#hope she doesn’t read this post until after she is no longer lying in the bed next to me 😔 not used to the subjects of my tumblr posts

[lesbianlenas]

now she’s mad at me bc i accidentally gave her the world’s smallest hickey 😔 i liked being a cringe fail loser lesbian alone better there were less rules 😔

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 3— Fool.

a/n: welcome back to the Be My Baby series! Sorry y'all, I left with some with friends and it went on waaaaay longer than I thought it would lol. I'm gonna break this chapter up into 2 parts so I can get it posted tonight. So an extra chapter will be added!! Chapter 4 will just be the part 2 of this one, and after that it'll be back on schedule. Oh and don't worry— chapter 4 will be out tomorrow btw!! that's where the big boy angst comes on. so y'all are safe until then. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this again, lol. I will later & edit any details that need touching up. Again sorry this is late, but I hope getting part two and the Keira fic tomorrow will make up for it haha.)

content: sick!Reader, caretaker!Leah, straight up no smut (CRAZY I KNOOOOOW), mostly fluff, and some angst.

warnings: talks of not hydrating & eating properly, the flu, A&E/ER, confusion caused by sickness

synopsis: You wake up sick and you call the only person you can think of for help.

word count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The sound of your alarm doesn’t jolt you awake this morning. You’re already lying wide awake before it rolls around this time. You’d woken up early and your mind drifted to Leah, your whole situation together, barca, and the inevitable moment when they all come crashing together like a high speed train accident. Is it severely toxic and self destructive? Oh for sure…but who’s gonna stop you?

You stretch out your limbs as you set up in bed, turning off your alarm as you settle back into your own skin. There’s a rolling storm of anxiety filling your gut, and as your feet touch the ground it flies up to your throat. You run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time, emptying out your stomach contents. Which at the moment is just your bile. The sweating must’ve started when you were in bed; because you quickly notice the dampness of your shirt from the temperature drop in the bathroom. The cold tiles seep through Leah’s sweats and chill your body down. You shiver after a few minutes, staying seated on the floor as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You make quick work of going to grab your phone and sending your boss a quick message. As soon as it's sent you make your way to the shower. It's only when you bend down to take your pants off that you realize how sick you truly are. Your vision goes blurry and your head starts floating in and out of dizziness. You slowly lower your body, your hands making contact with the floor as you set yourself down. It's then that the headache starts— like your brain is pounding against your forehead on repeat. It's sharp and never ending, leaving you to crumble down into tears.

You don't have a car, and even if you did— you are in no state to operate a vehicle right now, and you definitely don't feel confident enough to order a taxi like this. So you are left with one option. One you know you're gonna regret when you're not sick and delusional, but it's the one thing your broken mind can think of…You call Leah. You crawl across the tiled floor and get your phone off the counter, dialing her number as you pray she picks up. And of course she does, because by the third ring her voice is greeting you through the speakers. "I knew you couldn't resist me, darling. I've just been wait—"

"Le…" you cut her off with a sob of her nickname. Your head is painfully throbbing now, and your mouth is so dry your throat is scratchy. She can tell just from the small amount of your voice she hears.

"y/n, hey— what's wrong? I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon, just stay on the phone with me," Leah's moving before the first word even leaves her mouth. She's leaving her breakfast on the table as she slips mismatching shoes on her feet. Running out of her flat with nothing but her keys and her phone in her hands.

"Something's wrong, Le. I'm sick and I-I..I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," your voice breaks at the end. It's like a knife plunging into Leah's heart as she hears it; the absolute brokenness of your words. She knows there's a deeper meaning behind your them, but she won't push it. Leah knows any of the girls would come to help you in a heartbeat, so what's got you believing otherwise? Or maybe the better question is, who has you believing otherwise? She'll investigate that later.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright, love. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and we'll get you to the doctor," Leah's voice would normally calm you down, but your brain is still running a million miles per minute…and it's only making you feel worse. It's like you can't focus on a singular thought, and the confusion only fuels your distress. Leah presses down on the gas pedal when she doesn't get a response from you. She can only hear your cries filling up the empty space of her car. She gets to your building in record time, and only then does she realize she didn't bring her wallet.

"God dammit," she chastises herself under her breath, trying to not let you hear her frustration as she searches for a on-street parking spot. She just had to forget you live in a fancy ass building with paid parking, today of all days. "I'm parking now, love. I'll be up in a few minutes." Thankfully she gets one across the street, rummaging through her center console for some change coins. She puts way more than needed in the parking meter, but that's not her main priority right now. "I need you tell me if the door's unlocked, okay? I know you don't feel well, but can you unlock it if it is?"

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, gathering all your mental strength to answer her. "N-No. There's a key under t-the welcome mat though…I don't think I can walk by myself. I-I'm so sorry, Leah," you can't stop the embarrassment from filling your body. You hate having to ask people for help— especially when you need it the most. It makes you feel weak, helpless, and like a burden. It's a deep seated insecurity you can't seem to shake, but it's not like you've really ever tried to correct it. We all know Leah's stubborn, but you? You can be even worse than her. It's not like you mean to be, but you're just…broken. In more ways than even you would like to admit.

Leah sees right through it though— she always has. She is the one person in your life that sees you for who you are. Not the persona you put up for the rest of the world. You two may of only spent a short time together that year ago, but oh what an impact it made. Spending every waking second with a person for weeks on end does something to a person. You either ending up hating each other, falling in love, or whatever the fuck you two got going on.

"You don't need to be sorry, y/n. You definitely need a better hiding spot for your spare though, that's just bloody awful! You're asking for a break in!" Leah feels herself get a little frustrated as she retrieves your key. Her voice picking up into a scolding tone as she jiggles with your doorknob. You whimper out as you move the phone from your ear, the slight rise in her voice making your head hurt more. "Too loud," you say as she walks into your home. She makes sure to shut the door lightly, before smacking herself in the forehead for raising her voice with you. "I'm sorry, love. I just worry about you. Now which room are you in?"

"My bathroom," your voice sounds so small now. Like a child getting in trouble.

"I'm on my way to you now, okay?" Leah says as she climbs the stairs. Her eyes flit over your walls and she notices the lack of pictures. You have bare hallways and they look so, so lonely. She walks into your bedroom and she sees the void of no decor or really any of your things at all. It makes her sad, but mostly it leaves her wanting to ask more questions. Questions she knows she can't ask right now, but will get the answers to someway.

Nothing could have prepared Leah for what she sees behind the wooden door of your bathroom. You're clad in a mist of sweat, all the color drained from your face, and you're shaking like a leaf. It isn't until she's running up to you and falling to her knees that she sees the extent of your state. Your pants are still sitting halfway down your thighs, and Leah quickly moves to redress you. She makes sure not to look at you inappropriately, only doing what's needed to get you comfortable and less exposed. She knows how vulnerable you are right now, and she's doing everything she can to make sure you're okay. She sheds her Arsenal hoodie off, sliding it over your head as she encourages you to push your arms through.

“Hey love, let’s get you stood up– that’s it.” She helps you get to your feet, letting you lean all your body weight onto her. Leah guides you back towards your bed, sitting you on the edge as she goes to grab a pair of your shoes. It doesn't take her long before she's rejoining you and sliding some slip-ons over your feet. she pats your legs when she's down, looking up to see your disheveled appearance. "You ready to go?"

"Mhm," you nod your head along. Talking is only making your headache worse, so you've opted for noises instead.

With that, Leah is helping you back up. But before you can rest your weight back onto her side, she's picking you up bridal style. Your arms instinctively go to wrap around her neck, burying your face in the warmth of her embrace. You don't have the energy to argue with her, and honestly it's a relief to not have to walk right now. She carries you like you weigh nothing, shutting and locking your door like she isn't holding an entire human being. If you didn't feel like death you'd be obsessing over how hot she is, but right now you're just thankful.

You must've fallen asleep, because the next thing you know you're waking up in a A&E bed. You blink a few times to adjust to the lights above you, small groans slipping out as you try to stretch the cramped feeling out of your limbs. Then you hear her softly speaking on the phone across the room, and you go back to lying still. You close your eyes as you focus on trying to hear her conversation. "I know I should've called first, but you didn't see her. She couldn't even stand on her own, and she fell asleep in my arms before we even made it to her building elevator! She's in bad shape, and I'm not just gonna leave her here all alone in a country she doesn't fucking know. I'm the Captain and it's my responsibility to look after everyone— I don't fucking care that she's not a player! She's on our team, our crew, and she deserves our support. Call me back when you get your head out of your ass," and with that she hangs up.

You try and force yourself to just back to sleep and forget everything you've heard, but of course that's not how things work out. Your stomach starts turning again, complicating feelings swirling around with the uneasiness. The tears come falling down your cheeks before your eyes even open, your chest starting to tighten up as the sobs claw at your lungs to get out. It feels like you can't breathe, and honestly maybe you aren't. Not as you see flashbacks of Barca passing through your memory, a wave of dread blanketing over your body.

"What hurts, love? Do I need to get the nurse?" Leah's by your side the second she notices, a hand out grasping your forearm. Her fingers dance little patterns into your skin, and it actually starts to ground you. "Come on, take deep breaths with me again, okay?"

You nod your head, and then she's holding both your hands. You follow her lead as she sucks in a slow breath and holds it, before exhaling just as slow. She repeats the process with you until you're calmed all the way down. It doesn't take too long, but honestly Leah isn't going to leave you anytime soon anyway. "Nothing hurts," you say it so softly she barely hears it. Your eyes stay locked down onto the bed sheets below you, never making any eye contact with her.

"Then why were you crying, y/n?"

"Because I heard you on the phone…and I don't know. I guess I freaked out, and went spiraling into a self hate hole for a second. I'm okay, really."

"oh bloody hell! I'm so sorry you heard that, darling. I should've went into the hall or something—"

"It's okay, Le. I'm just sensitive, and really really delulu from whatever sickness I currently have…plus it was nice to hear you stick up for me, Captain."

"The mystery sickness is indeed just a bad case of the flu…but uhm, the doctor said it was made worse from you being dehydrated and probably not eating enough from the looks of your blood work. I'm not gonna judge you or yell at you. But I am taking you home with me when they discharge you. I'm your official caregiver until you're well enough to take after yourself again," Leah doesn't let go of your hand as she says it. She tries to connect your gazes, but you don't allow it. Actively avoiding her eyes as you feel them burrowing holes into your skull.

