#have been the reason I have started writing fics
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I decided to answer all of these! If you're interested in any of my answers, you can see them below! 🥰
1. How many fics have you worked on since January?
Five works published in total. Three were oneshots, two were ongoing fics that I posted chapters for. Five published chapters in total for those aforementioned works (1 chapter for a fic I started posting for last year; 4 chapters posted for a fic I started posting for this year). One work with a finished, abridged version written, but unpublished (for a zine). I will likely finish the extended version and post to AO3 sometime next year.
As far as for the number of WIPs… I haven't kept track. I've started and worked on so many WIPs this year. At least dozens, I'd say. Aside from a few, I haven't necessarily made much progress on them, but I still worked on them, even if it was just spending a few minutes to plan or jot down more ideas.
2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?
Working on and starting to publish a longfic (In Another Life), if that counts. Though when I committed to starting to post it, the plan hadn't grown to longfic scope yet, so that was kinda accidental. Planning that fic (which I'm still doing), requires very extensive plotting beyond what I've done for anything else. I even invested in a plotting software just to make it a bit more manageable.
Another new thing I tried was in A Show of (Im)perfection, where I worked hard to make sure the scene transitions from when I go into a flashback and back to the present feel as seamless as possible, making the jump less jarring. This is usually from the character looking at or doing something in the past/present that continues or is followed up by something similar in the next scene (past or present).
One more possible new thing is that I spent more time in a dream/nightmare segment (A Demon's Justice chapter 4, WIP) and played around with the illogical nature of that/some symbolism. While I have written glimpses/short parts of dreams/nightmares before, it was the first time I did something longer and more continuous.
3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)
I pretty much exclusively write for Ace Attorney, so that.
4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?
One: Ace Attorney.
5. What ships captured your heart?
It's always Mitsunaru/Narumitsu. My OTP out of any media. I'll always love them and want to create stories with them.
6. What characters captured your heart?
By extension of mainly writing my OTP, it would be the characters of the ship: Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix got to be the POV character of most of what I wrote this year, though Miles still had a turn. Miles is my absolute favorite character, so he captured my heart even if I wrote his POV less this year. I also got to write another fic from Trucy's POV, so she got to have some of the spotlight as well.
7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?
Nope. Technically, I did start planning a WIP for a ship I haven't written before as part of a group project, but I haven't started actually writing it.
8. What fic meant the most to you to write?
It's still a WIP and not published yet, but probably The Last Day of Summer. It's a slice of life kidfic (featuring the Signal Samurai Trio) that is part one of a Narumitsu series centering around a park by the courthouse.
I love slice of life and I love fluffy kidfic. I get pretty self-indulgent and usually have a lot of fun writing it. The reason this WIP means so much to me though, is because it's something that has been in the works since around May 2021. It's also one of two story ideas I had about a year before I even started writing (both originated as comic ideas). I had already adapted the first of the two into a fic (Keeping Up Appearances) a long time ago, but this one I'm still working on. It has expanded and changed a lot since it was first conceptualized as a comic, and even when it was first outlined as a story.
9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?
The Last Day of Summer (still a WIP), for the same reasons stated in the previous question.
10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?
I don't have many options, but probably (Just) A Haircut. It originally started as a fill for a prompt on Discord back in late 2022. I was motivated to expand and finish it for Narumitsu Week. I think it's satisfying to finally finish something that was started so long ago.
The fic I wrote for that previously mentioned zine was also originally inspired by a Discord conversation around the same time in 2022 (and also was greatly expanded during the writing process). I think that one is less satisfying for me since I still have to write the extended version at some point. So even though there is a finished version, it isn't truly finished for me.
11. What fic was the most difficult to write?
Possibly In Another Life, since the scope and how ambitious it is has been giving me trouble with plotting everything (and still not nearly done with the planning), even if the writing itself hasn't been particularly difficult (aside from the description-heavy scenes). Or it's the fic I wrote for that zine, as writing smut is incredibly difficult and stressful for me (plus it takes me forever to write).
12. What fic was the easiest to write?
Probably Where We Lay. I think I went from first thinking of the idea to being completely finished in a little over a week, all while forcing through the worst writer's block I've had. Unless something is only a few hundred words, I'm never able to write a fic (from first coming up with the idea to completion) in that short of a time frame, even in better circumstances than I was in.
13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?
Shortest: Where We Lay at 2k.
Longest: In Another Life at 20.5k and 4/24 (but will likely have more chapters in the end) chapters posted.
14. What were your go-to writing songs?
I usually don't listen to anything while writing. I've sometimes listened to the AA orchestra CDs or the piano/some other remix ones, but I haven't done that in a long time. I think I've listened to a few songs with lyrics (especially on one of my fic playlists), but haven't done it enough to specify any go-to writing songs.
15. What was the hardest fic to title?
I don't have many options to choose from, but the one that took me the longest/was the most difficult was probably A Show of (Im)perfection. Where We Lay took me a bit too, but I don't think it took as long/was as difficult as A Show of (Im)perfection.
16. What's your favorite title of the year?
My favorite is probably A Demon's Justice, but since I technically didn't title that one this year, I'll go with In Another Life instead. I mean, I technically didn't title that one this year either (had a much smaller version of this fic planned & titled since at least 2023), but it at least was posted this year.
17. Share your favorite opening line
Not sure if it counts since the first chapter was published last year, but the opening line for A Demon's Justice:
The trial’s climax fast approached, and the scales of justice were tilted in his favor—as expected.
I feel like that one is the most gripping compared to the first lines of my other published fics this year, or known first lines to WIPs I worked on this year.
18. Share your favorite ending line
It's A Demon's Justice again. While it's not the last line of the entire fic, it's the final line of the most recently published chapter (chapter 3) which was posted earlier this year:
And so, he found solace in one simple truth: Miles was exactly where he deserved to be.
19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue
I love dialogue! Not sure how short it should be to consider it a piece, but I've been quite fond of this exchange (from In Another Life chapter 2) ever since I wrote it. Here's the whole scene (it isn't too long):
20. Share your funniest line
Honestly, I don't really consider my stuff funny (humor isn't one of my strong points), but I do occasionally write lines/situations and banter that I find a bit humorous, or at least entertaining. It's also usually not a single line, since most of the humorous stuff I write happens in banter.
Several of Miles and Larry's interactions in my no DL-6, college AU WIP fic (where the Signal Samurai trio play Never Have I Ever together and get drunk) fit in that category. But YMMV on whether you find any humor in it or not. I would class it as more entertaining/amusing rather than funny, really.
I included several notable moments in this fic so far, especially since some build off each other (there are gaps between each screenshot with omitted text). This was just how Miles and Larry wanted to interact with each other in this fic. Miles and Larry kept wanting to argue (lightheartedly) and it was all unplanned. I had to keep reining the dialogue/direction of the fic back on track, because they would get into it with each other every so often and sidetrack the plot lol. One of the moments where I feel the characters are more in control than I am😂.
21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?
Something for this year? I guess the biggest would be deciding to add a subplot/an additional POV (Miles') to In Another Life. It's the main reason I'm still heavily involved in planning that fic before I write more. The entire fic was originally planned without having access to Miles' POV in mind (including everything written and published so far).
It changes the story quite a lot, but at the same time, not too much. It's important for me to keep (or only minorly change) all my original planned plot points, especially the major ones and the planned ending/direction of the story. I want to stay true to my original vision as much as possible, while still taking advantage of what I can do with an additional subplot and POV.
I can explore characters and relationships that otherwise wouldn't be touched on much or at all (elevating at least one character from cameo to supporting character status). It also gives me more plot moments to work with and help spread out the relationship moments and bulk up the timeline. It also gave me more ideas for relationship moments, which definitely helps as I'm still trying to think of more romance and bonding moments to write.
The negative is it does impact some plot points and I have to think about how to still have them work well. I've also thought of so much for that subplot, that it feels less like a C plot and closer to an A plot, so I might have to think of stuff to add to bulk up my actual A plot.
22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?
Scrivener mostly, as it's my main writing program. I've also used Google Docs a little, particularly when I was editing down and finishing what I wrote for that zine fic. I always do my final editing in Word, since the grammar/spellcheck is not as good in Google Docs and pretty much nonexistent in Scrivener. Also, I write into a private Discord server at times when I get some ideas I want to write down, as it's quicker and easier than opening Scrivener (I move it there later) and I can do it on the go. I've written a bit into Dropbox's text editor, as that is the workaround to access my Scrivener files on my Android phone. While I've written by hand before, I don't recall writing any fic by hand this year.
23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
This is such a hard question, because I don't feel like there is something that really sticks out to me, especially not something that I haven't mentioned in the answer to another question.
This might not be what the question is asking, exactly, but there is one writing-related thing that sticks out to me.
Without going into details, someone had reached out to me to tell me that something I'd written had resonated with them and reading the story had given them some comfort during a difficult time. I was—and still am—touched that something I wrote was able to help someone and provide some measure of relief, even if temporary. I wish them well.
24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
Not really. Mostly just relax and do something not related to writing for a bit. Sometimes I hold off on a treat or doing something else I want to do when I'm trying to finish something (mostly when I'm up against a deadline). If that's the case, then I can allow myself to enjoy it once I'm finished. Mainly, I just allow myself to enjoy the sense of accomplishment of finishing a story, as well as the dopamine hit from getting to share it and having other people read it/share their thoughts.
25. How did you recharge between fics?
Nothing specific, just relaxing/doing something unrelated to writing that I enjoy. Spending that time completely guilt free and without thinking about how I should be writing instead. This is especially the case if I finished writing something for a deadline (likely very close to the deadline), since I procrastinate a lot.
26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?
Yes! I completed one drawing (of Ema Skye), but it isn't posted anywhere (aside from in a couple Discord servers). That was after not really drawing anything for years. I want to do more, but I've gotten wrapped up into my writing and other things instead.
27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)
One fic for the Narumitsu Big Bang 2024 (my first bang event), one fic for the Narumitsu ship week, one fic as part of a gift event for a friend's birthday, and two fics for zines. I also tried to take part in the Supernatural Mitsunaru Exchange & Fest 2024, but had to drop out, unfortunately.
28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?
Anyone who read my works this year, anyone who left a kudos and especially a comment. Anyone who told me (whether on AO3, Discord, or on social media) that they liked something I've written. It's always encouraging to know that stories I've created have been enjoyed by others.
29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?
Unless I surprise myself by coming up with and writing a very short fic idea, or making a lot of progress on one of my short WIPs, I don't plan, or expect, to have anything else finished or published this year.
I'd like to write at least a little more and make some progress on my WIPs, but I've been taking a bit of a break these last few weeks, so there's a chance I might not write anything else before the year ends.
30. What would you like to write next year?
Not sure about anything specific, but I'd generally like to work more on my existing WIPs. I'd love to finish and post the remaining chapters of A Demon's Justice. I'd also love to finally finish and post the first part of The Park by the Courthouse series, The Last Day of Summer, considering how I've been chipping away at it for years, and it's one of the first story ideas I had (before I even started writing fanfic).
A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!
How many fics have you worked on since January?
What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?
What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)
How many fandoms did you write for this year?
What ships captured your heart?
What characters captured your heart?
Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?
What fic meant the most to you to write?
What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?
What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?
What fic was the most difficult to write?
What fic was the easiest to write?
What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?
What were your go-to writing songs?
What was the hardest fic to title?
What's your favorite title of the year?
Share your favorite opening line
Share your favorite ending line
Share your favorite piece of dialogue
Share your funniest line
What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?
What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?
If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
How did you recharge between fics?
Did you create fanworks other than fic?
How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)
If this were an awards show, who would you thank?
What's left on your to-do list for 2024?
What would you like to write next year?
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I kinda need Hotch accidentally hurting shy!Readers feelings…I need angst with a happy ending!
What's Left Unsaid [Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader]
Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Love to write some shy!reader/hotch dynamics! Also playing out with the gifs and graphics I make for fics a little bit more. Thanks for the request!
Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, alcohol mention, team outing, bar setting, fear of commitment (stemming from both sides), happy ending but left a little open to interpretation, shy reader, mentions of Beth, mentions of the breakup with Beth, mentions of Jack, Dad!First!Mentality!Hotch, Friends with Benefits, Secret Relationship, Hotch's POV
Summary: When Hotch reveals to the team the reason he doesn't want a relationship, it hurts your feelings because the two of you have been secretly seeing each other, and you're wondering if it is going anywhere.
Hotch sipped his beer, trying to appear relaxed as he leaned back in the booth. The chatter of the team mingled with the ambient noise of the bar, but his attention was subtly tuned to you, sitting just a bit too far away for his liking. In his peripheral vision, he watched you laugh softly at something Rossi said. The sound was like music, and it made him smile, albeit briefly.
You and Hotch had been seeing each other secretly for a few months now. It started casually, two colleagues seeking comfort in each other after long, taxing cases. But slowly, the physical connection had deepened into late-night talks, shared dinners, and quiet evenings watching movies on the couch after Jack had gone to bed. Neither of you had put a label on whatever this was blossoming into, both hesitant to complicate things further. Hotch, especially, feared the implications of wanting more.
The first time it happened, it was almost by accident. You and Hotch had been the last to leave the BAU after a grueling case that had stretched over several weeks. The weight of the ordeal was palpable, lingering in the air like a thick fog. Hotch had offered to walk you to your car, a gesture of simple politeness, but when you reached the parking lot, neither of you seemed ready to part ways just yet.
"Want to grab a late dinner?" Hotch had suggested, his voice low and a bit hesitant. You were surprised; Hotch was always reserved, focused on the job, rarely stepping beyond the professional boundaries he so rigidly set for himself. But that night, something in his eyes—a shared tiredness, a mutual need for decompression—made you nod in agreement.
That dinner marked the beginning of what would become your secret connection. It wasn't planned or discussed; it just naturally evolved as you both found comfort in each other’s presence outside the high-stakes environment of the FBI. The diner meals became a routine, a way to unwind, and slowly, those meetings shifted to more personal settings. Hotch invited you over to watch a movie one evening when Jack was away at a sleepover. You brought over a classic film and takeout and found comfort in the quiet companionship that filled his living room.
You were naturally shy, a trait that often made you a listener rather than a speaker in the noisy dynamics of the team. Hotch noticed this early on. He learned quickly that you communicated more in silence than most did in conversation. He appreciated the quiet moments with you, how you seemed to understand the weight of words left unspoken. But he also knew he sometimes had to coax thoughts out of you, especially when he sensed something was troubling you.
One such evening, as the credits rolled on the screen, he turned to find you lost in thought, a distant look in your eyes. "What’s on your mind?" he asked gently, careful not to startle you out of your contemplation.
You hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Just... thinking about the case," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. But he knew there was more—you often carried the emotional burdens of your work longer and deeper than most.
"It’s more than just the case, isn’t it?" Hotch prodded softly, giving you the space to open up at your own pace. Over time, he had become adept at navigating your shyness, offering you security in his steadiness.
You looked at him, the trust in his gaze encouraging you to share your fears. "Sometimes, I wonder if we ever really make a difference," you confessed, your voice tinged with the fatigue of the many losses you had witnessed.
Hotch listened, nodding, never pushing too hard, always patient. He shared his own doubts and hopes, a rare glimpse into his inner world that made you feel even closer to him.
These moments deepened your connection, transforming it from a simple comfort into something more profound. Yet neither of you dared to define it. Hotch, especially, was cautious, weighed down by the responsibility of being a father to Jack. His previous relationship with Beth had ended amicably but not without its scars—particularly for Jack, who had grown attached and then had to cope with the loss when she moved away.
So, Hotch held back, fearful of repeating the past, even as his feelings for you grew. And you, understanding his concerns, reciprocated the silence on the nature of your relationship. But as the months passed, the unspoken bond between you became a silent promise of support and companionship, even if neither of you yet had the courage to give it a name.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder of an unread message from earlier in the day—something mundane about Jack's soccer practice. He glanced at you again, taking in your shy smile, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. He wanted more, so much more, but the fear of another loss for Jack held him back. It wasn't just about him or even about you; it was about Jack, too.
The conversation shifted, and suddenly the focus was on him. "Hotch," Prentiss started, her tone light but curious, "you ever think about dating again? It's been a while since Beth..."
The question hung in the air, heavier than the smoke swirling above them. The team's eyes were on him, but his flicked to you. He saw the slight stiffening of your shoulders, the curious tilt of your head as you waited for his answer.
He hesitated, his mind racing. "I... I can't imagine putting Jack through that again," he finally said, his voice more gruff than intended. "Getting attached to someone, and then... if it doesn't work out..." He trailed off, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
The team nodded, understanding his protective nature over his young son, but you didn't. He saw the hurt flash across your face before you masked it with a small, polite smile. You excused yourself to the restroom, and Rossi gave him a knowing look, one that said he might have just made a mistake.
Hotch's heart sank. He wanted to go after you, to explain, but he was anchored to his seat by his own fears and the eyes of his team. He drank more deeply from his beer, trying to wash down the guilt.
When you returned, the barrier between you was palpable. You kept your answers short, your smiles forced, and though the team didn’t seem to notice, Hotch felt every inch of the growing distance.
The night ended with the team going their separate ways, and Hotch found himself walking you to your car. The air was chilly, making him wish he could reach out and pull you into his warmth. "About earlier," he started, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean—"
"It's okay, Hotch," you cut him off, though your voice was softer than usual. "I understand. Jack should be your priority. I wouldn't ever want to come between that."
"But you wouldn't," Hotch found himself saying, the words rushing out in a torrent. "It’s not just about protecting Jack. It's... I’m scared of asking for more and then losing it. But what I said it wasn't fair to you. I do want more with you if you want that too."
You looked up at him, surprise evident in your expression. "Really?" There was a cautious hope in your voice, one that made his heart twist.
"Yes, really," he affirmed, stepping closer. The space between you felt charged, his fear momentarily eclipsed by the need to make things right.
You nodded slowly, considering his words. "I need to think about it, Aaron. I... I want more too, but I don’t know how to... not with how things are right now."
Hotch nodded, understanding. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here," he promised.
As you got into your car, Hotch felt the weight of your words and his own fears. He watched as you drove away, the taillights a red blur in the night. Maybe it was time to confront his fears, not just for his own sake, but for Jack's, and perhaps, for whatever chance he had with you.
Tag List:
@zaddyhotch
@estragos
@todorokishoe24
@looking1016
@khxna
@rousethemouse
@averyhotchner
@reidfile
@bernelflo
@lover-of-books-and-tea
@frickin-bats
@sleepysongbirdsings
@justyourusualash
@person-005
@iyskgd
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x reader#kiwriteswords#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfictionc#criminal minds imagine#criminalminds#aaronhotchner#Aaron Hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner reader insert#criminal minds fluff#shy reader#shy!reader#aaron hotchner x shy reader#aaron hotchner x shy!reader
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the warlord’s wife (mihawk x reader)
req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him
a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee
contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c
wc. 1k
wanna be on my taglist?
—
i.
standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.
”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”
”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”
your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.
“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.
clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.
of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?
ii.
it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.
”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”
both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.
”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.
”w-well—”
“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”
”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”
”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”
”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”
”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”
”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”
the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”
”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.
mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.
”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.
”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image.
Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day.
the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.
”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”
—
taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x yn#one piece x you#op x reader#op#fanfic#imagine#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk#angst#fluff#hurt/comfort
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AHHHHHHHHHHH I love HYUNJINS new haircut!!! AHHHHHH
okay….hear me out…..
Can you pls write a Hyunjin fic of him getting his new haircut without the reader knowing? And she ends up LOVING IT…. And then like snuggling at the end…
only if you have time ofc or if you want to 😍😍
Love this
Give me love
Oh my god yes lol I've been looking for an excuse all day to write about kiwi Hyunjin!
This turned out a bit angsty but it's still very cute and I hope you enjoy! 🖤
Idol!Hyunjin x Reader
Info ~ Angst, reassurance, insecurities, cuddling
Hyunjin has been nervous all day. He pretty much lied to you this morning about what he'd be doing today and he felt guilty. It was eating him up.
But he also didn't know how to tell you that the hair you love to run your fingers through, braid, tie up, and play with would be gone when he came home later. You always told him you love him no matter what and that you always find him beautiful and attractive. Yet it's eating him up that, this decision he's making might change your mind.
