is dressed as a princess, clinging to Johnny’s arm as Jungwoo and Ten stand there with them, both of them laughing along with the costumed couple.

There are several other princesses you soon realize. Staff members and female artists have both dressed as princesses, and the more of them you see, the more you think that you’re not the Cinderella of this ball. There’s others that shine with more glitz and glamor than your thrifted dress ever could. So you mostly stick to yourself, seated at a table in the corner, sipping at your drink to avoid talking to a drunk coworker when he stumbles into his seat at the table.

You just watch the party, suddenly no longer feeling it because the best looking man here tonight is clearly Johnny Suh (which you’ve thought that numerous times before, but especially so tonight) and it’s obvious that everyone else thinks so too. He wins a prize. He has people coming up to him all night, fawning over him, running their fingers through the tassels on his shoulders.

“Stop pouting,” Jiwon tells you as she drops down into the seat beside yours. She sits a fresh drink down in front of you. “Just drink this down and come have fun with me. We can mingle and actually get the chance to speak to some of these idols we never work with.” 

You know she has her eyes on D.O. who’s standing in a clear line of sight from where you’re both sitting, holding an audience of a few people captive with his story.

“You go.” You nod toward him. “Here’s your chance, Jiwon.”

She frowns at you. “I didn’t spend so long making you look like Cinderella just for you to sit all glum in the corner. You look fantastic, darling, and if you don’t get up and show off that lovely dress and your beautiful face, then we can’t be friends anymore.” She folds her arms in front of her and pouts. 

“If I go get some more drinks, does that count?”

“It’s an improvement at least.” She sighs. “I’m going to try to talk to him. While I’m gone, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She eyes your coworker who’s slumped over in his chair now, starting to snore. “And make sure he doesn’t puke on himself.”

You have no intention of babysitting a guy who takes every opportunity to steal credit from you, so you definitely leave the table as soon as Jiwon walks away. 

You’re standing at the bar area, waiting for the man behind the counter to make the drink you’d requested, when someone comes up beside you, just a figure in the corner of your eye. It’s only when he speaks that you look up to see who he actually is.

“I think you dropped this,” Johnny says, and he’s holding up one of the satiny blue gloves you’d worn tonight. You’d taken them off while you ate, and you forgot you’d tucked them in the ribbon around your waist.

“Oh, thank you.” You incline your head and reach for the glove, but when your fingers brush Johnny’s, you pull away with your whole hand tingling. “I probably dropped the other one somewhere too.” You look around, searching the floor.

Johnny chuckles. “No, it’s still right there.” 

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you’re grateful that you’re wearing the mask that hides most of your face. The other glove is still safely tucked at your waist, and as Johnny tells the bartender what he’d like, you pull both gloves onto your hands.

“Here’s your drink, Princess.” The man behind the counter winks as he says it, pushing the drink toward you. “And yours, Prince Charming.”

You take your drink and start to walk away, planning to head back to your comfortable corner to drink alone in peace, but then you notice Johnny just a step behind you. 

“I think you’re the only person dressed as a princess tonight that hasn’t come up to talk to me tonight.” He says, “Which is unfortunate, since I saw you the moment you walked in, and I wanted to come talk to you then, but Hendery wouldn’t let go of me. I think you deserved best costume; I’ve never seen a better Cinderella.”

His flattery works wonders on melting what nervousness you have in talking with him. Johnny’s all but a stranger to you. You don’t work closely with NCT, but on the few occasions you’ve gotten to work with them, Johnny was always such a large personality, so nice and funny and handsome. Maybe you definitely have a ridiculous crush on him. But it’s always been foolish and far-fetched.

This is the first conversation you’ve ever had with him, and you don’t quite make it back to that table in the back corner. Johnny drags you down to sit beside him at his table, and even though you’re surrounded by the other members, the way he’s looking at you as you talk makes it feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole building. 

You finish your drink, lose track of time, and by the time that the party’s really and truly ending, you’ve forgotten everything but the way that Johnny looks at you, the sound of his voice, and how much that you have in common with him. Maybe it’s ridiculous to form such a deep connection with someone at a party, especially when tomorrow you go back to being just a lowly staff member and he’s a world-famous idol. 

But Princess Hendery is the one to break up this intimate conversation. His hand lands on Johnny’s shoulder, and Johnny’s head snaps around. 

“Hyung, your ride’s about to leave.” Hendery pats Johnny’s shoulder, and then points down the length of the table to a man you recognize as an NCT manager. A tipsy Jaehyun walks by, his fingers twisting in the neck of Johnny’s uniform, and he leans in to whisper something in Johnny’s ear, his fingers slipping down to get a better grip on Johnny’s uniform, and then he’s dragging Johnny out of his seat, pulling him away out the door with their manager before you can get another word in.

You look around then, somewhat dazed at being pulled back into non-Johnny reality, and also slightly buzzed from your drinks, and you realize that the room has emptied out around you, only a handful of people remain. Including Jiwon. She’s bright red and grinning from ear to ear, leaning on a man in costume.

You refuse to let her make any drunken mistakes tonight, so you make your way over, loop your arm around her waist. “Come on, fairy godmother, it’s midnight and we need to get home before the spell wears off.”

Jiwon moans and groans, reluctantly letting you lead her out of the party at last, taking her home to pass out on your sofa.

And it’s a bit later as you fall into bed fresh from your shower with all the makeup washed away now, as you look happily at the photos you’d taken with Jiwon and some selfies you’d snapped several times throughout the night, that you tragically remember that you never gave Johnny your name.

By tragedy or fate or something else against you in the universe, you don’t get to see Johnny again before your position in the company takes you overseas. Not long term, just for a month. But during that month you build a lot of experience toward achieving your dream of becoming a manager for a group, getting your hands almost within reach of that prized promotion. 

And as for your Cinderella moment, you try to put it out of your mind, just as you’re sure Johnny’s done. Over a month has passed since the Halloween party, and you doubt he even remembers the Cinderella he spent the night talking to. Even if he does remember, you feel that any chance has long since passed for you to find him and tell him it was you.

On your first day back within the building, you’ve barely made it inside before Jiwon finds you. 

You hear her slippers slapping against the ground as she runs toward you, and then she loops her arm through yours in a vice. “Come with me. We need to talk,” she whispers conspiratorially, dragging you into the elevator with her.

“I didn’t want to tell you this while you were away dealing with everything, but,” she says excitedly in a hushed voice so no one overhears, “As your self-designated fairy godmother, I thought I should definitely give you a little heads up. Johnny’s been looking for Cinderella.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. “What?”

“Everyone’s heard him asking around casually about who’d been Cinderella that night, but you sneaky thing!” She pinches your side. “How did you manage to go the whole night without telling anyone who you were?”

Had you? You’d definitely talked with several other staff members at the start of the night, including your supervisor. At least one of them must have recognized you, right? But looking back now, maybe you hadn’t talked in particular about anything that would have given away who you were, and you don’t remember any of them calling you by name or even acknowledging that you were in their department. 

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it when the elevator doors open, and Jiwon walks out, still arm-in-arm with you.

“Look, it’s even a company-wide kind of meme.” She points at a bulletin board nearby where normally notices about events and deadlines and everything are hung. But now there’s also a sheet of paper with the word WANTED at the top, a badly pixellated image of the Disney version of Cinderella beneath that, and below that LAST SEEN: SM HALLOWEEN PARTY. In tiny font beneath contact NCT Johnny if you have any information. 

“What the hell?” You look around to see if anyone else is looking, and then you step forward and tear it off the bulletin board. “What are people thinking? What if this shows up in the background of a video?” Idols pass through here semi-frequently with cameras on them for one reason or another. You can only imagine the chaos of fans reacting to such a notice as this Cinderella one.

Jiwon laughs as you crumple the sheet up and toss it in a nearby trashcan. “At this point, everyone’s started assuming Cinderella was just a random party-crasher or a ghost since she hasn’t come forward.” She pats your shoulder comfortingly. “One of the aespa girls almost confessed to him that it was her.”

A flare of jealous heat sparks to life in your belly. “Well, it definitely wasn’t!”

“Of course not! She was dressed like a princess too, but not anything remotely Cinderella-esque.” Someone walks into the elevator area, so Jiwon drops her voice to a whisper once more as she tries to urge you, “You should go tell him that you’re his Cinderella! It would be so cute!” 

“Are you kidding?” You hiss, glancing over at the man waiting for an elevator. “Look at me, Jiwon. He’d take one look and laugh that I couldn’t possibly be Cinderella. I don’t look anything like I did that night.” You gesture at the very casual outfit you’re wearing, your drastically less made-up face, and just everything about you. You’d truly experienced some kind of magical transformation that night courtesy of the woman beside you. “I couldn’t tell him. Plus, it’s been over a month. Is he really still looking for Cinderella? I’d have given up by this point, like you said, just thinking it was a random party-crasher or something. Plus, if this is like an actual Cinderella moment, it’s not like anything romantic can happen between him and I. It’s against policy.”

Jiwon shakes her head, disappointed. “You’re such a party pooper, darling. And, you’re right, this isn’t a fairytale, okay? I get that. It’s real life and there’s actual consequences, so I won’t blame you if you don’t tell him. But come on, the risk is well worth the reward here, I would think. This job or Johnny? The choice is obvious to me.”

Maybe once you would have agreed. Choosing the literal man of your dreams (because Johnny has been showing up in your dreams with some amount of frequency ever since Halloween) would have been an easy choice before you’d actually landed a position in SM Entertainment. Even then, it wouldn’t have been a crazy choice in your mind. But more recently things have changed.

“They’re promoting me.” You shake Jiwon loose so you can face her properly. “That’s what the whole point of me being overseas for the last month was. Training me up, seeing if I had the potential to really be a manager. And that’s my dream job, you know. I don’t think the risk is worth the reward in this case. But damn,” you sigh, catching sight of a screen showing a clip from one of NCT’s music videos, Johnny’s face filling the screen. “I wish it was possible.”

To give up your dream job just for the possibility of a romance with an idol seemed far-fetched and stupid. 

So you ignore the Cinderella search. It’s not like you ever even see Johnny, so it’s not a problem at all.

Until the day comes when you officially receive your promotion. 

“You’re being promoted,” your supervisor tells you, “NCT needs a new manager, and you’re best qualified for the job.”

Your stomach feels like it drops to the floor. “What?”

You’d been expecting that you were going to get to help manage a new group, or at least maybe aespa. You didn’t think they’d throw you to the wolves that was the confusing mess of NCT’s schedules. So it was a nightmare wrapped in a thin layer of a dream, and right at the heart of it all was Johnny Suh.

You were so nervous on your first day as a manager (because of course, you couldn’t manage one of the other units, you had to be assigned to 127) that Johnny would recognize you on the spot, call you out on being Cinderella, and make a scene. But you were equally as nervous that he wouldn’t recognize you at all.

The latter turned out to be the truer though not entirely accurate.

When you were introduced to the members, Johnny gave you a kind smile, and then said, “Hey, I recognize you.”

Your heart stopped and then started beating at what felt like double-time. “You do?”

He nods. “Yeah, you’ve worked with us before, right?”

Ah. Your heart rate slows back to normal. “Yeah, yes, I have. Just a few times.” 

Then he repeats your name back to you as if making sure that he’s got it right, and an hour later you’re still thinking about the way that your name sounds from his lips.

That feeling doesn’t pass, not for a while. 

Slowly you grow more comfortable and relaxed in your role a manager for the group. You get used to the stunning presence of the handsome men. You get used to the sound of Johnny’s voice and his laugh. You get used to driving the members around, shuttling them to and from schedules, getting them what they need, managing them and managing your feelings.

And best of all, you never hear Johnny mention Halloween or Cinderella, which makes it much easier to put it all from your mind. Well, somewhat easier. Jiwon refuses to let you forget; she calls herself your fairy godmother all the time, calls you princess, teases you when you mention stories that involve Johnny, which is most of them because within several weeks of you becoming a manager for the unit, you and Johnny have actually grown quite close.

“Oh, come on!” Jiwon exclaims one evening as she stretches out on your bed. “I’m tired of all of these cute, funny stories about Johnny! I want gushy romantic, hot stories.” She rolls over onto her stomach and looks at you. “God, let me tell you, one time when I was doing their makeup the stylist had to make an alteration on his pants, and that man whipped off his pants with no shame and stood there in his underwear for me to do his makeup. Babe, I know you’re already mentally going through hoops to avoid thinking about him, but trust me that you would reconsider if you had seen his--”

You slap your hand over her mouth. “Don’t.”