You wish you could argue with her and tell her she's wrong…but you can't. You've been skipping out on meals ever since you moved here. It's not been on purpose, you just haven't been able to eat. It's like your body hates the idea of eating, always growing nauseous after every few bites. So you've been drinking some meal replacements…not enough apparently. "Okay."

"…Okay? Really? That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be," Leah is staring at you with her biggest look of, 'be so for real, bitch' written across her face. But you just shrug as you sink back into the uncomfortable mattress underneath you. You're so mentally and physically wore out right now, there's just no fight left inside you. Right as you're about to re-close your eyes, the doctor finally comes back in. After getting the run down from him, he lets you know that you can be discharged and to pick up your antibiotics before going home. Leah helps you redress again, and this time it has you giggling at the way she makes her eyes go anywhere but at your naked body.

"Hold on…how'd you get the doctor to tell you what was wrong with me before I even woke up? Aren't there some rules against that?"

"…I might have told everyone that you're my fiancé," Leah smiles at you nervously.

"Fuck you, Williamson! Take yourself on that date Thursday!"

"Oh, so you're finally agreeing that it's a date?" Leah smirks at you, only hearing the parts of what she wants to hear.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

She rolls her eyes at you for that, holding her hand out for you to take. And you do, still leaning against her some to walk. She helps you to the car, and once you're both secure she's driving you to your new home for the next few days…or weeks. God you hope only days. It feels weird to be back inside a house with another person, and it's extra fucking weird that it's Leah. You know this stay is when you have to put down some boundaries with her. To stop whatever there is between the two of you. It makes the previous pit in your stomach increase by double, because deep down you know you care about her...you're just lying to yourself about it. You can push every feeling down your throat, but they will all come spilling out at some point. That's what you've learned to be true over the years, but will you accept that as truth? Hell no! At least not anytime soon. Your worst problem is that you always get in your own way.

When she finally gets you inside, Leah starts cooking and letting her mind wonder to think of you. More importantly to the phone call you overheard in the A&E. She'd been talking with her manager, and completely snapped on him. He'd said something about how Leah 'follows you around like a lost puppy' and well…. it hurt her fucking feelings. Of course she isn't doing all of this just because she's one sided sickly in love with you…right? Sure she thinks of you literally every second of the day, and she's been day dreaming of you for the past year, but that's all totally normal...RIGHT?

Leah doesn't get to spiral into her romanic crisis for too long, because before she knows it the timers going off. She drains the gnocchi before putting it in a bowel for you, making her way back to the living room where she left you. She laughs at the sight that greets her— you snuggled up asleep in her Arsenal hoodie she'd given you when she first saw you. Leah just sets the gnocchi aside on the coffee table, opting to cuddle you instead of waking you up. She pulls you onto her body, your face resting on her chest as she tries to adjusts you without waking you up.

She finds herself running her fingers through your hair, and before long they're running softy across the features of your face. Leah lets a deep sigh come out of her chest. She truly feels like a fucking fool. Leah doesn't chase girls— they chase her. So for the first time in this game, she is the one crying. She's clinging onto any crumb of attention you'll give her, and she'll keep doing it for as long as it takes. Leah has you sleeping against her chest once again, and it's nothing like she's day dreamed of. You two aren't confessing your feelings, running around town making memories, or god forbid actually dating…but she'll keep feeling like a fool and waiting on you. She'll keep searching for your love until she finds it, because she knows she's felt flashes of it. She knows that carefree, wild, truly happy girl from Ibiza is still inside of you somewhere. Leah doesn't know what took that extra bright sparkle out of your eyes, but she is determined to see it light up your face back up.

[r0ttenhearts]

Friends?

Scaramouche x Best friend! Reader

angst, no comfort, insults

a bright, summer afternoon. the blazing heat outside of the cooled windows as the cicadas hummed in the unforgiving warm air. but there you were, sitting on scaramouches bed next to him, tapping away at your handheld game as you talked to him. you two had been friends since the start of the previous school year. your sweet smiles and kind gestures moved him, or you hoped they did, as he spoke with you the most in class until it turned to after school study sessions, and eventually just hanging out at each others homes when school was over.

as cruel as scaramouche could be, you found yourself falling for him. the rare smiles he’d give you, or his kind words that were few and far between. it meant more to you than you expected. you figured you were cracking through his tough shell, as he didn’t seem to mind spending time together over the break. or so you thought.

“haypasia is back in town. i thought i’d go see her so i don’t think you can come over for awhile.”

oh right. haypasia. the very bane of your existence. it seemed like every time she was around, scara would leave you to be forgotten. a second thought. sure she knew scara for longer, but did she really know him like you did? no, of course she didn’t, because she was never around. but you were. scaramouche would complain to you about her obsessive antics, how annoying she was and how bothersome she could be, only for him to defend her if you got upset with him about spending too much time together.

“oh.. when will you go see her?” you ask quietly, your voice cracking as you feel that oh so familiar lump in your throat. scaramouche glances at you from above his screen, scoffing and a look of disbelief on his face. “seriously y/n? you’re still so upset about her? what’s your deal?”

you shake your head as you put down your game. your hair covering your face as you don’t face him. you can’t. if you do you’ll break, and you know it. “i just.. i wish you wouldn’t go away for days at a time when she’s around.. you’re my best friend you know? and it hurts to realize that you pick someone over me, someone that doesn’t even stay.” you confess, your hands starting to shake as you can feel his eyes bore into your shaking form.

you can hear him scoff beside you as he sits up, “best friends? we’re friends. actually, we’re hardly even friends because i barely even like you.

you dont shut the fuck up you never do.

you make up lies in your head cause you think i like you but you delusional-ly believe i wouldn’t ever talk to other people and god forbid it be a girl.

oh and you're gonna switch it around saying the reverse about how id care when we all know damn well you could get beat in an alleyway and the most you'd get out of me is a "sorry to hear that.”

he gives you the meanest glare as you stand up from his bed as he shoves you against his bedroom door. fat tears roll down your cheeks as he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his dulled, purple eyes.

“no, tell me im wrong. tell me i dont know what im talking about. god youre so fucking stupid.”

he spits as he lets go of your chin, opening the door as you stumble out. he slams his door shut as you stand there in tears. you loved him? you loved him after he told you how he doesn’t care for you? how pathetic could you be. how could you care so deeply for someone that wouldn’t ever look at you, not even in a friendly way?

with his words ringing through your head, you gather your belongings as you leave his home. your game left forgotten on his bed, wishing to never return or face him again.

————————-

a/n: based on a very real argument with my best friend. a little self indulgent but this was a comfort post. thanks for reading!

part II:

[blackbat05]

Came from that post you have asking for Adam Warlock headcannons, so consider with me:

Him being the best at massages and always going to him after battles when your body is aching and him rubbing your shoulders and back until you fall asleep.

No one can quite relieve the pain like he can. Even if you’ve been taken care of in the med wing, the soreness doesn’t go away until you’re with him.

TLC

Adam Warlock x Reader

Plot: Adam is there to help you with recovery after missions.

Genre: PG-13 (One use of y/n)

A/N: Hello Nonie! What a lovely headcanon and I'm so sorry I only got to this now. I tried to bounce off your idea and make it into a short piece. If you read it, I hope you liked it!

"Adam!"

The young girl runs into his room, hurtling towards him like a cannonball. Adam frowns, hearing the urgency in Phyla's voice.

"What is it?"

"It's y/n. She's-"

Before Phyla could finish her sentence, Adam bolts out of the room, racing down the stairs and towards the ship that had just docked from a mission. Phyla almost smacks into him face first as he abruptly comes to a stop seeing you lying across the table, groaning in pain. Adam is at your side, assessing for any serious injuries.

"You're not injured?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You want me to be?"

"No, sweetheart. I didn't mean that. Phyla told me-"

"I was going to tell you," the youngest interjects. "That she's fine but her back is feeling a little stiff from the ambush by the trogawogs. She sent me to get you to check if it's merely just a stiff back or if it's something else."

Despite your pain, you can't help but smile at the sight of Phyla's confused face and Adam's sheepish reaction.

"Thank you, Phyla. You can go now." You dismiss her and she leaves you and Adam.

"You do give solid massages." You break the silence. "Do you mind?"

"Oh yeah, of course."

Carefully, you prop yourself up. As his fingers press into your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. "Oh... that hits the spot. Could you move up a little? I think one of them may have gotten my shoulder. I just want to make sure it's ok."

Adam quietly gets to work as he expertly undoes the knots that formed in your back.

"You're a saint," you thanked him as he works his magic. "Whatever you want, just say the word. But it'll have to be within my means of course." You quickly add the last part, well aware that you were potentially making a deal with a god. He only chuckles and focuses his pressure on your upper back.

Once satisfied with his work, Adam takes out your pain relief patches that you bought from Earth, applying two of them just as you taught him the very first time. He's about to let you know that he's finished but sees your head drooping slightly.

Having off-world missions back to back wasn't easy and as the human on the team, it definitely took a toll on you compared to the others. Adam wished that you wouldn't take so many missions, but he also knew you were too stubborn and strong-headed to listen.

Lifting you under your back, Adam walks back to your quarters, careful not to wake you up. He makes sure that any other minor injuries are taken care of and finally tucks you to bed. You're out like a light, and into dreamland. He wants to stay a little longer but has his own mission to prepare for. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead.

"Whatever I want... I just want you to not get hurt. That's all I want."

As he takes one last look at your serene face, Adam switches off the light, making a mental promise to visit you when he gets back.

[blinkaftermidnight]

Multiple Pairings - Leatin

I think this was going to be something that I released as one fic with a new ship for each chapter. Obviously started with Leatin, because that field note about their moment in the bathroom inspired something - but clearly I didn't know what to do with it.

There'll be a second part to this one, a little longer than this. That'll be my attempt at writing Leachel, and I think it'll be pretty clear that I'm better suited to writing Leatin. Stay tuned for that and for another chapter of expecting me to find you (when you left me in the dark) soon!

Read on AO3.

Leatin [one-sided, post-bathroom]

She’s not obsessed with her. Leah’s not even sure how she possibly could be obsessed with someone she doesn’t know. Like, of course she’d like Avishar from camp. They were friends, until the summer ended and Avishar went back home to Michigan and they lost touch. Amanda sat next to Leah in history all semester, and they always paired up for projects and started hanging out after school – until Ian got jealous. Or, that’s what Leah tells herself, because it’s easier to think of it that way than it is to think of it as until Amanda got a boyfriend, and Leah couldn’t handle hearing about him or letting him join them, so she let that friendship slowly slip away.