But he needs a drastic change. His hair has been long for too long and it was starting to become obnoxious. Was this an extreme change? Yes, absolutely! But it's what he needs and he knows it, he just hopes you understand and still love him despite it.
~
You're sitting on the couch when you hear the creak of the entryway door. Hyunjin said he was going to the dance studio to practice, but it's only been about two hours, too soon for him to be back. Normally he'd be gone for anywhere from 4 or more hours. Maybe he forgot something.
Standing up from the couch, you're wrapped in a blanket as you walk down the hallway to meet your boyfriend.
"Did you forget-" your words die on your tounge. You look up as he pulls his hat off.
Gone. His hair is gone. For a moment you're conflicted sad that it's gone and simultaneously utterly intranced by his beauty with said new hair style. The way his face takes more of a spotlight, his nose line sharp, cheeks full and flush from the cold air. His eyes borderline cat like. Though his eyebrows are sharp they are furrowed waiting for you to say something, anything.
He looks like he's holding his breath his shoulders up and tense, his back perfectly straight in his puffy coat. His chest rising and falling in short sharp breathes, like your next words could make or break him.
You step closer and you watch his body tense at your movement. Closing the space between you two, you place your hands on his strong jaw line and his eyes go slightly wide. You rub your thumb on his cheeks, the stubble from his face that he didn't shave this morning scratchy against your fingers.
"Jinnie you cut your hair! It's beautiful! You didn't have to lie to me." Your voice is excited and bright but soft and sincere seeing the panick in his eyes. Your words and touch ease him and all his emotions flood as tears well up and flood his eyes.
He can't stop it as a chocked sob racks his body and he hunches over to rest his head in the crook of your neck on your shoulder. You hold him tight and wrap your arms around his large frame. Your hands rubbing up and down his back as he cries. Sweet soft words leave your lips to sooth him as he lets the relief wash over him.
He had no reason to be afraid, he knows something as trivial as a hair cut won't make or break your love for him. But the betrayal of his fans last time he cuz his hair, the awful things they said about him. How many of them abandoned him over it? How many people reduced him down to his looks? He couldn't take a blow like that from you. It breaks your heart to see him this distraught about something as trivial as a haircut.
"I'm sorry I lied to you." Hyunjin says, his voice pouty and soft as he lifts his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.
"I'm not going anywhere silly." You say and pull away from him to look into his beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. He is still in his puffy outside coat.
You place your hands on either side of his face again, bringing his forehead down to yours. You wipe stray tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he takes a deep breath collecting himself.
You help him take off his jacket and place it on a chair as you grab his hand and guide him, slightly dragging him as he follows you slowly, into the living room.
He sits on the couch and you sit beside him, draping your legs overs his so you're almost sitting in his lap but not quite. Now that you're in the light of the house you get a good look at him realizing not only did he shave his head but he's bleached it blonde!
"Jinnie, I need you to know I'm in love with your new hair!" You say excitedly, over enthusiastic as to try and perk up his mood. You want him to feel confident and happy in his decision. He should, he looks amazing.
A small smile plays on his lips as you bring your hands up to run it across his round head. His hair is soft yet prickly. It's such a fun texture, you could run your hands across it all day.
"I don't know why I was so scared." His voice is regaining its full bodied sound slowly and your satisfied that you've convinced him of how much you love this new look on him.
"I don't know why you were either." You curl up into his chest, legs still draped over his as you listen to his rapid heartbeat begin to relax.
"You know im going to be touching your head nonstop now, right?" You say and he chuckles.
"I had a feeling."
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the temptation to write the fic that's been floating in my mind for a while...I think as early as before the war.
"You're overwhelmed."
and it's either Al-Haitham or Jing Yuan there to gently guide you through the whole mess.
Jing Yuan would probably take a quick scan of everything, predict your to do list based off of it, then determine the best course of action for your health. In like the span of 1 or 2 minutes at most.
Jing Yuan's the guy that would sit on the floor with you, take your hands in his, and when that causes the dam to finally burst (which is a problem because you're too busy to cry right now) would in a soothing tone, walk you through the order of what needs to happen. He'll help you figure out your priorities all while rubbing soothing circles into your skin, and will take on the parts of your load that he can.
You need food? He'll take care of it. Things are a mess? He'll get things picked up enough that its not stressful anymore. You don't have any more clean clothes? He's got that covered too.
When it comes to delegation the man knows what's up. He's got a solid war plan, and with Yanqing's assistance he's managed to complete at least half of the tasks that he can take off your hands, and the rest are to be completed likely within the next hour or few hours.
Expect a warm meal and soothing tea after you get showered, because that was the first thing he had you do. See you'd been busy enough to neglect your hygiene enough to stress you out too. So when you're feeling notably refreshed after your shower, and your meal, and seeing as the domestic tasks have been taken care of while you took care of your hygiene, your stress levels, are much lower.
He absolutely will let you bend his ear over all that's stressing you out, especially if you're working on something with a deadline and you're stuck. Will be someone you can bounce ideas off of.
When things finally calm down enough that you have the time to cry, he will hold you as you sob it all out. As awful as the situation is, he's relieved that you're getting it out of your system via tears. Of course if you start apologizing for needing help, he'll hug you tighter and set you straight. He is honored to be someone that you can be vulnerable with and is genuinely delighted to be able to support you...he is your husband.
____________________
Al-Haitham, similarly, takes you and your surroundings in:
the research papers strewn around you
the multitude of half-drunk cups: tea, water, juice, herbal tea
the crumbs of food that likely wasn't enough to sustain you
the piles of papers and books with all sorts of random objects in them to mark the pages for your research
the sink
your laundry basket
your dull hair, and disheveled pyjamas/housewear
your exhausted expression
It doesn't take him more than 2 minutes as well to figure out the ideal course of action. He also decides that you starting with a shower would be for the best.
He has to debate you to get you up, choosing not to touch you in your overwhelmed state. Because you don't have time to shower, you have a deadline. You don't have time for all these things. However using logic and reason, he somehow managed to get your to comply despite your very compromised state.
Al-Haitham as well, despite not liking to take on too much work, will, for your sake, delegate all tasks that don't require your specific attention to himself and get through them efficiently. He's systematic about it: first he ensures you have food to eat, after which he ensures that your living space is relaxing and comfortable by cleaning and organizing things according to your own preferences (yes he remembers). Your laundry is also taken care of alongside his. The cups, the dishes in the sink and those distributed throughout the house as well will be collected and washed.
Depending on how long your shower is he'll have everything done or at the very least the food and initial sweep of the area. He makes sure to have food with you, so you feel less alone. He will do those dishes too.
You're not having any coffee. Any tea he gives you is herbal. Bibi* used to say chamomile was good for sleep, maybe it'll help you relax. (Bibi is what Iraqis call their grandmothers, and given he's named after an Iraqi physicist).
With Al-Haitham he can also assist with your research and your paper, so he does help with providing sources and information for your paper. In fact you can rant to him and like the scribe he is, he'll take notes, and provide advice.
Will hug you if you ask. Will be your body double to help you get through things. He might even sacrifice some sleep to be by your side for a little longer if you're working late, but not too long, he'll eventually turn in, and encourage you to turn in too.
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Please feel free to leave me a comment or feedback. I may actually turn this into a fic if I get the time!
#alhaitham#genshin alhaitham#alhaitham x you#alhaitham x reader#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin impact#genshin x y/n#genshin imagines#genshin impact fanfics#hsr jing yuan x you#hsr jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#jing yuan x reader#hsr x you#hsr x reader
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yk what im thinking? the fentons are 100% crazy enough to be Waynes. so what if they were? Jack could be Thomas Waynes' great-grandfather's brother who lived at Wayne Manor with his wife and kids. and they still open the portal with danny in it, so hes still a halfa. but either Jack and Maddie find out and they stick him in a stasis tube to try and fix him (what if they were also the people who figured out how to make the court of owls dead guys????) or Danny got stuck in the portal when he went inside and it doesnt open until the bats find it.
when the bats find him im thinking either they know (as well as danny) that hes half dead (the stasis tube) or they dont (stuck in the portal) and they find out all the fun stuff together. but, if they know hes dead already and so did danny there could be more creepy ghost shenanigans that could happen before they found the laboratory. which is v important
#dp x dc prompt#fic prompt#danny phantom#batman#my writing#? ig#i have been trying to make art for this au for a while now#not working out#but omg ive been thinking abt it alot#also thinking vlad could be a vampire in this au that kinda hides away once the 'fentons' die#but he finds out that the waynes newest kid looks alot like danny#well hes back to his old home wecking weird ways#thinking it would also b neat if bruces perents haunted the wayne mannor too#and danny just casually picks up conversation with them#and bruce finds out or comes across it and is just like ...#wut#huh#h uh?#also that the fenton labritorys secret entrance is in the kitchen#so the food cooked in that kitchen has made a few people sick because of the ectoplasm posioning#and that danny haunted the manor before he was found too but he wasnt quite aware what he was doing and doesnt remeber much from doing it#but bruce remebers seeing a teenager sometimes when he was a kid before he died#and dannys room was boarded up after he 'died'#how the bats find him is when jason starts coming around the manor more it makes danny more aware so he starts doing creeping ghost shit#to try and get someone to find him in under the kitchen#the reason jason triggers him like this is cuz its another 'ghost' or lazarus water/ectoplasm type thing in his haunt#so it freaks him out#or the ectoplasm makes him more aware?
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i read a fic recently with rookie sid and 2010 geno and i’ve been thinking of that a lot so… for your prompt maybe baby sid being enamored by an older geno? nsfw or pg is up to you :P merry christmas to you too btw!!
ok so once upon a time i wrote this fic which is pretty much exactly that premise! and i really loved writing it and it's still one of my personal favorites of mine, so i'm going to take your prompt and use it as an excuse to write a wee little follow-up, from sid's point of view...no smut or anything in this one, just a cranky 22 year old with a massive (reciprocated) crush on his captain. you'll have to read the first one for this to make sense!
Sid thought it would get easier when his dad retired.
Well, really, he expected that after a couple of months he wouldn't feel so desperate for Geno all the time. Not that he wouldn't still want him, of course not, Geno was the defining catalyst of Sid's sexual awakening and the star of 90% of his fantasies from adolescence onwards, but Sid thought that maybe after the first few times, when Geno didn't get sick of him or tell him they needed to stop, he'd be able to be a little more mature about the whole thing.
As it happens, though, he spent the rest of his rookie year in single-minded pursuit of two things: 100 points, and Geno's dick.
It's a good thing he had his dad's example to make sure he stayed focused on his game. If his work ethic and internal motivation weren't already firmly ingrained, Sid might have let his head be turned so far by getting what he wanted after so much time that he let his game slip.
Geno probably wouldn't have let that happen, though. He takes hockey more seriously than Sid does, even, and for as much time as they spent sneaking around to be together, Sid thinks they probably doubled that in extra ice time after practice, practicing one-timers and head-fakes and set plays to try out on the man advantage.
Sid's dad was always there too, is the thing. Sid lives at home still, his mom won't let him buy his own place until he signs his first real contract and isn't blowing an entire season's worth of income on a house, and Sid very quickly ran out of reasons to get his dad to head home early and let Geno drive him back. It made the time with Geno he managed to steal all the better.
Sid, maybe stupidly, thought that once his rookie year was over, when his dad officially retired and wasn't on the team anymore, he'd have a little more separation from his parents at the rink.
His dad barely stayed retired two months before his mom practically pushed him out the door directly into the goalie development role the Penguins offered him, though, and Sid's sophomore season starts the same way his rookie year did—sitting in the passenger seat of his Dad's truck, glaring out the window on the way to practice.
He must be making quite a face, because Geno's already there and half-changed into his gear when Sid walks into the locker room, and when he sees Sid's expression he does that thing with his jaw where he's trying not to laugh out loud.
Sid only scowls harder. Even Geno in his hockey pants and nothing else isn't enough to cheer him up.
It ends up turning out okay, though. Sid's mom stops asking so many questions about where he's going at night when his dad isn't around to give her the exact run-down of official team activities. Sid isn't sharing a hotel room on roadies anymore, so if he sneaks out after curfew and tiptoes down the hall to Geno's room, there's nobody to tattle, and no chance that he'll run into his dad out looking for the ice machine. And his dad gets so wrapped up in working with the goalies that they never finish practice at the same time, so if Sid makes some vague excuse about reviewing tape with the power play unit and he'll catch a ride, his dad waves him off without protest.
His schedule opens up, just like that. And Geno's more than happy to fill his time, tumbling Sid into bed and blowing his mind at every available opportunity. Their first California road trip, the one with built-in off-days for recreation, had been a revelation—after figuring out that yes, Geno really can eat someone out until they cry, Sid spent their beach day so distracted he was forced out of the volleyball game for bringing his team down.
There's a contract waiting for him on July 1, Sid knows. Pat hasn't sent him the details yet, but Sid knows it's good, something that will set him up for life pretty much, with signing bonuses to protect his earnings in case of another lockout and full trade protection as soon as he's eligible.
He's already talked to the realtor most of the guys use. She'd offered a few options in Cranberry, close to the practice facilities and where he grew up, but Sid told her he wants to get a little distance from his folks, somewhere he can set up his own house and not have his mom tempted to walk down the block and redecorate every other week.
And if the neighborhood he told her to focus on is Geno's, well, Sid's favorite breakfast place is there too, and he's always liked older parts of the city, with big trees and historic homes.
The fact that he could be within a ten-minute drive of Geno's house is just an extra perk.
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It Would've Been Sweet...
...if it could've been me.
summary: there was no good reason for you to be in TD Garden during a Game 7 Stanley Cup Final Game. especially when the only connection you had to the sport was your ex-boyfriend Joel Edmundson, who you had left in St. Louis six months ago. but here you were. what were you doing here? a/n: hello friends! if you've been here since the inception of this blog, you might recognize this story. however, I no longer write for the original player that starred in this fic. but I am very proud of this fic plus, I think this was the start of my trademark bittersweet endings, so i couldn't just let it disappear. so, here is another rewrite now starring my favorite crop top king who i miss terribly. song inspo: The 1 by Taylor Swift word count: 8.8k warnings: time jumps [past is in italics], argument scene, language, angst with a bittersweet ending
What were you doing here?
That was the question running on loop through your mind as your eyes stay glued to the ice a few dozen feet below. There was absolutely no reason for you to step foot in this arena. There was no good reason why you shouldn’t be in your studio apartment on Newbury Street right now, curled up under your blankets, watching re-runs of bad reality TV.
When you received a text earlier that day from an old friend, asking if you had any plans, you knew what she was going to propose. You had seen the news. You had felt the energy go up in this east coast sports city. And you knew why your friend – a friend who you hadn’t seen since you moved 1,200 miles across the country – was in the city you now called home and had asked you to join her at this place on this night of all nights.
You knew all of this and could list all the reasons why you shouldn’t have responded; why you should’ve ghosted her like you had everyone else you left in St. Louis. But despite all that, you texted her back.
That was how you found yourself sitting in a clubhouse suite in TD Garden, trying desperately to only focus on the black and yellow jerseys of the Boston Bruins zipping around the ice.
Trying not to look over at the other end of the rink. Trying not to look at the white jerseys with blue and gold detailing. Trying not to scan the sea of players for the one person you should’ve forgotten by now.
Trying not to have your eyes land on the number six emblazoned on your ex-boyfriend’s back.
What were you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.
But we were something, don’t you think so?
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The unfamiliar voice sounding from behind you tears you out of the peace you were taking in the quiet kitchen, causing you to spin around. You were ready to tell whoever it was off, ready to confront the person who was so bold as to say where you did and did not belong. However, the face that greets you, the owner of the voice, is not what you expected.
His head of chestnut brown curls was messy, his stunning hazel eyes sparkling as they rake up and down your body and his lips, surrounded by a light scruff, were twisted up into a small smirk. He was cute. Like, really cute. It also didn’t hurt that he was clad in swim trunks and a t-shirt that was cut short, exposing his muscular midriff.
You tighten your hand around the beer bottle you were holding as you lean back against counter, your face shifting from annoyance to mirror his casual bright expression.
“And why is that?” you ask, taking a small sip.
“Because,” this stranger starts, “this is Dunner’s party. And the Dunner I know would have never invited someone so gorgeous to his house and without hanging over her shoulder the entire time.”
You let out a light laugh, the compliment not escaping your notice.
“Oh really? How do you even know I was invited by Vince? Maybe I snuck into my neighbor’s house in the hopes of meeting a hot single man. Maybe this is the first step in my evil plan to make a professional hockey player to fall madly in love with me.”
“And how is that working out for you?”
“You tell me.”
The man in front of you lets out a big laugh, causing a genuine smile to grace your face. You liked the sound of it, the sight of his head being thrown back, his smile so bright it almost blinded you. He looked back at you, the grin still on his lips.
You hold out your hand to him, giving this stranger your name as an introduction and hoping he sees your somewhat formal greeting as an awkward indication of your interest. He gladly takes your hand in his, shaking it gently as he gives you his name in return.
“Joel.”
You two stand there for a moment longer, simply looking at each other and you are trying not to focus on the warmth of his palm and the energy that seems to be flowing between you.
“So, why are you here?” he asks, dropping his hand from yours and you try not to let your face fall in disappointment at the loss of his touch.
“My friend invited me,” you say, gesturing towards the crowd of people in backyard. “What you said earlier – that Vince would be draped over some gorgeous girl – you are right about that. It’s just that my friend Daphne is who Vince is attached to.”
Joel hums and softly nods hid head in understanding. He walks a few steps until he is resting his body against the counter right next to you, his arm slightly brushing the bare skin of your own.
“Okay, so that’s the reason why you’re at this party. But, why are you here?” he asks, lightly gesturing around the empty room before glancing over to you. You sigh, looking out the large glass windows facing the backyard, watching the rest of the party mingle on the grass or splash in the pool, their laughter dancing on the late summer breeze. And here you were, hiding in the kitchen.
“I thought it would be fun. Not sure if I was right,” you explain, your hands going to fiddle with the loose corner of the beer label. “But Daphne is always trying to get me to go out with her.”
“Why don’t you?”
“It just really isn’t my scene. I did the whole party life thing in college and now, it’s just kind of lost its appeal.”
Joel lets out another hum, his eyes focused on you. He glances back at his teammates, acting loud and rambunctious as always. It was a lot to take in, he realized, especially if you weren’t exposed to it for over half the year like he was. He looks back at you, your fingers still fidgeting with the damp paper, your eyes far away.
You were beautiful. The thought was in Joel’s head before he could even process what it meant. And he knew instantly that he didn’t want to see you worried, that he wanted to see you smile again.
“So, you aren’t trying to get an attractive, wealthy hockey player to fall in love with you?”
You let out a laugh, your eyes connecting with his once again. The sparkle in his irises tells you he is joking with you, trying to make you feel comfortable. But there is also another emotion behind it. You can see it trying to swim to the surface, a desire that hadn’t been directed your way in a long time.
“Well, never say never,” you quip back. “Do you happen to know someone who would be willing to be infatuated with me?”
Joel tilts his head back, his hand going to stroke the facial hair on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.
“There is this one guy…” he starts, trailing off to catch your reaction. You turn towards him, the playful smile still on your face.
“He plays on the same team as Dunner. He’s also defenseman as well, number 6. A decent hockey player. Funny, chill, and pretty good-looking, if I do say so myself.”
You hum in thought, your fingers tapping a small rhythm against the top of the marble island before nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.
“He seems promising. Do you think he would like me?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Joel replies almost instantaneously, causing a small giggle to fall from your lips.
“Well then, point me in his direction!” you declare, catching Joel smiling at you out of the corner of your eye. “The next step would be to trip dramatically and fall into the pool, which will cause him to dive in after me to save my life. That is where our romance will begin!” you continue, throwing out your hands for additional affect.
“Or…” he says, gently grabbing your hand out of the air, his thumb brushing against the soft skin. “I could just give you his phone number. It might save you some time. And bodily harm.”
You smile, jolts of electricity racing through you from his touch.
“I suppose that works too.”
In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time.
“Hey, are you alright?”