“No need to sound so pained about it.” She pushes your hand away. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard. Yeah, you’re a manager, but you and him are fully grown adults. This is a stupid policy because from the stories you’ve told me, if you and Johnny were just alone for like an hour together, you would probably end up together.”

You roll your eyes. There have been times you’ve been alone with Johnny, driving him to or from a schedule. It wasn’t like there was undeniable sexual tension in that van or anything like that. And even if Jiwon means totally alone in a non-mobile setting, you doubt anything like that would happen, but you’ve never yet had the chance to find out.

When the first winter storm hits, you’re driving Taeyong back to the dorm from a solo schedule he’d had that had run long. It’s very late. Taeyong dozes in the passenger seat, you’re yawning every other minute, and as you enter the city limits you realize that it’s starting to snow large, fluffy flakes that are coating everything they touch.

The city’s been extremely cold lately, so you’re not surprised that the snow isn’t melting, just piling up, making it hard to see at times. 

By the time you reach the dorm, the roads are slushy and slick. Snow blows across the streets in waves.

Taeyong’s schedule had been a three-day event, so he has a few items to unload, and due to the sharp cold breeze and how deep asleep he’d been just moment before, you help Taeyong unload and carry his belongings up to the dorm. Your shoes squeak on the floor, and by the time you reach the door of the dorm, you’re both still shivering.

The door opens with a chime, and as you come inside, you see Johnny’s sitting at the kitchen table playing on his phone and eating cereal. Taeyong mumbles something, toes off his shoes, drops his bags, and just stumbles off to bed, too sleepy to even do anything else.

Johnny’s watching you as you let out a big yawn and sit what you’d been carrying down beside the rest. 

You run your fingers over your hair, brushing away the last snowflakes that cling somewhat intact to your hair. “It’s snowing pretty good out there. I haven’t seen snow like this in years.”

Johnny glances over at the large window of their living room. The puffs of snow float by, lit up by all the city lights, and he stands up, walking over to press his face to the glass, looking down at the street below and the rooftops around their building. Everything’s already covered in a pretty decent amount of snow. 

“It’s beautiful out there.” Johnny is pressed to the glass, looking out at everything. 

Before you can register what’s happening (it is very late and you’re half-asleep on your feet, so excuse you if you’re a little slow at the moment), Johnny’s walking back past you, grabbing his coat from the back of a chair with one hand, and taking your hand with the other. He guides you along by the hand down through the building, out into the falling snow. 

“What are we doing?” You ask, folding your arms around yourself as Johnny releases your hand once you’re outside. Shock at the situation kept you silent until then. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll catch a cold.”

Johnny laughs. “I’ll be fine. Come take my picture.” He walks out into the snow-covered street, tilting his head back to the sky, arms held out. The streetlight just down the road casts Johnny and the snow in a silver light, and he’s so beautiful in that moment that you’d be crazy not to take a photo, so you pull out your phone and start taking pictures of him. 

This photoshoot goes on for several minutes before you pause to check a photo you just took, and for your efforts of trying to be a good photographer, you get a snowball right to the shoulder. Johnny’s laugh is loud in the muted silence of the falling snow, and he only laughs louder when you shove your phone into your jacket pocket and duck down to form a snowball of your own.

The snow fight lasts until you’re both pink-cheeked, sniffling in the cold air, and neither of you can feel your fingertips anymore.

“I’m t-too cold to keep this g-going.” Johnny laughs and shivers, tucking his hands into his armpits as he walks toward you. 

“I - I should get going anyway.” Your teeth chatter together. “I still need to get home, and it’s late.”

“Come up for c-coffee,” Johnny suggests, his eyes lingering on you and the snow caught in your hair, wreathing your face. “You’re clearly tired and cold. You need some coffee.”

Damn your heart and Johnny’s good intentions. You follow him back up to the dorm, and while you shuck off your coat and wet shoes and damp socks, Johnny starts making you both some coffee. And minutes later, you’re still shivering as you clasp a warm mug between both of your hands, sitting next to Johnny while he swipes through your camera roll to check out the photos of him you’d just taken.

You know that you should leave. It’s not appropriate for you to just be hanging out at the dorm. You should put your coat and shoes back on, take the coffee to go, and head home so you can get some sleep before you have to work tomorrow. Just as you’re about to say something along those lines, your phone buzzes against the table and Johnny makes a soft, oh.

“What?” You lean closer, sitting the mug down on the table.

“It’s a weather alert.” Johnny looks up at you, and for a moment neither of you speak or move or breathe. You’re so close together right now. You can see all of the little water droplets stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes from the snow. You can smell the coffee on his breath and something a little sweet too. But then Johnny snaps his mouth closed and leans back a little, just putting some distance between you and him. 

He clears his throat, then says, “It says the roads are really bad, that it’s just going to get worse. You should probably just stay here tonight, and I feel like you’re going to argue with that, but honestly, it’s for your own safety. Roads are dangerous, plus you’re already cold and tired. That’s a bad combination. You’re just going to have to be back here in a few hours to pick us up anyway since hyung is gone.”

You’d forgotten about that. The manager that normally stays at the dorm with them is gone for the week. That’s why you had to be the one to take Taeyong to his solo schedule, and why you were going to have to be up earlier than normal for work tomorrow. Maybe Johnny has a good point.

Johnny looks away from you, back down at your phone, and he swipes away the notification, then makes a little frown. 

You look down as well, and there you see that your phone has gone back to the screen showing all of your photos, and there, just barely visible at the top of the screen, is a photo you’d taken of yourself in the Cinderella costume on the night of the Halloween party.

Johnny inhales and the silence as you wait for his exhale seems to last an eternity.

“You were--”

You push back from the table, already reaching to pull your shoes back onto your feet, forgetting entirely about your wet socks. “I’d really better leave.”

You’re halfway to the door, hopping on one foot, struggling to get your second foot into it’s boot, when Johnny loops his hand at your elbow, helping to steady you as you’d nearly just tipped over onto your face. 

“Please don’t leave.” He pleads.

You look up at him. Your foot thumps heavily down onto the ground. “Johnny.... please. I shouldn’t stay here, I could get in trouble with the company.”

His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them before. “Please stay. It’s dangerous out there, I’ve said that already. If anyone has a problem with you staying here overnight for your own safety, then I’ll vouch for you. I’ll make the others vouch too.” His hand slides from your elbow down to your wrist, holding loosely now that you don’t seem to be in such a rush to leave. A slow, crooked smile appears on his lips. “And anyway, Cinderella, you’re supposed to leave a shoe behind, not your wet socks.”

You roll your eyes, but you smile as well. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“That you’re the Cinderella I’ve been looking for for months now?” Johnny’s hand slips even lower on your wrist until his fingers are just clasping your hand. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I had so much fun talking with you that night, and after we left I realized I hadn’t even found out who you were.”

You shiver now that your feet are back inside your wet shoes. 

Johnny clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Take your shoes off. You’re staying. Go on. Sit right there.” He points at the chair beside the table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare leave.”

His voice is so commanding, you wouldn’t dare leave now. He walks out of the kitchen, and when he returns a moment later, he’s carrying a change of clothes for you from his own closet. 

“I know it’s your job to worry about us,” he says, holding out the clothes to you. “But please let me take care of you too. Don’t catch a cold. You can go shower in the bathroom off my room, put these on. You’re staying here tonight.”

You nod, accepting the sweater and slick basketball shorts. 

When you emerge from the shower several minutes later, feeling much more thoroughly warmed, the lights in the dorm have all been turned off, but Johnny’s sitting on the sofa now with his phone lighting up his face. It’s very, very late. He looks as if he could nod off right there, but as you walk closer to him, he blinks up at you. A smile breaks across his otherwise sleepy expression.

“What?” You ask, sinking down onto the sofa with him. There’s a blanket draped over the back, and Johnny immediately pulls it down over your shoulders. You clasp the edges of it together in front of you. “Why are you smiling like that? Are you feeling feverish or something?” You lift a hand and immediately check his forehead with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t feel warm.

Johnny, still smiling, reaches up to lightly bat away your hand as he sighs and rests his head against the cushiony back of the sofa, staring at you. “No, like.... It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You gave them to me.” You reply, amused at the dopey look on his face. 

“I know.” Johnny whispers. “You just look really good in them.”

Your heart flutters in the way that you know you shouldn’t let it. This is Johnny. You’re his manager. This is inappropriate to be feeling this way about him. It’s definitely inappropriate to be sitting on a sofa in the dark with him, wearing his clothes, having just showered in his shower using his shampoo and body wash. But it feels good.

You lean your head against the sofa’s back too, draw your knees up toward your chest, and you look right back at Johnny in the same way he’s looking at you. You whisper, “You should go to bed. We all have to be up in a few hours.”

He bites his bottom lip and then stretches out a risky hand to touch yours. When you don’t pull away or tell him not to, Johnny keeps going, turning your hand over, pulling it into his lap. He touches your palm, caresses your fingers, treating you like you’re fragile and delicate like a little princess.

“Johnny,” you whisper a few moments later when he’s still just holding your hand, making no effort to go to bed. “Go.”

“There’s so much snow out there.” He says after another few seconds. “There’s no way that we’ll still have our schedules tomorrow. By the time morning really comes, we’re going to be buried in. I was looking at the weather while you were showering, and it’s not showing any sign of stopping before at least tomorrow night.”

“Banking on your schedule being cancelled doesn’t mean you don’t have to go to bed.” Your hand shakes slightly as you lift it, trembling with the risky nature of what you do next. Johnny’s hair is soft and his face is pleasantly warm as you push a few loose strands away from his face. 

Johnny exhales at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing his skin. “Come to bed with me. Haechan’s not here. He’s upstairs tonight.”

You noticed that as you crept into Johnny’s room to use that bathroom. Both of the beds were empty. 

It’s tempting to give in, to follow him into that bedroom and let the door close behind you as you get into bed with him. You’re sure that sharing a bed with Johnny would be very warm and comforting in this snowy cold night. But you can’t. 

“Johnny.” Your voice trembles ever so slightly. “I can’t. I’m your manager, and it just.... I could get in trouble.”

“You’re still shivering from the cold,” he argues, “Basically hypothermic. I’m just trying to keep you healthy, trying to save you from freezing. No one would know but us. If the others ask questions, I’ll make excuses.” He smiles, and that almost does it for you.

You shake your head, close your eyes, turn your head away from him so you’re not faced with the temptation. “No. I’m serious. You should go to bed. I’ll stay right here. Just here.” You pat the sofa. “I’ll be comfy and this blanket’s warm.”

“Fine.” Johnny sighs, and he stands up, still holding your hand. “But don’t think that you can sneak out, Cinderella. Okay?”

You squeeze his hand lightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Johnny.”

He leans in so quickly that there’s no time for you to even protest before he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek. And then he’s gone, vanishing into his bedroom as you sit frozen on the sofa, looking after him.

It takes a long time to fall asleep after that. Just you lying there in the dark with the blanket tugged up to your chin, listening to all of the unfamiliar sounds of the dorm, watching the snow drift by outside the window, shivering in the chill air.

After nearly an hour of silence and cold and overthinking, you sit up, gather the blanket around your shoulders, and you tiptoe across the living room to the door of Johnny’s bedroom. 

When you reach the door, you stand there in hesitation, your knuckles hovering just inches from the door. You’re being silly. Ridiculous. You’re putting the future of your career in jeopardy by just standing here before his doorway and contemplating going inside. You shift your weight uncertainly, drop your hand to your side, consider turning back and walking to the sofa, but before you can move, the door swings open and you’re faced with Johnny’s chest.

You lift your gaze slowly to his face.

“I could almost hear you thinking through the door,” he says with a smile, and then he steps aside, “Why don’t you come in?”

“It’s just cold out there,” you mumble as you step inside, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I was going to ask if you had another blanket.”

Johnny hums in a way that tells you that he doesn’t buy your lie one bit. He closes the door behind him, his back braced against it as he faces you. “I can’t believe that all this time you’ve been my Cinderella.” He shakes his head, gaze wandering over the shadowy shape of you.

His room is dark but your eyes are adjusted just enough that you can see him fairly well in the faint light coming in through the window. So you can see as he pushes away from the door, as he steps toward you. Your body tingles in anticipation, your fingertips go numb so you curl them into fists in your blanket, and Johnny stops right in front of you.

“It’s well past midnight, Cinderella,” he whispers. “The ball is ended, the magic spell is worn off, and you’re still just as beautiful and fascinating and enchanting as you were that night.” His hands come up to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers tucking underneath. Your grip on the blanket loosens even as Johnny starts to move the blanket.

It falls away, pooling at your feet.

“Johnny.”

His thumb brushes along your jawline. Your body feels on fire, your fingers burn with the desire to touch him too. So you do, curling your fingers at his hips, his skin warm under yours, and Johnny takes a shuffling step just a bit closer to you, his bare toes bumping against yours.