Point is, at least she knew them. Avishar and Amanda and both Brandons and even her neighbor. Leah doesn’t even know Fatin. Leah speaks to Fatin one time, in a bathroom, and cracks a lame joke, and the interaction lasts all of thirty seconds, and then it’s done. Leah reluctantly leaves the bathroom, because she’d just finished washing her hands when Fatin asked for a tampon, and there’s no way to justify hanging around in the bathroom in hopes that Fatin will speak to her again.

Leah knows who Fatin is – it’s hard not to know. Leah sees her every day, but she’s never been this close, has never spoken to her before, has never smelled Gucci perfume or seen perfectly manicured nails or the ZERO FUCKS necklace around Fatin’s neck. She’s never had Fatin smile at her. Leah shouldn’t walk out of that bathroom feeling anything for a perfect stranger, and Leah would be lying if she said she didn’t look Fatin up on social media the moment she got a chance.

[kittyprincessofcats]

Okay, I think I’m finally able to at least write a post about it: I’m seriously not okay after the latest RWBY episode.

[trigger warning for mentions of suicide, death, child death, animal death]

And I don’t mean this in a hyperbolic “oh no, the angst!” way, I mean I’m genuinely disturbed and upset and really angry at CRWBY for not putting a better trigger warning on that.

Like seriously, what kind of a lame warning is “might have distressing content” supposed to be? WHAT content, CRWBY? How is this supposed to help anyone decide whether to watch or not? It’s like one of those tumblr posts that put “[trigger warning]” at the top without specifying for what and it’s like... thanks, this is useless.

And it’s especially useless after the episode before had the exact same content warning and there the “upsetting content” ended up being some silly paper people. How the hell was anyone supposed to guess that the next episode with the exact same warning would have such an intense tone shift and so much genuinely disturbing stuff?

And I’m seeing Miles Luna warning people more explicitly on twitter, but like dude... y’all told us to stay off social media before these episodes, no one’s going to read that if you tweet it an hour before the release. Put it on the actual episode.

(And I don’t get it. For V8E14 they did so well with the Content Warning and putting the suicide hotline in the description! What changed to make their warnings so much more vague and useless now?)

I was visiting my sisters - who I hadn’t seen in months - over Easter and if I’d known what this episode was, how much it would upset me, heck if I’d had even a vague “Hey, this episode is genuinely really dark, that content warning is no joke this time” warning, I would have waited with watching until I was back home alone and could watch it alone, at my own pace, in small digestable pieces and where me breaking down about it wouldn’t be ruining any plans.

Instead I let my youngest sister talk me into watching it together (and because we’d spent the day doing other stuff I of course hadn’t checked any social media or seen any warnings), and voilà - the entire second day of my stay was completely ruined because of how down I was feeling. I won’t see my sisters again for another two months (maybe longer) and one of the TWO days I was supposed to have with them was spent lying in bed alone and feeling sad.

PUT TRIGGER WARNINGS ON STUFF FFS.

And to be clear here - what I’m upset about is Little. Everything else in this episode I can live with and enjoy even if it’s heavy, but that one is such a hard no for me that I can’t enjoy the rest. I have a whole thing about how I can’t handle children (or really young, vulnerable and sweet animal sidekicks, it seems) dying or getting hurt in media. That’s my one hard line when it comes to media. If a child dies in it, keep it away from me. (It’s why I was never able to get into The Hunger Games, for example.)

And yes, I know Little’s not dead for good, they’ll ascend - but that doesn’t change that it was extremely disturbing. And yes, I know it was thematically foreshadowed - Ruby had to lose the last bit of hope she still had - but I was still really hoping the writers wouldn’t go there (and definitely not in such a disturbing way, so suddenly and without warning).

And it’s a shame because the rest of the episode is so good! I could write a whole meta on that delicious Nuts and Dolts angst (and semi-confirmation?), which was exactly what I've been asking for for weeks. Not to mention how now that we’ve seen that people from Remnant can in fact ascend (contrary to what the cat previously said), it makes Penny being alive somewhere (and/or Penny being Little) way more likely again - normally I'd be eating all of this stuff up. But yeah, unfortunately I couldn’t really enjoy or appreciate the entire rest because what they did with Little took me out of it too much.

And I’m just really upset that it ruined my visit to my sisters.

[chasingpj]

🍄 hiiiiii congrats on 1k!!! i started reading ur child of hecate fic since the 1st chapter& i loveeeee what ur doing for the rewrite!!! any ways i want to ask what ur wips r rn ??? cause u havent updated in a while & i wanted to know if u have smthng planned

hi hi! first, i want to say thank you so much for sticking by my fic for so long like?? I'm the worst post-er in the world and i truly applaud you for your patience and am so so thankful for your support!!!

now to answer your question... i indeed have plenty for you guys and i'm really hoping i get to execute this! I'll give you some sneak peaks of the writing too :)))

Here With Me: it's a nico one-shot with a platonic older sister reader and the relationship is kind of inspired by Wednesday and Pugsley's dynamic.

“Okay, listen here…” You move a little closer, eyeing the name tag on the frightened guard. “Atrius. Have you seen a girl named Bianca? She looks like this kid.” Pointing at Nico, the ghost peers over your shoulder. 

“No, I haven’t seen her.” As definitive as that statement was, he didn’t sound so definitive. His bones clinked together as he shivered in your presence. 

“I don’t like when people lie to me.” You stare into his empty eye sockets. One moment passes and then two and then three and still he hasn’t budged. Irritation buzzed at the back of your skull. You had the time but none of the patience to play hide and seek. 

Nico stands a short way behind you, partially concerned for your victim. He wasn’t sure what you were going to do if you didn’t get what you wanted. The skeleton flashed him a look and even with no skin on his face, he could tell it was pleading. 

“Help me!” He was saying without a word.  The boy doesn’t move from his spot though, instead looking away sheepishly. Pleading or not, he looked scary. That and Nico really wants to find his sister.

“I’m not lying!” He insists and it annoys you even more. Quickly, in one movement, you grab his leg and tug so hard it comes straight out the socket. Tossing it to the side, your eyes don’t leave him as he yelps, falling straight to the ground.

“Tell me where she is, or I’m tossing both of your legs into Tartarus. Last chance.”

2. Discovered: it's a percy one shot where you're jason's little sister and you've trying to keep your relationship a secret

“Perce, we should get out there.” Your eyes focus on the door as he slowly lowers your hand off his face. “I came here to wake you up, not to cuddle.” The suggestion flew into one ear and out the other, Percy only nuzzling his face further into your neck. “Hmm.” The vibration of his hum tickles your skin, distracting the rational thoughts that urge you to take your own advice. “Let’s just stay here and sleep a little longer.” 

When did you become so weak? You’re not sure how it came about with Percy. His husky, fatigue-laced voice was enough for you to persuade you. It wasn’t even the warmth of his body splayed over yours or the inviting bed sheets graced with his sweet scent that could sway your persistence. As much as you wished to stay here, playing with Percy’s dark locks until the two of you drift to sleep, you know you couldn’t. 

Your brother, Jason, was big on routines and he didn’t waste any time to work out a schedule for himself and the whole Argo II crew. Curfew was set to wake up at the crack of dawn and the times varied person to person under the consideration of who was scheduled for the night watch. 7 am was pretty early, considering you’re all stuck on a boat all day. The hours would just drag and you’ve tried to compromise with him about it but the former praetor was set on his plans. 

3. Holidate: it's short series that i'm working on inspired by the netflix movie Holidate! It takes place after college, percy and y/n are adults and just got out of long term relationships! it's a fake dating au. I want to get this fic out for the holidays at the end of the year!

“What?” Silena doesn’t falter her stare and you shift on your feet, suddenly, aware of Ellie tugging on your arm, eager to show you all the Christmas presents she got this year. “You're acting like I showed up in sweats!” Silena purses her lips. “I did my hair, and my makeup! First time in 3 months.” You hoped she'd give you some credit but her expression doesn’t change. “You know what? I don’t need to explain myself to you. I’m going to attend your daughter's Christmas Haul now.” 

Silena scoffs and turns on her heels, the red bottoms of her heels clashing perfectly with the green of her dress. Content with that being the end of your conversation, you make your way to the grand stairs with your 4-year-old tour guide. 

“You look like shit.” Your vision follows the direction of the voice. Drew smirks, glamorous in her choice of outfit today. To any other dinner party, you wouldn’t be underdressed but Cabin 10 took any event like the met gala. 

“Thank you.”  you smile as if you just got a compliment. Ignoring her look of obvious disgust, you run up the stairs behind the crowd of children.

__________

“Percy?” Estelle pats her older brother’s shoulder. She waits for a moment, the older boy staring at his cup of eggnog with nothing particular in mind. “PERCY?” 

As if snapping out of a trance, Percy blinks, meeting the six-year-olds gaze. “Yes, Guppy?”

The sweet tone in his voice was hard to manage but the last thing he wanted was to ruin his little sister's Christmas with his crabby attitude. He wishes he stayed home at his apartment, waiting out this holiday by pretending it was just a regular Friday. Sally didn’t allow it though, waking him up by calling his landline and demanding he showed up to Christmas dinner. He only came for Estelle. He knew his little sister would miss him.

“Where’s Annie?” She asks, teddy in her arms. Percy shifts, about to answer before his mother chimes in.

“Estelle, can you help dad set the table?” The task was somehow exciting to her child mind, the girl ditching the teddy bear on Percy’s lap. Saved by mom, Percy releases the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Sorry,” Sally sheepishly sits beside her son. “I told her what happened and to not bring it up. I guess she wants to hear the news straight from you.”

“It’s fine,” Percy says, green orbs returning to the eggnog in his hand.

[strawberrystar7]

Yk Lila (is that even her name? Cerise? Whatever her name is I’m just going to be calling her Lila for simplicity) seems interesting to me. Why does she have at least 2 if not 3 different identities? How did she turn out this way? Why does she want the butterfly Miraculous? What is her plan going forward. What the heck did she see at the end of the season 5 final? She looked so scared. I hope we get some answers in season 6.