You hear Daphne’s voice next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the ice. She is staring at you, a hint of genuine concern in her eyes. The light-washed blue denim of her jacket stands out in the sea of black and gold and you spy the number 29 proudly displayed on her shoulder. Somehow, the sight of it makes you feel self-conscious that you’re only wearing an oversized grey sweater with a small Blues logo over the left breast. But then again, what else should you be wearing?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head, trying to erase the fantasy of you wearing a customized jacket out of your brain. “It just feels a little weird to be here, that’s all.”
Daphne turns to look around the box, all the other Better Halves excitedly talking and mingling. A few had come over to greet you, almost to welcome you back into the chosen sisterhood that developed between you all. But they knew it was only for one night.
Anyone could see how messed up this situation was; you coming to the biggest game of your ex-boyfriends’ career, hanging out with the ladies that you had grown close to in those six months you and Joel were together. Willingly placing yourself into this moment, as if nothing happened.
As if there was no break-up, as if you didn’t move halfway across the country and ghost all of them just to avoid anything that would remind you of his smile, his hazel eyes, his contagious laughter.
Daphne sighs as she returns her gaze to you, your chin resting in your upturned palm, your eyes now focused on the giant screen hanging above the ice.
“You didn’t have to come, you know. Not that I don’t want you here,” she quickly backtracks. “I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you. We all missed you, trust me. But, you know, if it gets to be too much, you don’t have to stay. Everyone would understand.”
“Why would I turn down the opportunity to see a Stanley Cup Final game? Especially a Game 7.”
Daphne looks at you, a disapproving glint in her eyes. She knows that you’re trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke, and ignore the real reason you said yes. She knows exactly what made you agree to come meet her after months, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself. And it sure as hell wasn’t a free ticket.
She turns away from you, her eyes following your gaze to the now pristine and empty rink. The lights dim and the roar from the hometown crowd goes up. But the sound and the energy buzzing through the stadium wasn’t enough to stop you from hearing Daphne’s last spoken words.
“He would be happy to know you’re here.”
You look down at the ice as the players step out, now allowing yourself to find the one person that you refused to acknowledge since you stepped foot in the arena.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
And if you wanted me, you really should’ve shown.
He was late. Again.
You sigh, as you continue to pace around your kitchen, your heels clicking gently on the tile floor. It had been almost two hours since Joel was supposed to pick you up for a date. But instead of sitting in an upscale restaurant, drinking good wine and eating decadent meals, you were left waiting in your best dress, watching the hands on the clock circle.
Although, you weren’t sure why you were still waiting.
The reservations you two had were definitely cancelled by now and at this point in the night, it was too late to even think about doing anything other than lying in your bed, watching whatever was airing on The Game Show Network until you fell asleep.
But you stayed, hoping that your boyfriend would walk through the door. Because you were pissed. You wanted to make him feel guilty for leaving you stranded like this. It wasn’t healthy – you knew that – but you weren’t sure what else to do. Lately, it seemed like Joel was more interested in… well, anything that wasn’t you.
When you two first started dating, it was like something out of a cheesy rom-com. He was attentive and caring and you had honestly never felt more loved. But before you knew it, the fire between you two started to dwindle.
In the back of your mind, you knew it was coming. Everyone talked about the honeymoon phase and its inevitable end. You just weren’t prepared for it to end when it did.
It also didn’t help that that conclusion of that lavender haze just happened to coincide with the St. Louis Blues’ worst losing streak, landing them in last place, not just in the division or the conference, but within the entire league. And the playoffs were just over the horizon.
Glancing back at the clock, you sigh. You are ready to give up, call it quits and change back into your comfy old sweatpants when you hear the doorknob turn. Your boyfriend’s laughter echoes around your apartment, the voices of Colton and Robert also filling the quiet evening.
You exit the kitchen and walk into the living room, your eyes landing on Joel, his arms slung over Colton and Robert Bortuzzo’s shoulders respectively. He doesn’t notice you at first, his eyes focused down as he attempts to kick off his shoes. You cross your arms and clear your throat and it is that noise that brings his attention up to you.
“Babe!” he shouts, his face flushed and eyes hazy.
“Hey,” Colton greets you as he supports his teammate’s weight. “Sorry, he got drunk tonight. We tried to take him home but he insisted we bring him here.”
You let out a small hum, the anger boiling in your stomach as you take in Joel’s inebriated state. Instead of moving toward him, fawning over him or laughing at him like you normally would, your feet stay glued to the floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you see both Colton and Robert look you up and down, taking in your dress and heels. The tense atmosphere is palpable and not even Joel’s incoherent babbling can stop them from realizing that the drunken man between them had royally fucked up.
You let out a heavy sigh, gritting your teeth, your body sinking in defeat. This was not the situation that you had planned for the night and you had half a mind to throw him out. However, you were never the one to cause a scene and you weren’t about to get into it with Joel when he probably couldn’t even walk straight, let alone think straight.
“You can take him to the guest bedroom,” you say. “Down the hall to the left.”
You can almost feel the relief that came off in waves from Robert and Colton as they started to half walk, half drag Joel down the hall, you following close behind. Joel didn’t seem to understand anything happening around him until they guided him towards the guest bedroom and away from yours.
“Wait, where are we going?” he mumbled, trying to move his body back in the direction of your bedroom. “This isn’t the way to bed, guys. And I should know. I’ve been there a bunch of times.”
You fight back the urge to scream at Joel’s not-so-subtle innuendo, already feeling embarrassed about the situation he had put you in. Instead, you help shove him onto the mattress of the guest bed, watching as your boyfriend flounders against the covers. Joel tries to lift himself up but both Robert and Colton push him back. His eyes dart from his friends over to you, those hazel irises wide as he looks up at you like a neglected puppy dog. It takes all your effort to keep your icy demeanor.
“Babe, why can’t I sleep in your bed?”
“I don’t want you puking all over my sheets,” you say cooly, even though everyone else in the room knew the real reason why he was being banished to the guest bedroom. Joel doesn’t notice your coldness and instead shoots a goofy grin in your direction, his head hitting the pillow, curls flying wildly as he mumbles that he promises not to. You roll your eyes, having heard enough of his so-called promises in the past few weeks.
Robert clears his throat and you turn to him and Colton, awkwardly standing in the room next to you. You sigh, walking away from Joel and leading them out into the hallway and back to your front door.
“Thanks for getting him here safe boys,” you say, holding the door open for them as they walk over the threshold and out into the hallway.
“Of course,” Colton says, shooting you a sympathetic smile. You start to close the door but just before it shuts completely, you hear the small chirp that leaves Robert’s lips.
“Not sure how safe he’s going to be in there.”
You fasten the lock on your front door before you let your head fall forward, gently hitting your forehead against the wood, the anger still radiating from your tense body. Bortz doesn’t know how right he is. To say you are livid is the understatement of the year. You want nothing more than to tear Joel a new one but you know that doing that now would be pointless.
So instead, you take a few deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth. Then you turn back into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with cold water from the Brita filter in your fridge. After grabbing the small case of Tylenol from your purse, you wander back to the guest bedroom.
Joel is curled up on the bed, still completely dressed except for the shoes that he managed to remove at your front door. You hate the way your heart softens as you take in his sleeping face, his lips slightly parted and his curls wild against the pillowcase. Moving over to the nightstand, you place the glass of water and aspirin down and move to leave when Joel reaches out and manages to grab your hand. You look down at him, his eyes now half opened and his thumb gently caressing the skin on your wrist.
“Come to bed,” he mumbles, slightly tugging you towards him. You gently remove your hand from his grasp and take a few steps back from him.
“Not tonight.”
You reach the threshold of the room, ready to leave when you hear Joel’s voice call your name and you turn your body, your eyes connecting with his.
“You look really pretty,” he murmurs.
Normally, a smile would tug at the corner of your lips in response to his compliment. But your face stays frozen in its apathy as you watch Joel’s eyes close once more. You are silent as you push yourself out the door and walk into the peace of your own bedroom. It isn’t until you are curled under the covers, your dress exchanged for pajamas and your face scrubbed free of makeup, do the tears finally start to fall.
In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone.
Everything about this situation was stressing you out.
The hockey fan in you was stressed because you had just sat through 20 excruciating minutes of the Blues getting almost no time in the offensive zone and you practically screamed every time Jordan was forced to make a save.
The other part of you was stressed because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to be this worried about the boys.
It was still true that you cared about the team and wanted nothing more than for them to win this. You wanted to hug Devon and Dayna when Jay scored a goal that deflected off Ryan’s stick, getting the Blues on the board first. You wanted to scream and jump with Jayne when Alex scored in the last 10 seconds of the first period. And you definitely felt the thrum of pride run through you when Joel laid down in front of a shot by Sean Kuraly, potentially preventing a Bruins goal.
But it felt almost wrong to care this much.
The only reason you got into hockey was because of Joel. You learned the game for him, cheered for him, celebrated every win and mourned every loss. With him. And now, you were no longer his.
It wasn’t right for you to act like you were still a member of this group. Because you would just be lying to yourself. And it would just make it that much harder to leave.
You couldn’t let yourself fall into that comfortable complacency, pretending that everything was alright. That everything was different.
You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.
You woke up, your heart heavy and your eyes puffy. It took a moment to shake off the groggy haze that hung over you, to remember the reason why your heart felt like it had gone five rounds in a boxing ring, but eventually, the events of last night came flooding back to you.
The sound of the clock ticking on the wall. Your feet aching in your heels. Joel’s slurred words. The way his hand felt intwined in yours. Your tears falling onto the pillowcase.
You didn’t want to face him but he was in your apartment, sleeping a few doors down from you. There wasn’t no way to avoid the inevitable confrontation. With a huff of breath, you raise yourself from your bed, the sheets falling from your body, your bare feet connect with the cold hardwood floor.
You quietly open the door and walk down the hall, ignoring the urge to walk into the guest bedroom and check on Joel. Instead, you pad into your kitchen and start to make your morning cup of coffee. It is when you are standing in front of the machine watching your mug fill, do you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.
“Mornin’” you hear Joel mumble into your shoulder as his lips press against your bare skin. Every fiber of your body wants to melt into his embrace but you resist, choosing instead to shrug yourself out of his grasp. You take your mug from the machine and walk over to one of the stools at the end of your island, sitting down so your body faces him. You take a small sip, still not acknowledging Joel standing stunned in the place you left him.
“Babe?” His questioning voice causes you to look up and you can feel a flare of anger appear at the sight of his confused expression painted on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”
His ignorant question is the breaking point and you practically slam your mug onto the cold marble in front of you, some of the hot liquid sloshing over the side. Your eyes connect with his as the vindictive rage you had been holding in for almost twelve hours finally starts to pour out of you.
“Do you really have to ask that Joel?” you spit out, not even attempting to hide the pure venom in your voice. “Let’s start with the fact that last night, I spent almost two hours waiting for you in this goddamn kitchen. Do you remember why? It was because we had a date. You were supposed to pick me up and we were supposed to go out to that cute little bistro by the river.”
You see his eyes widen as he takes in the information, remembering the plans that the two of you had. His reaction makes your wrath feel righteous. Joel’s mouth opens as if to say something, perhaps an apology, but you cut him off before he can even utter a sound.
“And then, the moment I was about to call it quits, to give up and go to bed and call you in the morning, after trying to call you multiple times that night, what happens? You come stumbling into my house, practically being carried by Parayko and Bortuzzo. So, instead of spending a beautiful night with your girlfriend, you decided to what? Get drunk with your friends? And then insist that they bring you here so I can take care of you?”
“Babe I’m so sorry, I –” Joel starts to say but you stop him.
“I’m not your maid, or you mother, or your fucking side-chick, Joel. I’m your girlfriend. I am not some shiny thing that you can play with when you get bored and then toss to the side when something new catches your interest.”
You see his eyes darken at your words and Joel takes two long strides over to where you were sitting.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he grits out, now towering over you. In any other situation, you might shrink and back down, always the mediator. But this time, you are just too livid to care.
“What it means is if you want me, you need to start giving a shit about me. That means keeping your promises and showing up when I fucking ask you to.”
“I’m sorry, alright. Is that what you want to hear?” he says, his voice raising in frustration.
“I want to hear why you chose getting shit-faced with your friends over picking me up for the date we had planned for weeks.”
“Jesus, it slipped my mind. We were just hanging out and Bortz suggested we drink and it just got out of hand. We were all stressed about the team and it just seemed like the best thing to do. You understand that we are in last place!? If we don’t start winning games, we can kiss any chance of the playoffs goodbye. Part of my fucking job is to try and fix that, but I can’t do that when you are demanding all of my attention.”
Your mouth drops open, a scoff leaving your lips as your brain registers Joel’s accusation.
“Excuse me? I’m demanding all of your attention? I’m not the one who showed up drunk on the doorstep, begging to be coddled like a child.”
“Oh, get over it. I showed up, didn’t I? I remembered you. You know how many girls I could get, how many are lurking in my DM’s waiting for their chance. You’re lucky that even though I was drunk, I didn’t run to one of them. Although, maybe I should’ve. They would’ve taken care of me and they definitely wouldn’t be busting my balls right now.”
His words take you aback, cutting through you down to your core and you can feel the sting of tears in the corner of your eyes. Joel knew all your insecurities and here he was, using that knowledge to hurt you deeper than anyone else could.
“Get. The fuck. Out of my house,” you grit out, your chest heaving as you try to control your breathing. Your voice is quiet but hard as you stare down the man in front of you. Although you will for it not to happen, a tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek and you see Joel’s eye dart to it, the color draining from his face as he realizes what he’s said.
“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he babbles, dropping to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands. You rip them away from his grasp and let the floodgates open. The tears flow freely now and the hurt that had settled in your sternum tickles up your throat.
“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t you dare imply that the girls in your DM’s care more about you than I do. They’re not the ones who make your pre-game meals and drive you to practice and let you rant about anything: trade rumors or ice times or bullshit calls. They don’t give a fuck about you, Joel. All they care about is your looks and the price tag attached to your name. But fine. If you want someone who’s only good for a night, someone who’s not going to tie you down and hold you accountable and challenge you while still caring about you and loving you… then we’re done. Now there’s nothing stopping you from getting what you want.”
You lift yourself off the stool and walk back towards your bedroom, leaving Joel kneeling on the floor. The door latches behind you and you wait. For what, you aren’t entirely sure. It’s only after you hear the echoing of the front door shutting, do your knees give out and you drop to the ground, your sobs racking through your now empty apartment.
That is where you stay until you have no tears left, your energy completely drained. You are sure your heart has broken into a million little pieces and if someone were to cut you open, the crimson flood would pulse out, staining everything around you. But the worst part would be that it would beat out to the rhythm of one phrase, the one phrase that you had never said to anyone else;
I love you. I love you. I love you.
And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.
You couldn’t do this.
Somehow you managed to sit through another period and every time Joel stepped out onto the ice, your eyes were glued to him. You watched as he continued to play his game, dumping pucks into the offensive zone, blocking shots, helping puck movement, setting up multiple opportunities for his teammates to score.
When you watched him on the ice, you understood why you fell for him. He was kind and unselfish. He wanted to help the team even if it didn’t mean any glory for him. That was the type of person he was.
And when the buzzer sounded signaling the end of the second period, you felt your heart reaching out to him as he exited down the tunnel towards the locker room.
You couldn’t do this.
You jump from your seat and push your way past the other Better Halves, out of the suite. It takes a while for you to find a semi-secluded staircase in the winding corridors of the club level but when you do, you sink onto the carpeted stairs, ready to hide for the rest of the game in your makeshift oasis. Your head falls into your upturned palms as you try to calm your breathing. You are so caught up your emotions that you don’t notice a body crouch down in front of you.
The soft call of your name bounces off the walls and you look up to lock eyes with Jayne Pietrangelo, a sympathetic expression painted on her face.
“I’m fine,” you say, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.
“Bullshit.”
The quiet conviction in her voice startles you at first but her steady gaze causes your walls to crumble. Before you can even blink, she has you wrapped in a hug, squeezing you tight as if she could make everything better by just holding you. You aren’t ashamed to say that is almost worked.
Jayne was one of the first people to welcome you into the group and you were pretty sure she thought that you and Joel were end game before that idea even crossed your mind. She became like a big sister to you and when you ended things with Joel, she was one of the few calls you picked up in the days after.
She lets you push your face into the denim jacket she was wearing as she gently strokes your hair. After you manage to compose yourself, she pulls back from you, forcing you to lock eyes with her.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she softly demands and you almost let out a laugh at her demeanor. Alex’s captain tendencies must have rubbed off on her because here she was, ready to coach you through anything.
“I just can’t do this,” you sigh out, your head shaking as your eyes dart to the ceiling.
“Can’t do what?”
“Be here. Watch him. I don’t belong here anymore.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
All Jayne does is let out a small hum as she comes to sit next to you. You two stay there in quiet contemplation, your mind racing a mile a minute as you wait for her to say something, anything that will make you feel better.
“I’m not going to stop you from leaving, if that’s what you want to do,” Jayne says, her eyes sliding over to connect with yours. “But I think you are ignoring the real question. Instead of asking yourself if you’re allowed to be here or if you even want to be here, you need to understand why you’re here. Why did you decide to come to a place where you knew you were going to re-live some painful memories? You knew what you were walking into and yet you still came.”
She turns to you, her hands reaching out to grip yours as she stares at you, her eyes cutting you open and laying out your soul like the pages of an old book.
“So, tell me. Why are you here?”
Her question rattles around your brain as you search for the answer. The lies are easy to think of, ready to fall from your lips: it’s a Stanley Cup Final game, you didn’t have anything else to do, Daphne asked you to come, you wanted to see all the girls again.
But you knew the real reason you said yes; the real reason you found an old oversized Blues sweatshirt in the back of your closet that still smelled faintly of cologne, the real reason you walked to TD Garden after spending months trying to forget about anything that reminded you of St. Louis. And he was sitting in a locker room a few dozen feet below you, with only 20 minutes left in a game that most players dreamed about, hoping that he would be able to hoist the greatest trophy in sports.
“I wanted to be here for him. Win or lose,” you say, the words still a little unsteady after being locked in your heart for six months. You take a deep breath and let yourself continue, allowing the confession you had been denying every time it appeared in your head fall from your lips.
“Because I love him. I still love him.”
Jayne says nothing for a few moments, letting your words hang in the air before she shoots you a gentle smile.
“That’s enough of a reason for you to stay.”
She gets up, holding out her hand to you. Looking up at her, you allow yourself to smile, the first genuine grin flooding your face. You take her hand and let her lift you off the staircase and lead you back to the suite where the rest of your friends were waiting.
And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.
You were a wreck since your fight with Joel. He had tried to call you multiple times but you let it go to voicemail every time. And as the days passed, the calls became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether.
A week later, you came home to find a small box sitting on your doorstep. Inside was all the things you had left at Joel’s place with a small note sitting on the top.
“I’m sorry.”
You had never cried more in your life than you did that evening.
After laying in your bed for hours on end, binge eating chocolate, and binge watching the same three TV shows, you finally decided it was time to stop wallowing in your sadness and try to move on. The next day, you cleared out everything in your house that reminded you of Joel and let yourself get lost in the effort of forgetting him.
It wasn’t easy.
You still sometimes woke up before the sun, your body telling you it was time to get Joel to practice. When you had a bad day, you found yourself making his favorite meal, as if his sadness had melded with yours. Whenever you turned on the news, you always managed to catch it in time to hear the sports section. You found yourself listening to how the Blues were winning again, pulling themselves out of last place and continually pushing themselves towards the playoffs. You resisted the urge to dial Joel’s number, still stored in your phone, and congratulate him after every win or console him after a loss.
As a distraction, you threw yourself into your work, getting tasks done at a breakneck speed and being more productive than you had ever been. You managed to have the best work quarter of your life and your reviews were through the roof. Although, you didn’t really take note of it because you weren’t trying to impress your boss or the company. You were simply trying to stop your mind from focusing on something else, like the feeling of freshly washed curls between your fingers and a smile that outshined the stars.
So, the day your boss called you into her office, the last thing you were expecting her was a promotion. And you certainly weren’t expecting to pack your things and move to Boston after accepting said promotion.
But part of you was relieved to be leaving. It would be much easier to forget about Joel in a city where most people didn’t even know his name. When you landed in Boston, you thought that this would be the place where everything you left behind would fade away.
And you were right. At least, for a few months.