“Johnny,” you repeat his name, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. “Kiss me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask him again. Johnny leans in and catches your lips in a kiss. His palm rests against the side of your neck, his thumb still stroking at your jaw. When you try to press closer, to deepen the kiss, Johnny backs away.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, clenching your hands at his sides. 

Johnny chuckles, dipping forward to kiss your forehead. And then he kisses you again. He takes a step back, you follow, and another, and then he’s sinking down onto his bed, his hands moving to your hips to guide you to straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss as you do.

Making out with Johnny Suh is certainly not what you imagined you’d be doing tonight when you brought Taeyong home from his schedule, but here you are, sitting in his lap in his bed, his hands on your hips, and your mouth on his.

“Wait,” he mumbles, pulling back momentarily. “Let me put some music on or something.”

You don’t want to move from his lap, but you let him lean away, reaching back across his bed toward the pillows to grab his phone. He taps at the screen for a few moments, and then music—soft enough to not wake anyone but just loud enough to mask any sounds the two of you may make—begins to play over his Bluetooth speakers.

As Johnny sits back up, leaving his phone tucked beneath his pillow, you admire the sight of him. His abs. His chest. His arms.

You’ve seen Johnny shirtless before in dressing rooms, for photo shoots and video shoots. But seeing him like this, in the half light of his bedroom with the tingling reminder of his lips on yours, is a completely different experience.

Like a magnet, he finds you again. His mouth on yours, kiss unrestrained under the cover of the music, letting out tiny little moans as he kisses you. Each sound brings a smile to your lips, and after a few moments, you’re grinning into the kiss, twisting your fingers into his hair, and Johnny smiles as he fits his hands under your borrowed sweatshirt, his fingers chilly on your heated waist and belly.

His fingers shift higher and higher, and your breath hitches as he caressed your breast.

“Alright?” He murmurs, giving you a moment to answer while he kisses the corner of your mouth, skimming his lips over your jaw, down your throat.

You shiver, twisting your fingers a little more tightly in his hair, shifting just that much closer to him. You can feel every inch of him against you, your body burns and tingles, your heart racing in your chest.

“So good,” you moan softly, tugging lightly on his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.

Johnny smiles into the kiss, his thumb drifting attentively over your nipple. Slowly he eases backwards until he’s flat on his back and you lie against his chest, still just kissing him and yearning to feel his hands touching you everywhere, not just your breast. You shiver against him again, and Johnny is gentle as he rolls you under him, as he tugs the blankets up over your bodies.

“Still cold, Cinderella?” He teases, his nose bumping against your cheek.

You push a section of his hair back behind his ear, spend a few seconds lingering there, your thumb against his face. He’s so handsome, and you being here beneath him in his bed, it’s unreal. Like a dream. Like a fairytale Cinderella moment you never thought you’d have because he’s an SM Prince, and who are you? Hardly any better than a servant.

Johnny shifts to the side, looking down at you. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got that expression.” He lifts a finger and traces the furrow between your eyebrows.

“I’m just thinking how I don’t belong here.” You sigh, looking away to the window. Your hand is on his arm and you absentmindedly stroke over his sunflower tattoo, mirroring the movements of his thumb moving back and forth on your waist beneath the sweatshirt. 

Johnny’s lips touch against your throat, pulling a sigh from your lips, to which he asks, “What do you mean you don’t belong here? And don’t tell me again that it’s because you’re a manager.”

But that’s exactly why. 

“Stay here. With me.” Johnny withdraws his hand from beneath your sweatshirt. “If you feel like this is moving too fast, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. Just sleep.”

He moves back an inch or two, just as much as his narrow twin bed will allow, but you don’t want him to go far. You scoot closer again, still gripping his arm. Johnny smiles at that. You sink your head onto the pillow, look up at him. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Johnny brings his hand up, tracing his knuckles lightly along your cheek in a way that makes your heart pound and your toes and fingertips tingle in delight, in the need for reciprocation, to touch him and hold him too. But you bring your hands up to your chest, clench them into tight fists inside the sleeves of the sweater, will yourself to not touch him because if you do, you’re pretty sure you won’t be able to stop yourself from going further. 

“You promise you won’t run away after I close my eyes?” Johnny asks. 

“I promise.” You watch as Johnny stands up from the bed, and he hesitates then for a moment, looking down at you, his hands on his hips. You think, for a moment, that he’s about to tell you goodnight and sleep in Haechan’s bed instead. But he takes a deep breath, his thumbs tracing along the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“So, normally, I do sleep in my underwear. I get hot at night, so it’s just a lot more comfortable for me.” He explains, glancing away as he admits this. You have a feeling that he might actually normally sleep naked, but given that you’ve both agreed to draw the line at making out and some light touching tonight, being naked in bed with you might be a bit more than you wanted. 

You appreciate his unspoken question, a request for you to consent to him stripping to his underwear to sleep in bed with you. But it’s his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment where you still feel you don’t entirely belong. You’re the intruder here. And besides--

“I like to sleep in my underwear too,” you tell him. “So it works out.” 

Beneath the blanket, you shimmy easily out of the silky basketball shorts Johnny had lent you, and as you drop them out over the side of the bed, you watch Johnny swallow, his throat bobbing even as he smiles a little. You watch too as his thumbs tuck under the waistband of his pants, and then he’s pushing them down, kicking them off, slipping back into the narrow bed with you.

You keep the sweater on, but the bare skin of your legs, from toe to hip feel so free beneath the sheets, and when Johnny’s knee knocks into yours, you feel it from the point of contact all the way through your body. You’re hyper-aware of him, more than you’ve ever been with anyone else probably.

And then you lift your leg a little, draping it over one of his so your knee rests between both of his. You prop yourself on your side a bit, a hand tucked under the pillow. Johnny faces you too.

“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he whispers. 

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

You don’t remember falling asleep. One moment you were listening to the music softly playing still from the speakers, to the even sound of Johnny breathing. And then you’re woken by the sound of your phone ringing while the sky outside is still a dim shade of gray.

Your phone’s in the pocket of the shorts on the floor, so you fumble around for a moment before finally fishing them out of the pocket. You stab at the button to answer the call, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

Johnny shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your belly where the sweatshirt has ridden up through the night. His thumb touches the lacy edge of your panties. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, on listening to whoever’s interrupted your sweet sleep so early in the morning. 

“I’ve got some good news.” It’s your boss, the one who makes all of the big calls. “Schedules are cancelled for the day, that’s the official news. The city’s snowed in, so you can stay home today.”

You can’t believe Johnny was right about that. You’ve never had a day where you heard of their schedules being cancelled because of the weather like this, but you accept it, thank him for calling to let you know, and when you end the call, you lie there in the silent darkness of the bedroom.

At some point in the night, the music has ended. It must be very early, with the sky still so dark outside the window, but even in the half-light you can still see snowflakes drifting by. 

Johnny’s fingers twitch on your belly, his pinky finger stroking along the top edge of your panties. You turn your head to look at him.

His eyes are still closed, but you can tell that he’s awake.

“Who was that?” He asks after a few moments, his voice soft and rough at the same time, drenched with sleep. 

“You were right. The day’s schedules are cancelled.” You lay your hand over his. You’re half-tempted to move it just because it’s driving you to distraction, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop touching you like this.

“Mm, perfect.” Johnny opens one eye to look at you. “Now we can just sleep for the rest of the morning. Stay in bed.”

You want that. There’s nothing you want more right now than to stay here in bed with Johnny. “I should probably go let the other boys know. Tell them to turn off their alarms. To stay inside today where it’s warm.”

The tip of his pinky makes it just beneath the edge of your panties. Your nipples are hard, and you’re glad you’re wearing the sweatshirt so he can’t tell how just this tiny touch is affecting you so greatly. But it’s something in the way he’s looking at you right then--his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth, his eyes on your parted lips--that tells you that somehow he already knows how aroused you are.

You almost close your thighs, squeeze your legs together to do something about that burning need rising between your legs. But your one leg is still draped over Johnny’s, your calf against his. And when you move it just a little, the friction of your skin against his has Johnny breathing more deeply.

There’s a buzz running under your skin, zipping through your veins, and in the moment you forget everything else but that feeling and Johnny making you feel it. 

Your hand covers his on your belly, and you apply just the lightest amount of pressure. His fingers slide so eagerly into your panties.

His breath sounds unsteady, and you’re sure yours does too.

“I’m gonna be so honest right now,” he tells you, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so hard, baby. The second you made that little whimper, shit, I felt lightheaded.” You don’t know what whimper he’s talking about, but you don’t care. His fingertips are edging lower and lower inside your panties and in a second he’ll be touching your clit and that’s all you want right now. You almost buck up into his touch.

You grip his wrist before he can, and Johnny freezes. “We don’t have any music,” you tell him. 

Johnny smiles. “Guess you’ll just have to try to keep quiet then, won’t you?”

“Guess you should kiss me again then.” You reply, and Johnny’s only too pleased to satisfy that request.

The moment his mouth is on yours, he’s dipping his fingers lower, his middle finger touching your clit, and he gasps lightly as he feels the heat of your wetness coating his fingers. You can’t believe you’re doing this with Johnny.

He rolls closer, and as he does you can feel his erection against your thigh. 

“You want me to finger you, baby?” His words flow over your lips, swallowed right down by your eagerness. You nod. “I want to hear you say it.”

A new wave of heat bursts in your belly at Johnny’s dominant tone. “I want your fingers, Johnny.” 

He smiles as he kisses you now, pressing his long middle finger inside you in a way that would have you loudly gasping except for his mouth sealed over yours. Johnny curls his finger just right, his palm smoothly moving against your clit as he thrusts his finger inside you, soon adding a second then a third. 

You’re openly panting and moaning into his mouth as he fucks you on his fingers. His other arm is wrapped around your back, bracing you against him as he works you quickly toward an orgasm. His erection is against your thigh, and occasionally you notice him grinding against you, thrusting forward to help with what he needs. But most of his attention is on you, making you feel good.

It’s still some time before dawn when Johnny brings you tumbling over the edge of your climax. Your thighs close around his arm, his fingers still pumping inside you, and you bite his tongue as you cum, and that just makes him moan. 

You’re still shaking from the ecstasy when you break the kiss to drop your head to his shoulder, your breath coming out in shaky puffs.

Johnny kisses your forehead, his damp fingers pull out, slipping out of your panties to rest against your thigh, the other hand strokes your lower back, a relaxing weight keeping you resting against him. You try to move a hand down, wanting to touch him too, but Johnny makes a noise.

“You don’t have to.” His damp fingers close around your wrist. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still hard.” You raise your knee a little so your thigh brushes against where his dick is still full in his underwear. 

His eyes flutter for a moment, his hips grinding forward. 

You lift a hand to touch his hair, tugging lightly to bring his lips to yours as you tilt your head back. “Let me make you feel good, too, Johnny.”

Johnny slides his body over yours smoothly, his body bracketed perfectly by your thighs. You tangle your arms behind his neck, kissing him like your life depends on it as he grinds against you through your panties. 

You can feel him very clearly now. Every inch of him. You wish he was inside you, stretching you wide open, filling you deeply with his length. You kiss him and trace all of those desires against his tongue. Your heart pounds with that desire, breath racing and your nails rake down his back as he picks a good rhythm. You’re going to cum again, you already know it.

“Fuck,” Johnny mumbles into the kiss. “I wish I could cum inside you.”

“Then fuck me.” You gasp back. “Where are condoms?”

His lips slide from yours, over your jaw to your throat. He groans. “In the drawer over there.” But you can tell from the tightness in his voice, from the broken staccato beat of his movements that he’s close, that he probably won’t be able to hold back much longer. Why wait? Why risk putting a pause on this if it might just ruin his orgasm?

You shake your head, tangle your fingers in his hair, guide his lips back to yours. Next time. He can fuck you next time. Right now you just want him to cum; you want him to get you to cum a second time.

A hoarse groan builds in the back of his throat, and Johnny thrusts one last time before he freezes, his cock twitching in his underwear, right against you. You can feel the wet heat of him spreading through the material right against you, and you buck your hips up, chasing your own orgasm even if it means grinding against Johnny’s sensitive cock as he comes down from his high.

Johnny’s mouth feels so soft against yours when you kiss this time as your orgasm crashes through you. Lazy kisses, bodies intertwined. Johnny doesn’t move from between your thighs, just holding himself above you, kissing you slowly and softly.

Morning is breaking outside, though with the heavy winter weather, there’s not too much of a difference visually. 