I have to be honest I don’t really like her as a person but as a character she’s very interesting. Similar to Chloé in a sense I guess but also different. I don’t really like Chloé as a person either but when it comes to her as a character I find her interesting. When it comes to Chloé she has both potential to be a villain but also potential to get a redemption if done right (well maybe not anymore after season 5 but up until season 4 final she had that chance). I like reading Chloé redemption fanfics because of it. Tho I don’t like the ones where the redemption takes place over only a span of a week since that seems unrealistic. For Chloé to change she needs first to learn that she can’t get everything she wants considering how spoiled she is that takes a significant amount of time to get into her head. And that’s just the bare minimum.

After that she needs to do some self reflecting. Why does she want to change? It’s not enough if she only wants to change because of the Bee Miraculous or because others tell her to. She needs to want to change from deep inside of her. The wish to change needs to come from her and not from others or from what they can give her. At the same time send her to therapy. This girl needs it. Only once she has begun to self reflect can the redemption actually begin. All of this is just the groundwork. The real redemption can only start now. This is also precisely why the presumed „redemption arc“ in the show has failed. None of this groundwork has been laid.

At least a few months would have gone by by the time all of this has happened. That’s why just a few weeks or even worse only a week are unrealistic in redemption fics. No one works through their issues in such a short time especially not if they are as deeply rooted as Chloé’s. Oftentimes it feels forced because people just make Adrien, Marinette or one of their classmates tell Chloé that her actions are wrong and she suddenly has a change of heart. Like no that is not how this would actually work. Just because someone tells Chloé that it’s wrong doesn’t mean that she suddenly would change. This would take far longer than just 1 sentence. It would take therapy and self reflection and the realization that she can’t just have everything

Then there’s the possibility for Chloé being a villain and not just a flat one dimensional villain. We actually know why she is the way she is. It gives her a motive.

Anyway I swerved off topic. This was supposed to be about Lila and not Chloé. If you want to read more on my thoughts on Chloé you can read my post on Chloé’s role in the season 3 finale. It’s a bit outdated since it was written during the run of season 4 but it still matches mostly with my thoughts today. Either way Lila is interesting in a different way. I don’t think she has the same potential for redemption as Chloé has but she seems like she could be a great villain. She is cunning and manipulative. She is also very mysterious, which allows for speculation. We don’t know anything about her. We don’t know who her actual parents are, we don’t even know if she’s actually Italian and we don’t even know what her real name is.

Not gonna lie it came as a shock to know that she lied about her real identity. But now that I think about it maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked. Thomas Astruc has been alluding to the fact that Lila is lying about her identity. If I recall correctly he had posted a tweet talking about how Lila is a Liar and that we shouldn’t believe anything she says and she could be lying about being italian or something along those lines. I can’t find the tweet, maybe he deleted it, so sorry I can’t provide a screenshot but when trying to find it I saw other people talking about the same tweet. Either way that’s not even the main point of this post. (A Tweet? An X? Twitter was renamed to X so no way the posts there are still called Tweets so what even are the posts on X called? X is such a weird name change.)

Lila is cunning, manipulative, a liar and very mysterious. It makes her interesting to me and I do hope we get some semblance of a backstory for her in season 6 as well as some answers to those questions I stated above. I mean don’t get me wrong it’s fun to speculate but it’s also nice to have some confirmation on what actually happened and to add onto that canon framework. That way it’s easier to get an actual grasp onto what she’s like and why she’s this way. Similar to my posts with Chloé. They are built on the canon framework of Chloé’s backstory and current life but they also allow for analysis which isn’t exactly possible if you know nothing about a character (at least from the time when they were posted so not including season 5 since those posts were made 2 years ago.). In Chloé‘s case you can analyze her character arc as well as add onto her canon framework. But in Lila‘s case you can only speculate. And like I said speculation is fun and I‘ll probably take advantage of it until season 6 airs but it’s also nice to analyze the canon framework and add onto it. Both are nice in their own way I guess.

Not gonna lie when Lila first entered the show in the Season 1 Final I thought she was going to be a girl who lied because she wanted friends. Because she felt lonely and thought lying was her only possible way of making friends especially since some of her classmates are famous like Adrien Agreste, a world famous model, Chloé Bourgeois, the mayors daughter, and Alya Césaire, the Ladyblogger. I thought that she would resent Ladybug in the beginning but eventually would get over it and that Marinette would try to befriend Lila because she felt bad for blowing up on Lila as Ladybug. But then Lila disappeared in season 2 only to reappear in the season 2 finale to create the illusion, and then season 3 happened which changed my opinion on Lila once and for all. But even then I didn’t expect Lila to aim for the Butterfly Miraculous or that her lying went so far as to the fact that she had multiple sets pf parents, lied to all of them and that she even had multiple sets of identities. What kind of teenager even does that and why does she even need multiple identities?

Either way should that happen and they do elaborate on Lila‘s backstory I‘ll probably be back after season 6 trying to analyze Lila‘s character. It’s been a long time since I analyzed or theorized about Miraculous and if anything I would be interested in doing it with Lila but for that I don’t have enough information on her right now. In the meantime I‘ll be speculating about who she is and why she is like that. Who knows maybe I‘ll post some of those speculations on this Tumblr page, maybe I don’t. It depends on how I feel.

[voidedleylines]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 30: Two Heads are Better than One

In which friends do some friendly sparring

Rating: G || No CWs apply || Post-EW setting || Warrior of Light & Thancred Waters

Enjoy!!!

And ahhhh! It's been so lovely participating again this year and I am so pleased to have written something every day :D Thank you to everyone who's read my fills for the month. Until next year ❤️

She walks into the back clearing of the Kienkan and cocks an eyebrow. “What is this,” she asks.

Thancred jumps and turns around. Smirk high on his face as he gives an innocent shrug. “Though we could do some training,” he says.

Freyalin inspects the two long sticks that lay on the ground and crosses her arms. “Training?”

He waves a hand, “Or perhaps more pointedly a way to let off steam after everything. Find new skills…” he adds.

She looks away now. She feels it still, how her body is cut off from magicks. That place she pulls from still feels cold and far away. It’s been an adjustment to get used to and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t causing her turmoil.

Freyalin looks back to the Kienkan and smiles, “He asked you to do this?”

Thancred gives a crooked grin and a nod, “and I am nothing but a humble servant…so!” He bends down and picks up the sticks. One is noticeably longer and she laughs at the difference. He holds it out to her “First to four?”

She takes the larger one and holds it in position.

“On my count,” he says, “three…two-”

She takes a swipe before one but he’s still nimble and moves out the way before a blow can be made. He looks at her with feign horror and she just shrugs.

“Well if that’s how it is to be,” he says as he tries to swipe her ankles but she jumps out of the way with ease. However, she doesn’t see him come back around though and the contact with her calf is made.

Thancred lets out a holler, “one, zero.”

She huffs and takes a big step back out of his reach and holds out her staff. They go at it blow for blow for a few moments. The only sounds filling the yard are the clashing out wood and their yells that follow.

After another minute the tension breaks, and she’s able to side step another near blow and strike his shoulder instead. “One, one,” she declares.

There was no time to stand still as he spins and goes at her from the other side. She quickly holds her staff to her back and is able to shield his attempt. She spins around now to face him again, but now she’s on the off foot and he whacks her side.

“Two, one,” Thancred states.

Again their staffs collide over and over and slowly there’s a feeling inside Freyalin from that place that's been dormant. It’s subtle, and very faint, but it’s there.

She lets out a gasp and Thancred pauses ever so slightly until it’s almost like he knows what’s happened and his expression changes and he hits her again near her ankles, “Three, one. Oh do try and make this a little more challen-”

She hits him in the ribs maybe a little harder than necessary and smirks, “Three, two."

He lets out a hardy laugh and they look at each other. Tides turn and she feels a fresh spark of stamina as she again gets the run around him.

They clash for longer this time, neither budging an ilm and she feels her hands tingle and grow stiff after each blow.

Thancred loses his footing just enough and falls to a knee and Freyalin takes the opening; striking his shoulder. “Three, three,” she declares. She backs up to let him readjust and the air between them grows charged as they both pant heavily. Sweat runs down her face and she can smell the rain in the air that makes its way so often to the Enclave.

He nods at her and she gives one back as they clash for one final point. Splinters begin to fly out from where the staffs have made the most contacts over and over but neither falters.

Finally, a break in the blows and an open opportunity for her as Thancred turns the opposite way in hopes to throw her off, but it only makes it easier to strike. With a final huff of a battle cry she hits his thigh and his face is left dumbfounded.

Freyalin drops her staff into the dirt and leans back with a smirk well on her face, “three, four,” she says.

He looks up at her with a semi-shocked expression as he catches his breath. Underneath it she can see his amusement and what looks to be relief. A blush reaches her cheeks as a feeling of guilt burns through her a moment. She hadn’t been the most fun to be around the past moon or so, but this is what she needed to try and correct that, and it seems to be what both Hien and Thancred knew too.

She feels her fingers begin to tingle and she lets out a gasp as she inspects them. It’s still very faint, but the well inside her was no longer cold, there was a low hum of warmth there.

New waves of different emotions take hold and Thancred lets out a laugh, “well it seems you're the victor today,” he says, eyes on her hands, again as if he knows exactly what's going on in her head.

She looks at him and smiles, “Don’t be so heartbroken about it. Someone your age is bound to lose a step or two.”

He scoffs and points his nose into the air, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I had you there for a moment.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replies with feign innocence.

They walk back inside together where they can properly rest as the rain she smelt earlier rolls in now. He leaves soon after, making grand promises of a rematch soon. She rolls her eyes and agrees.

She walks to her room feeling lighter than she has in weeks.

[maraudersmap123]

My Fic Recs

Hey guys, so after many many years of having this account and posting on it, I have decided that im finally going to post my fic recs. I've been writing fics myself for around 3 years now, and I have been reading fics for much longer. so it's fair to say I have compiled quite the list. I love all of these pieces so much, and I think the authors are just amazing. So I hope you all enjoy these are much as I do. I might even start posting these more often, monthly maybe if I have enough because I think it's a great way to bring recognition to great writers on this platform.

Some of the summaries are by me and some are just copied and pasted from the post.

Firstly I'd like to recommend my favourite author for harry potter fanfic, who inspired me to start writing in the first place. This is the only rec I have from Wattpad so I thought I would do it first. They also write for almost everyone, so it doesn't really fit in with the rest.

Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. 1) - @everlovingdeer

SIRIUS BLACK

Study Buddy by @unfortunatelysirius - "You’re Sirius’s History of Magic tutor, but it occurs to you that maybe he doesn’t need the extra help."