You made new friends and went out to bars and brunches. You continued to work your ass off at your job, now working to prove yourself instead of just working to forget. You didn’t realize that Joel hadn’t even crossed your mind for a long time.
Then one night, when you were out dancing with friends, a handsome stranger pulled you into his lips. And it felt good. You felt free for the first time in a while, believing that your heart was finally mending after everything it had been through.
But that night, after you went home alone and crashed into your bed with your head pounding from the alcohol in your veins, you dreamt of Joel. Of him holding you tight and hearing his heartbeat pound in his chest.
You woke up the next day with the most exquisite ache in your chest and a desperate desire to be wrapped up in his arms once more. Then, when you were walking home from the grocery store that same day, you thought you saw him standing on the corner.
It wasn’t him, of course. But just the mere possibility of seeing him again had you almost dropping your bags onto the sidewalk and rushing into the arms of a complete stranger who just so happened to look like your ex-boyfriend.
That was the moment you knew you were fucked.
Soon, you found yourself turning on the TV, watching hockey games for the first time in months. And when the Bruins won the East and the Blues won the West, you realized that your two worlds were colliding. The world with Joel and the world after him were crashing together and you would be caught up in the carnage. But you were ready for it.
So, when you received a text message from Daphne, who you hadn’t spoken to since you left St. Louis, you answered it. And when she mentioned that Yana couldn’t make the games as she had just given birth to Vladi and hers second son, your heart waited for her to ask the question you hoped to hear. And when she asked if you wanted to come to Game 7 with her, the tug in your heart had made the decision long before you got the words out.
If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?
That was how you found yourself standing in the suite with all the other St. Louis Better Halves, watching as the final minutes of the final period counted down.
After Jayne pulled you back to the seats, you decided to let yourself go. No more holding back your emotions, no more resisting the feelings that had been churning inside you since you stepped foot in the arena. Instead, you screamed with the rest of the girls when Brayden scored another goal to put the Blues up three to nothing. You held breath, squeezing Daphne’s hand as you all watched Vince lead a three-man breakaway, silently praying for something good to come from that opportunity. And you jumped and hugged the girls when Zach scored a fourth goal with less than five minutes left.
And now, you were on your feet, one hand clasped in Daphne’s and the other clasped in Jayne’s, your heart pounding as you watched the clock on the scoreboard in front of you drop to seconds as the final minute of play began.
You could see the bench, the boys on their feet and as every second ticked by, they grew closer and closer to victory. Your eyes looked for Joel, wanting to memorize every minute of his reaction when the final buzzer sounded. It took you a little while to locate him in the crowd but once you did, your eyes never strayed from his body.
He was bouncing with excitement, the anticipation buzzing through him. You could see him slowly realize that this was going to happen, that he was going to be a Stanley Cup champion and when Jaden shoots the puck towards the blue line and it sails past Krejci, onto the other side of the rink, you watched him leap over the bench, throwing his gloves and stick into the air as he rushed to the goal, slamming into the pile of his teammates, all cheering because they finally, finally achieved what they had been working their whole life towards.
You almost collapse under the pure excitement rushing though you, the screams of the other girls echoing around the box and they celebrated. They were hugging and cheering but you kept your eyes on the ice, watching as the boys embraced each other. You felt tears welling in your eyes and it wasn’t until Jayne pulled you into a hug did you tear your focus away from the sweaty mop of curls.
“They did it!” she screamed and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. You hugged her back and found yourself going around to the other girls, who celebrated with you like nothing had changed. Because nothing had changed. Just because you weren’t with Joel didn’t mean that these girls weren’t your friends. You had become a part of their lives and you were ready to celebrate with them for as long as they would have you. You hoped that would be a long time.
Daphne held you tight as the two of you jumped up and down, screaming incoherently at the fact that this did indeed happen. That Vince was a Stanley Cup Champion. That Joel was a Stanley Cup Champion. That the St. Louis Blues were Stanley Cup Champions.
All the girls turned their attention to the ice as the Conn Smythe trophy was presented and you swore that almost everyone jumped into Dayna’s arms when Ryan’s name was announced over the loudspeaker. It was a few moments until finally, the Stanley Cup was carried out onto the ice. You watched the boys, lined up, arms wrapped around each other as they took in the trophy that was finally theirs.
And when Alex skated forward and hoisted the Cup over his head, you cheered louder than you had in your entire life.
You watched as the Cup made its way down the lineup, passing between players, each one of them unable to contain their excitement and joy. Daphne pulled you close when Vince had his turn, lifting it above him and you could see the tears in her eyes as she watched the man she loved celebrate. And she held you next to her when Joel finally got his hands on the Cup.
The joy in your heart was indescribable as you watched him carry the 35-pound trophy, cheering and pressing kisses to the silver metal. It was exactly the moment you had wanted for him since you first started dating. It was what you dreamed about at every home game, his name and number proudly displayed on your back. It was what you had hoped for when you watched him on your television for the previous six games of the finals. And it was everything you had wished for ever since you walked into TD Garden almost two hours ago.
The girls were moving, picking up their things and heading out of the box, presumably to go down to the ice to congratulate their men on a hard-fought victory. A wave of doubt settled over you and you shifted your weight between your feet, unsure if you should, or were even allowed, to go down with them. It wasn’t until Daphne grabbed one hand and Jayne grabbed the other did you start to move.
You all make your way down the corridors, pushing past people and flashing your security passes. Your heart rate increases once you reach the end of the tunnel. The lights were still shining bright, causing the ice to blind you as you step onto the rink. The three of you carefully shuffle across the ice, the atmosphere still electric with the energy buzzing off the players and staff.
Jayne was the first to break away from your group, running towards Alex who was currently being interviewed. You see the reporter notice Jayne hurrying over and give Alex a nudge in her direction. His face instantly brightens the moment he sees her and he skates over, embracing her.
It wasn’t long before Vince spotted Daphne. As soon as his eyes land on her, he was rushing towards her and she dropped your hand to meet him halfway. You watch as he pulls her close to kiss her deeply, her hands tangling in his hair.
As happy as you were for all of them, both the players and your friends, their joy and intimacy left you feeling awkward as you stand alone in center ice. You weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to be doing, if anything. While the girls welcomed you with open arms, you weren’t that close to the other players or staff. Most of them hadn’t seen you since you ended things with Joel.
It was when you caught the eye of Colton Parayko did you really feel like a deer in headlights.
Colton’s eyes flicker behind you, looking for Joel, wondering if he had seen you. Glancing back at you, he stood there a moment longer, taking you in. Then, that familiar crooked smile broke out on his face and the breath you didn’t know you had been holding rushed out of you. You mirrored his grin, your body relaxing as he gave you a small wave. You laughed and returned his gesture before he skated away, going to celebrate with his family.
His quiet reassurance was all you needed to feel certain that you were meant to be here.
You slowly spin, finally taking in the joy surrounding you, letting it soak into your skin. You watch Vladi sit on the edge of the rink as he calls Yana, see Laila walking over to Colton and see him wrap her into a giant hug, look over towards Patty lifting his son Anthony onto his shoulders, still shouting and pumping his fists in the air.
You were so caught up in enjoying the moment that you didn’t notice a pair of eyes attach to your frame. It wasn’t until you completed your circle did your gaze fall on Joel, his gaze already locked on you.
A towel was slung around his neck, the Stanley Cup Championship hat perched on his head. And he was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You were sure you looked the same way.
You both stand there, a few feet away, simply drinking in the sight of seeing one another in person for the first time in months.
You feel your heart swell as you take him in, the joy still emulating from his body. Words couldn’t describe how happy you were for him. Even if he was no longer a part of your life, you were happy to see him succeed. You wanted him to know that.
Part of you would always love him, that much you were certain of. But part of you knew that maybe you two just weren’t meant to be. And for the first time, that thought didn’t send a jolt of pain straight to your chest. Instead, you felt the warm wave of acceptance wash over you.
You let a small smile dance onto your face, connecting your eyes with his and silently sending all the care and admiration you had for him across the ice. And when you looked into his hazel eyes, the ones that you missed waking up to every morning, you let only one thought reverberate within your mind:
I love you.
And when he smiled back, his eyes sparkling like they always did, you knew that he was thinking the same thing.
But it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.
You had never felt happier than you did in this moment. The sky was a perfect blue above you, the sun shining on your bare skin, its light refracting off the soft waves on the lake.
You lean back, your feet gently kick in the water off the end of the boat and your eyes close as you let the peaceful contentment soak into your bones. You feel a form settle behind you, a pair of arms coming to wrap around your waist and pull you close. Eyes opening, you glance back to see Joel, a light sun-kissed hue now dusting his nose and cheekbones. A soft smile makes its way onto your lips, causing him to grin back at you.
“Hey pretty lady.”
“Hi,” you softly whisper out.
“What are you doing back here?” he asks, pulling you even closer, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You lean your head against him, taking a deep breath.
“Nothing. Just relaxing.”
Joel just hums in reply, letting the silence return as your bodies press against each other, simply supporting the other’s weight and taking in the moment.
When Joel mentioned his captain’s idea of taking a couple of boats out to Lincoln Lake with the team and their better halves for some bonding and relaxing before the season started and the hectic schedule pushed everyone in different directions, you had to admit you were unsure whether you should go. You had only just started dating Joel. But as soon as you made it out onto the water, you found yourself laughing with the other girls, as if you had known each other forever.
“I’m happy you decided to come,” you hear Joel mumble. And when you glance back, you can see the pure love pouring from his hazel irises. You let yourself lift your head up towards him, connecting your lips to his. You can smell the sunscreen on his skin, taste the rosé on his lips. Your fingers tangle into his sun-bleached curls, and in that moment, you realized that you never wanted to let him go. You pull away from him, your lips still gently upturned as you bring your eyes back to his.
“Of course I came. Where else would I be?”
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The Christmas Party - Finale!
summary: the Christmas Party is finally here! … and you and Negan are not on good terms
tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Flirting, Kissing
word count: 7.1k
A/N: this is the final chapter! thank you to everyone who's read this and left comments!! For some reason, I always hesitated doing multi-chapter fics because I didn't think my writing was good enough to keep people captivated for more than one chapter but this has given me a serious confidence boost! and that's thank to all of you!
Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy!!!
Negan doesn’t know if you can be pussy whipped when you’re not getting any pussy, but damn that’s exactly how he feels with you.
He’s always been a fan of temporary pleasures, quick fixes for the emptiness that gnawed at him. He wasn’t interested in long term or relationship—at least, not in the way most people understood it. Love was something people with hope clung to.
And Negan? He had lost hope a long time ago.
He’s had women, plenty of them, but none of them have ever meant more to him than a night of fleeting connection. Negan never made a fool of himself ice skating for some pussy, nor has he ever wined and dined them.
And he would say he still hasn’t, mainly because that would mean referring to you as just another piece of pussy. And no matter how hypocritical it may be, he doesn’t like that.
He doesn’t know how you do it, how you can penetrate the walls he’s spent years putting up. You’ve never been impressed by his bravado or his flirting.
No, instead you’re the sweet type. You like the little moments, the playfulness, the cheeky texts neither of you should be sending during work hours.
Negan’s known it for a while now. He doesn’t want you like the others. He doesn’t want a night away or a quick fix. He wants the ice skating, the banter throughout the work day, the hot chocolates and dinner dates.
Fuck, all you’ve given him is a kiss and Negan’s smitten.
Waking up the morning after your sweet kiss, you’re the first thing that pops into Negan’s head. More specifically, it’s you in his truck, his leather jacket over your shoulders and eyes crinkling at the corners as you laugh at some dumbass joke he made.
He woke up alone, having gone home the night before and spent an hour on the phone to Mark Smith.
Negan couldn’t believe he actually sat on his couch and willingly listened to his colleague talk about some upcoming market by where he’s staying in Jamaica. Negan even asked Mark how his wife and kids were doing– voluntarily!!
He didn’t recognize himself anymore. The pain, while still there, isn’t as strong. Negan can’t find the strength to harness that resentment he had at the world and himself.
Because how could he hate himself when he’s had your sweet lips on his not even 24 hours earlier?
But his Thursday goes downhill from the get go. Negan has a pep in his step as he leaves his house, quickly locking the door behind him before heading for his truck. A part of him hopes the smell of your perfume will still be lingering in there.
Aaaand that’s the start of a very bad day. Negan never gets to his truck, instead stopping a few feet away when he sees someone else parked behind him.
His lips twist downward in a slight sneer. It’s the kind of look that says, “I don’t like you, and I’m not hiding it” without needing to say it aloud.
Sherry has her car parked directly behind Negan, purposefully blocking him in. She stands outside, her arms crossed as she tries to keep warm.
“Hi…” she says plainly, trying to ease into this.
When he speaks, it’s deliberate. His voice is dry, almost bored, but the weight of his words hangs heavy. "This is private property, ya can’t park there" Negan’s tone is laced with the kind of casual authority he’s so used to.
It’s not a request. It’s not even a command. It’s a fact, something he’s not even sure needs to be said, but he does anyway because she’s standing there like this is some kind of game.
Starting for his truck again, he only stops when she says his name.
Sherry huffs, rolling her eyes. Of course he won’t make this easy. “Negan,” her tone is firmer now “I want to cash in that I-owe-you. Now”.
His hand rests on the truck door but he doesn’t make a move to open it yet. Instead, he turns his body slightly, pivoting so he’s facing her fully now. Negan’s posture tightens, shoulders squared.
“And you think that means you show up to my home at…” he makes a point of bringing his wrist up to read his watch “seven forty five in the damn morning?”.
“I said whenever and wherever,” she shrugs “and I remembered where you lived, so…”.
Now it’s Negan who rolls his eyes. Because, yes, out of everything, he needs a reminder that he brought her home once upon a time ago.
Seeing his little cooperation is shrinking, Sherry cuts to the chase “You have a motorbike, right?”.
“Used to” he corrects her vaguely. Medical bills are a hell of a hit to the balls… and bank account.
“Ok, good,” opening the passenger door to her car, Sherry begins to walk back over to the driver's side “well, get in”.
Negan doesn’t move. “This is kidnapping” he states.
Sherry tries not to lose her patience, nibbling on her bottom lip so she doesn’t let out a string of curses. “No, it’s the favor you owe me,” she corrects “and it’s for Christmas, so c’mon”.
Despite every fiber in his being telling him not to, Negan takes a step closer. “Unless you’re gonna drop me off at the school, we’re gonna be late” be points out.
With the wave of her hand, Sherry dismisses him and gets in. “It’ll be fast” is all she says to assure him.
Glancing back to his truck one last time, Negan sighs before reluctantly getting into Sherry’s car.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
By the time Negan gets to work, he’s pissed off, late and hungry. You’d think as the head cook of the cafeteria, Sherry would’ve had some snacks hidden away in her car but nope, Negan had to starve.
Negan tries to stay positive. He reminds himself that once he knocked out a few more classes, he would have time to do something he’d been looking forward to—setting up the Christmas tree with you.
But as the day drags on and the hours tick by, his phone remains suspiciously quiet. He sent you a few texts, nothing crazy, just simple check-ins asking when you’d be free to hang out later.
A casual message, nothing too pushy. But now, after getting through some classes, it has been hours and there still isn’t a reply.
At first, he figures you’d just busy, maybe caught up in teaching or managing your unruly students. He knows you have a lot on your plate and he didn’t want to be that guy who expecta instant responses.
It’s fine. He’s patient. You’d get back to him when you have the chance.
But as lunch rolls around and there’s still nothing, he can’t shake the nagging feeling that something isn’t right. It’s subtle at first, just a flicker of unease, but it grows with every passing minute.
He finds himself glancing at his phone more often, tapping his fingers against the desk, trying to focus on his work but getting distracted.
Something is off.
Negan gives the little pumpkin statue on his desk a quick rub, as if the small gesture might bring him some kind of luck.
He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up. It’s not like he’s a clingy guy. But the silence between you two today? It’s not like you and it’s starting to eat at him.
First stop is the teacher’s lounge. Empty. He checks your classroom next— locked. No sign of you. Then, he heads to the sports hall, hoping you might be there, finishing something up. No luck.
Hell, he even hangs around the women’s toilets for a minute. It’s stupid, he knows, but he figures if you’re dealing with that time of the month, you might need a minute.
He leans against the wall, trying not to look too out of place, but when Sasha passes by with a raised brow, he realizes how ridiculous he looks.
“Shit,” he mutters, pushing away from the wall.
He’s not the clingy type. He knows that. But by the time lunch comes to an end, he’s sent you a decent amount of texts.
Negan: you ready for the tree?
Negan: it’s in the hall
Negan: u ok?
Negan: is this hide and seek? Where are you?
Negan: hellllllllooooooooooo? My messages are going through so I know you don’t have me blocked
More classes pass and Negan’s patience wears thinner with every passing minute. He yells at a group of rowdy students, his voice echoing through the sports hall as he orders them to watch out for the cheerfully decorated tables as they do their jumping jacks.
He checks his watch, the second hand ticking a little too loudly for his liking. It’s almost the end of the school day and Negan can feel the weight of his frustration pressing down on him.
He hasn’t heard a damn thing from you, not a single text, not even a “Hey, I’m busy.” Nothing.
And the silence? It’s driving him nuts.
By the time he’s checking the teacher’s lounge again, he’s about ready to give up… but then it happens. Just as he’s walking by Ms. Peletier’s classroom, the door clicks open.
You step out.
It’s like a moment of clarity hits him and for a second, all his frustration melts away. There you are— looking like you’re trying to escape something.
You’re not your usual self. There’s something different about you today, something… timid. You’re not holding eye contact, your shoulders are a little hunched like you’re trying to make yourself smaller.
“Holy fucking shit,” Negan says, his voice full of relief “I was about to send out a search party, where the fuck have you been, doll?”
He expects a smile, some kind of warmth in your eyes. But instead, you tense. For a heartbeat, your body locks up, like you didn’t expect to see him.
He watches, confused, as you quickly gather yourself. For a second, he thinks you might be walking toward him, like you’re about to talk, to explain yourself.
But then, just before he can take a step forward, you say it.
“Fuck off”.
Negan’s a man that likes to curse. He likes to throw in a few fucks, pricks, shit balls, whatever he feels in the moment.
But this is different.
The curse slices through the air, harsh and bitter. The venom in each syllable sticks in his chest like a jagged piece of glass.
Negan’s stomach drops. He watches you walk past him, not even sparing him a glance and strut down the corridor without breaking stride.
For a moment, he’s frozen. The anger, the confusion— it all hits him at once. He isn’t the kind of man who gets easily thrown off, but right now? Damn right he feels uneasy.
“Woah, sweetheart, what’s that for?” Negan calls after you, confusion and hurt twisting his words.
He takes a step forward, instinctively wanting to follow you but before he can move another inch, a voice calls his name.
“Negan.”
He turns, annoyed, ready to snap at whoever’s interrupting him but when he sees Carol standing in the doorway of her classroom, he stops dead.
“Let her go,” she says, her tone calm, but firm.
His brow furrows. What the hell is this?
“What?” He takes a few strides toward her, his voice rising.
Carol raises a hand, palm out, silencing him before he can continue. “Let her go,” she repeats, her expression unreadable “She’s not interested”.
Negan’s chest tightens. Her words hit him like a punch to the gut but it’s the way she says them so matter-of-fact that makes him freeze in place. He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come.
He looks at her, searching her face for some hint, some sign that this is a misunderstanding. But Carol doesn’t flinch. Instead, she just watches him, her eyes steady.
“She’s not interested,” she repeats, softer this time, but still unyielding.
The truth stings. It settles over him like a weight, heavy and suffocating. The realization that everything he thought he knew about what was happening between you two—what he thought was real—might have only been a quick flash in the pan.
Negan stands there for a moment. The hallway around him feels too quiet, too empty. His chest tightens again and he can’t tell if it’s from anger or hurt or pure disbelief.
He looks back down the hall, where you disappeared, then back at Carol. With a sharp exhale, Negan turns away, heading in the opposite direction without saying another word.
What else is there to say?
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
Friday feels like damnation, and not just because of the party. You purposely come in earlier than usual, not wanting to run into Negan as you set up the last remaining decorations for the gym. Even Joey isn’t in yet.
You can still feel the rush of anger, the way it surged through you when you saw them together, Negan and Sherry. You wouldn’t say you’re a jealous person but to see them arriving together, after everything?!