Eventually Johnny moves away, his hand slides up under your sweatshirt, just touching your bare skin as you both tuck yourself against each other and catch your breath. 

It’s still early. You could roll over to fall back asleep, but even as you consider that, you know it’s too late, you’re already wide awake. Johnny knows it too, so after a handful of moments, he kisses you and then sits up.

“I’m going to shower.” He stands out of bed, tugging uncomfortably at his underwear. You can see the damp spot spread over the front of them, and you hide your smile in his pillow. You made him cum in his pants. It’s cute. You close your eyes and replay that moment, Johnny pressed against your like that, the way he’d moved, the way he’d sounded as he came.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone. The bathroom door is closed, only a thin sliver of light beneath it and the gentle patter of the shower turning on indicating that Johnny’s behind it.

The dorm is still thick with the sound of sleep, so you’re quiet as you redress and creep out of Johnny’s room. You stand to look out the window in the living room. The world outside is covered in thick snow that continues to fall. Your breath fogs the glass.  

Taeyong’s the first one up, stumbling out of his room in just shorts and a tshirt, shivering as he walks into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, and when he turns around, he spots you and nearly drops the glass. He swears viciously before realizing it’s you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covers his mouth. “Did you stay here last night?”

You nod. “The weather got worse and I was really tired, so Johnny insisted that I stay.” Taeyong makes a face that you can’t quite decipher before he hides it. “Your schedules are cancelled for the day, by the way. We’re snowed in.”

Taeyong nods. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He disappears back into his bedroom, and once more the dorm falls silent.

A shiver works its way down your spine as you yawn. You’re so tired, but you know you can’t go back to sleep, so you go make yourself a strong cup of coffee, watch the snow and think. You think about how what you did with Johnny was a mistake--it was great and you loved it and you can’t truly bring yourself to regret it, but it was a mistake nonetheless because if it gets out, if this becomes serious or ends badly, then it will reflect horribly on your career, and all of your dreams will be flushed away. 

You want Johnny. You love the way he makes you feel. But you know that you shouldn’t indulge. 

And for the next several minutes you sway back and forth on that dangerous line of thought--you want him, but you shouldn’t want him. Maybe you should just leave today, go home, and the next time you see him pretend that the events of last night and this morning never happened. Maybe he’ll forget you’re the Cinderella he spent months searching for.; maybe that was all just a fun game for him anyway, and he’ll lose interest now that he’s found you.

By the time the coffee finishes brewing, you hear the sound of movement in Johnny’s room as he leaves the shower. You pour yourself a mug, another one for him, and then you knock carefully (to not spill the coffees) on his door before opening it.

Johnny’s sitting in bed again, but when he sees you, he sits up and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Feel better?” you ask him, standing there beside his bed as you offer him one of the coffees. He nods and sips at his coffee, and you look over at the window again, at the steadily falling snow. "I guess I still need to figure out some way to get home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Johnny murmurs into his coffee. “You can stay here. Stay right here.” He lifts his face out of his mug just long enough to grab your hand and pull you down to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let go of your hand.

You say his name in a warning tone, but it just makes him smile. 

“What?” His thumb rubs gently over your knuckles. “Cinderella kept running away from the Prince because she was scared of her stepmother and stepsisters, right? Well, the Prince found her and they lived happily ever after. I like you. I liked you before I knew you were my Cinderella from Halloween. Finding that out last night or this morning or whatever, that’s just a bonus. I like you in case what we did earlier didn’t make that obvious, and if you like me too, well we can find a way to be together even if our wicked company tries their best to keep it from happening.”

You feel very warm all of a sudden, possibly its the coffee or the bulky sweater Johnny had let you borrow, or it could very well be that he’s confessing to you. Confessing in such a cheesy manner, too. He has feelings for you. For you, not for the Cinderella fantasy version of you. 

You push the sleeves of the sweater up your arms, trying to cool down some.

“Johnny.” You know that nothing good can come of what he’s suggesting.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he says softly. “Don’t say it like it’s a no. Don’t say it like you want me but you can’t. We already started down this path, so don’t turn your back on this, please. Say my name like you agree with me, like you like me too.” 

“Johnny.” This time you put your longing for him behind those two syllables. You try your best to make it sound like a yes. 

You want Johnny. You want this to work. And if he believes in it, then you want to too. But you won’t let this affect your dream. You’ll have Johnny and you’ll have your dream job too. You can figure it out as you go.

Johnny grins. “Yeah, that sounds much better.” He takes a drink of his coffee again, watching you over the lip of the mug, then says, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“Coffee is hardly breakfast, Johnny. Please tell me that you know that.” You groan, prying the coffee mug out of his hands.

He shrugs and grins, watching as you sit his mug and your own on his bedside table. And then he reaches for you, pulling you into his lap so you’re face-to-face. Johnny kisses you slowly, deeply, and when he pulls away, he murmurs, “All I know for now is that you’re my mysterious Cinderella, you’re wearing my sweater, I can still smell you in my sheets, and we have no plans for the rest of the day. If you’d like, I’d love to make you cum again.”

Oh God, you think to yourself, what have you gotten yourself into?

a/n: so months and months ago back when I was accepting requests based off a prompt list, someone sent me a prompt for Johnny to use both “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” and “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.” and thus this was born

I wouldn’t have taken so long to write this, and I’m really really sorry to the original requester (especially since I know I’ve messaged them and let them know it would take a while, but damn I don’t think either of us thought it would take this long, and I checked and they haven’t been active on their blog in a while, so now I feel bad) but I got distracted with writing the next part of the poly series (which was Adore You) and then forgot about this for a brief time, and then once I remembered I was deep into working on the poly finale, so I had to focus on it. But now I’ve finished that! And I’ve finished this too, so if the original requester is still around and sees this then I’m sorry it took so long please forgive me! I would tag them, but I’m not entirely sure if they wanted to be tagged in this or not!

[mochegato]

Speedy Trap

Marinette tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt, pulling at the crop top in a vain attempt to cover a bit more skin. However, the action had the adverse reaction, pulling her already plunging V neckline down and exposing more cleavage.  She groaned and pulled her shirt back up again, deciding covering her cleavage was more important than covering more ribs.  

She really wanted to go home and hand out candy to adorable kids in adorable costumes, but she had promised Alya and Kara she would partake in the age-old American university Halloween tradition of dressing up as slutty versions of something that was clearly not intended to be sexy.  Alya and Kara had thought it would be hilarious to do it with other heroes’ suits. So here she was, in a slutty version of a hero’s old costume, surrounded by drunk strangers, regretting all her life decisions.

And honestly, it wasn't that bad. She was still more covered up than Wonder Woman or Kara’s suit and definitely covering more of her chest than Donna did.  She looked down at her outfit with a frown. On second thought, maybe she hadn’t dressed slutty enough to meet the party criteria.  She was actually fitting in with some of the superheroes rather than creating a slutty parody of them.  

But ultimately, it wasn’t how revealing her costume was that made her so uncomfortable.  No, it wasn't really a matter of how much skin was exposed, it was what was covering the rest; a snug, red crop top with cap sleeves and a V so deep it almost touched the lower hem of the shirt, aided by a super push up bra Alya had insisted on for her; elbow length, yellow gloves; red pants so tight, they might as well have been painted on; yellow pixie boots; and finally, a yellow bycocket hat.  

She glared at Alya across the room talking, presumably, with her friend who was hosting the party.  She couldn’t prove it, but she was positive she had somehow cheated to get Marinette in this costume.  They had put the names of all of the heroes they could think of and different versions of their costumes, into a hat.  Marinette had added at least thirty names just to reduce the odds of her picking the worst possible option.  And yet, despite the incredible odds, here she was… in his costume while Alya was slutty Carapace and Kara was slutty Brainiac 5.  She narrowed her eyes again.  The results were too perfect.  She had to have cheated, she just couldn’t figure out how.

Her only saving grace was that there was no way he would see her.  This was a party thrown by a coworker of Alya and Kara’s in Metropolis.  There was absolutely no reason for him to be in Metropolis, let alone here, and as far as she knew, he was out of the country… not that she kept up on his schedule. She just… needed to know… for missions… that’s all.  Point being, there was almost zero chance of him seeing her in his old suit and ridiculing her for the rest of her life, with that smug, cocky grin she just wanted to knock off his face.

She was brought out of her mental censure by Kara jumping into her hard enough to knock Marinette’s drink out of her hand.  Marinette sputtered, looking at her incredulously. “What the…”

“Oh!” Kara exclaimed in an entirely too innocent tone.  Her eyes widened overdramatically.  “I’m so sorry.  Let’s go get you another drink.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at Kara, mind whirling through facts and scenarios.  The hit was just hard enough, but not too hard.  Marinette had received a full impact blow during a spar match.  She knew how hard Kara could hit if she wanted to. She’d also seen her accidentally bump into someone, she was always extra cautious around civilians, erring on the side of too soft rather than too hard.  She was controlling her strength with the hit she just gave Marinette.  She was up to something.  Maybe she had been glaring at the wrong person the whole time.  She turned back to check on Alya only to find her sending furtive glances back towards them.  Nope, they were in it together, whatever this was.  They both deserved the glares.

Marinette turned back to Kara slowly, allowing her to guide her toward the bar, because lord knows she deserved a drink right about now. “Kara…” she started carefully. She felt Kara stiffen slightly. Not enough to pause in her steps, but her smile tightened and her hold became tighter.

“Yeah?”

Marinette pursed her lips.  “Kara, sweetie, buddie, bane of my existence, who’s party is this?”  Her saccharine voice was dripping in suspicion.

Kara’s smile widened but didn’t loosen any.  “A, um, a friend from… work.”

Marinette stopped walking to glare at Kara.  “From the Daily Planet?” she clarified.

Kara looked away and continued pulling Marinette toward the bar. “Uh huh.  Yeah.  That’s where I work, yep.”

“Kara!” Marinette hissed, yanking her arm out of her hold. Kara deflated, waiting for the lecture and accusations.  Marinette opened her mouth to do exactly that but stopped when she heard a very familiar, very exasperated voice.

“No, I’m not Catwoman.  I’m Lady Noir.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped, any recriminations she had planned long since forgotten, because there at the bar, trying desperately to fall into a hole or drown his sorrows in his soda was the man himself, apparently back from his mission… and at the same party… against all odds.  Instead of his normal hat, he was wearing a black baseball cap with cat ears on it and instead of his regular clothes, he was wearing knee high boots, hot pants, gloves reaching mid forearm, and a skin tight, sleeveless top with a zipper down the front, all in the blackest black and trimmed with neon green.

Marinette blinked a few times, furiously fighting the dark crimson on her cheeks and spreading all the way to the bottom of her V neckline.  She glanced down at her costume and the blush intensified.  She turned on her heel and tried to dart toward the exit.  “Nope,” she muttered quickly.

Kara moved at super speed to block her way and shove her toward the bar before Marinette even saw her move.  Marinette let out a squeak as she collided with another body, strong arms wrapping protectively around her.  She let her body settle before looking up at Kara with a glare, the method of cheating suddenly rather clear.

“Hey, are you oka….”  He paused finally seeing her face.  “Marinette?”  He looked down at her costume and gaped, a strangled noise escaping from his throat as his eyes took in her outfit from the hat to the shirt, his eyes lingering a bit longer than he meant to on her neckline, down to her toned stomach and her hips and lean legs.  His face suddenly flushed, making it look closer to her regular suit’s color.  “Is that…” he cleared his throat in an attempt to make his voice smoother rather than the broken, raspy version he couldn’t seem to shake.  “Is that a Speedy costume?”

Marinette whimpered and looked down.  “You’re in a Lady Noir costume!” she protested instead of answering his question.  She pulled at her neckline again, still refusing to make eye contact.  “Kara and Alya cheated.”

Roy grinned and leaned closer.  “That is quite a costume.  I’ll have to thank them for their service.”

Marinette groaned and covered her face with her hands.  “Yeah, yeah.  Get it all out.”  Roy raised his eyebrows, snorts of laughter escaping despite his best efforts. Marinette dropped her hands, her eyes wide in realization.  “I meant the jokes!  Get the jokes out.  Not the…” she motioned toward his costume.  “Oh my God,” she moaned.

Roy’s snorts blossomed into full grown laughter.  “Are you sure?  It wouldn’t take much to make that happen,” he joked, motioning toward his costume.

Marinette pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Okay, well this was fun.  Maybe we can both pretend this never happened.”  She started to move past him, but he stepped in her way, a concerned frown now on his face.

“What if I don’t want to forget?” he asked gently.  “What if I want to remember the vision of you in my costume?  Of you wearing my colors?”  He adjusted her hat slightly so it sat more securely on her head and let his fingers run slowly through her hair.  “What if I want to remember and cherish this image?”