They're Just Girls by @hermioneshandbag - A Sirius version of the Jily love story.

Smile by @midnighttmarauder - Sirius gets a letter from home and the reader comforts him.

Babe, you're a habit by @jamcspotters - Muggle au. “The number one rule of friends with benefits is no feelings involved, and, you think you just broke it.”

Don't You Mind by @hermioneshandbag - Friends to lovers but they both think it's unrequited.

The Five Times Sirius Felt Time Stop by @wizardwritings - "Sirius Black could only recall five times in his life when he felt as if time stopped. All those times just happened to revolve around you."

Wasn't Expecting That by @spideyxxboi - "You and Sirius have a secret relationship and don’t know how to tell the other boys until they accidentally walk in on something they weren’t expecting."

About what I said last night by @rainandhotchocolate - Sirius and his girlfriend get into a fight before she leaves for a mission where she is injured.

potter. by @mellifluousmalfoy - Soulmate AU and friends to lovers in one.

How to Fall in Love: For Dummies by @wizardwritings - "Modern AU. you and Sirius have been best friends for years now, but after six months of living with him, you realize that maybe you liked him as more than a friend. The plan? To make him realize the same thing in just three, foolproof steps."

the feeling that we're meeting by @writesowhatnext - "Sirius Black has never liked the reader and this he made known. Maybe it’s because she’s a Slytherin. Maybe it was the bat-bogey hex. Strange, though, how things change with a war in full throttle."

The risk of love by @with-love-anu - "Sirius had been your bestfriend since forever. Things change when he runs away from home"

Baby Fever by @vampirestookmydoubts - Sirius and the reader disagree on having a child.

The way you look at her by @theweasleysredhair - Maybe there really is a fine line between hate and love.

Style by @userinejghafa - you’re the only one for sirius black and the thought overwhelms him.

REMUS LUPIN

Cold Cold Cold by @pronqzz - Essentially where Remus and the reader have some relationship problems.

Happily Ever After by @sleekeazyz - Pretty much post-war fluff with a hint of angst.

This isn't how it ends by @lilysevans-archive - The beginning of the relationship between the reader and Remus with a bump in the road. A headcanon.

Drunk by @futurewriter2000 - Remus puts his drunk girlfriend to bed.

White Lies by @jamcspotters - “I’m sick of you lying to me, Remus. Aren’t we best friends?” with those words, you turned around, walking out of his dorm with heavy steps and an even heavier heart.

Full Moon by @theweasleysredhair - After a particularly bad full moon, Y/n decides it’s time to admit that she knows all about Remus’ little secret, especially since she’s known for years.

Reasons by @drxcodormixns - “I said you couldn’t fall in love with me, but I didn’t say I couldn’t fall in love with you.”

Selfish 1/2 2/2 by @aspiringauthorintraining - best friends realise and eventually confess that they in fact love one another.

Only Love by @imaginesfrommetoyou - Remus and the reader have a secret relationship.

My Heart by @swellwriting - James' sister confesses her feelings for Remus in the infirmary

JAMES POTTER

Promises by @jamcspotters - “After days of hiding from your best friend, forced proximity may just be what it takes for secrets to be revealed.”

Why? by @futurewriter2000 - Jily but with the reader not lily.

Players Cigarette Mate by @amarauder - "in which a girl's bad habit turns into a good one."

The Girl Next Door And The Five Times She Stopped Time by @wreckofawriter - "James slowly begins to fall in love with the girl next door'

misconceptions by @siriusmuch - "james has been telling the marauders all about just how amazing you are. one day, you overhear and get the wrong message from the conversation."

After Quidditch by @intoanothermind - "I was almost too late and almost lost the best thing that happened to me in my life because I was too stubborn"

Always have by @awritingtree - "James and Y/N have always been two peas in a pod, never straying far from the other. Even through James’ endless pining and ramblings about his ‘Lilyflower’, Y/N never left his side. But what happens when Lily’s rejections go too far one day? And what happens when Y/N realizes she’s starting developing feelings for her best friend?"

DRACO MALFOY

The Relationship Formula by @wizardwritings - An arranged marriage between two purebloods.

Play Pretend by @wondernimbus - "in which two people are forced into marriage; reader falls in love. draco doesn’t."

THEODORE NOTT

Stoic Manners and Shy Smiles by @imintofictionalmen - Theo and reader catch feelings for one another but Theo isn't to good at communication.

Did I Mention by @kayesfictioncharactershusbands - "You didn't know when it started, or how it started. You just hate Theodore Nott. And same goes for him. But what if did I mention he also likes you? But one certain word made you slapped Theo because he was jealous. That you didn't know of."

[writer-in-theory]

nothing new (spencer reid x reader)

summary: after two decades together, spencer begins to worry reader will fall out of love with him now that he’s not the man he was at twenty-two. request?: no pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader category: angst with a happy ending content warnings: self-deprecating thoughts (spencer & reader), mentions of divorce/falling out of love (doesn’t happen), mention of alcohol (spencer has one drink) word count: 2.2k a/n: we're finally here! i'll apologize for this one taking a little longer than i expected, it hit way too close than i was expecting it too. i had to take many breaks writing this one, so heed the cautions and remember to take care of yourself always. and as always, this fic wouldn't be here without some wonderful betas. so thank you a million to @safespacespence and @reidselle for reading this and making sure it was post-worthy!

masterlist reid from the vault masterlist

Friday nights are the worst.

These are the nights Spencer is haunted by the most, the ones that keep him lying awake far past the reminder on his phone set to give him the proper amount of sleep. These are the nights that, ten years ago, he would have spent in a bar with all of his friends.

The friends Spencer hardly ever saw anymore.

Elle, who had left before Spencer could truly come to know her like a sister—and who, sometimes, still haunted his dreams with all of the “what ifs” had she stayed. Derek, who had long since left the BAU to start a family. Out of all of them, he had never been the one Spencer thought would leave first. There was Hotch, too, and the name alone was enough to send a dowel rod straight through Spencer’s stomach, twisting through all of the hurt that ghostly goodbye inflicted on him. Jack would be starting high school now, how was he? Did Hotch ever find the peace he deserved so much? Now, even Penelope was gone. Penelope, who brightened Spencer’s day no matter how many clouds were gathered over his head.

Would there come a time when Spencer no longer recognized anyone on the team? Would he be like Gideon, living and dying within the BAU? Would he be Rossi, never quite being able to leave despite the peaceful life screaming at him to do so?

Spencer had found peace with you years ago, why couldn't he have chosen to rest like everyone else had?

Yes, Friday nights were Hell on Earth for Spencer Reid.

They were Hell for you too, in a way you never thought possible. These were the nights you lay awake and pretended not to feel the pain radiating in waves off of your husband. You’d lay on your side of the bed, arms tucked close to your chest praying tonight wasn’t the night he realized you weren’t enough. You always had been before—ever since that sunny day in August when he’d promised you would be in front of all your loved ones. These were the nights where you wondered where the man you’d married had gone and if he’d ever return.

By Saturday morning, the pain would curl itself around each of your ribs to rest dormant for another week—biding its time until it could strike out at your heart with as much force as before. You’d pull yourself from bed and shower with Spencer. The two of you would have a lazy morning consisting of a breakfast he’d been mastering over the years and movies you’d both seen countless times. But until then, you’d lie on opposite sides of the bed and feel further apart than you’ve been in seventeen years.

While you were blindsided by the ever-growing distance between you two, you supposed it had been slowly growing from the beginning—a shallow wound sliced at your vows and left to fester for every year that followed. There was something about your relationship that was no longer bringing Spencer peace, you just hoped you could find it before the distance grew too great to cross.

This Friday night was different.

The house was unearthly quiet when you stepped in. The only sound came from the gentle rattle of the heater that fought a fruitless battle against the emotional chill blanketing the space. Immediately it felt barren, devoid of the bright smiles and loud laughter typically contained within. Something was wrong, but you’d allow Spencer the space you’d long since learned to give him—at least, for as long as you could stand.

The hours ticked by until finally, the front door swung open closer to 5am than midnight.

Spencer often admitted he wasn’t fond of alcohol. For a man who had spent many of his years at the mercy of people more powerful than he, it wasn’t often he was willing to relinquish any of the meagre amounts of control he still clung to. Tonight, though, you could smell the hints of whiskey on his breath mixed with the familiar scent of his cologne.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you whispered, voice barely loud enough to loft over the white noise of the heater.

“I need to talk to you.”

There it was—the moment everything fell apart, the moment when seventeen years crumbled away to ash. Your fingers dug into the sleeves of his shirt, as though that simple material could somehow keep you tied close to him. “Wait,” you whimpered, lower lip quivering with everything you longed to say but knew better than to vocalize. Please don’t go, I may not be the one for you but we can still find happiness, please stay with me. “Give me one more moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just let me have this, Spencer. I want to remember what it feels like to hug you before you go.”

“Go?” Spencer tore out of your arms then, expression twisted into pure confusion. “I just got home, why would I go now?”

“Spencer, you don’t have to play nice. I know what’s coming.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do,” you sighed, wishing he would step closer to you again. The physical distance now was somehow more painful than anything else you’d experienced previously—the visible representation of all the times he’d chosen to distance from you in his mind. Though you hadn’t truly felt married to him in weeks, you weren’t ready to say goodbye.

Not to seventeen years of love and happiness. Not to the wedding day—a casual affair, spoken declarations of grandeur in front of only those you trusted most to witness such love. How could you possibly walk away from the simple gestures that brought you so much joy on even the cloudiest days—all the hugs, and snacks, and sweet words whispered close in your ear.

You could stand to end the cold nights, physically near Spencer but far in from his usual steady comfort. There would be no missing the days you’d wake up and realize it was a bad one for him, the days when he seemed too stuck in his mind to do anything but push you away. You wouldn’t miss carefully carving out another piece of yourself and offering it to him, hoping it’d be enough to make him stay. How many times could you chisel a piece away from your heart until it would shatter irreparably?

“I’ve seen you pushing me away for weeks now, I know what that means,” you admitted, head tilting down to stare at your hands as they picked at the ends of your fingernails. “I’ve been ignoring it, trying to feel ready but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for you to leave me.”

“Leave you? Wait, darling, you think I’m leaving you?” The crack in Spencer’s voice was enough for you to look up at him then, revealing a pained look in his hazel eyes.

“You’re not?”