After Sherry warned you away from him, the dates that weren’t dates you went on with Negan… the kiss. You wonder if you didn’t move fast enough for him and if he went straight to Sherry’s after dropping you home that night.
You’re pissed—so fucking pissed—but more than that, you’re hurt. The way he acted around you was like you were something special. It was as if maybe, there was something more between you two, more than banter and attraction.
But now? Now it feels like a fucking joke. He’s out there, probably flirting with whoever is next on his hit list while you’re here, stewing in your own mess of feelings and sticking wreaths on to tables.
You want to punch something just to feel like you’re doing something to get rid of this ache in your chest.
Your mind races—did they sleep together? Was it just another one-night thing for him? Did it mean nothing?
The thought of it gnaws at you, each question digging deeper. The betrayal, the feeling of being tossed aside, his voice when he called after you yesterday, the knowing look on Carol’s face when you told her what you had seen… It's too much.
You wish you could cry but you’re too damn mad. So you keep working, head down, fighting the sting of tears that are just waiting to break through.
The good news is the sports hall is finally done, besides the Christmas tree that was never put up.
The high, vaulted ceilings are draped with thick strands of sparkling tinsel in gold and silver, catching the light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs and making the whole room shimmer.
Long rows of tables are now covered in bright red and green cloths, each one bordered with tinsel and a wreath hanging off the front. Paper snowflakes some of the students made dangle from the walls, swirling like an indoor blizzard.
Around the room, there are signs that read things like “Merry Christmas!” and “Season’s Greetings!” in big, bold letters and decorated with holly.
Even the basketball hoops are dressed up, with thick, red ribbons tied in bows around the rims, and a few oversized ornaments dangling from the netting.
Everywhere you look, there’s something to bring a smile to your face— and yet that’s the one thing you can’t do.
“Well, hello there,” you don’t tense when you hear the masculine voice.
It doesn’t have that deep drawl Negan’s does. Nor does it make you want to shiver and purr at the same time.
“Hi, Joey” You don’t even glance at him as you say it, your eyes fixed on the twinkling lights that are tangled up in tinsel, casting a soft glow across the sports hall.
“The place looks great!” he says, his voice a little too bright as he walks deeper into the room, clearly trying to make conversation.
“Uh-huh,” you reply, your voice flat and distracted “It’s basically done now. Just have to run home after school to grab the drinks, and it’ll be ready”.
You don’t want to engage much more than that. The last thing you need right now is small talk or having to deal with anyone else.
“And the food?” Joey presses, his tone a little too chipper.
You force a tight-lipped smile, your jaw set as you turn toward him briefly. “Can you let Negan know that’s his shit to sort?” you ask, trying to keep your voice neutral, though it comes out cold.
“Uh—sure! Yeah!” Joey nods quickly, probably sensing the shift in your mood but not wanting to push it.
Without waiting for another word, you head toward the door, not bothering to look back. The last thing you want is to stick around the hall in case Negan shows up unexpectedly.
You can feel the tension already creeping up your spine at the mere thought of seeing him, of dealing with whatever’s going on between you two.
So, you leave, eager to put some distance between yourself and the mess you’re caught up in.
The school day drags, yet somehow, it feels like it’s slipping away too fast. The hours blur together— teaching feels more like a flurry of words and half-attention from your students as they count down the minutes to the end of the day.
You try to keep them engaged but it’s obvious they’re all just as eager for the holidays as you are.
The morning feels slow, like every minute stretches just a little too long. You try to get through your classes but every time the clock ticks, your mind drifts back to the party— back to everything that’s been weighing on you.
By the time you hit the afternoon, you’re caught in this weird mix of excitement and dread. Each class passes, each bell that rings to signal the end of a period feels like a countdown to something you’d rather not face.
The students, for their part, are bouncing off the walls. They’re eager to get out, to be free from school and homework and whatever else hangs over them.
You watch them, their chatter almost deafening and you can’t help but feel a sense of urgency in the air. It’s almost like the whole school is vibrating with the countdown and the seconds feel like they’re slipping through your fingers.
The lessons go by in a haze—you’re teaching, but you’re not fully there. You’re running through the motions, reciting your notes and trying to keep your class on track but you know that the closer you get to the end of the day, the closer you get to the party, to seeing Negan again, to dealing with whatever awkwardness looms between you two.
Finally, the last bell rings, the sound cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You breathe out a little too heavily, a mix of relief and frustration swirling inside you.
It’s over.
The school day’s done.
The holiday break is here and the party is just around the corner. You grab your things quickly, eager to get out of the classroom but the thought of facing the party, of facing him, slows your steps.
You want a moment of quiet before everything kicks off but you can only have such a luxury when you get home to quickly dress into something a little nicer and bring all the alcohol back here to the sports hall.
The noise in the hallways is deafening, students filing out, chatting excitedly about the break. Your thoughts, though, are already on the evening ahead.
You rush home, the quiet of your place a welcome relief after the chaos of the day. You head straight to your room, pulling off your teaching clothes and slipping into something nicer for the party—nothing too fancy, but enough to feel put-together.
A soft sweater and dark jeans, something comfortable but still festive. You grab the bottles you’ve set aside for the party, having to make multiple trips to your car before they're all loaded.
A quick glance in the mirror tells you that you’re ready but the knot in your stomach tells you the opposite. You grab your keys and head out the door, locking it behind you before making your way back to the school.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
It’s almost half six when the first few people trickle in and you’re glad to see their faces.
For the past forty minutes, it’s just been you, Joey and Negan in the hall, stealing plates and cups from the home ec room and putting all the drink on display. And in that forty… long… minutes, you and Negan exchanged a total of seven words.
“Where’s the tequila?” he basically huffed at you.
“Still in my car” you retorted, giving him the same energy.
You got a grunt in response and he yelled at Joey to go out and grab it as Negan left to get more plates.
But now the sports hall is buzzing with that awkward in-between energy—everyone’s showing up but the party hasn’t fully kicked off yet. There’s a nice hum of conversation, teachers hesitantly reaching for liquor and some commenting on the decorations.
Every time you cross paths with Negan, you veer the other way. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between you two, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
You’re doing your best to keep yourself busy— lining up glasses, making sure the food table’s stocked thanks to the newest light in Negan’s life, Sherry (you swear you’re not jealous)—but it’s hard to ignore the tension, the way Negan moves around you, not quite looking at you but not completely avoiding you either.
In one corner of the hall, you see Aaron head towards the large speaker that sits silently waiting.
After a few seconds of fumbling with the speaker, the opening chords of ‘Last Christmas’ filled the room, too loud at first, making everyone glance at each other nervously, unsure if they were meant to sing along, dance, or just pretend it wasn’t happening.
Some teachers head over to the food. Thankfully, you haven’t run into Sherry yet, nor is that something you wish to do. But to give credit where credit is due, the food smells delicious and it’s not as plain as the food usually served at the cafeteria.
Fingers quickly grab skewers of chicken satay or tiny puff pastries as the music loops on, providing a kind of strange comfort.
"I swear," Morgan says as he fills his plate, laughing awkwardly as he nudges a colleague "I only came for the pigs in blankets".
Everyone chuckles the first real laugh of the evening and suddenly the awkwardness seems to melt away, if only a little. Yet it’s enough to kick off the night.
As the evening stretches on, the awkwardness begins to fade into something more familiar, a sort of communal ease that only happens when you’ve spent enough time around people you mostly like, but don’t quite know how to relax with.
You stand back and watch, nursing your drink.
A few teachers have found their rhythm, wandering between the buffet table and the cozy clusters of conversation, laughing a little too loudly and talking shop just enough to remind themselves they’re not too far from the classroom.
Jesus walks up to you and a few others, gesturing towards one of the empty corners. “Where’s the tree I gave you guys?” he asks curiously, no annoyance in his tone.
Taking a deep breath, you struggle for an answer “We uh, ran out of time to put it up”.
Jesus gives a quick laugh and a nod, taking your answer for what it is. “And you still have the extra baubles I donated too?” he clarifies, taking a sip of his drink.
You nod and hesitantly explain “Yeah, the tree and baubles are uh… they’re under the bleachers. We didn’t have the space in the storage room”.
Looking around at the other teachers listening, Jesus smiles “Well then, who’s game for putting up a tree?”.
Before you have time to process that, there’s a burst of energy.
Jesus and Morgan help bring out the tree. Tara takes the box of baubles, standing with her hands on her hips as she looks down at the box.
Aaron, ever the optimist, picked up a string of lights and began untangling them with the patience of a saint.
You stand there with a surprised look plastered on your face. Even the people who aren’t helping, stand by and watch. Michonne snaps a few pictures before typing on her phone, no doubt sending it to her husband or Carl.
Jesus, who has already taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, grabs the tree stand.
“The tree’s the easy part,” he tells the crowd “the real challenge is making it look intentional when you know it’s probably just going to be… well, a mess”.
Eugene, who has been quietly inspecting the box of ornaments with Tara, looks up at the group.
“I must admit, I find the idea of a decorated tree somewhat... quaint. But I’ll go along with the sentiment if it makes the rest of you happy,” Eugene says, picking up a candy cane ornament “Plus, I believe we can all agree—Christmas lights are critical”.
Aaron chuckles “Of course you’d have a whole theory about the importance of lights”.
With Eugene’s help, the tree is quickly set up and anchored in its stand, though it wobbles slightly, as if unsure of its purpose.
“No, no, no, it’s leaning to the left!” Gregory tries to direct them. As you all listen to Gregory and Sasha bicker whether the tilt gives the tree character, you notice a figure lurk closer to you.
Out the corner of your eye, you see Negan. His every movement seems charged, as if he’s on the edge of saying something but never does. And you? You’re not sure what to say either.
So instead, you both continue this dance, each of you pretending that the other isn’t right there, just a few feet away, caught in the kind of silence that screams everything without a single word being spoken.
“And where’s the tinsel?” Rosita rummages through the box of ornaments.
“I think there’s some old tinsel in the storage room,” you call out, wanting an excuse to get away from him “I’ll go get it!”.
Negan lowers his head, watching through his lashes as you hurry off to the storage room. He suppresses a sigh, wondering if it’s really that hard for you to be around him.
Do you seriously prefer the cramped, shitty old storage room compared to him?
This should have been fun. You two should be celebrating! Fuckin’ finally! You’ve made it and now the others are having the time of their life by willingly doing a team building exercise!
Right now, you should both be teaming up to haggle Michonne for a raise, not barely looking at one another.
And yet Negan can’t do it. He can’t find the words to say this to you. And so he stays in his spot and listens to the others make the task of decorating a Christmas tree seem impossible.
Ten minutes pass.
Still nothing. No you. No shitty tinsel. Just a whole lot of avoiding.
Negan can’t believe this. You’d rather hang out in the storage room? Or quietly slip out early? All that hurt and tip toeing around each other starts to bubble in Negan, slowly reaching it’s boiling point.
With a sharp turn, he makes his way through the crowd and towards the storage room. He figures he’ll check in there first and then check the parking lot to see if your car is still here.
His hand comes straight out as he opens the door with enough vigor to make it fly open. Not that he’s thinking about the door when he sees you, just standing there.
“Are you really gonna hide on me?” He starts, boots slamming against the messy floor as he leaves the doorway and walks deeper into the room, closer to you.
For a split second, you freeze. But as you see your opportunity for escape closing, you rush forward.
You don’t pay any attention to his question, trying to get past him as you blurt “Wait! Stop! Don’t let the door—”.
But before either of you can reach it, the door slams shut with a resounding thud, cementing back into its frame. Negan’s anger falters when he realizes what just happened.
He doesn’t know how many times he warned you about the old storage room door being hard to open from the inside, yet here you are— and now him, victim to the heavy door.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me…” His voice drops to a low, venomous growl as he steps back to the door. He tries to yank it open once, twice, thrice! And yet it stays in place.
With the click of his tongue, Negan looks to you “You seriously got yourself locked in here?”.
You don’t appreciate the mocking tone and so you bite back “Yeah and now you have too!”.
With a sigh, Negan leans up against some of the boxes. His anger is gone and now he’s just unsure what to say to you
You step up and try the door again. You yank the handle again, twisting it violently but the door stays still.
“Dammit!” You mutter under your breath, before you get a new idea and begin banging on the door.
“Hey! Hello? We’re in here! Help!” you shout, your voice rising with each strike.
Unfortunately it’s still not enough compared to the loud thumping of bass and jingle bells from the Christmas music blaring in the adjoining room.
Negan watches you with a mixture of bemusement and annoyance. He chuckles lowly, folding his arms across his chest.
“Well, that’s one hell of a performance,” he comments with a grin, the sarcasm dripping off his words. Stopping for a moment, you throw him a glare before continuing again.
“You’re bangin’ on beat with that Christmas nonsense. Hell, they won’t hear you over the jingle bells and whatever crap is playing” he points out, taking no notice of your glare.
You stop, staring at him with an annoyed look “I don’t need your commentary right now, Negan”.
He shrugs, uncaring “Just callin’ it like I see it. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Again”.
Ignoring his comments, you listen to the party outside. Laughter. Chatter too loud that it drowns out your shouts for help. The occasional cheering as they continue to decorate the tree.
“Sounds like they’re having fun” you grumble.
Negan waits a moment before replying, his tone losing his sarcasm “So should we”.
There’s a tightness when he says that— but not the good kind. You’ve always been one to blurt things out, Negan should know that better than anyone.
Although hearing you quietly mutter “Yeah, I’m sure you and Sherry should be having the time of your lives”, throws Negan’s head in a tailspin.
“What? Sherry?” The edge is back in his voice as he asks, making you go quiet again.
You shrug in response.
He narrows his eyes as you stay silent. When you don’t say a word, Negan shakes his head “Fuck, I thought we were gettin’ somewhere, and now? Now this shit?”.
Negan takes a breath before deciding to start small. “Why’re you bringing up Sherry?” he lets the question hang in the air.
Eyes flickering to the ground, your voice feels tight as you reply “I… I saw you with Sherry, arriving to work with her, and—”. You stop yourself, biting back the words.
It doesn’t matter that you stopped anyways as Negan interjects with a slightly sarcastic laugh “You thought I’d what? Sleep with her?”.
He steps closer, trying to get you to look at him.
“Doll, she just wanted to cash in that I-owe-you,” he says before deciding you’ll need more of an explanation “she wanted to buy her boyfriend a motorbike for Christmas but she knows fuck all about bikes… I, however, have had my fair share so I went with her to get give her my expert opinion. Nothing more. I just spent the morning looking at shitty second hand bikes”.
You nod, eyes still down as you process his answer. But now it’s Negan’s turn to get some answers.
“You really think I’d kiss you, then go and sleep with someone else right after?” his voice is firm but tinged with hurt “Is that how little you think of me?”.
That makes you look up, eyes wide before they soften with regret “No! I don’t— It’s just, you didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to think. You didn’t tell me anything about her or what you were doing”.
You hesitate, realizing how much you’ve misinterpreted “I should’ve talked to you first. I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t want to make a fool of myself”.
A few hollers can be heard in the sports hall as Negan pauses, letting out a slow exhale.
“You don’t have to apologize for giving a damn. I get it, though, how that would’ve looked,” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself “I mean, Sherry and I, that was a one time thing that neither of us want a round two of”.
You nibble on your bottom lip, unsure whether you’ll like the answer to your next question but needing to ask nonetheless. “So… what did happen? Back then, between you and Sherry?”.
His posture shifts slight as if he’s physically as well as mentally letting down his guard.
“Sherry and her man were on a break, she wanted a distraction…” he trails off, letting you fill in the details “and then when they got back together, she had to really prove to the guy that she wasn’t interested in me anymore so she went from thinking I was good enough to fuck, to straight out hating me”.
“Huh… I kinda presumed you just cut contact with a lot of them after the deed is done” you reply, not expecting to hear that Sherry hated Negan anyways, whether or not he ghosted her.
“Oh I do sometimes, other times it just fizzles or it’s decided beforehand that it’s just a one night kinda thing” he explains “We both get something out of it”.
“A two way system” You call it.
Negan tilts his head as he thinks, “‘I wouldn’t exactly call it that. It’s just… mutual benefits.
A faint smirk ghosts his face “A two way system is you arguing with me, me arguing with you, you taking me on a date, me taking you on a date, me flirting with you, you flirting with me”.
You can’t help the smile at that, rolling your eyes teasingly, any annoyance you had for Negan melting away.
He continues, poking his tongue out of his mouth “Me kissing you.. you shoving your tongue down my throat”.
“I did not do it like that!!” You exclaim with a laugh.
He chuckles, his own annoyance gone now too. “You’re right, you’re right,” he concedes before thinking up a better way of saying it “you… oh so subtly slipping that dainty tongue of yours into my mouth all sexy like”.
“I didn’t use tongue!” You declare, throwing your hands up before the playfulness fades into a somber silence.
“I am sorry,” you reiterate ”I guess I should’ve trusted you more. I should’ve asked, instead of assuming.”
He gives you a look you can only describe as tender.
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the talking-about-feelings kinda guy and I kinda thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he tells you, his voice a gentle hum “But if you’re asking— I want this. I want you. No more games, no more misunderstandings. Just… us. Alright?”.
A small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of your lips, tension easing. “I think that would be nice” you agree, trying to drown out the loud Christmas music during your intimate moment.
There’s a quiet between you both, no more words needing to be exchanged. Negan begins to move again but instead of heading towards the door, he briefly disappears to the back of the storage room.
“Negan?” You call out.
He strolls over to one of the old boxes and starts to look through it. The musty smell of forgotten storage fills the air as he pulls out a dusty, crinkled piece of tinsel, its once-silver strands now dulled and faded with time.
“If we’re all good now…” he says as he stops and reaches down into the box “y’know what we gotta seal it with, right?”.
His mouth twitches with a hint of amusement and as he steps back toward you, dangling that goddamn piece of old mistletoe in front of you.
His expression is half-mocking, half-playful, as if he’s trying to make light of getting stuck in here.
You look at the mistletoe and then back up at him. “Well, it is tradition…” you tilt your head up, expecting to see that cocky expression of his but instead it gives way to something more sincere.
Before you can say anything, he’s lifting the mistletoe above your heads, positioning it just right.
Not being one to waste time, Negan presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft at first, just a light brush but as if giving into the moment, you deepen it.
His lips are warm and steady against yours. The taste of him lingers as it becomes more heated. Negan drops the mistletoe, both of you each other instinctively pulling closer.
His lips press more urgently against yours, like he's unable to hold back anymore. His hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you into him with a force that makes you gasp into his mouth.
That gasp seems to push him further, the heat between you intensifying. His tongue sweeps against yours in a coaxing manner. Backing away, you pull him with you until your back is flush against another stack of boxes.
There's nothing tentative about this anymore; it's a powerful, consuming kiss, raw with hunger and desire.
Negan’s hands slide under your festive sweater, skin on skin. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, heightening every sensation. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, needing more of him, more of this.
His body presses against you, hips aligning with yours, and the pressure builds as you feel the weight of him against you. His breathing becomes heavier, his chest rising and falling in sync with the erratic make out session.
The words around you fall on deaf ears, neither you or Negan paying attention to the Christmas music or the mumbling of Gregory outside saying “It’s in here, you say? Oh Christ!”.
Suddenly the music is clearer and another light source shines across your face. “Mm?” You question, although it’s hard to get the words out with Negan’s lips still on yours.
Pulling away, you see a look of shock and disgust on Gregory’s face.
He clears his throat, trying and failing to regain some semblance of control. “This… this is—uh—what is happening here?” his words came out in a disjointed jumble, bringing the other’s attention to the storage room.
“They’re together?!” you hear Rosita’s voice.
“You didn’t know about them?” the voice of Michonne reaches your ears “Carl told me they were a couple ages ago!”.
Suddenly you realize you’re like a deer in headlights, just frozen and watching. That is until Negan takes you hand in his and yanks you out of the storage room while the door is still open.
You follow his lead, letting him bring you out to the middle of the sports hall until he turns to face you again. His hands find their home on your back and he begins to sway to the slow Christmas song.
“Are we… dancing right now?” You question, clasping your hands around the back of his neck.
The others stare for a few moments before carrying on with whatever it is they were doing beforehand. Some drink, some stuff their faces and chat, while others grab a partner and dance too.