Marinette stared up at him stunned.  “Well then…” she started slowly before, glancing up at him through her lashes, “I guess we could remember.”

“I like that,” he grinned at her and moved until they were close enough their chests were almost touching.  “I like that idea a lot.”  He licked his lips and his eyes darted down at her lips momentarily before returning to her eyes.  “And what if I want to remember finally, finally getting to kiss you?”

She grinned up at him and perched up on her toes so her breath was fanning across his lips.  “Well, I guess we can remember that too.”  

He grinned and closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.  Their lips met in a tentative kiss that was far too short for either of them.  “Come on,” he pulled away, but entwined his fingers with hers.  “Let’s go make some more memories.”

Marinette grinned excitedly and sped up until she was brushing against him as she walked.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”  He matched her smile and wrapped his arm around her waist instead of her hand, pulling her into his side as they escaped together.

[prince-septimus]

the run-in

pairing : jason todd x detective!reader

summary : 3 times you run into the red hood, and the one time it’s jason todd

word count : 1.8k

warnings : mention of blood & violence 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?”

You spin around quickly, your gun pointed at the chest of a man you had never met but had heard all too much about.

The Red Hood.

“Sounds more like something the Commissioner would tell me,” you speak calmly, but don’t move the gun away.

There are bodies lying around you – some brought down by your own hand and the others brought down by his. Groans of pain fill the air, but you know some of the men are dead.

“Commissioner Gordon—” his voice is mechanical, any real traces of what he sounds like hidden by the mask he wears, “—how is he doing these days?”

Your gaze turns into a glare. “He’s fine. Would you like me to call him up? I bet he’d love to talk to you.”

Under the dim streetlights of Gotham, the Red Hood is a startling figure. He’s almost terrifying as he stands in front of you, but in a city full of heroes and villains alike, you don’t let his imposing structure intimidate you.

“I’ve actually got places to be,” he quips, before turning his attention to one of the men lying on the ground.

They were all members of a local drug ring you had recently been trying to bust. You know the names of a few, recognized them from photos you had found, but now they were just bodies to fill the jail cells, or for some, the morgue. You had been on a stakeout, trying to find some last bits of evidence you would need to finally make the bust, but you were ambushed.

The Red Hood had appeared out of nowhere.

He kicks at the body closest to him. There’s no groan of pain. Letting out a huff of air, it’s almost masked by the static of his mask. “Looks like you have a lot of paperwork to do.”

“No thanks to you.”

His head turns. You briefly wonder what he looks like under that mask, wonder what he sounds like.

“I’ll make sure to leave a few for you next time.”

You can practically hear the smile hidden away underneath the false voice he carries with him. Finally, you drop your gun. “I’ll let the Commissioner know you say ‘hello’.”

-

“It’s not like you to sit up on roofs. That’s more of my kind of thing.”

You sigh, bringing your camera away from your face to look at the man who’s saddled up next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“What? Can’t stop by to see how my favorite detective is doing?”

“You hate the police,” you reply flatly.

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen the Red Hood. He had popped up occasionally, always when you were working alone. You figured he had found some sort of trust in you, helping you out on the occasional case by offering information if you turned a blind eye to his criminal activities. You had a sort of trust in him too, you had decided, trusting him to never lead you on a wrong turn when it came to the leads he gave you.

You still bickered with him, though, almost treating him like an old friend rather than a deadly vigilante.

“I only hate the police that don’t do their job.” He leans against the concrete barrier surrounding the roof, the one you had been hiding behind as you spied on the gangsters in the window across the street. “That doesn’t include you.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be here if it did.” You scroll through the photos you had taken so far on your camera, making sure you have what you need before turning to the man standing next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“Heard your name from some of the men you’ve been scouting.” He nods toward the building. “I think you need to be a little more careful.”

“Isn’t that what I keep you around for?”

This is one of the moments where you wish you could see the face beneath the mask. You want to be able to read him, be able to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Instead, you’re forced to look at the masked man in front of you and be completely unaware as to who sits beneath it all.

“Just be careful. Keep someone with you when you’re out here doing these kinds of things.”

You shake your head, turning to bend down and grab your equipment from where it’s spread out on the roof. “I’ll be alright, Red. Now, how about you walk me home, hm?”

You stand back up, but he’s nowhere to be found, almost as if he was never there.

-

A bullet flies past your head, planting itself into the man who had been pointing his gun at you.

You don’t need to turn around to know who the bullet belongs to. Instead, you let your arms fall to your side as a huff of air falls past your lips. “I had it.”

“Sure, you did.”

He appears next to you, sliding his gun back into the holster strapped to his hip. You feel the anger rise up in you as you turn to look at him, and without thinking, you’re shoving at his chest.

“I had it!”

“I told you not to do stakeouts alone anymore—”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and cannot do.” You lower your voice, trying to calm yourself. “This is my job. I shouldn’t even be talking to you—”

“But you need my help.”

You rub your hands across your face. “I don’t need your help unless I ask for it, and I didn’t ask for it this time.”

A mechanic scoff. “You could’ve died.”

“I needed more information out of the guy.”

“You could’ve died. Do I need to keep repeating it?”

“Well, I’m fine. And now I have to find an explanation of why this guy is dead.”

“Better than finding you dead.”

Sirens sound in the distance. Someone must’ve called the cops before you ever got the chance to call it in.

“Go,” you say quickly, “get out of here so I don’t have to explain to my coworkers why I’m talking to a man they’re actively hunting.”

By the time the patrol cars arrive, spotting you with your hands raised in the air, the Red Hood is long gone.

-

The lights above you hurt your eyes. You try to lift yourself off the ground, but the pain stops you. You’re not sure where it stems from, but it’s spreading like a wildfire. Your whole body burns. It hurts to turn your head, but you manage to do so and almost let out a sob at the sight of your partner laid out on the ground.

Blood drips out of his nose, and his eyes are lifeless.

You cough, suddenly feeling like you can’t catch your breath at the realization of everything that had just happened. You had convinced your newest partner – a newer recruit, almost 30 – to do a stakeout with you. It was supposed to be a simple watch, one to get more information on one of the newer crime families in Gotham.

Instead, the two of you had been ambushed and laid out. Your partner was dead and you were close enough to it.

You don’t hear the footsteps or the panicked shout of your name until there’s a man standing over you. It’s hard to see anything but his shadow under the streetlight, but you would recognize the voice hidden beneath that mask anywhere.

“Red,” you manage to get out softly before your throat begins to burn and you’re coughing out any next words you have.

“Stay still,” he orders. He reaches for your side, his gloved hand covered in blood when he pulls it back before immediately pressing it back against your side in order to stop some of the bleeding. "You've been shot.”

You hiss at the pain that shoots through you, your eyes shutting . “Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Hey, hey,” he pats at your cheek, “keep your eyes open for me.”

“At least I didn’t come alone.”

He looks over at the fallen body of your partner, letting out a sigh. “Look at how well that worked out for you. Where’s your phone?”

“Don’t know. Car maybe.”

“Fuck it,” he spits out, keeping one hand pressed against your gunshot wound while the other digs his own phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

You watch through blurry vision as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Commissioner,” he speaks into the phone, quickly explaining what’s happened and where to find you. When the call ends, he looks back down at you. “Help is on its way.”

Beneath his mask, the Red Hood has a confused expression etched onto his face as he listens to the soft laugh you let out. “What are you laughing at? You’re bleeding out in an alley and you’re laughing.”

“You called the Commissioner to help me.” Your voice is broken, breathy words falling from your lips. “You’re risking the police finding you here in order to get me help. You’re doing all this, and I don’t even know your name or what you look like.”

A turn of his head towards the end of the alley, looking to see if there’s anyone watching. There’s sirens in the distance. He only has a few minutes.

With a click, he removes the helmet and tosses it next to him. His black and white streaked hair falls onto his forehead, and his face is still partially covered by the domino mask he always wore underneath, but he’s all-too-familiar even without revealing everything.

You smile. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And Jim knows?”

“Yes.”

You try to sit up again, attempting to ignore the pain, but Jason’s free hand finds your shoulder and holds you down.

“Don’t move. It could make it worse.”

“What’s next? Is Nightwing about to appear from the rooftop?”

Jason laughs. “We’re not exactly speaking at the moment, so I assume no.”

You shake your head as best you can. “Jason fuckin’ Todd. Back from the dead. Can’t believe I made friends with a zombie.”

“Real original.”

The sirens are closer now, too close.

Jason lets out a sigh when he hears a car door slam shut. There’s blood on your face and he reaches up to smear some of it away with his glove. “I guess that’s my cue.”

Gordon appears first, clearly keeping the other officers away to give Jason time.

You watch the two nod at each other before Jason grabs one of your hands.

“Almost there,” he tells you softly, removing his hand and placing yours over the gunshot wound in your side. “Keep pressure there, help is here.”

Jason reaches for his helmet, slipping it back on before taking off into the shadows.

You realize he never said goodbye, but as the Commissioner and the EMTs reach you, you know that you’ll see him again.

[leastdatablebracket]

SEMI-FINALS, MATCH 2

Propaganda under the cut!

Peter King

Propaganda

Oh I could go ON AND ON but here’s a list: He’s a stalker, he showed up late to a date HE REQUESTED, he killed either your landlord, roommate, or coworker (depending on route) and stuck them in a freezer, lied to the police about it, followed by a car ride either consisting of traumadumping about his family (valid tbh) or him talking about how much he wants to fuck your brains out, then you finding a bloody knife in his glove compartment, asking about it, and him smashing your head into the window to shut you up while he takes you to his house. He is The Worse Datable, as well as The Only Datable because well…he killed the others…and kidnapped you….

FUCK THIS DUDE!!! Country Human looking-ass bitch, I want him dead and obliterated

Many violence, Yandere behavior, cut your leg off in a semi-canon series of illustrations, smashed your head into the passenger side window of his creepy van, chloroformed you in your own house, brought you flowers that were probably tainted with his own blood, given context from another route. Generally a terrible person. Also just very strange to look at :/

He knows what he did….😒

He broke into Y/N’s house and chloroformed them. Generally a really creepy and perverted guy. TK is better :/

Send that man to Worst Datable Hell! Put him in the trash file (he’s a pseudo-sentient AI, similar to Monika, so this threat is valid)! He sometimes looks like a kicked puppy when talking to you, but with your small contributions, we can make him look even more like a kicked puppy! Vote Peter King for Worst Datable Datable Character today! Bonus: Funny canon facts about him! - He can’t swim - He’s allergic to peanuts - He has to wear glasses, but usually wears contacts - He had an emo/goth phase in high school - He’s a YouTuber; he does product reviews - He has very strong mother issues (understandably) - He will respond to and greatly enjoy the nickname “Cockbite” (there are many other names he enjoys, but this one’s the funniest to me)

Cullen Rutherford

Propaganda

stupid racist cop creep whose fans cry about how hes "changed" and "you can't judge him he was addicted to magic drugs" nah he still chose to be a racist cop and abuse his power over innocent people and i hate him. the writers making him romanceable in da:i after how blatantly horrible he was in da:o and da:2 is baffling but i guess they had to appeal to the part of their audience who watch those "mafia boyfriend" videos on tiktok or whatever

He's creepy in origins, though still 100% willing to kill the female mage pc he's crushing on, as well as all the other mages trapped in the circle with him. He's the second-in-command in an even worse circle in 2, listening to and defending the increasingly obviously insane meredith until literally the end. He's one of the people still pushing for the circle system by inquisition, and yes he's going through withdrawals and working through the traumas of previous games. And to be brutally honest his was the first romance i took and while i don't remember much from it, its not worth all the girls going absolutely nuts over knockoff terrible alistair.