“Why would I ever leave you?” Spencer practically gasped around the words, his large hands wrapping over your own. “Being with you is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“You haven’t seemed happy lately,” you told him, and you watched as his entire body sagged. His shoulders dipped, his eyebrows furrowed in with concern, and the corners of his lips downturned into a pout you might’ve called adorable in a less serious moment.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to retire from the BAU.”

And—oh. This wasn’t Spencer’s way of trying to ask for a divorce, this wasn’t his attempt at sparing your feelings only to crush them more. He hadn’t been avoiding you because he didn’t love you. He wanted to retire from the job he’d had since right after you got married. The job that had even prompted the engagement in the first place. When Spencer had gotten recruited all those years ago, you’d made the choice to move with him across the country, to start a new life far from everything you’d ever known before.

It had been the greatest adventure you’d ever go on, because it had been with Spencer.

“Oh, Honey,” you cooed, feeling the rush of relief flooding your chest and wiping away the stabbing pain of rejection. The ache would linger as you healed from this moment, but at least the wound was cleaned out and bandaged—it was finally acknowledged and cared for. “I’m proud of you.”

“You’re proud of me?”

“I know that must’ve been a tough decision to make.” For as long as you’ve been married to Spencer, he’s been in the BAU. He practically grew up there, from the lanky and shy twenty-two year old boy to the confident man standing in front of you now.

Of course, with every moment that built him up there was another three to tear him back down. Moments that scarred so deep you weren’t sure they’d ever wash clean from his skin. You still caught up rubbing his palm where you knew the scarred knife wound lay, the one clue his team had when he’d been arrested. Sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking, his fingers would brush over his neck and you knew he was remembering the moment he’d cracked—the moment Cat Adams had threatened you and he’d crossed a line he’d never thought possible.

Spencer was not the same man you’d married, but how could you ever expect him to be? Hell, you were not the same bright young person you’d been nearly two decades before. If you were, there was no way you’d still be with him now. No, you’d grown and learned and pushed through together, constantly re-learning who you were and how the pieces of you both fit together.

“You’re not...upset?” Spencer asked, lips tensing as a tell that he was trying not to chew on them.

It broke your heart, to see Spencer this way. This was a man who had always been there for you, who always had a smile or a warm hug waiting when you next saw him.

“Spencer Reid, I am your partner. I want you to be happy and if being happy means retiring at 38 then I’ll throw you the best retirement party you could possibly imagine,” you told him, reaching out to take his face between your hands. “I love you, no matter what.”

“I just...you married an FBI agent.”

“I married you.” You gripped a little tighter, just enough that his gaze flicked back to meet yours. You needed him to hear this, to truly understand how deep your love ran for him. “I still love you as much as I did on our wedding day, maybe even more.”

“You don’t care that I’m washed up?”

“Honey, you’ve got to believe in yourself a little more,” you sighed, gently guiding his face closer to you so you could place a gentle kiss on his forehead—then another on his nose, then each cheek, and finally landing on those lips yours knew by heart. “You’re not washed up, it’s just time for you to move on from this job. I’m sure your team will understand. It’s time for the next genius to have their shot, right?”

“I guess so.”

“I know so,” you told him, allowing a smile to crack for the first time since stepping foot in your house that night. “And besides, if I’m being honest I’m kind of relieved you’re retiring.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his own smile beginning to replace that careful pout of his.

“Absolutely,” you told him, tugging Spencer close enough to wrap him in a tight embrace. This was where you belonged—in the arms of the man you loved, wherever that may lead you. “I’m sure whatever you decide to do now will be far less dangerous, and will definitely take up less time. And maybe, hopefully, it’ll be less of a burden on that brilliant mind of yours.”

“I wouldn’t mind more time with you,” Spencer admitted, his entire expression softening as he likely pictured it. More days like Saturdays, more time spent enjoying one anothers’ company without the looming threat of being called up for a case.

You guided him back to the couch, allowing your bodies to fall into each other on it. The way you were tangled made you unsure of where he stopped and you began, but in the moment you didn’t care. All you had eyes for was that brilliant smile warming his face, the smile that had been dimmed in recent weeks but now was showing signs of being reignited. “Are you okay?” you asked, never letting your hands stray far from him.

“I will be,” Spencer promised, and that was all you could ever ask for. Tonight you’d stay wrapped up in one another, and every day you two would find your way back.

You both would be okay, together.

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[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

[taechaos]

No More

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: dark romance, college au

synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.

warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst

word count: 6.7k

a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol

If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.

Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”

“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.

Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day… 

You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.

Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?

“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.

The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.

“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty. 

You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.

A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.

“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.

“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.

“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?

“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”

“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously. 

“Oh, right–”

Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”

“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.

“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.

Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.

“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”

Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really. 

He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.

The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade. 

You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”

“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?” 

“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.” 

After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of. 

“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.

You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.

“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle. 

“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”

“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.

“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.

When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”

He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”

“Daddy?” 

It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.

“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”

“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?” 

You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”

“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”

Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”

“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.

“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.

“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.

“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.

“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss. 

“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance. 

“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”

“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck. 

“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.

You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink. 

There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”

The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure. 

“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet. 

“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.

 “I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”

“Keep fucking begging.”

You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.

“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.

“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness. 

“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”

“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.

The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.

“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”

“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”

“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”

“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”

“I am not–"

“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.

“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”

A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”

“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”

“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”

“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”

“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”

He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.

“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”

You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this. 

“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”

“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot. 

He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”

“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?” 

Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.

He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.

“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.

You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.

“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.

“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”

“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells. 

“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?

“They weren’t–”

“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.

“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.

An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?

When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.

He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”

“I’m over that.”

“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”

“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.

“And what he did wasn’t?” 

Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?

“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”

Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.

You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.

Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.

“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.

“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be. 

“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”

“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You somehow always do.”

Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.

 “Why are you… so invested in this?”

He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”

“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.

“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.

You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”

“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”

Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst. 

You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.

Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.

It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.

You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.

People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.

It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.

He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse. 

As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.

Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt. 

“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”

“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”

He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”

You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”

“Then why do you?”

He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”

“You are good for me,” you interject.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”

“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”

“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”

“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.

The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”

“Really?”

“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”

“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him. 

Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing. 

You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer. 

Jungkook’s love and trust: check.

When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.

“Love you more, babygirl.”

[malfoysstilinski]

Hello love, I absolutely adore your writing. <3 Could you maybe do a tooth-rotting dracoxreader fluff. It can be anything, I just love soft draco sm haha. Tbh I feel like theres no such thing as too much soft draco asjdkhfask.

thank you so much!! hope this is okay :)) 

post shower | draco malfoy (fluff) 

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: you like picking out draco’s clothes for him and playing with his hair after he’s had a shower. and he’ll never admit it, but he likes it too.

warnings: extremely healthy relationship and soft!draco

word count: 1.9k

a/n: there’s a part where draco plays with your hair and i’m sorry if it’s not inclusive to yours (curly, afro-textured, braided etc.), i generally try to keep my imagines inclusive but this idea was just stuck in my head!! it’s quite brief but i thought i’d acknowledge that i realise some poc readers and others with curly hair just might not be able to relate and i’m really sorry about that!! :( but again, it doesn’t make up the whole imagine! <33

also not proof-read!! 

....

18.00. my dorm. prepare for cuddles.

my mother sent over some more of

those sweets you said you liked.

yours, draco

The ripped piece of parchment in your hand included an inked sketch beneath it; the image of a wrapped sweetie surrounded by some scribbled-out love hearts. Your heart skipped a beat at the message written in Draco’s usual rushed cursive, a small smile threatening to twitch at the corners of your lips. Glancing up towards the direction the charmed crane had come in, you sent the blond boy already watching you a small nod of confirmation.

A wink was your reward before he turned back to face Professor Snape at the front of the classroom. It made your heart flutter and your stomach fill with butterflies as you wondered how you’d ended up with a boyfriend as perfect as Draco Malfoy.

Not many would theorise that he was a secret romantic, but then again, not many truly knew Draco for who he actually was. You adored him - the way he looked, the way he smelled, how he loved you, his voice, his laugh, his jokes, and his sarcastic comments. If there was one person on the planet guaranteed to make you smile, it was the Malfoy heir.

You were thrilled to be invited back to his dorm, even if this was quite a regular occurrence that you probably should be more used to by now. The thought of spending the evening after a long day of lessons with Draco cuddled up on his bed eating sweets sent by his mother sounded like a dream come true. There was no other way you’d rather spend your time.

The rest of the day couldn’t have gone by slower, though. You finished your classes and then skipped dinner to shower, knowing you’d be stuffing your face later anyway. By the time you’d slipped on comfier clothes than your school uniform and had dried your hair, it was nearly time for you to head to Draco’s dormitory. He was lucky enough to have his own one as a prefect, with a huge bed and silk green sheets that felt amazing against your skin.

You did some last minute homework for your Herbology class in the morning, though your mind seemed to constantly drag back to your boyfriend. He was like some sort of drug and you clearly had an addiction.

Perhaps the best part was that the love she had for Draco was mirrored back onto her by the boy; their love was a redamancy to be jealous of. Students and teachers alike could see the adoration in their eyes when they looked at each other. They saw the grin on your face and the slight blush on Draco’s cheeks and knew that if what you two had wasn’t love, then love didn’t exist at all.

You had your ups and downs, of course you did. No relationship was ever always perfect. However, it was the way you were constantly able to bounce back and be stronger than before that kept the fire burning between the two of you. It was the way that Draco had worked on his communication, knowing it was the only way he’d be able to keep you, and how you’d worked on being more patient with him that meant the two of you could fall so indescribably in love.

So when you turned up to Draco’s dormitory at exactly 6 pm sharp, you opened the door without knocking, more than certain he wouldn’t mind. He never did. However, Draco was nowhere to be seen in his room. You thought maybe you’d managed to read the note wrong until you heard the running water coming from his bathroom.

You smiled to yourself as you headed towards his bed, dropping on top of the silky sheets you loved so much, your fingers tracing on top of it. Your ears strained to listen out for Draco, a deep hum filling your ears that you knew belonged to him. He had a good singing voice, but he refused to believe it whenever you told him.

You closed your eyes and listened as he hummed in the shower, his voice echoing off the walls in a way that had you wishing you could not only listen but watch him sing it. You weren’t sure when Draco stopped humming or when the water shut off, but the next thing you knew, the bathroom door was opening, steam rolling out as well as the scent of his green apple shampoo.