Negan doesn’t answer with words, instead giving you a little spin before finding you back in his arms.
“So… you still spending Christmas alone?” Negan says it casually, though there’s a subtle trace of concern in his tone.
You inhale before replying, shifting slightly in his arms “Yeah”.
“You sure about that?” He leans in a little closer, his face now just inches from yours, as though trying to read between the lines.
There’s a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head, showing you’ve already made peace with the decision as you sigh “I think it’s for the best I don’t change plans now and go spend it with my family”.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I was kinda trying to crash your plans, not suggest you skedaddle out of town” Negan’s grin widens, and he gives you a playful nudge
“What?”.
His smile deepens as he watches your reaction, fully aware of how bold he’s being. “Well, you’re spending Christmas alone, I’m spending Christmas alone,” he explains “we get on like a house on fire, you’re hot, I’m hot”.
“Negan!” you exclaim, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flooding your chest.
“I’ll bring the mistletoe” the offer hangs in the air, and you can feel the moment shifting, building toward something neither of you is fully ready to name, but both are undeniably feeling.
“… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there too” you slowly admit “but you have to bring me a present!”.
Negan chuckles, keeping his hands on the small of your back as he looks up and pretends to think. “Hm… I might be able to do that” he says.
He tries to act as though he’s debating the condition, as if he hasn’t already bought you things.
A cinnamon candle.
A pumpkin statue to match his own.
A winter coat that will actually keep you warm (that may have some leather accents so you’ll match his own jacket).
Some snacks he’s been picking up whenever he’s out.
And a list he’s made himself of the corniness Christmas movies he could find on the many streaming services that are around.
“Maybe I could do with that mistletoe now,” you tease, showing off your actual flirting skills.
Negan smirks down at you, one of his hands trailing up your back as you both sway to the music.
“Darlin’ I think we are way past mistletoe now,” he quips back before he leans down.
Despite being in the sports hall that made you and Negan go at each other’s throats. Despite being surrounded by your colleagues …
You kiss him.
#negan fanfiction#negan smith fanfiction#negan x reader#negan x you#negan#negan smith#negan twd#twd negan#jeffrey dean morgan x reader#jdm x reader#twd fic#negan smith x you#negan smith x female reader#negan the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead negan#the walking dead x reader
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And Tonight, We’ll Be Warm
It is technically still the 25th where I am so have a holiday-related fic! This is just an excuse to write that obligatory Christmas fic that nobody asked for
Whitebeard Pirates x Reader (no particular pairing but very Ace-centric)
The Whitebeard Pirates never needed an excuse to party, but surprisingly, they always celebrated one specific holiday.
The sight of white flecks on the deck heralded the arrival of the Moby Dick to its destination, the cheery winter island in front of you a familiar sight. You couldn’t see it at this distance, but you had no doubt that if you asked Marco, he’d say that it was decked out in its annual holiday decoration already.
Around you, the hustle and bustle of docking preparations were in full swing, excitement filling the chilly air more than usual. Every year, on the same day and if time was willing, Pops liked to return to this specific island, deep in the heart of his territory, known for its celebration this time of year. It was done often enough that the locals left a special place for the Whitebeards and the crew always brought in supplies when they came. What would commence would be a two-day, island-wide celebration where the Whitebeards and even other friendly crews would toss aside their worries to rejoice. Though Pops’s family may have been a wide assortment of characters from all over the Blues, it was a unanimous agreement that all of you would indulge in this holiday because of how much joy it brought the old man. Though as pirates, there was never a reason needed to party.
You’d been with the crew long enough to have attended a few, the first few times never something you’d never forget. Overwhelming in the best of days, there would be lots of work done once you docked to unload the supplies and crates, but then the locals would whisk it all away and the crew would be able to release themselves upon the festivities. There would be stalls upon stalls of vendors selling indulgent foods, gifts, and knickknacks for the holidays. And—of course—the booze. It was a pirate island, after all.
A relieved cheer broke out as the Moby coasted gently to a stop, a few of those who could handle the jump vaulting over the side onto the dock, while those who remained up top tossed down the mooring line for them. You double-checked the ropes on the winches responsible for lowering the cargo and leaned over to ensure that nobody was in the way.
“Lowering the crates!” You yelled down to the people milling down below. The worn wooden crank was familiar in your work-calloused hands as you cranked it, lowering the creaking platforms of foods and ingredients down. A ‘thump’ and the lines slackening signaled the contact with the dock below you, and you left the unpacking to the ground crew.
Beelining for the rope ladder, you scaled down it to join the others, an eager grin pulling at your cheeks. Wagons waited for their loads, but you left that to those like Fossa and Blenheim, the likes of them able to move much more efficiently when they had no smaller crewmates running underfoot. Your eyes darted across the space, seeking one specific person. For once, a majority of the crew had a shirt and jacket on, only the hardiest of them forgoing it, so it was easy for you to find that tattoo stretched across a tanned back.
“Ace!”
The young man spun around, seeking the call of his name. You started toward him, waving to attract his attention. He returned your grin easily as the two of you met up. Close to him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Despite your layers, it was still bitingly cold with the snow fluttering down. But with Ace nearby, his heater tendencies, courtesy of his Fruit, were a warm balm against the low temperatures.
“You were right, this does look fun!” Ace said, hands on his hips as he regarded the festivities beyond the dock. I’m glad I’ll have someone to lead me around.”
“Hm.” You rubbed your hands, fingertips red. “I’ll show you all the good places to hit up. Ignore what Commander Marco says. He’s a geezer who’s got outdated tastes.”
“Does he now, yoi?”
You stiffened, spine prickling with unease as footsteps came close. The warmth of the other flame-related Devil Fruit user on your back betrayed his approach. You shot Ace a nervous smile, grabbing his shoulders and swinging behind him to escape the fingers that skimmed the collar of your jacket. Grabbing the black-haired man’s hand, you readied to bolt but flailed when he didn’t move.
“C’mon! We gotta run!”
Ace glanced back at you, shrugging helplessly, still gripping your hand.
“You should know better,” Marco tsked as he stopped in front of Ace (and you, who ensured you were soundly on the opposite side of Ace from him). He crossed his arms, a lazy smile twitching into something mischievous. “We have to wait for Pops, yoi.”
As if that mention summoned him, the ground trembled with the impact of your captain landing down from his leap off the ship. He did a sweeping glance over his nakama, still milling about the dock as they waited for his arrival, and unleashed his booming laughter. “What are you all waiting for? Go have fun, my children!”
Noise erupted over the dock, and you suddenly found Ace very agreeable as you ran away from Marco. The two of you darted into the crowd, away from the blonde.
“Go! Go! GO!” You yelled as Ace swept you onto his back, laughing as he bolted. You wrapped an arm around his neck to keep balance, while the other one pointed in front of him to where you wanted him to go. Rakuyo jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being plowed over, and Atmos bellowed in laughter when Ace ducked under his arm, revealing you clinging to his back.
Despite you acting as a backpack for him, Ace was barely winded when you finally told him to stop. He regarded the street around you with wide eyes as you slid off him, dusting your clothes. “Where to know?”
You pointed to a little stall that had a small metal stove by its side. “First order of business: Drinks!”
The little old lady there waved as you approached, a smile of familiarity greeting you. “Welcome back, dearie. I see you’ve brought a friend!”
Nodding, you stepped aside to showcase the now-shy ravenette to her. “Hi again Miss Rose. This is Ace! He joined us a little while ago.”
“Showing him around, I see…” Miss Rose said
“Yep,” you said. “I gotta do it since I don’t want to put him through the history lesson that Commander Marco might’ve exposed him to. And I thought it’d be good to start everything off with drinks from your stall!”
Miss Rose tilted her head, an apologetic expression falling onto her face. “I’m sorry, dearie, but my stove just went out, you see. I sent my son off to fetch flint, but it’s going to be a while before I can get anything warm for you.”
“I can help!” Ace said, straightening up as he lifted a hand, small flames flickering to life. He, however, quickly extinguished it, and added on nervously, “I-If you want.”
The woman didn’t flinch at the small display of Ace’s powers, long-familiar with Devil Fruit displays on an island such as this, and toddled over to the stove, pulling open the door, and stepped aside for Ace. “Oh, if you could, that would be delightful.”
Caught off guard by the open friendliness, Ace glanced at you in a silent question. You bumped him forward with your shoulder. “Yeah. Miss Rose has the best cider all around, and you can’t start the festivities without getting a cup.”
Ace exhaled with a smile, sticking his hand into the open maw of the stove. With a flash of orange, the lumber within it lit up. The door was closed, and Miss Rose quickly put a pot over the top. Within moments, the warm smell of spices suffused the air and the pot’s content bubbled merrily away. Miss Rose moved with a speed that belied her age as she quickly set up two steaming cups of liquid. You barely just finished fishing out the appropriate payment before they were shoved into your grasp. Passing one to Ace, you slid the coins over to her quicker than she could react. Grabbing Ace, you led him away despite the woman’s protests refusing your payment and called back, “Thanks, Miss Rose!”
Your action prompted a curious look from him as the two of you hurried from her stand. “What was that about?”
“She’s too kind for her own good, and if I didn’t do that, she would’ve tossed my coin back at my face,” you explained. Taking a long sip, you let out a satisfied sigh at the warmth spreading through your guts and prompted Ace, “Try it.”
He took a tentative sip. Your catlike grin widened as his eyes lit up, and he went in for seconds. “Woah, this is good…”
“Mhm,” you hummed, turning to look at the busy street in front of you. You pulled the cup closer to your face to allow the steam to warm up your cold nose. “It’s good that we got here before the crew. Otherwise, we’d be fighting Kingdew for a spot in line.”
Ace didn’t reply, and you glanced over to see him staring at the colorfully lit lanterns above you that cast festive colors onto the street. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was nice seeing the awe on his face, and you realized this must’ve been why Marco was chuckling at you when it was your first time on the island.
The growl emitting from him broke you out of your reverie, and you chuckled, hefting a bag of Berry in your hands.
“Alright Ace, since it’s your first time here, you can get any food you want, my treat. But—” You held up a finger when he brightened, “Only as much as this pouch can pay, and don’t spoil your appetite for later.”
“What’s for later?” Ace asked as he began walking to the nearest food stall, something to do with skewers.
“Five, please,” you said pleasantly to the vendor. Glancing back at Ace, you said. “There’s always a big feast and bonfire set up. It’s great. You’ll love it.”
The food was given to you, and you exchanged it with the correct amount of bills, passing four of the roasted chestnut and meat sticks to Ace while you kept one to yourself. Silence stretched between you two for a few minutes as the food was savored. As you were crunching through a chunk of chestnut, you heard Ace murmur, “Lu’ would’ve liked this.”
You swallowed your bite. Aside from his explosive (literally) introduction to the crew, there were a few other things about him that he never kept quiet about, one of them being his very cherished brother. “Oh yeah? I mean, this island is known for good chestnuts year-round, so food like this is common anytime. You can bring him here when you meet him again.”
Ace polished off his second skewer, expression wistful as he murmured, “Yeah…”
“Oi, you two!”
Like twin dogs, the two of you turned to the call. Thatch waved at you, Izou by his side. The former looked a little silly, with a sprinkling of snow piling up atop his pompadour, while the latter looked immaculate in his dark-blue kimono, its woven threats gleaming when it caught the lights. Amusement lit up the two Commanders’ faces when they saw the food in Ace’s hold.
“Putting another person’s wallet to work already, I see,” Izou said with a small smirk on his painted lips.
“Well, better than the alternative,” Thatch quipped, hands on his hips. “The locals may like us, but that can change if someone decides to dine and dash.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you pipped up. “I’m treating Ace today since it’s his first time.”
“How thoughtful,” Izou said. “You would have had the same result tossing your wallet in the sea.”
“I know better! I only brought a set amount.”
“Hey!” Ace protested. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
You, Thatch, and Izou exchanged glances. A beat of silence passed.
Thatch was the first to crack, folding in half as mirth shook his body, and you had to make efforts not to spill your drink in your laughter. Even Izou cracked, one fist coming up to cover his mouth as he snorted. Ace leveled a betrayed look at you all.
“By the way,” Thatch began, once he finally reigned his laughter back in control. “Where are the two of ya headed?”
Shrugging, you motioned down the street you two were on. “Just roaming for the most part, but the goal is to the town center to show Ace the stage before going to the bonfire.
“Hm. Mind if we join y’all?”
You shrugged. “I don’t mind. Ace?”
Silence greeted you, and you whirled around to find him face down in the snow, breathing deeply. Somehow, he still held his drink and food aloft. Sighing, you sent the other men a helpless look.
“We can wait until he wakes up to see what he wants,” Izou amended. “Let’s move him to the bench over there.”
Thatch smiled, lifting a hand. “If ya can grab the food and cup, I’ll carry our resident flamethrower out of the street.”
Chugging the rest of your cider, you crouched down and carefully wormed the sticks and cup out of Ace’s hands. There was no food left, so you tossed those, but Ace’s cup was still three-quarters full and steaming, so you decided to keep that for yourself. At your go-ahead, Thatch effortlessly lifted Ace’s snoozing form, while Izou cut ahead to dust off the coating of snow from the seat. Thatch set Ace down first before sitting down, and you immediately claimed the other empty spot of the sleeping Logia-user, sighing in happiness at the warmth that bled off him.
“I’m surprised that you’re not with Commander Marco, sirs,” you admitted, moving to sip from the cider cup.
You squawked as Thatch took it from you, using his long reach to lean over Ace. He took a sip from it and hummed. “Ah, that’s good. From Miss Rose?”
Sulkily side-eyeing him, you nodded.
“And stop with the ‘Commander’ stuff. We’re off-duty, and we’re all friends anyway.”
“Well, as my friend, you should give me back my drink.”
“Is it really yours in the first place, if you took it from Ace?” Izou asked. He waved the cup away when Thatch offered it to him.
As the brown-haired man was leaning back, Ace suddenly shot forward, knocking into him. The cup flew out of Thatch’s grasp, spilling its contents onto the snow in front of you all. Izou hissed, jerked the hem of his kimono away, and shot the others a poisonous look.
“Haahhhhh? Since when did we sit down?”
“Since you decided the snow would be a good cushion for your face,” Izou replied.
“Ah dang, was I out for long?”
“No,” you said. “Thatch and Izou were wondering if they could tag along with us.”
Ace stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “I don’t see why not! As long as your offer still holds up.”
Sighing in exasperation, you stood up with a shake of your head and a smile on your face. “Fine. But if you want to explore, we gotta get going.”
Your words were a reminder of the changing sky, the days shorter in the thick of winter. The others all agreed, and once everyone gathered themselves, you all set off again. Your motley crew would’ve struck an unusual sight, with Thatch’s stature and hair, Izou’s elegant dress, and Ace completely bare-chested in the snow, but the locals of this island were long-used to it, a few folks even greeting the Commanders by name.
The festival was still as eye-catching as ever, with the soft haze of snowfall spreading a dreamy air over everything. True to his nature, Ace ended up dragging you to a few more food stalls. You four wandered with no hurry, simply basking in the peaceful, jovial air that was seldomly seen on the seas.
“I wonder how long these chestnuts can keep,” Thatch mused as he rotated a candied chestnut in his fingers. Popping it into his mouth, he passed you one from his cup. “I have plenty of recipes that’ll be nice for the colder weeks when we’re sailing.”
“I think if you can store them in the ice closet, they can last up to six months!” you chirped.
You could see his mind beginning to form ideas. “That’s plenty of time. I doubt they’ll last that long. Since it’s so cheap here, I think I’ll arrange for an order to the Moby tomorrow.”
A folded hand fan whapped Thatch on the side of the head, Izou tucking it back from wherever he summoned it from when the brown-haired man turned to him.
“What gives, you bastard?!?”
“Stop talking about work,” Izou sniffed. “We’re here to relax and enjoy the festivities, damn you.”
Thatch leaned down into Izou’s space. “Well, you didn’t need to hit me!”
While the two senior members squabbled like little kids, you turned your attention to Ace, seeing him contemplating the roasted squid in his hands like it contained the secrets of the world.
“What’s wrong?” You said, popping your head over his shoulder. “It raw?”
Ace blinked, shaking his head and taking a big bite out of it. “Nah. Just thinkin’.”
“Don’t hurt your head over it,” you said. “Now’s a time to turn it off.”
He hummed, and you linked your arm with his and marched forward.
“Well, we’re almost at the town center. You’d like it, I think. And if you don’t, it’ll be something to distract you, yeah? No worries.”
Izou and Thatch fell in line when they saw the two of you heading off. One was fixing the collar of his kimono, while the other had a red mark on his forehead. Neither said anything when you raised a teasing eyebrow in question.
You led them down the streets until it opened up into a wide space, the large, towering pine tree in the middle marking your arrival to the town center.
Ace froze as he gawked at the monster of a tree in front of you all. “Holy shit.”
Tall enough to make even Pops look small standing next to its trunk, the ancient growth was decked out in flickering candles and carved, wooden ornaments of all colors. Bands of embroidered cloth swayed gently, depicting the winter flowers that bloomed this time of year.
“This is one of the island’s pride and joy,” You told Ace, banking on the information Marco told you during your first time. Damn, if he knew, he would never let you live this down. “It was said that this tree was already massive by the time people settled onto this island, and it was decided that they would keep it and treasure it. The festivals came later, but this tree was integrated into every celebration as well. Looks like we came just in time.”
Chattering quieted as a door hidden in the tree trunk opened. A pair of men walked forward to the platform mounted there, rolling some sort of canon in between them.
“It’s safe,” you reassured Ace as you saw him shift in nervousness. “Just watch!”
With a muffled pop, a flurry of flat, petaled shapes shot up into the air. The crowd roiled, eager hands reaching up as the large charms fluttered down. This was what you came here for. This town’s yearly charms, hand-carved from a specific type of lightweight crystal only found here. When refined down into the flowers and the snowflakes fluttering down upon you now, they caught the light in a kaleidoscope of rainbows. They were beautiful.
And very desired.
“Quickly,” you hissed, pushing Ace forward. “Try and grab one! They say that whoever got one will have good luck for the upcoming year.”
Unsure, the man reached out, only to have it snatched in front of his fingertips. The old lady who took it from him gave him a sharp glare and toddled off.
A spark of competitiveness lit up in Ace’s eyes. “Oh, that does it.”
The two of you shared a look of determination, exchanging a nod before delving into the crowd.
“Over here, Ace!”
“Too far!”
“Watch out for that lady!”
Your teamwork fell in line seamlessly, the months together on the seas and all the training and fighting giving you and Ace a leg up. Though it always seemed like there were five people trying for every one charm. Eventually, there was nothing left in reach, but you spotted one still fluttering above the crowd. You were not the only one, as you locked eyes with a burly man who was bullying his way through the crowd toward it. The two of you scowled at each other, and you stuck out your tongue at him.
Looking back at it again, you saw that it was out of reach for even the tallest folks.
But not too tall for what you had in mind.
Spinning around, you pointed at the crystal and yelled out, “Ace!”
The man turned around to spot it, and you quickly took a knee, putting your cupped hands low to the ground. A move that you’d done once or twice before.
“Go for it!” You yelled, hiding a wince when an elbow dug into your back.
Ace stepped back, lining himself up before running towards you. His boot landed in your palms, and you pushed yourself upward, propelling him up with you as he jumped. You turned around to see his trajectory, a wild grin on your face. Ace had a similar expression, one hand on his hat while the other was outstretched as he approached the snowflake. With bated breath, you watched as his fingers grazed the edges of the charm, seemingly missing it before, with a burst of flames from his legs, he propelled himself up a bit and the charm landed in his grasp. With the prize secured, he brought it to his chest and pivoted in the air, landing at an empty spot with a perfectly tucked roll.
You let out a whoop, throwing your arms up in victory, before moving your way through the crowd to where Ace landed. Your cheeks ached not just from the cold, but also from the size of the grin overtaking you sported. Spotting Ace, you hauled him up and pulled him into a hug, your laughter ringing out in the air.
“You got it!”
His cheeks were flushed as well when you pulled back, a pearly smile on his face. “Yeah.”