He's basically a cop who thinks being born a certain way can revoke personhood and by Inquisition still thinks mages are monsters to be controlled, not people. He gets a fairy tale cutesy romance that focuses on his personal struggles with addiction while showing absolutely no regard to the atrocities he committed and still thinks were justified. He can be romanced BY A MAGE and his actions and beliefs are just glossed over. He believes mages are 'not people like you (Hawke) and me', but if the Warden was a female mage he canonically had a crush on her and would deliberately hang around her despite the fact that he was her *jailer*. If that Warden romanced Leliana, there is war table dialogue in which he pesters Leliana for news of his 'former' crush despite her repeated statement that she doesn't want to talk to him about her. All this shitty behavior and lack of introspection gets swept under the rug by the game, not even giving the PC the chance to really challenge his beliefs. Like damn even Fenris could apologize when he lashed out due to past trauma with mages, and if anyone has a reason to hate mages it's Fenris. If you want an ex Templar hottie Alistair is RIGHT THERE. Tbh I know Cullen is a popular romance and I'm not here to tell anyone what they can or can't do or like in a video game, I'm just saying I think he is deeply undateable

Spends the first two games as an antagonist, fervently devoted to the cause of subjugating mages, then a bunch of "character development" happens off screen and the games treat him like he's completely reformed. However he's actions make it clear he still sees mages as dangerous and lesser. Not to mention if you romance him with an elf he doesn't pay your culture more than lip service respect like most of the devout characters 

He was a total villain in the first two games who was violently prejudiced against mages and uses one single bad experience as an excuse for it (a bad experience that is pretty much exactly what he in his job subjected graduating apprentices to, mind you, but this is never brought up). Now he says he's changed, but his words and actions say otherwise. He still distrusts mages, sympathises with the rebel Templars trying to kill them, and he never owns up to the terrible stuff he did and helped others do in the past two games. He totally knew what Meredith was doing and says he doesn't, and he still tries to defend her intentions. And you have no option to call him out on it. If you romance him as a mage, he angsts about how he might have seen you as subhuman in the past but NOW you're one of the good ones, and when you ask him if he'll kill you if you get possessed, he dodges the question. And the PC is written as being almost sad that she's a mage? Like 'can you love me despite what I am??' Also if Leliana romanced a female mage PC in the first game who is still alive, he asks her creepy questions about their relationship. Fitting considering his original purpose was to be creepy to the female mage Warden. 

I hate him and want to cause chaos. Plus his VA is an asshole.

Cop

I think you covered almost everything but don't forget that beautiful moment in DA2 - Act 2 where you find out some templars had a petition to lobotomize all mages and Meredith, THE HARDCORE TEMPLAR LEADER, rejects it, but Cullen says they got a point. Despite the fact that we just found out that those templars were using lobotomy (or the threat of) to rape people and get away with it. And then Cullen in DA:I is whining that anything that happened it's not his fault because Meredith kept the worse away form him so he didn't know, but also that anyway Meredith had a point and did what she had to do. Meredith does not go mad until Act 3, before she was of sound mind and Culllen was her second in command BECAUSE he hated mages as much as (or even more) than her. What the FUCK did she even hide from you, Cullen. Oh, but he changed! Because the writers make A VICTIM OF THE TEMPLARS say so. And anyway he only says so BECAUSE HE READS MINDS not because Cullen did anything to show it. Also the narrative wants to sympathise with Cullen for his drug problems while Cullen is openly attacking the only other character with the same problem for...having the same problem. And he's the antagonist, so there were OTHER things Cullen could be mad about. But he is mad about the drug problem. Also I'm not an expert on writing characters with addictions but he is an addict only when it's time to have a cut scene where you pity him. Otherwise it has zero impacts on everything else.

[bumbleklee]

windblume confession(s)

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | pregnancy series

request: (@illusory-torrent) can i ask the meaning behind your url?? just curious. and could i also please request some kaeya and albedo getting competitive over the reader? reader can be gender neutral, i just wanna see my two best bois being competitive haha. thank you!

pairings: albedo x gn!reader, kaeya x gn!reader (love triangle)

warnings: none! (1.5k words)

a/n: soooo the meaning behind my url - it’s not that special lol. i wanted to make a genshin pun (klee = bee) and this is the first thing i came up with. also bea/bee, bumblebea/bumblebee, yktv

During the Windblume Festival, bouquets of flowers and letters were spilling off of your desk everyday. Despite knowing that most of the gifts came from anonymous senders, your heart still skipped a beat.

Part of you wondered if any of them were a prank. You didn’t see yourself as anything special, you weren’t as feminine and pretty as Barbara or muscular like Wagner, yet quite a few patrons found you good enough to pine over.

You skimmed through the gifts one day to see if you recognized any of the names. There was a letter from Bennett that was clearly addressed to Fischl so you tucked away the special note in a drawer with promises to deliver it later. You also found a letter from one of the Knight’s on your squad - but he was much younger than you and, frankly, the letter sounded like puppy love. Two contrasting bouquets of flowers sat side-by-side on the edge of your desk so you reached for them.

The first bouquet was about a dozen calla lilies tied together with a blue ribbon and the second was cecilia’s in a glass vase. The flowers piqued your interest, your mind already forming an idea about where they came from, and you read the attached cards.

“Meet me in the library,” You read aloud, your fingers tracing the edges of the cardstock. It wasn’t signed by anyone. The second one has a similar message, “Find me in the library.”

You wondered if the flowers were sent by the same person. But then why wouldn’t they state that? The questions made you wonder, again, if this was a trap. Could the flowers be from someone who wanted to mess with you? But despite your doubts, you grabbed your things and headed down the stairs to the library.

When you pushed open the door to the library, you realized you had no idea who or what you were looking for. The library was decorated beautifully, ribbon and flowers displayed on tables or breaks between the bookcases. The room itself smelled fresh, too, unlike its usual dusty aroma. While you glanced around the library, you saw Lisa sitting behind her desk and went to see if she knew what was going on.

“Happy Windblume Festival,” You smiled warmly at your coworker, “You’re not going to believe what I received.”

Lisa stopped reading her book to look up at you, the ghost of a smirk on her lips, “Hello, there. So many love-birds flew into your office this morning, I can only imagine what they brought you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Too many unrequited confessions.” She laughed softly at your joke, “Besides that, I received two bouquets of flowers that both told me to meet them here. Isn’t that strange?”

Lisa covered her mouth with a gloved hand and giggled again, “I think there’s something downstairs who would love to see you.”

You raised an eyebrow at Lisa but thanked her and took off down the stairs, careful not to slip on the wooden steps. As soon as your foot touched the floor, your sight met two men who had stopped bickering less than a moment ago. Kaeya and Albedo stood in front of a table, trying to put themselves back together in your presence.

“What’s going on?” You asked, realizing they were probably waiting for you. “Were the flowers from both of you?”

Kaeya and Albedo looked between each other, seemingly glaring dangers at each other. “I don’t know why he’s here,” Kaeya sneered, motioning to Albedo.

“Well, I don’t know why you’re here,” Albedo parroted, crossing his arms. You had never heard either of the men sound as ticked off as they were now.

“You both told me to meet you in the library,” You explained, confused. “That wasn’t planned?”

“No!” They said in unison.

You rubbed your temples, knowing that this wasn’t going to end easily. “I’m sorry,” You mumbled, “But can someone explain what’s going on.”

“Mr. Alberich overheard me planning to surprise you during the Windblume Festival and decided to ruin my plans,” Albedo said. When he spoke Kaeya’s name, there was nothing but venom in his tone.

Kaeya shrugged sarcastically, “I had no prior knowledge.”

“You used Klee to eavesdrop.”

“Did I, now?”

Albedo ran a hand through his hair, aggravated and annoyed. He had never liked Kaeya and this only fueled that fire. Kaeya wasn’t fond of Albedo either. He thought he was overrated in Mondstadt and that his admirers could do better.

“I mean,” Kaeya continued, giving Albedo the side eye, “Was it supposed to be a secret? You were awfully careless with the news.”

“My deepest apologies, I wasn’t aware I needed to broadcast my confession to all of Mondstadt before telling Y/N.”

“Your confession?” You wondered, “So the flowers weren’t a joke?”

Albedo looked at you with curious, and confused, eyes. “A joke? Of course not,” He said. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, something you had never seen before, and Albedo fiddled with his gloved fingers nervously.

“I wanted to do that first,” Kaeya interjected, frowning slightly.

Kaeya’s words caught you off guard as well. “You like me, too?” He nodded in response and the three of you stood still for a while. Your mind was racing and your heart was beating out of your chest. You couldn’t believe not one but two of your coworkers had a crush on you and were confessing to you. But then the nerve-wracking decision came crashing down on you.

You had to pick one of them, right? The whole point of confessions was to find a possible suitor and here you had two options in front of you. Of course, you could reject both of them and run away but was that how you truly felt?

Albedo was soft and genuine. He often painted portraits of you and took you up to Dragonspine so could have snowball fights with Klee. He paid for dinner for you and recommended new books for you to read during your days off. At that moment, they seemed like friendly gestures. But looking back, you realized they were probably acts to one up Kaeya.

Likewise, Kaeya had his own plans to win you over. He spent exciting nights with you at the tavern and never complained about taking you home when you drank too much. Instead of buying you food, Kaeya bought you gifts like jewelry or artifacts. He often accompanied you on commissions, too.

“I need time to think this over,” You finally said. “Please, just agree not to kill each other in the meantime.”

Kaeya grumbled something under his breath, “Fine.”

“Why do you like me?” You asked, looking at Kaeya. “If you’re going to confess, then confess fully.”

The taller man thought for a moment before sending you his classic, cheeky grin. “I like having a challenge and you, my dear, proved to be that challenge.”

“What?” You asked, slightly offended.

“You play hard to get,” Kaeya continued, using his hands to accentuate his words, “I spoiled you for months and you still acted like we were nothing more than friends. Do friends buy each other gold necklaces in hopes they’ll realize you’ve fallen for them? You even have the necklace on to this day.” Instinctively, your fingers coiled around the dainty necklace around your neck that Kaeya had gifted to you weeks ago. When he gave it to you, you recognized it was a peculiar gift but played it off as Kaeya being extravagant. He sharpened his eyes, “Need I mention you’re the most exquisite looking person in Teyvat?”

Your voice caught in your throat and your cheeks burned with the compliment. You nervously played with the hem of your shirt and looked at Albedo for his answer.

“I just think you’re different,” He said simply, “You’re easy to get along with and I enjoy spending time with you. I feel like we’re compatible puzzle pieces.”

If possible, you blushed harder. Both men were darling and you felt like the luckiest person alive by being adored by both of them. As you glanced between the men, your stomach did a backflip. They were both looking at you with such intent and charisma, as if trying to enchant you. The idea of being with either of them made you feel butterflies.

But they are so drastically different, which made the decision that much harder. If you choose Kaeya, your relationship would be fiery and brand new all the time. He was full of adventure and flirting, favoring nightlife and excitement. And with Albedo, it would be calm and joyous. Your days would be spent in flower fields and underneath trees. Both sounded like a dream to you.

“I don’t know who to pick,” You admitted, holding back a sigh of defeat. “I never thought multiple people would like me at once, let alone you two. I just need more time.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and walked back up the stairs. Your head felt light and your mind was clouded with a million different scenarios. You felt guilty for leaving the men alone but until you could come up with a definite answer, they could wait.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

I don't know if this counts as a comfort request, can you do a Chuuya and Dazai comfort request of them comforting/saving the reader from a abusive parent?

Yes, this is, of course, a comfort request, if it helps you feel better, than it counts. I’m sorry if this doesn't live up to expectations though, abuse is one of the few things I struggle with writing for personal reasons (don’t worry, it’s nothing physical, just a lot of mental strain loves), so it won’t be detailed or thoroughly explained, more hinted/briefly mentioned. Since the request was vague, I was unsure what kind you needed, so I went with what I’m more comfortable writing. With that out of the way, here are 2 small drabbles.

Saved from an abusive household (comfort fic) |Dazai, Chuuya x Reader|

Warning: Emotional and (maybe some hints to physical) abuse

Words- 1141 (combining both characters totals).

Dazai-

590 words

To say he was angry was an understatement. He never understood why his emotions were so, so uncontrolled when it came to you. He was hardly in terms that he may actually love you. With the wind blowing over your face, whipping through your hair, he couldn’t help it. Noticing every mark, the tears, everything. He noticed it despite how you acted like everything was fine. The hoarseness of your tone was too great a signal that, well, you had been crying longer than he had been standing here. Dazai wanted to know, no, he needed to know who had made you so upset. He felt, odd as it may sound, protective. He would never strike out against you or raise his voice. He’d never hurt you, not in any way. So the flinch you made when all he wanted was to cup your face, to whisper that he loved you, it hurt. He couldn’t keep his face from showing the shock. His eyes darting around for any other signs. Clearly, he’d noticed before, but you always rode it off.

Standing within the brutal rain, you watched Dazai with a clouded mind. There are… many ways that often go unnoticed to the public. While cuts are difficult to hide, the scars on the mind… are impossible to see. What is not shown on the surface is never seen. Anxiety, depression, social awkwardness, the flinch brought on by a loud noise or voice, the shaky trembles of hands when being scolded. Signs that go unnoticed, so as Dazai looked at you with eyes full of anger and pain, he waited until you flew to his chest and broke down. His hands never once left your back. His voice a mere whisper as he ran fingers and told you the best news of your life. “You can live with me. It isn’t much, but its, it’s better than going back there.” His voice held so much anger, disgust, and pain you thought he may drop you in bed, then run to kill the two who told you over and over how much they loved you, only to contradict themselves. 