“Ah, darling,” Draco greeted upon seeing you lying on his bed.

You sat up, beaming at him. A white towel hung around his hips, his platinum hair wet on his head and dripping down his broad shoulders onto his platinum skin. You thought he looked beautiful like this, like some sort of God you’d like to worship. Especially with the smile that he wore upon his face, one that was reserved for you and you only.

“Hi, my love,” you said back, watching as he began to hunt through his drawers for something to wear. “You said six.”

“I must have lost track of time,” Draco admitted, “Cold days are meant for hot showers, you know.”

“No, cold days are meant for cuddles with your girlfriend,” you protested, but nevertheless scooted off the bed to join him by his dresser. “What are you gonna wear?”

“Y’wanna dress me up again, don’t you?” Draco acted as if he was annoyed, but a smile was threatening to tug at his lips.

“It’ll be cosy, ‘promise,” you replied, your hands moving through his dresser, hunting for the pair of black jogging bottoms that you liked on him. “Top or no?”

“No,” Draco replied as he stood in front of his mirror, towel drying his hair.

You found a pair of socks for him too, knowing how he hated if his feet got cold. As Draco cast a charm to dry his blond locks, you settled everything on the end of his bed for him and then began hunting through his drawers once more. You found one of his black tees and pulled your own off, shrugging his on instead.

Arms wrapped around your waist as soon as it went over your head and you shrieked as you were hauled onto his bed. You laughed as Draco suddenly crawled between your legs so he was straddling you a little, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Did I say you could wear that, pretty girl?” Draco fauxed a glare.

“Please,” you pouted at him. “It’s comfy and smells so good. Like you.”

Draco rolled his eyes in amusement, smiling again as he kissed your forehead. “You’re lucky you’re so gorgeous. Can’t say no when you pull that face, can I?”

You beamed, feeling your cheeks heat up a little bit. You realised Draco had already pulled the joggers and socks on, his top half naked as he moved to grab his comb off of the dresser.

“Let me do it for you,” you said, holding your hand out.

Draco shot you a look. “Not a doll for you to dress up, you know.”

“‘Just wanna comb your hair for you,” you huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs dangling over the mattress.

Draco moved to stand in between them, your face level with his body as he began to brush the comb through the back of your own hair. Smiling, you leaned your head against his stomach, wrapping your arms around his middle and enjoying the sensations and tingles that Draco brushing your hair spread through your body.

Your eyes closed and you swore you could fall asleep like it - one of his large palms on your back, his comb brushing through your hair, the warmth of his toned stomach against your cheek and the smell of his aftershave and body wash fresh in your senses.

“You washed your hair, didn’t you?” Draco hummed, his hand moving off your back as he ditched the comb, his fingers playing with it.

“Yeah, had a shower before I came here,” you murmured, not peeling your eyes open, just relishing in the feeling of complete relaxation with your favourite person in the entire world.

“I can tell,” Draco murmured, his fingers gliding effortlessly through your newly-combed hair. “Your hair is really soft after washing it.”

“Good,” you replied, smiling a little against him. “That’s kind of the point of washing your hair, you know.”

“No, it’s to keep it clean,” Draco protested.

“It’s for both,” you compromised, knowing how stubborn he could get quickly. “Now can I comb your hair.”

About a minute later, Draco’s room was playing music quietly and he was slouched between your legs on the bed, the bag of sweets his mother had bought you both on his lap. Your back rested against the headboard behind you, your hands brushing through his silky platinum locks. You put the comb down, beginning to part his hair into tiny sections.

“Sweet?” Draco offered, his mouth full as he lifted his arm behind himself.

He felt you lean forwards and capture the sweet between your teeth from where your hands were occupied in his hair, making him chuckle. Draco knew you were making small plaits with the longer sections of his hair, but he closed his eyes and pretended he had no idea. To be honest, he cherished the feeling of you being so close to him, of your hands in his hair, your nails scratching gently on his scalp every now and then.

“Feels good?” You hummed, glancing down at him and seeing that his silver eyes had shut.

They flickered back open at your question, smiling when he saw you looking down at him. “A bit,” he admitted, which was an under exaggeration. He loved it.

“‘Nother sweetie, please,” you called as you moved onto your third tiny plait.

Draco’s hand came back over and fed the sweet straight into your mouth. You giggled as you carried on plaiting, humming lightly to yourself. A tug a little harder than the rest caused Draco to dramatically cry out.

“Ow!” Draco hissed, “Watch what you’re doing, woman!”

“Shh, I’m just braiding your hair,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “And if you call me woman like that one more time I will shove this comb so far up your arse-”

“Okay, okay,” Draco winced at the imagery. “By woman I meant ‘my lovely, beautiful, sweet, kind, intelligent girlfriend who I love with my whole heart’.”

“You’re such a kiss arse, Malfoy,” you replied, running your hand over the small plaits you’d created. “They look cute. You should grow your hair out like your father so I can do really good ones-”

“Y/N!” Draco grimaced, “If I ever grow my hair out as long as my fathers, feel free to cut it off for me in the middle of the night.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you cradled his head in your lap, your nails lightly scratching his skin. “Okay, okay. I like you with this haircut anyway. And I like the lack of gel in it. Looks so fluffy and cute.”

“Not what I’m going for, but thanks, darling,” Draco remarked, grabbing another sweet for himself. “You’re comfy, by the way.”

You simply hummed back as you began to undo the plaits, knowing Draco would be annoyed if you forgot and he had little curly bits in the morning. You grazed your fingers back through, watching his eyes flicker back.

“I love you,” Draco murmured sincerely. “So much.”

Your heart swelled. “I love you too, Draco.”

taglist: @lolooo22 @yyoflam @fjorelaant @cpetrova @bby-gxrnet @draysslytherclaw @dawnmalfoy @miarivic @hpotter3390 @justfangirlthingies @fleurwands @hufflepuffsophie @riddleswh0r3crux @dracosathenaeum @weaselbrownie @Dracoscumwh0re @miraclesoflove @wh0re4blaise @ilovemoviekidd826 @drarrysimp @secret-obsessions @writeandtranslate @aetheralist @wholebigboxofyikes @honeyloverogers @icecubewhat @edithreads @abbott27 @Sweetvnlla @skaratjung @dlmmdl @sw33tgirl @ayaosk @acosmis-t @astoria-malfcy 

[unohanadaydreams]

This was originally an ask I answered quite a while ago that I’ve gone back and edited. It went from 1k to 1.6k words so it’s been significantly reworked, so much so that if you’ve read it before, it’s enough of a new piece that you’ll hopefully enjoy reading it again! I’ve edited the original ask to reflect all changes, but believe me--it’s been through a transformation.

But, yeah, I’ve gotten quite a few asks for hurt/comfort Ukitake so this is an offering for all of you!! He only suffers a lil bit. <3

so close and yet so far from death [1.6k]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

“Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

[samstree]

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (1/3)

In which Jaskier chooses to lie, until he can no longer tell the truth.

(lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, geralt apologizes, post mountain, miscommunication, rated teen, read on AO3)

A big thanks to @wanderlust-t and @a-kind-of-merry-war for the prompt! <3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4]

“You are gonna run after him again, just like that? Don’t you remember what he did to you? What you went through?”

Essi leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest, watching as Jaskier packs a second bag.

“Come one, poppet. Geralt was having a hard time back then, and now he’s come all the way to Oxenfurt to apologize.

“So what?”

“So I’m forgiving him.”

She grumbles a few rude words regarding the witcher’s lineage.

“Hey! That’s not nice.”

“And this is way too easy! Why can’t you see a disaster waiting to happen until it hits you in the face?” Essi exclaims. “Do you know what I would have done? I would make him grovel! Give him the cold shoulder. Or…or at least play it cool for a while longer so he knows not to take you for granted again! Sorry, but I’m…not like you.”

“Um…excuse you. I am plenty cool!”

“There’s nothing cool about being utterly in love and then getting cast aside over and over again, Jaskier. You know that.”

Jaskier sighs, walks to Essi and pulls her into a tight hug, all his scattered doublets ignored.

“I’m going to be okay,” he tries to tuck her curls away from her eyes but fails.

“Are you?” When she pulls back, there’s something inscrutable in those blue eyes, the curtain of blonde hair obscuring her emotions. “When you came down from the mountain, the way you couldn’t even … I don’t know. I just need to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“It—” Jaskier opens his mouth to make an easy promise, but finds the words choking in his throat. “I, um—”

Essi squeezes him on the shoulder. “He’s apologized, profusely from what you told me, and he’s being nice now. He will certainly be nice for a while, but what happens after he wins you back? What’s preventing him from hurting you again?”

Jaskier has no answers for her, so he resorts to giving her another hug.

“At least, think about my cold shoulder tactic. Sometimes people need the reminder, just so they know what they can easily lose.”

“Essi—”

“Think about it.”

She presses a small kiss on Jaskier’s cheek and leaves him to his packing. Outside the window comes the familiar sound of Roache’s hooves, clicking against the cobblestone.

Jaskier straightens his tunic and lets out a heave. He can see Geralt is being good now, friendly even, after all these years of denying their friendship. Now, the witcher is even waiting downstairs to begin their next journey.

Essi is just being overly protective, Jaskier decides.

He winds down the stairs and finds Geralt cooing at Roach. The urge to melt in those golden amber eyes is overwhelming.

“We good?” Geralt takes Jaskier’s bags and secures them on Roach, side by side with his saddlebags.

“Good,” Jaskier lies.

 ---

The truth is, Jaskier has heard of this so-called “cold shoulder” tactic. He’s even contemplated it for longer than he’s willing to admit. Every time Geralt dismissed him as a friend, brushed him off, Jaskier couldn’t help but want to retaliate with equal measure.

What if he’s the one to give Geralt a time-out? What if when Geralt tells him to fuck off, he just…leaves? The same idea churned in Jaskier’s stomach for two decades, but in the end, he knows the answer—he can never bring himself to go through it. His feet would carry him back to Geralt before even taking a step away.

He was left anyway.

But now…

Jaskier can’t afford to be left again. Essi was right. He isn’t sure if he can pick himself up again. He barely managed it the first time.