The crowd’s excitement was dying down and a part of you dropped in dismay over the fact that you’d missed your chance to grab something, too busy making sure Ace had his moment to focus on your own. But you were at least glad that Ace managed to get one of the charms of his own, so you shoved down that bit of sadness.
“What shape did you get?” You asked. “Can I see?”
He pulled the hand holding his charm away from his chest, and your eyes widened in excitement at the sight of a flat carving of a flame lily. As he lifted it into the air, the clear crystal caught the light, throwing out fiery red and orange iridescence from within its lattice.
“A flame lily, lucky you!” You shot him a thumbs-up. “That’s the most prized one. A symbol of undying warmth in the cold. Good luck is definitely coming your way.”
“There you two are,” Thatch said, panting a bit as he got through the crowd. “You crazy little cretins, I can’t believe you two did that! And don’t deny it, I saw Ace in the air.”
You whistled, adverting your eyes. “Welllll, it was worth it. Ace got this year’s Flame Lily. How ‘bout you?”
“Right here,” Thatch sighed, reaching into the top of his pompadour and pulling out a glittering, clear hexagonal plate that had flashes of smoky black when he tilted it. “Some lady tried stealing it from my hands after I got it.”
“Looks like all that hair really is useful for something,” you chuckled.
He harrumphed, tucking it in the inner breast pocket of his coat. “Whatever. Did you get one this year?”
You shook your head, a rueful smile on your face. “Nah. Looks like my collection is not growing this year.”
You only caught a flash of guilt on Ace’s face before something was thrust into your face.
“Here,” Izou drawled, a bored look on his face.
Going cross-eyed, you took a step back to see what it was. Your eyes widened when you saw the intricate poinsettia carving in his hand, the details of the flower it was mimicking catching the light prettily.
“I found this stuck to mine,” he said, motioning to the bird-shaped crystal peeking out of the collar of his kimono before you could ask. He shook it. “Take it. I don’t need two of them.”
“Aww, you do care,” you teased as you reached for it.
Izou jerked it out of your grip, raising it out of your reach. “I am not above breaking it over your head.”
“No don’t! I’ll be good, I promise!”
He finally gave it to you, huffing out of his nose as he swept past the tree of you. “Fine. Let’s go. We need to head to the beach if we want to catch the bonfire in time.”
At this point, the sky was blue-hued with the end of sunset, the chill settling deeper into your bones. But still, the lights and candles kept the island festivities in full swing.
“So, what do we do with these things?” Ace asked, inspecting his lily carving.
“You just keep it.” You shrugged. “Put ‘em in a box or something. It’s your choice. Hell, you can even toss them into the ocean, but make sure to point out where you did it so I can go diving for it.”
Ace hummed in thought, glancing over to see your expectant gaze on him. With a smile and shrug, he shoved it into his pant pocket. “I guess I’ll keep it. So what are we doing now?”
“Bonfire should start soon,” you affirmed. “There’ll be food and drinks, the full Whitebeard Pirates shebang, yaknow?”
The growling of a stomach was the response you received from him, and you chuckled.
“We’re almost there,” Thatch reassured.
True enough, you four took the stone steps down from the edge of the town, where your shoes immediately sunk into sand. Already, you could hear the hubbub of conversation, men on their way to getting sloshed. There was a chorus of greetings that rose when those present saw you four.
“Finally,” Atmos roared, his beer sloshing over his tankard. “Was thinkin’ you guys died fighting in the town center.”
Izou scoffed, sweeping past him as he headed for where Vista and Haruta were. “Please. As if I’d be taken out by something so simple.”
“I’m going to check out to see if the Fourth Division needs any help,” Thatch called, splitting away too.
That left you and Ace again, and you steered him toward a table set up with food. You unleashed him upon the meal, picking up a few things that pulled at your interests too, and allowing yourself to mingle with everyone.
Like most other Whitebeard parties, it was easy to be swept up in the merriment. At one point, you managed to wrangle a spot beside Haruta as he lit up the main bonfire, toasts being called out into the air. Smaller bonfires went up around the beach too, like twinkling, golden stars in the dark.
And when the moon was high in the sky, just about the time when you knew the spectacle of the night would begin, you sought out Ace again.
He was warm as you slung an arm over his shoulder, warmer than even the slight bit of alcohol coursing through your veins. “Aceyyyyyyyyy. Come on closer to the bonfire.”
“Hm? Why’s that.”
You pointed to the towering back of Blenheim in front of you. “Too many tall ones over ‘ere. And you’re warm, but I wanna be warmer.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a heat hog,” he said, rising from his seat at your insistent tugging.
Fossa smirked at him when he saw the two of you pass by. “Looks like you’re the victim this time, brat. Good.”
You stuck your tongue out at the older man, aiming towards a log laid on as a seat, angled to look into the island instead of out over the sea. Plopping into it with none of the grace you normally held when somber, you sighed at the heat that suffused your back from the bonfire.
At Ace’s questioning look at you, you raised your arm and pointed over the top of the island, where the top of the pine tree could be seen peeking out. “You’ll wanna watch o’er there. It’s good. I promise.”
Following your words were the lights from the town being extinguished, plunging the inland into darkness. Soon, the only lights came from the bonfires dotting the beaches like fireflies as everyone settled. An air of excitement took over the party, those sober and not tilting their heads up to the sky.
A whistle announced the first of the launches before the sky exploded with color. Fireworks bloomed in their brilliant glory, popping and crackling hues of sparkling rainbows before fading out. It was stunning as ever, but since you’d seen it a few times before, you chanced a glance at the man next to you.
Ace’s eyes were wide, the glow of the firelight making them glitter. You smiled softly at the way it transformed his features into something softer.
Even though you haven’t known him for long, the look on his face earlier was too somber for your liking. The two of you may not be close-knit, but you were at least friendly with him on the account of you two being newer to the crews. So to see that troubled look that bellied something deeper made you worried. You may not be close enough to pry, but at the least, you hoped that this was enough to lift his spirits lightly.
You tore your gaze from the black-haired male just in time to see the second round of fireworks going up. More impressive than the last, this time the fireworks were set up into shapes. All around you, cheers rose from the crew as the doggy face of Stephan bloomed into view, followed by an impressive arrangement forming the Moby Dick.
As this round began to die down, Marco appeared at your side, handing you a steaming drink. “Here, yoi. Keep warm.”
Reaching for it, you asked, “Is it warmed rum?”
“No. I’m not letting you have that again, yoi.” He turned to Ace and jabbed a thumb at you. “No matter how much this one asks, no more of Raykuyo’s rum, alright? I promise you don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”
You sulkily sipped from the cup, finding that it was hot chocolate. Sweet, yet not too heavy to upset your stomach. “Whatever, I drink it ‘cause it chases the chill away.”
“You have Ace with you, yoi.”
“I’m still cold!” you barked. Your eyes gained a calculating gleam as you shuffled closer to Ace, your free hand whipping out to latch onto Marco’s wrist. “But if you’re insisting, why don’t you come have a seat, Marco? I’m sure you’re awfully tired, and it’s an awfully good view to see the fireworks.
His half-lidded eyes were knowing as he moved to sit beside you, bracketing you on all three sides with heat. You sighed in happiness, and relaxed, returning your focus to the sky.
With the bonfire at your back, Ace and Marco by your side, and the crew all around you, your heart was warm.
#x reader#reader insert#fanfiction#gender neutral reader#fluff#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece one shot#ace x reader#portgas ace x reader#portgas ace x you#marco x reader#marco the phoenix x reader#thatch x reader#izou x reader#whitebeard pirates x reader#masterlist
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⟡ MY JEWEL ( 휴닝카이 )
genre royalty au , forbidden romance , fluff , servant!fem!reader x prince!kai cw not proofread wc 787 request @jihyokat for kai + gleaming gemstones for the 3k event note this fic being the first event one kinda broke my writers block id say??? it's been a while since i've even touched my google docs and written a sentence, but this was super fun to write and these tropes are always some of my favs to work with hehe. i hope you enjoy lexi!! net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet
You were no princess. Growing up in poverty, you were always detached from high society and royalty. Riches, luxury, exquisite food and elegant clothing— all were foreign to you. But it changed when you were hired by the royal palace as a maid and ran into Kai almost immediately by accident.
Being so unused to the winding hallways of the castle that seemed to never end, you quite easily got lost on your first day at the job. What was supposed to be a simple task of delivering a basket of fresh fruit to the kitchens turned into a 30 minute tour of random halls on probably the opposite side of the palace. How else would you have ended up in the prince’s quarters?
Despite your rocky start, you seemed to have extraordinary luck that day, running into the prince himself who found the whole ordeal quite amusing (and you, quite adorable). Prince Kai kindly offered to show you the way to the kitchens, and anywhere else in the palace until you memorized the routes yourself. And you, eager to not endure the same embarrassment again, took him up on it.
Not a single thought crossed your mind on how inappropriate such a thing might be, talking and walking casually with royalty so soon. Kai didn’t seem to mind, and you didn’t begin to question it until much, much later. Six months to be exact. After that first meeting, you had gotten quite close with the young prince. It was only when you started to feel strange fluttery feelings whenever you were around him that you realized just how bad the situation was.
You were staff. Kai was legions ahead of you in status. Not even taking into consideration the opinion of the public, just by maintaining a relationship with him, you were certainly breaking basic code of conduct. There was no future with him to be seen, whether as a friend or lover. So, you decided it would be best to cut it off before it became more painful.
Unfortunately, you were already in too deep. So was Kai.
“It’s a gift,” Kai explained quietly. “For you,” he added as clarification, as if it wasn’t already obvious. It shouldn’t have been, given the circumstances.
It was late in the night and Kai had summoned you to his chambers. Privately, of course. He knew the repercussions you might face if people found out, and he was mindful of that. You were grateful for his precautions, although in the back of your mind you were on edge by all of it. How beautiful Kai looked, moonlight shining across his face. The delicate silver necklace with a shining precious sapphire set in the middle of it resting in the palm of his hand. The way your heart was thumping in your chest, the urge to fall into his arms getting stronger by the second.
How much you loved him was dangerously growing each day. Your mind reminded you of how little hope there was to be with him, but your heart did not care. You were sane away from him, but as soon as he was in front of you, no thought or reason reached you. Your heart behaved autonomously, and Kai directed every decision it made.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, truly mesmerised at the sight of the gem. It almost glowed with its clarity, and you could see the light of the moon reflected off of its polished edges. Kai moved closer, wrapping the chain loosely around your neck. He carefully fastened it, securing the precious stone to its rightful place: decorating your neck.
“There. Just as I thought. You look stunning, Y/n,” he said earnestly, taking a hold of your hands. The warmth of his palms made your heart jump, and his words gave you feeble hope.
“I love you.”
You had said it before, and you decided you would say it again. A million times over if you could. No matter how wrong. No matter how forbidden, or unheard of. You were uttering those words to the prince of the nation. You. No one else. And that gave you a sense of belonging that only Kai could bring out of you.
As long as he trusted your place by his side, why should you let the arbitrary rules of the world tell you otherwise? He was the only thing that mattered, and you would only take his thoughts into consideration.
For once, you fully accepted the flurry of feelings; the connection between you and Kai that was so unexpected but felt so right. Your hearts beating in sync, fully devoted to one another.
He was your jewel, and he shined his brightest only for you.
txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,,
@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,
@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,,
@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,,
@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,,
@nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees
#fics ❀˖°#events ❀˖°#kstrucknet#mdnet#div by kodaswrld#hueningkai#kai#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai imagines#hueningkai scenarios#hueningkai fluff#txt x reader#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt fluff#kai kamal huening x reader#kai imagines#kai scenarios#kai fluff#tomorrow x together#tomorrow x together fluff#tomorrow x together x reader#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#txt drabbles#txt#tubatu#txt hueningkai#txt kai#kai kamal huening
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Coffee☕️🍂
warnings: smut ofc!, fluff, public oral sex, oral!m!receiving, cum play, and dom!reader.
Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.
Spencer Reid x fem!reader
A/N: this was originally supposed to be just fluff but I suck at fluff😭..ngl this shit made me horny asf.
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Written: September 30th, 2024- December 26th, 2024
Published: December 26th, 2024
Summary: Spencer asks you out for coffee and things get heated at the library.
wc: 1,803
“H-hey Y/n.” He responded with a little stutter. I’ve always known Spencer to be this shy, quiet, but well spoken man. For some reason he seemed even more shy at this moment. “What’s up?” I asked as I began packing my purse up.
He sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking up. “I was wondering if..maybe you’d like to get coffee with me and go to a book store..?” Spencer hesitantly asked. My face lit up with the biggest smile ever. Did I just get asked out by Spencer Reid?!
My heart was pounding and my body began to feel hot. Without hesitation I answered quickly. “Yes! I would love to, Spence!” His face looked as if he was relieved, yet happy.
You were the girl Spencer has been wanting for the past 2 years and he finally had the courage to ask you out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n.” He said as he nodded his head before stepping into the elevator. I made sure the elevator doors closed all the way before silently congratulating myself.
I was so happy I didn’t even notice Morgan was there the whole time. “Looks like pretty boy finally asked you out.” He announced with that smirk on his face. My eyes widened at his statement. What did he mean finally?
“Morgan?” I questioned as he took a sip of his coffee. “What?” He replied.
“What do you mean finally?” I asked as he just chuckled. “You really haven’t noticed, have you?” What the hell is he talking about?! I shook my head no at him as sighed and threw his head back. “I can’t believe you’re that oblivious, you’re a profiler for fucks sake.” He said as I rolled my eyes. “Get to the point Morgan!” I stated.
I was anxious to know what he meant and he kept dragging this whole thing out. “Pretty boy likes you. You’re the only person who he ever hugs, shares food with, and he’s constantly stares at you when you’re not looking.” He explained.
I didn’t wanna get my hopes up. Maybe Derek was right, but I’m not gonna believe it until I hear it from Spencer’s mouth. Plus Derek plays around a lot. “Yeah right! Why should I believe you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow as he chuckled.
“Because he told me himself.” Morgan smirked as my jaw dropped. “Really?!” I desperately asked. “You two would make a cute couple.” He chuckled as he patted me on the back, heading towards the elevator doors. “Derek!” I shouted as he was now pressing the elevator button. “Goodnight, sweetheart!” He shouted back with a smirk.
I groaned to myself.
____________
It was the day. I was going out with Spencer. I’m so nervous, yet so excited. I haven’t been able to stop smiling all day. It was fall outside so I decided to wear some stockings with a skirt and a long sleeve top. Nothing too over the top.
Spencer decided to meet me at my apartment so we could walk to the coffee shop and the library. I sprayed some fall scented perfume on as I heard a knock on the door. That’s him!
I rushed to the door and opened it immediately, I was met with the tall, scrawny, handsome Spencer Reid. “Hi, Y/n.” He softly greeted with a smile on his face. “Hey, Spence!” I greeted back. “You ready?” He asked as I said Yes and we headed out the door.
We made it to the coffee shop, Spence paid for the both of us, I told him that he didn’t have to, but he insisted. He then started putting in a bunch of sugar in his coffee as I eyed him. He saw my expression and laughed a bit. “The sugar helps me stay up.” He explained.
“You haven’t tried melatonin gummies?” I genuinely asked. “I’ve never heard of it. Does it work?” He asked curiously. “What?! The famous Dr. Reid doesn’t know about melatonin gummies?!” I faked gasped as he chuckled. “In my defense, I’m not on the internet that often.” He explained.
We walked out the coffee shop and were now on our way to the library. “Really? Then what do you do all day?” I asked, curiosity coating my words. “I like to read.” He said softly as he pressed his lips together. Gosh, he’s so cute.
We finally made it to the library, the smell of books hitting our noses. “How bout you?” He asked as I looked over at him. “What?”
“Do you read?” He asked, his eyes widening, hoping you’d say yes.
“I do actually..but not serious books like you. To be honest, I’m into comics and murder mystery.” I stated. “Maybe you’d let me read one of your comics?” He awkwardly asked as I giggled. “Of course! I have some back at my place.” I answered as a smile covered his face.
We walked over to the book section and Spencer saw a science book. He started rambling about it, I never understand what he’s saying, I just like hearing him speak. It’s so cute seeing him talk about something he’s so passionate about. I zoned out, I was just looking at him while smiling that I didn’t even hear him say my name.
“-Y/n?” “Sorry. What were you saying?” I asked. “Would you want to be an astronaut?” He replied. I quickly shook my head no as he laughed. “Why not? You get to see stuff the average human doesn’t and study stars.” He said before taking a sip of his coffee.
“It’s all fun and games until something goes wrong and you get stuck in space.” I stated as he shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a fair reasoning.” Spencer said understandingly.
We walked past another section of books and one particular book caught my eyes. Fifty Shades of Grey. Spencer took notice to this as he walked over to the book I picked up. “What’s this?” He asked I smirked. “You’ve never heard of this?” He shook his head no. “Have you seen the movies?” He shook his head no. “Do you know what it’s about?” He shook his head no again as I giggled.
I took this as my opportunity to do what I’ve been wanting since I laid my eyes on him. “I can give you a hint.” I said lowly ask I wrapped my arms around his neck. He placed his coffee on the shelf next to him as his breath hitched. We both moved our heads until our lips touched and I brought him into a slow, deep, passionate kiss.
I gripped some of his hair as he groaned into my mouth. I was starting to get wet just from the sound that came out of him. I wrapped one leg around his waist as he gripped my ass, making me softly moan. “I need you.” He said with desperation in his eyes. I forgot that we were in public. I hope no one heard us.
“I need you too.” I pleaded. I placed one last kiss to his lips before getting on my knees in front of him. His eyes widened, shocked at the acts I’m about to do. “We’re in public- we can’t!” Spencer whispered shouted. I just looked up at him with doe eyes as I unbuckled his belt. He let out a sigh, giving up.
I pulled his pants down some, along with his underwear. His cock was hard and red es ever. I placed a kiss to his tips, then his balls as lost his breath for a second. “Y/n.” He whispered. I licked a stripe up his dick as he squeezed his eyes shut. I stopped teasing him and finally took him whole. I deepthroated him, his tip hit the back of my throat as he almost lost his balance, his hand gripping the shelf for stability.
“Nghh!” He moaned. I took him out my mouth and put him back in, bobbing my head up and down. He grabbed my hair and started guiding me to suck it just how he likes it. “Mhmm” my moans vibrated on his cock as he grunted.
I hollowed my mouth as I looked up at him with doe eyes. His chocolate brown eyes were wide, he couldn’t believe what he was doing, especially in public. Anyone could walk past and see what was going on, he felt sick for enjoying it, deep down he wants someone to walk past and see his cock shoved down your throat.
I felt his dick twitch, now taking him out my mouth and sucking on his balls. “Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He choked out. “Cum.” I lowly said. As I said, he did. He let out a low whine as his cum shot all over my face as I opened my mouth letting some of it fall in. My face was covered in Spencer’s cum, my cheeks, eyelashes, lips, and the inside of my mouth.
I licked up his dick again, licking up all the excess cum and placing a kiss on his balls. I then stood back up and wrapped one arm around his neck. I wiped some of his cum off my face and stuck my hand down my skirt rubbing his cum all on my pussy.
Poor boy looked like he could barely stand. He stared at me in awe as I grabbed his hand placing it inside my skirt, he rubbed my clit some, smearing his cum all around. I was trying to hold my moans in but it was so hard. “Mhhm Spencer!” I moaned into his chest. “You’re so wet.” He said in amazement. “Because of you.” I responded.
I started moaning into his ear while his fingers were still rubbing my clit as I saw a worker. She made eye contact with me. Her eyes widened and she hurried off, terrified at what she just saw.
Spencer pushed me off of him and pulled his pants off. “I need you so bad right now. We’re going to my place.” He stated as I smirked. Spencer was so focused on getting some pussy that he didn’t even bother buckling his belt. On top of that I still had his cum on my face.
We walked out the doors as another worker looked at us in shock. She knew what we’d been up to just from the looks of us. I smirked at her as we walked out the building.
I’m about to have the best sex of my life.
I was cleaning off my desk from the stressful case we finally got through, from the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer walking towards me. He finally made it to my desk as I welcomed with a warm smile. “Hey Spence!” I cheerfully said.
“H-hey Y/n.” He responded with a little stutter. I’ve always known Spencer to be this shy, quiet, but well spoken man. For some reason he seemed even more shy at this moment. “What’s up?” I asked as I began packing my purse up.
He sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking up. “I was wondering if..maybe you’d like to get coffee with me and go to a book store..?” Spencer hesitantly asked. My face lit up with the biggest smile ever. Did I just get asked out by Spencer Reid?!
My heart was pounding and my body began to feel hot. Without hesitation I answered quickly. “Yes! I would love to, Spence!” His face looked as if he was relieved, yet happy.
You were the girl Spencer has been wanting for the past 2 years and he finally had the courage to ask you out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n.” He said as he nodded his head before stepping into the elevator. I made sure the elevator doors closed all the way before silently congratulating myself.
I was so happy I didn’t even notice Morgan was there the whole time. “Looks like pretty boy finally asked you out.” He announced with that smirk on his face. My eyes widened at his statement. What did he mean finally?
“Morgan?” I questioned as he took a sip of his coffee. “What?” He replied.
“What do you mean finally?” I asked as he just chuckled. “You really haven’t noticed, have you?” What the hell is he talking about?! I shook my head no at him as sighed and threw his head back. “I can’t believe you’re that oblivious, you’re a profiler for fucks sake.” He said as I rolled my eyes. “Get to the point Morgan!” I stated.
I was anxious to know what he meant and he kept dragging this whole thing out. “Pretty boy likes you. You’re the only person who he ever hugs, shares food with, and he’s constantly stares at you when you’re not looking.” He explained.
I didn’t wanna get my hopes up. Maybe Derek was right, but I’m not gonna believe it until I hear it from Spencer’s mouth. Plus Derek plays around a lot. “Yeah right! Why should I believe you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow as he chuckled.
“Because he told me himself.” Morgan smirked as my jaw dropped. “Really?!” I desperately asked. “You two would make a cute couple.” He chuckled as he patted me on the back, heading towards the elevator doors. “Derek!” I shouted as he was now pressing the elevator button. “Goodnight, sweetheart!” He shouted back with a smirk.
I groaned to myself.
____________
It was the day. I was going out with Spencer. I’m so nervous, yet so excited. I haven’t been able to stop smiling all day. It was fall outside so I decided to wear some stockings with a skirt and a long sleeve top. Nothing too over the top.
Spencer decided to meet me at my apartment so we could walk to the coffee shop and the library. I sprayed some fall scented perfume on as I heard a knock on the door. That’s him!
I rushed to the door and opened it immediately, I was met with the tall, scrawny, handsome Spencer Reid. “Hi, Y/n.” He softly greeted with a smile on his face. “Hey, Spence!” I greeted back. “You ready?” He asked as I said Yes and we headed out the door.
We made it to the coffee shop, Spence paid for the both of us, I told him that he didn’t have to, but he insisted. He then started putting in a bunch of sugar in his coffee as I eyed him. He saw my expression and laughed a bit. “The sugar helps me stay up.” He explained.
“You haven’t tried melatonin gummies?” I genuinely asked. “I’ve never heard of it. Does it work?” He asked curiously. “What?! The famous Dr. Reid doesn’t know about melatonin gummies?!” I faked gasped as he chuckled. “In my defense, I’m not on the internet that often.” He explained.
We walked out the coffee shop and were now on our way to the library. “Really? Then what do you do all day?” I asked, curiosity coating my words. “I like to read.” He said softly as he pressed his lips together. Gosh, he’s so cute.
We finally made it to the library, the smell of books hitting our noses. “How bout you?” He asked as I looked over at him. “What?”
“Do you read?” He asked, his eyes widening, hoping you’d say yes.
“I do actually..but not serious books like you. To be honest, I’m into comics and murder mystery.” I stated. “Maybe you’d let me read one of your comics?” He awkwardly asked as I giggled. “Of course! I have some back at my place.” I answered as a smile covered his face.
We walked over to the book section and Spencer saw a science book. He started rambling about it, I never understand what he’s saying, I just like hearing him speak. It’s so cute seeing him talk about something he’s so passionate about. I zoned out, I was just looking at him while smiling that I didn’t even hear him say my name.
“-Y/n?” “Sorry. What were you saying?” I asked. “Would you want to be an astronaut?” He replied. I quickly shook my head no as he laughed. “Why not? You get to see stuff the average human doesn’t and study stars.” He said before taking a sip of his coffee.
“It’s all fun and games until something goes wrong and you get stuck in space.” I stated as he shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a fair reasoning.” Spencer said understandingly.
We walked past another section of books and one particular book caught my eyes. Fifty Shades of Grey. Spencer took notice to this as he walked over to the book I picked up. “What’s this?” He asked I smirked. “You’ve never heard of this?” He shook his head no. “Have you seen the movies?” He shook his head no. “Do you know what it’s about?” He shook his head no again as I giggled.
I took this as my opportunity to do what I’ve been wanting since I laid my eyes on him. “I can give you a hint.” I said lowly as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He placed his coffee on the shelf next to him as his breath hitched. We both moved our heads until our lips touched and I brought him into a slow, deep, passionate kiss.
I gripped some of his hair as he groaned into my mouth. I was starting to get wet just from the sound that came out of him. I wrapped one leg around his waist as he gripped my ass, making me softly moan. “I need you.” He said with desperation in his eyes. I forgot that we were in public. I hope no one heard us.
“I need you too.” I pleaded. I placed one last kiss to his lips before getting on my knees in front of him. His eyes widened, shocked at the acts I’m about to do. “We’re in public- we can’t!” Spencer whispered shouted. I just looked up at him with doe eyes as I unbuckled his belt. He let out a sigh, giving up.
I pulled his pants down some, along with his underwear. His cock was hard and red es ever. I placed a kiss to his tips, then his balls as lost his breath for a second. “Y/n.” He whispered. I licked a stripe up his dick as he squeezed his eyes shut. I stopped teasing him and finally took him whole. I deepthroated him, his tip hit the back of my throat as he almost lost his balance, his hand gripping the shelf for stability.
“Nghh!” He moaned. I took him out my mouth and put him back in, bobbing my head up and down. He grabbed my hair and started guiding me to suck it just how he likes it. “Mhmm” my moans vibrated on his cock as he grunted.
I hollowed my mouth as I looked up at him with doe eyes. His chocolate brown eyes were wide, he couldn’t believe what he was doing, especially in public. Anyone could walk past and see what was going on, he felt sick for enjoying it, deep down he wants someone to walk past and see his cock shoved down your throat.
I felt his dick twitch, now taking him out my mouth and sucking on his balls. “Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He choked out. “Cum.” I lowly said. As I said, he did. He let out a low whine as his cum shot all over my face as I opened my mouth letting some of it fall in. My face was covered in Spencer’s cum, my cheeks, eyelashes, lips, and the inside of my mouth.
I licked up his dick again, licking up all the excess cum and placing a kiss on his balls. I then stood back up and wrapped one arm around his neck. I wiped some of his cum off my face and stuck my hand down my skirt rubbing his cum all on my pussy.
Poor boy looked like he could barely stand. He stared at me in awe as I grabbed his hand placing it inside my skirt, he rubbed my clit some, smearing his cum all around. I was trying to hold my moans in but it was so hard. “Mhhm Spencer!” I moaned into his chest. “You’re so wet.” He said in amazement. “Because of you.” I responded.
I started moaning into his ear while his fingers were still rubbing my clit as I saw a worker. She made eye contact with me. Her eyes widened and she hurried off, terrified at what she just saw.
Spencer pushed me off of him and pulled his pants up. “I need you so bad right now. We’re going to my place.” He stated as I smirked. Spencer was so focused on getting some pussy that he didn’t even bother buckling his belt. On top of that I still had his cum on my face.
We walked out the doors as another worker looked at us in shock. She knew what we’d been up to just from the looks of us. I smirked at her as we walked out the building.
I’m about to have the best sex of my life.
#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencerreidsmut#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#black reader x spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#fluff#smut#x reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#x female y/n#black y/n#x yn#black yn#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubbler x reader#mgg x reader
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Merry Christmas!
This fic is a present for the love of my life @azureyemberzz
I know you already got your actual presents early, so I thought I'd save mine for the actual day lol
This is an x reader fic, though I made the reader have more of Azurey's personality, but I don't think there's any physical descriptions of the reader.
This fic is a bit different from my usual ones, so I apologize if it's not as great, but it was still made with love dies of cringe
Rambling aside, I hope you enjoy. I had fun writing this💖
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Albedo x reader (romantic)
Lees: Albedo & reader
Lers: Albedo & reader
Warnings: Tickles! Author is a lesbian LMAO
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December 1st…
The moment the calendar changed from november to december, you knew that it was Christmas time. One could never start too early on their Christmas traditions. Even Albedo had made the necessary adjustments to make this month as special as possible.
It seemed natural that the first thing you both did was pick up a Christmas tree. You had always leaned towards the more traditional ones, so now a beautifully green tree that reached the ceiling sat in the living room, waiting to be decorated…
December 5th…
Albedo thought it could be a fun idea to hand make some of the ornaments. With two artists living under the same roof, it made sense, so you both got to work.
You two made all kinds of designs that showed off each of your personalities. There was a simple blue one with gold sparkles, a crystal-like white one, another one had a cheesy science pun written on it that had the both of you snorting like idiots, it was great.
Once all the designs were done, Albedo used his magic on the drawings to bring them to life, materializing them right before your eyes. This wasn’t the first time you had witnessed Albedo bring one of his drawings to life, yet it always mesmerized you each and every time. And knowing that he had brought to life some of your original designs to be hung up made it feel all the more special. It was like his way of showing off your art skills, and how proud he was of you.
December 9th…
Now that all the necessary decorations had been acquired, it was time to give the tree a makeover, starting off with the lights.
A few boxes of those white lights with the “crayon” shape sat there as you both started the pesky progress of untangling them. You couldn’t help the groan of annoyance that escaped you, itching to get to the fun part.
“Patience, dear” Albedo would tell you, stopping momentarily to give your nose a teasing boop, causing a playful pout to form on your lips and a faint blush to rise up your ears.
Your attention then got captured by Albedo’s hands, watching the way he’d untangle each light strand, making it seem flawless and graceful, as he usually showed with any task. You couldn’t help but wonder how those fingers would feel against your skin- No! Stop that, now isn’t the time for such fantasies.
Of course, Albedo wasn’t called a genius for nothing. He already felt the way your gaze bore towards his hands. A faint smirk grazed his lips when you tried focusing back on the task at hand, thinking you had been so slick. ‘Cute…’ he thought to himself. In a moment of playfulness, he reached out and sneakily poked you on the side. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way your body jolted in surprise, the adorable squeak that escaped you provoked him further into destroying you right there and then. So that’s what he did.
You knew you were screwed when you noticed the mischievous gaze of your lover, trying to scramble away, but it was too late. In just a few moments, you had been reduced to a pile of laughter against his arms. His fingers playing the sides of your torso like an instrument.
“W-wahahait! The liHIHIghts!” You tried to reason with him, not like it would work, you already knew that, yet it added to the excitement of the moment.
“They can wait. Besides, your laughter shines the brightest~”
You wanted to groan right there and then over how unfairly sweet he was being, though that only just made him double down his efforts. Watching with a pleased expression as you shrieked your head off, the lights long forgotten by now.
Oh well… there’s always next time.
December 10th…
After yesterday’s ‘lil detour, you both finally managed to put the lights on the tree. The bulbs twinkled like little stars in the vertical pattern they had been put on.
Now it was time for the rest of the decor. Garlands as fuzzy as a cat’s tail would spiral down the tree (not before you got tangled between them somehow, causing Albedo to tease you some more), all the homemade ornaments were on display, plus some extra delicate glass ones towards the bottom of the tree from years prior.
The tree was finally coming together, it was just missing the final touch.
You sat on top of Albedo’s shoulders, holding the delicate star topper on your hands. It had a few cracks from accidentally being shattered a few Christmases ago, but Albedo being the sweetheart he was, helped you put it back together. It was too precious to throw away.
Two short people made one tall person, at least that was your logic. So with the added height, you managed to reach the top of the tree, carefully placing the star in its rightful place.
You climbed off of Albedo’s shoulders, the both of you admiring all the hard work that had been poured into that tree. Christmas was already shaping up well.
December 14th…
As the month progressed, the shared home started to become nicely cluttered with more festive decor. You and Albedo were currently making some paper snowflakes, a silly yet fun tradition you had grown attached to.
You couldn’t help but lightly chuckle at how concentrated Albedo was on the task, crafting each paper snowflake perfectly perfect. Whereas yours looked a bit messy in comparison, but that was all part of the fun.
Speaking of fun… you were suddenly feeling mischievous, wanting to get a bit of revenge after the lighting incident. You snuck up behind your boyfriend who was blissfully unaware, completely caught up in his own little world. A playful grin overtook your lips as you dug into his ribcage.
“gYAh?! Whahat are you- You’re messing uhup my progrehehess!” The blonde cackled helplessly against your fingers, his brain losing any sense of coordination to fight back and simply opting to curl up. His paper snowflake, now mismatched, long forgotten…
December 19th…
As much as you loved Christmas, it could also be an overwhelming time of year, so today you and Albedo decided to have a ‘lil art date, simply drawing portraits of each other.
The tree and all the decorations gave the place a warm and cozy feel, despite how cold it’d get outside.
You had grown so relaxed in the simple activity that you ended up falling asleep. Albedo smiled at the sight, getting up to put both drawings out of harm's way. He didn’t have the heart to wake you up, knowing how… questionable your sleep schedule could get at times, not like he was one to talk. He settled down next to you, allowing your sleepy self to cling onto him for warmth.
December 24th…
Usually, Christmas eve was the time everyone went all out with parties and fancy dinners, but when two introverts live together, Christmas eve is spent a lot more casually, yet still just as meaningful.
The lights were dimly lit, which accentuated the Christmas tree. You and Albedo were snuggled against each other on the couch watching The Polar Express, a holiday classic. A big blanket was draped over you two, and you each had a cup of hot cocoa for extra warmth and immersion.
It was no secret that Albedo could be a bit of a pro in the kitchen, but his hot chocolate skills were out of this world. Seriously, what is his secret?! You could drink this stuff all day anyday.
More beloved Christmas films would continue to play in the background throughout the night, eventually the both of you passing out on the couch all cuddled up together.
December 25th…
By the time you had come to your senses, it was already daylight. That’s right, it was finally Christmas.
You looked to your side, pouting a bit over the missing alchemist. Said blonde emerged into the room shortly after, holding a present in his hands.
“I know we said no gifts, but I thought this felt appropriate” He was right, neither of you were big on materialistic possessions, gifts never needing to be included for the holiday to be special, but Albedo was a true gentleman, of course he’d still show up with something.
You carefully took the gift from his hands, unwrapping it delicately. A smile instantly spread across your face at the sight. Albedo had taken it upon himself to frame the two portraits you each drew the other day. Simple yet thoughtful. You set it aside, springing to your feet to give him a hug, practically twirling him around, much to the alchemist’s embarrassment.
“That was so thoughtful, ‘Bedo. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!~” You placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, grinning when the blonde’s pale skin started to grow pink.
“No need to thank me… Now, go get ready quickly, the snow is waiting for us”
You nodded like an eager puppy, running off to dress yourself properly for the harsh weather. You practically dashed out the door, with an alchemist in hand, heading over to the snowy scenery.
Christmas is a special time of year that can be celebrated in all sorts of ways, yet you wouldn’t trade any of this away. It was perfect, this was perfect. Another joyful Christmas to remember for years to come.
I love you, Azurey. Merry Christmas - S🌸
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#genshin impact#genshin tickle fic#genshin x reader#albedo x reader#albedo#ler!albedo#lee!albedo#ler!reader#lee!reader
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Okay so,
A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.
I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.
Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.
This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.
Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *
Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.
He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.
He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.
His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.
Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.
“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.
“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”
Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."
“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”
How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.
His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.
Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"
“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”
"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”
Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.
Perry gives them a subtle nod.
Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.
“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.
“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”
"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.
At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”
Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.
Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”
Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.
Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."
Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"
“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”
It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.
“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.
Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.
Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.
“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”
Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.
“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”
“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”
"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”
"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”
"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”
"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”
"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”
"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”
“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.
Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.
"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”
Natasha quirks an eyebrow.
Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.
He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.
“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”
Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.
There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.
#crossover content#choice of fic#Natasha Romanoff#Clint Barton#Nick Fury#Francis Monogram#Carl Karl#Perry the Platypus#Human Perry#mute perry#Mission Marvel#Phineas and Ferb#pnf
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Hi Angie, i hope it is alright that im calling you Angie, this is C.
Sorry for not replying earlier, I hope you are doing good. I’m also sorry to see that you lost someone so important to you, hope you are feeling better now.
I kinda screenshotted your answer to get back to you at a more suitable time (I see that I have the best timing now that the circus is back in town like talk about that wasted time eh Harry, anyway..)
I’m sorry that the fandom evolved into a place where you (and me and I’m sure many others) are feeling bad for voicing opinions that are essentially the fundamentals of being a larrie. The way this has been happening is particularly disheartening when people accuse us of apparently not respecting their closet or blaming them for their closets, like that is some level of gaslighting and guilt tripping.
I guess the fandom became this way now because louder voices are more occupied with following the biggest popstar (their words definitely not mine) of recent years than two closeted musicians that they can see past all the bs H and his team pull to the point where them voicing all the praise and how this fuck-boy persona is a must to make it big are drowning out the reasonable judgments of many levelheaded fans that can still manage to be here.
It really makes me wonder how it would be now with H and L if the fandom could have been more open with our criticism towards their recent way of handling fame, business etc, like im not trying to attribute more importance than we deserve to us as a fandom in their lives or saying we know better than them but we experienced firsthand how they were attuned to the chatter of larry fandom, maybe some tough love is what they need to hear instead of all the coddling (especially H) they are oddly receiving mostly from this part of fandom.
Also, im not trying to sound insensitive but it feels like they are missing Jay-like figure in their lives who im firmly believing was the voice of reason for them (I dont wanna get into this too much out of respect for Jay)
I have so much respect for you (and other blogs like you) bc you guys refuse to give into pressure of following whats come to be “the truth” and still speak your truths, there is nothing off putting about that believe me, it is admirable.
Im sorry if this ask feels incoherent, if it is so, you are gonna understand why in my following ask which would be just for you.
Hello, C 🦋 it’s so comforting to read your messages every now and then. I hope life is treating you well.
I know I made myself a reputation of an hater, but I’m not. I’m just constantly pushing back whatever stupid move they make. I don’t care if it’s good for their business, it’s not worthy on a human level and I fear the day people will start prioritising job and money and commercial success.
I also understand ignoring whatever thing you don’t like is a way to cope and go through this and curate your experience, but still it won’t make it go away. It’s hard at times, especially here - I’m not particularly close to anyone here so it feels like my experience is just me speaking into the void, you know? - and in this isolation sometimes I feel like the evil character but I don’t think I am. I’m a fan like everyone else, except I am very opinionated and more often than not I don’t agree with what I see/read here and there.
But thank you for coming back. I will not post the other part II because I like that little secret between us 😌 you’ll find me here when you decide to share more of your thoughts of course <3
#i forgot to say the latest 1-2 years events#have been the reason I have started writing fics#and I must say I enjoy it very much :)#im not sure I agree with you on Jay but I see where you are coming from with it#casella di posta numero 32#C ✨
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me stubbornly forcing myself to drink green tea and rest from my THIRD COLD THIS MONTH
#i am so fucking tired of being ill#is it not enough that i have a chronic illness and chronic pain condition all the time anyway???#ughhh#i'm grateful because i at least managed to get to (most) of the gigs i wanted to this month#but other than that i've literally just been stuck in bed unable to do anything and my brain is starting to melt with boredom#idk how i can still not be well enough to write or absorb myself in reading a good book or fanfic or even be on here properly#but my brain feels like MUSH and it's so frustrating#i miss my little four walls men so much 😩#i miss being able to see the sky and see my friends and taste the food i eat#sorry i know i'm complaining#i just needed to vent for a moment#it's been such a shit few months anyway and i was already in a really rough spot with my mental/physical health for a number of reasons#so this just feels like the last straw#universe please let me feel a little better soon#i have things i want to do and people i want to talk to and fics i want to write#oh how nice it must be to live in a body that isn't constantly impaired in some way 🤦♀️#lulu posts
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