He did something along the lines of that. When you were asleep in an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants far too long for your legs, he sipped from the agency-provided room, and well, he went straight to the place he knew you lived. It happened to be on your file in the agency. He didn’t bother knocking, but instead picked the front door lock with skilled ease, and underneath the clap of thunder and flash of white light, he slid inside. Dragging water into the room where two older adults lay. As if they didn't notice their child's absence. So pulling out his gun, he shot at a perfect angle. A direct middle between heads. He watched them scramble awake, only to see he was already gone within shadows. He played the part of a demon for you tonight. Raising their paranoia as far as he could, before appearing with a dramatic flash of lighting having calculated the right timing. He warns them if they ever tried to make themselves the victims, or if they set a pinky on your skin, he’d make their lives a living hell. After all, he was once Dazai Osamu, the demon prodigy, the youngest mafia executive. It wasn't a title he liked anymore, but he would admit returning to such a mentality for a bit would be alright, if it meant protecting you from pain.

Chuuya-

551 words

Beneath the rays of moonlight showering through a ginger held you tightly in his arms. Tonight he played the part of the big spoon, cuddling you close to keep you safe. It was always like this in storms. His arms wrapped around you, running down your arms. His lips on top of your in passionate breaks here and there. The two shared wine and laughed away the storm. Every time you jumped, he dropped to kiss your shoulders and between your neck. He kept trying to comfort you with all he could. He never felt it was enough. Especially after the ones that were within seconds of another. The louder the tremble, the more you shook, so when four or five repeated in a row he worried. Sure, it was normal to be scared of storms, but you were scared of the noise in general. It was an issue he had hated because, well, we all know Chuuya likes to yell a lot. He never realized till he was actually angry with a coworker, the flinch you make is an expectation, like your bracing for something. That’s how he found out. The next morning, how you claimed to be too sick to go home. The way you wanted to stay with him on your week off. How you'd rather just keep working.

“I’ll kill them.” It wasn’t anger directed at you, and he kept his tone soft, despite how difficult it was. Behind his clenched teeth, dagger-like glare, and the snarl, he was positive he’d frightened you accidentally. “Let me kill ‘em.” He grumbled, shoving his gloves into pockets as he tried to reel in his temper. He doesn't give two shits if they are your parents. So telling him no is frustrating. Clearly, if they did this, if they could be cruel enough to make their child afraid, then they didn’t deserve somebody so forgiving and kind like you.

He let you stay the day with him. There was no way he’d make you go home. Not when he’d seen how terrified you were when he tried pushing you out the door. He’d cuddled and spoiled you rotten with gifts all day. And when you finally crashed, his lips tapped your forehead, and he was gone. Searching through records till he found the address. He was straight to the point, breaking a window with a nice kick. His feet heavy with gravity as he grabbed the collars of those two blind bastards. Yes, he knew he could make it worse. However, that would only happen if they were not afraid of him. An overprotective guard dog. Trust me, this is one loyal bastard you never want to cross. He couldn’t kill them, but he could hurt them. He could yell at the top of his lungs and shout in their ears. Send them in walls, maybe break a finger, or two. On his way out, when the couple stood shaking with fear, his head tilted back just enough to see the scene he’d made. “Hurt them again, and I won’t listen. You’re really lucky, my baby has a golden heart that forgives so easily." He half-expected them to call the cops, but he guessed that meant angering the mafia more. What could he say, he was a pretty well-known man.

Tags (if you wish to be added send an ask) : @jadegreenimmortality

[showerthoughtsonly]

Subtlety Always Works (part VI)

Fox x therapist!reader

Synopsis: You lament your apparent lack of options when it comes to confronting your feelings. In the middle of your self-pity session, Fox arrives with a pretty large problem that demands all of your attention. 

A/N: My friend has been sick, so I’ve been able to get some writing time in since we’re not running all over town in our free time. I think this may wrap up in the next two or three parts? Maybe? Enjoy! :)

Tags: @quietpainter​ @lackofhonor​ @sugarpuffsstuff​ @rintheemolion​ @literallydontlook​ @unstableyetloveable​

You need to talk to someone… desperately. It has officially been two weeks since you acknowledged that you had a problem. The little beats that your heart skipped when he walked in the room, the electricity that buzzed through your body when he gently pressed his feet to your thighs during sessions, the way your ears get hot when your hands brushed while passing reports. You had a massive, heartbreakingly large crush on your client, Commander Fox.

You’ve only been getting tighter as weeks went by. He often dropped in to do paperwork with you in the late hours on the other side of your desk, invited you to little snack breaks and brought you coffee in the mornings.

You didn’t know who to go to. Your coworkers were great to go to for other situations, but you kept your romantic relationships and problems tight to your chest. A bad habit, perhaps, especially for a therapist, but you had to keep something to yourself in your line of work. Your other closest friends at the moment happened to be your clients, you hadn’t caught up with your outside friends for a long time.

Your thumbs dug into your temples as you pulled your fingers through your hair with a groan.

A strong, firm knock broke you out of your misery, followed by a familiar, slightly wavering, “Doc?”

You called for the entry of the very man who was giving you all these problems and nearly froze on the spot when the door slid open.

Tucked away under Fox’s arm was a very frazzled looking shiny-you could tell from the armor-with a fresh bandage on his nose, swelling around his eyes and tear tracks running through what seemed to be lingering blood. He was shaking. Fox’s eyes were deathly calm for the situation, but you could tell that he was looking for help with the situation.

Immediately, you jumped off your desk and rushed over to them. Carefully, you lifted a hand to the shiny and paused when he flinched. Fox gave you a nod and prodded the shiny forward.

“This is our mind healer. She’s a good one, she can help.” He reassured. “You’re not in any trouble, vod’ika. You did good.”

The soldier met your eyes and ducked back down when a fresh flow of tears welled up. You carefully slid your hand into the gap of his armor between his chest plate and pauldron and guided him forward, towards the couch.

“Fox, can you grab the first aid kit? It should be-.” Fox cut you off.

“Second to top left drawer by the plant. Got it.” He peeled off without another word and you watched as the shiny jerked towards his commander again, hands fisting by his side.

“Hey, honey. What’s your name?” You asked softly, reaching down to carefully grasp at the shiny’s hands. Smoothly, you rubbed open arcs into his gloved palms, careful to keep as much eye contact as you could.

It took the trooper longer than you hoped it would to answer.

“Ct-.” You squeezed his hands gently to cut him off and gave him a knowing look.

“Clicks. My brothers call me Clicks.” His voice was wavering with every breath. Fox reappeared at your side with the first aid kit. You opened it and removed a couple of wash cloths before sitting Clicks down.

“Alright then, Clicks. I’m going to take off this patch and clean you up a bit, okay?” You asked. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach as Clicks suddenly jerked away, pressing himself flat against the couch to get away while shaking his head.

“Okay. Okay. Do you mind if Commander Fox tells me what happened, or do you want to tell me yourself?” You asked gently, hands extended to ask for his once more. He slowly extended his hands and stopped shaking his head. Gently, you unbuckled to armor covering the backs of his hands and slowly peeled off his glove to embrace his sweaty hands.

“Commander?” He asked, eyes welling up again. Fox settled a hand on Clicks’ shoulder.

“I’m going to tell her, okay, vod’ika? But, I want you to answer any questions she has. She’s here to help, okay?” Fox’s eyes were full of concern. Even in the tumultuous atmosphere saturating the office, your heart gave a little skip at the look.

Clicks nodded, now staring back at you. Carefully, you reached over to the nearby table and grabbed a box of tissues to extend to him as Fox began.

“Clicks was not originally assigned to the guard with us. He served in a frontlines battalion, of which he was decommissioned from for, I believe it was, disobedient nature.” He paused as Clicks gave a little responding shuddering breath.

“The original kind of decommissioning was outlawed by the Jedi the moment they realized it was happening. Decommissioning now refers to “retraining and reassignment.” We get a lot of them here. They uh.”

“There was a lot of torture tactics involved, ma’am. Psychological and physical.” Clicks interjected suddenly, his voice clear for the first time you had met him. You gave his hands an encouraging squeeze and grabbed a tissue to wipe his fresh onslaught of tears.

“Yes. And we are aware of that. We treat the men we receive from decommissioning with utmost caution. Even though we’ve technically been engineered to have a reduced trauma center up in the head, the men we receive have a lot of episodes. Clicks just had his first assignment outside of his desk and he, well. He got caught by a mob.” Fox explained. “He got taken to the med center immediately afterwards, but he barely let the medics touch him.”

“Oh, hon. You’re probably still in an adrenaline response. Do you want me to tell you what’s happening and going to happen to your body?” You asked him.

“Is it bad?” Clicks whispered. A slight shiver racked his body. Fox was quick to grab your weighted blanket and throw it over the man, not that he probably felt the weight with the 80 lbs of armor he was still sporting.

“No, sweetie.” You cooed carefully. Carefully, you processed his symptoms from the outside level. Heavily dilated pupils, sweat, heavy flinching…

“Here, you know where your pulse points are, right? It should have been covered in basic training.” You offered, wanting to switch the subject. All the men that you had worked with previously responded incredibly well to being given something to do. Clicks nodded.

“Can you find it? I’m going to have you count the beats for fifteen seconds.” You told him. He nodded curtly. You looked to the clock on the wall and signaled for him to start counting. When you signaled him to stop, Fox leaned forward, still clearly concerned for his well-being.

“48. That’s bad, isn’t it?” Clicks’ breathing picked up as he spoke.

You shushed him softly. “No, not too bad for enhanced soldiers such as yourself. Do you remember if the medics gave you anything?” You asked.

“Nothing. They barely were able to set his nose.” Fox told you, crouching even closer. “Can we take off your armor?” He asked. Clicks froze.

“Hey, hey, look. I’m going to take my armor off too. It’s safe here. Baar’ur’ika isn’t going to let anything happen to us.” Fox assured him, reaching up to unclasp his cuirass and slip it over his shoulders.

“You know what I’m going to have you do? We need to burn this adrenaline off. There’s a gym two hallways down. We’re going to go there and you’re going to run for thirty minutes. Then I’m going to go get you some food while you shower and I’m going to have you stay in my office with me for the rest of the day, okay?” You told Clicks. He nodded slightly, reaching up to slowly remove his armor.

“What about the commander?” He asked quietly. Fox jerked up from where he was placing his last bits of armor in the normal chair.

“What about me, Clicks?” He asked sternly.

“You’re busy. You need your armor on.” He muttered.

Fox shared a significant look with you before turning back to Clicks.

“I’m going to stay with you, or find one of the other commanders to stay with you as long as you need. You’re shaken up and need to be around people you trust.” Fox answered softly. Then he gave a soft little snort of amusement and gave you a meaningful smile.

“I do most of my paperwork in here anyways. We can just have a day in the office.” Fox’s words didn’t help your heart’s incessant need to act irregularly around him. It felt like it was melting a hole through your sternum and puddling on the ground by your feet.

Clicks stood up and carefully folded the blanket. His hands were still shaky, you noted. Fox guided him out the door and paused for a second at the doorframe. You nearly crashed into him, but was stopped by his warm hands grasping at your arms.

“Thank you. I knew you would know how to help. We’re lucky to have you, cyare.” His voice was low and deep as he spoke. Brown, sincere eyes studies yours as firm thumbs brushed up and down your arms.

Slowly, meaningfully, his forehead dipped down to yours and your heart stuttered to a stop in your chest. Carefully, your heads met in a gentle headbut and lingered for a second.

Then, Fox whirled around quickly and marched back down the hallway after Clicks, leaving you a flabbergasted mess in your own doorway. Deft fingers prodded at your forehead and you brushed a couple of flyaway hairs away.

That felt significant. What was that? Didn’t Hound do something similar to Fox when he dropped him off weeks prior? Was it kind of like a hug for them? What did cyare mean?

Your mind wrestled around with itself for a long minute as you stood rooted to the spot, hand to forehead. Then the severity of the situation at hand hit you again and you flew down the hallway to catch back up to Clicks and Fox.

You would have time to run over this later with Thorn. He would have answers.

[the-bau-quinjet]

The Perks of Cold Weather

Hello! This is just a whole lot of fluff because I need some positive vibes this week. Feel free to send some requests my way if you’d like! They can be as specific or as vague as you want and I’ll do my best. None of my ideas are currently working for me.

Summary: Reader and Spencer have some fun in the snow in a small town in Alaska.

Words: 2996

Warnings: none I think

When you first started at the BAU, you were quick to realize the group was more like a family than coworkers. It was clear in the little things they did for each other on case, like the way JJ and Spencer would comfort each other on particularly difficult cases to the slight bickering that would inevitably start up between Derek and Emily about anything that didn’t really matter.