Jaskier lets out an audible scoff as he comes to the realization. He’s going to do it. The cold shoulder tactic. It’s so cheesy that it feels like something only school girls would use to get attention from a crush. Keep your distance, string him along a little. That’s how you get him to notice you exist—

“Something funny?” Geralt turns on horseback, sunlight peaking through his silver hair, a curious frown between his brows. He’s towering, beautiful. He has always been the most beautiful person Jaskier knows, even if he doesn’t know it.

Jaskier strums an absent chord on his lute. “Just something Essi said.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nudges Roach forward. “I was thinking… You’ve never seen a basilisk, have you?”

“No?”

“There are rumors about a nest in the next town. Want to see it?”

A hint of smile hints at Geralt’s lips, and Jaskier’s heart almost leaps out of his throat. A basilisk hunt is one he’s been dying to watch for years, if not decades. He’s drooling with excitement just thinking about the ballad that will certainly sweep the continent off its feet.

“Of course I want—" The sentence stops in its tracks. Jaskier bites his tongue to hide the slip. “You know what, I think I’ll stay in town. This new song needs some polishing before its debut. I’m sure a big witcher such as yourself doesn’t need a bard’s moral support for a meager basilisk, right?”

Jaskier adds a wink for good measure, but Geralt is not amused. He’s staring from his vantage point, his expression inexplicable. Is it really so shocking that Jaskier will turn Geralt down this once, after all this time?

“I understand.” Geralt pauses before continuing, almost too carefully. “Perhaps I can help? Sing it for me tonight?”

“Sing it…for you?” Jaskier asks, dumbfounded. The lute in his hands suddenly feels a lot weightier than it is.

“You wanted my review for so long, Jaskier. I’m giving it to you now. I’m sure your playing will be…nice.”

Geralt looks at him with hope in his eyes, and Jaskier can’t help but let his ego grow a little. It’s unbelievable that a simple refusal is what got Geralt to finally say anything positive about his music. The tiny triumph fills his chest with unexpected giddiness.

“Maybe I will. We shall see,” he replies. His fingers strike another chord.

Jaskier feels a spring in his steps, urging him forward to the mare’s steady gait. Golden amber eyes are burning a hole into his back, but he doesn’t dare to look back lest the tiny bubble of this perfect moment break.

 ---

Night falls, and Jaskier scribbles down another line. The door opens and Geralt drags his feet into their shared room.

Jaskier makes no effort to get up.

Once upon a time, he would have raced across the room to greet Geralt, checked for injuries and fussed over any scrapes and cuts, all the while getting dismissed with the witcher’s grumbled words. He’d help remove those heavy armors when Geralt’s muscles ache from exhaustion and get ichor all over himself.

He will not do that tonight.

Play it cool, Essi’s words echo in his memory. Right, he’s doing things differently now.

Jaskier fixes his gaze on the notebook in his lap and listens as Geralt shuffles around the room, putting everything back in place. One by one, his armor pieces drop in the corner of the room.

“How was it?” he asks with the most nonchalant tone as if he’s just noticed the other man’s existence.

“Fine. The basilisk’s dead.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier chooses the single hum uncharacteristically as Geralt puts his swords against the doorframe and sits down on the single chair.

He’s so still, hovering even.

“What?” Jaskier finally looks at him. Geralt, as he claimed, looks fine, with only a smudge of a black ichor sticking to his hair. A frown appears between his brows.

Adorable.

Jaskier shakes the thought quickly.

“Your new song?” Geralt prompts.

“Oh yeah. Never mind. I don’t feel like singing.”

It’s another lie. A necessary one, Jaskier tells himself.

“You,” Geralt says, raising an eyebrow, “don’t feel like singing?”

Jaskier clutches the notebook to his chest almost defensively, not sure what to do with the accusation. Is it a tragedy that Geralt knows him like the back of his hand? Or is it a shame that Jaskier is indeed buzzing with excitement to test out this song, with the most important person in his life?

“Well, I don’t.”

Jaskier keeps his chin up and scrambles off the bed to put away his books and pens. Geralt’s intent gaze is on his back again.

“Twenty years, and I’ve never known you to turn down an opportunity to sing.”

“I guess you don’t know me that well,” Jaskier bites back with a force that seems to come out of nowhere. “The bard may not want to entertain all the time, darling.”

The endearment sounds false, more like a jab. He lets out a dry chuckle and hopes to ease the tension but to no avail. Geralt’s eyes are wide with surprise. So Jaskier reaches for his bedroll as a distraction, but only serves to make the confusion deepen on Geralt’s face.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier lays it by the fire, on the soft rug that magically seems clean enough. It should be self-explanatory, but apparently not because Geralt is still staring quizzically.

“Sleeping.”

Geralt looks at the double bed and then back at Jaskier. “On the floor?”

“Thought I’d give you the space. I know how keyed up you are after the potions.”

Jaskier can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the nervous energy buzzing as more words he doesn’t mean comes out of his mouth. He crosses his legs on the bedroll and pulls the blanket onto his lap to hide from Geralt’s scrutiny. But then, something dawns on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier…” Geralt rubs his forehead, his face pinched. “What I said in Oxenfurt, I meant it.”

“You do?”

“You can count on me now. It won’t be like…before.”

Their gazes meet, and Jaskier bears the intensity of it with everything he has. He feels bare, seen through by the amber gold he’s missed and cursed and loved so much.

“I’m here, and I’m all here, Jaskier. Please believe in me.”

“I do.”

It’s not the truth despite how much he wants to believe it. Jaskier wonders if lying to Geralt ever becomes easier.

He doesn’t know what is not convincing him. Geralt looks so genuine, and Jaskier wants more than anything to trust him again, but the smile on his face feels too stiff.

The plan is going as Jaskier wanted. He’s showing Geralt that his friendship doesn’t come freely anymore, and the witcher needs to make more effort, meet him halfway, somehow. Then how come as the quiet night creeps in, Jaskier only finds a hollow space in his chest?

The roaring fire in the hearth warms his back, but Jaskier clutches his blanket tighter. It can’t stave off the coldness left by the lack of a witcher’s body by his side.

 ---

Jaskier continues with the same scheme the next day.

Ignoring Geralt is not a difficult task in the beginning. The barmaid is a beautiful thing, doe-eyed and curious, has too many questions for her own good. She keeps asking about Jaskier’s ballads, and wouldn’t quite believe any crazy stories in them.

“Is it true that the White Wolf fought a sea serpent on the Skellige Isles? Surely, those creatures only exist in legends!”

She’s getting familiar, pressed up against Jaskier on the bench, almost pushing him back into Geralt’s side—the real subject of the topic, but it’s obvious her fascination lies only in Jaskier. Her brown eyes stay on the bard alone.

“Why don’t we find somewhere more private and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Is it a good one? It must be a heroic tale, isn’t it?”

“Heroic, of course. There’s also a twist. I won’t spoil it for you, but—” Jaskier winks, his fingers brushing past her wrist. “—it’s a love story that holds more heartbreak than you can bear.”

Her giggles are like soft wind chimes, and Jaskier guides her away from their table. He takes two steps and turns back, smacking himself on the head as if he’s only just thought of it.

“Oh, shoot! I know I promised to go the market with you, Geralt, but you see…” He gestures to the girl waiting expectantly in the near distance. There’s nothing I can do about it, he says with a shrug. “Have a good time, will you?”

Geralt is holding his tankard, his knuckles white and his face ice-cold. It’s like Jaskier is looking at one of those ice sculptures made by Oxenfurt’s art students every winter.

“You said you’d come.”

Geralt’s voice is so gentle, so full of dejection that Jaskier’s resolve almost breaks. He clears his throat and darts his eyes elsewhere. Those acting coaches back in school would have been disappointed in him for letting his emotions peak through, but Geralt doesn’t seem to notice what’s underneath this front.

“Surely you can find a new bridle for Roach by yourself,” Jaskier waves his hand in dismissal. “You are a big witcher.”

Geralt opens his mouth and closes it, before speaking again. “And the pastry shop you wanted to visit?”

Jaskier thinks of the lemon cakes he’s been itching to try and swallows the yearning in his throat. Gods, being with Geralt all day with not a care in the world, and with the best sweets on the continent. What is he doing turning all this down?

“Well,” he insists, “Better company comes before cake, my dear.”

With that, Geralt lets go of the topic. His amber eyes drop back to the half-finished ale. “Better company. I see…”

“Surely you understand, Geralt.”

“Just—” Geralt purses his lips in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t exaggerate too much.”

Jaskier should feel bad as he walks out the tavern door with a beauty on his arm, he should, but instead, a pang of anger rises in his throat. How many times did Geralt abandon him at the sight of Yennefer in the past few years? How long did he brood on top of that mountain, recounting every bad choice he’d made in his life and decided that it was all Jaskier’s doing?

For once, Jaskier doesn’t want to put Geralt first in everything, waiting for a bone thrown in his direction, and the witcher—this infuriating man—is going to act like a kicked puppy.

Horrified at this burning rage, Jaskier turns only to watch helplessly as Geralt walks down the street in the opposite direction. He’s planted to the spot, unable to chase Geralt down, and clueless as to whether this plan is doing him any favors other than the fleeting satisfaction of getting back at his friend who was at fault.

Was.

Geralt was at fault. Jaskier has forgiven him, or at least, that’s what he said at first sight of his witcher’s travel-weary face back in Oxenfurt.

And yet, he’s punishing him still.

The barmaid is still waiting for Jaskier’s stories, her cheeks still round with a timid blush and her eyes gleaming with expectations.

The colorful adventures taste stale on his tongue and she loses interest too quickly before returning to her post. His mood sours further as the day stretches on.

Jaskier ends up wandering around town without an aim in mind. The only place he’s carefully avoiding is the market, and the stable, and the smith’s shop. Anywhere he might bump into Geralt. When night draws in, a sudden downpour catches him off guard and drenches him from inside out.

Great. Just the perfect ending to the worst—well, the second worst day of Jaskier’s life.

Candles are still lit as Jaskier enters the room. He finds Geralt fast asleep already, and on the table, right next to his writing supplies, is a lemon cake.

It’s drizzled in honey and looks just as enticing as he imagined.

Jaskier picks it up and finds a lump forming in his throat, choking him with guilt. He wants to scream, to let out the frustration at all the mistakes made in the past and haunting him still. He wants to cry. It’s just…

Now, he doesn’t know if he still deserves to.

---

Okay, I know I'm being mean to Geralt here, but don't worry, I’ gonna be mean to Jaskier in the next one ;) 

Also, whatever Jaskier is doing here is very unhealthy. Don't try this at home.

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