 You were quick to find your place in the little family as well. Well, not find it so much as fall into it, but you didn’t mind. You were only 28 years old, meaning you were the youngest member of the BAU. Being the youngest meant a lot of teasing from the “older sibling” personalities of everyone except Rossi and Hotch. Their personalities were much more parent-esque. With how much they’d tease you, you were always quick to jump on the chance to tease them for a change. The perfect opportunity arose when a case came up in Alaska.

Penelope walked through the bullpen, calling you all into the roundtable room right before you left for the day. “Hello my wonderful crime fighters. I wish I had better news, but this case is a real whammy. Three women have been found stabbed to death in a small town in Alaska.”

 The collective groans of just about everyone in the room were quiet, but obvious.

 “I know, I know. Another freezing cold case. I wish I could send you to LA all the time, but alas bad guys aren’t deterred by freezing temperatures.” She went on to explain the details of the case before Hotch dismissed everyone with his typical “Wheels up in 30.”

 The team dispersed to collect their go bags- and winter items for the cold weather they would surely be facing in Alaska- before meeting on the jet. When you got there, everyone else was already boarded, and you couldn’t help but feel the low energy of everyone on the plane.

 “Don’t tell me the lot of you are afraid of a little snow?” You can’t stop the smirk from appearing on your face as you sit down across from Spencer and adjacent to Emily, Derek, and JJ.

 “Big words from someone who hasn’t been on a case in Alaska yet.” Derek’s reply comes without hesitation. The grin on your face only grows when you realize that everyone really is feeling low because of the impending winter wonderland.

 “Don’t tell me you’re excited for the cold weather?” JJ shivers just asking the question.

 “Of course I am! I’ve always loved the cold. There’s something so magical about watching snow fall. It feels like Christmas!” The four of them stare at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You are seriously telling me none of you like the snow?” You scan all of their faces in disbelief, eyes landing on Spencer last.

 “Don’t look at me. I’m from Nevada, it’s basically the desert. Winter in Las Vegas is comparable to fall in DC. The last time it snowed with any significance was in 2003 and that was only an inch.” Spencer nearly starts rambling about weather patterns across the US, but cuts himself off.

 “You all are seriously killing my good mood with your bad vibes. I will change at least one of your minds by the end of this case” You say in a huff while putting your headphones on. You try to catch up on some sleep before you all reconvene to discuss the case.

 After the briefing and right before landing, everyone starts bundling up in layers upon layers of sweatshirts, jackets, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. You pull a sweater on over your long sleeve and zip up your FBI jacket, adding a cute beanie more for aesthetics than warmth. You’ve never been one to get overly cold, so you skip a few layers everyone else put on.

 The rest of the team marches off the jet as if they would rather be anywhere else, but you don’t let it deter you. You exit the jet with a smile on your face, taking a deep breath of the cool Alaskan air.

 “You really are enjoying yourself?” Spencer asks with a small smile. You meet his eye, the look on his face giving you butterflies, before responding.

 “Of course I am. It smells like winter!” The two of you share a laugh as you get in the SUV headed to the police precinct to actually get to work.

 --

 The case only lasted two days. You were glad to have solved it so quickly, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the snow. After the case files are all packed away and Hotch goes off to coordinate the jet, you head outside to absorb every last ounce of winter possible.

 “I thought I might find you out here.” Spencer sits next to you on the bench as you stare at the flakes falling from the sky.

 “What can I say, I just really love the cold.” You reply without turning your head. “Maybe it’s weird, but I would pick cold over hot any day.”

 “I don’t think it’s weird at all! I think it’s kind of cute actually.” That gets your attention and you turn to see he’s looking at his hands in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “I like how happy you are when you look at the snow.”

 Of course, that makes you smile again. “Thank you, Spence.” You can feel your cheeks heating up, but you’re quickly distracted by the sound of Derek calling the two of you back into the station.

 “Hey lovebirds, Hotch needs us.” You roll your eyes at Derek before standing up, offering your hand to Spencer to help him up. He takes your hand, squeezing it slightly as he rises from the bench. He only drops your hand when he goes to hold the door open for you, leading you back inside. The team gathers in the conference room, Hotch walking in with a grim expression.

 “I’ll cut to the chase. We won’t be able to fly home until this evening. The snow from last night on top of the storm that’s about to pass through is too much to clear right now.” Everyone, including you, sighs before nodding in understanding. As much as you would love to stay longer, you know it sucks that everyone can’t go home to their families. “This case is wrapped up, so feel free to just explore the town or relax in the hotel. We should be able to take off at 9:00 pm, so I expect to see all of you on the jet by 8:45.” Those words were music to your ears. As everyone begins to pack up to head out, you turn to Spencer.

 “I can’t believe this. It’s like a snow day! I’ve always loved snow days! We would always go outside, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, and try to build an igloo but end up giving up when it collapsed for the third time.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm, but nods along as you both walk out of the precinct toward the hotel just down the street. “Then we’d go in for lunch, make hot chocolate and cookies, and watch all our favorite movies.”

 “Is that what you want to do today?” Spencer asks as you both walk into the hotel lobby.

 “I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. That is exactly what I would want to do today.” You smile wistfully as you think back to your childhood snow days with your siblings.

 “Well then, let’s see how perfect we can make the world, just for today.” Spencer’s smiling as he says it, taking in the confusion and shock on your face.

 “You mean… You want to build a snowman? With me?” Your heart is beating so forcefully, you wouldn’t be surprised if it flew right out of your chest.

 “Yeah, and all the other things too.” Spencer’s words are soft and unsure, contrasting the confidence of his previous statement.

 “But you don’t like the cold weather…” You simply can’t fathom why he would volunteer to do these cold weather activities when just two days ago he was talking about how little snow he experienced when he was younger.

 “But you do, and we’re stuck here anyway. So, why not?” Hearing that he would spend his day off playing in the snow simply because you want to does things to you that you chose to ignore for the time being.

 “O- okay… yeah, let’s do it! ” The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before you each bring your things to you respective rooms with a plan to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

 When you get to your room you pull out the warmest clothes you brought to Alaska. Although it would suffice for walking down the street, it’s not exactly made for playing in the snow. After getting dressed you meet Spencer in the lobby. He is dressed in warmer clothes than you, but still not snow proof.

 “I don’t know if this is a good idea…” Your excitement to start this day with Spencer has dwindled since imaging the cold, wet clothes you’d end up in. “The key to a good snow day is waterproof clothes and we definitely don’t have any. How am I going to make you like snow if you’re freezing and wet at the end of the day?” You would expect the resident genius to agree with you, but instead of a grim expression and a nod in agreement, Spencer’s smile grows.

 “Don’t worry about it. Just come with me.” He leads you outside of the hotel with his hand on the small of your back all the way down to the town store. “What needs to be waterproof? We can find snow pants, jackets, gloves, and boots right here.” He looks so pleased with himself as he leads you around the store to collect all the items you’ll need. He even picks out a sled for the two of you.

 After checking out, he leads you back outside where you pull the waterproof gear on over your warm layers, tossing the tags into a nearby trash can. Before you can say anything, he is again leading you through the town with his hand on the small of your back. He stops when he reaches the park, turning to you once again.

 “Where do you want to build the snowman?” You mirror the grin on his face as you run across the park to a flatter area.

 You begin compressing the snow in your hands to form the ball that would eventually become the bottom layer of your snowman. Spencer copies your actions, forming a lopsided ball for the middle. You leave Spencer to work on the head while you search around the nearby trees for sticks to use as arms and rocks to use for the eyes and buttons.

 After finding the perfect set of sticks, you return to see Spencer adding a carrot nose right in the middle of the head.

 “I didn’t even see you buy carrots!” He laughs at your childlike enthusiasm, moving aside so you can add the sticks to the middle. You also add the rocks you gathered for the eyes and buttons. Spencer surprises you again by pulling out a hat and scarf to add the finish touches.

 After forcing him to take a selfie with you and the snowman, you walk across the park to find a good sledding hill. You find the perfect hill, and offer to go down first since it’s going to take some effort to form the path. Spencer watches you scooching your way through the snow, forcing the sled down the hill, laughing hysterically. You haven’t been able to enjoy snow like this for years.

 Spencer was hesitant to sled down the hill together, but one pout from you and he climbed on right away. The sled picked up pace is you barreled out of control, flipping and rolling down the hill.

 You took the opportunity of a distracted Spencer to form a snow ball, waiting until he was only a few feet away to throw it at him. Of course, as soon as it hits him it’s game on. The two of you are running through the park, hiding behind trees, and dodging each other’s snowballs. Spencer, being uncoordinated, mostly missed you. That is, until the very end of the snowball fight when he hits you right in the face, the surprise causing you to fall to the ground.

 “Y/N! Are you okay! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He’s cut off by your laughter.

 “Relax Spence, its fine! It was powdery snow. It’s not like you hit me with a chunk of ice.” You smile at him as he helps you to a standing position. You’re so focused on standing up without slipping on the compressed snow beneath your feet, you don’t realize how close the two of you have become.  When you look up to meet his eyes, your noses are nearly touching.

 Without much thought for the consequences, you lean a few inches forward, ever so slightly brushing your lips against his.

 Spencer is so stunned, it takes him much longer than he’d care to admit to reciprocate your affection. So long in fact, that you’ve pulled away and are frantically trying to think of something to say to save your friendship when he pulls you back in.

 The two of you don’t pull away again until the need for air overpowers your need for each other. You stay close though, foreheads pressed together.

 “Let me take you on a date. A real one where we go into knowing it’s a date.” Spencer says it all in one breath.

 “Oh, Spence. This whole day has been a perfect date, even if we didn’t say it at first. But I would love to go on another with you.”

 The two of you are all smiles as you walk back toward the café near your hotel. You’ve been outside so long it’s nearly dark- granted it gets dark around 4:00 this time of year in Alaska. Upon entering the café, Spencer is quick to order two hot chocolates and cookies to go.

 “I know it’s not the same as baking them ourselves, but we don’t have access to an oven in the hotel.” He says, squeezing your hand before leading you out of the café.

 You would blindly follow Spencer anywhere, but that doesn’t stop you from asking him about it. “Where are we going now? I thought we were going to eat…”

 “Back to the hotel. We have one more thing to check off the list for your perfect snow day.” Of course he would remember your list from earlier in the day. “So tell me, what’s your favorite snow day movie?”

 “That’s actually a tough question. It changes depending on the mood.” You are genuinely trying to think of the perfect movie to end the perfect day as you walk back into the hotel.

 “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go up to your room and pick out a movie that fits ‘the mood’, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes?” You simply nod in response, too lost in thought to contemplate where he could be going.

 15 minutes later you have finally picked out a movie to watch when Spencer enters your room, carrying a takeout bag.

 “I finally found a movie!” You smile at him as you show him your computer screen. Anastasia is queued on your Disney+.

 “Perfect. We can now officially start our date.” He smiles, pulling the food out of the bag, he hands you a cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Your heart warms at the sight of it. You know Spencer has an eidetic memory, but you still get butterflies at the idea of him remembering your favorite cold weather food.

 The two of you sit against the headboard, setting the computer between you to play the movie. After you’ve finished eating you shuffle around on the bed, moving the laptop so you could cuddle with Spencer.

 “I’ve got another reason for you to like the cold weather.” You state matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the movie.

 “Yeah? What is it?” Spencer’s eyes are trained on your face.

 “It’s better for cuddling.” A small grin appears on your face at the sound of Spencer’s airy laugh. He pulls you closer, both of you completely content.

 --

 As much as you love the cold and snow, dragging yourself out of Spencer’s arms and into the cold air to get to the jet on time was not an exciting task. In fact, it put you in a slightly sour mood, something Morgan was all too quick to pick up on.

 “What’s the matter L/N? The cold weather got you down?” He laughs at your annoyed expression.

 “Not a chance, Morgan. I quite enjoyed our little snow day actually.” You smile at Spencer as you pull your blanket from your go bag and sit on the couch.

 “You actually played in the snow? It was only 22 degrees today!” You can’t help but shake your head. 22 degrees is cold, but nothing compared to how bad it can get in Alaska.

 “We did indeed. I think I managed to turn Spencer on to the cold weather too.” Spencer sits down next to you encouraging you to share your blanket.

 “How’d you manage that? I’ve been to on enough cases with Pretty Boy here to know he prefers the warmer ones.”

 “It’s actually rather simple.” Spencer replies, shifting his arm around you on the back of the couch. You smile as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Colder climates make for better cuddles.”

tag list:

@mac99martin​