#how to make a birthday tumbler

[magicsnowhetta]

Birthday Tumbler

This Birthday Tumbler with Straw is perfect for keeping your drinks at the right temperature all day long. Whether you're celebrating a birthday or just need a reliable tumbler for everyday use, this 20oz tumbler is a great choice. The vibrant colors and durable materials make it a fun and practical addition to anyone's tumbler collection.

Product features - Double-wall insulation keeps drinks warm for up to 12 hours and cold for up to 24 hours - Lid with a straw for easy sipping - Available in matte or glossy powder-coated finish - Made of stainless steel and BPA-free plastic - Tapered shape and slim design for easy handling

Care instructions - Hand wash only

Get product from here

[theblue6ook]

A Quiet Day

Summary: Bruce does not like celebrating his birthday. All of the pomp and circumstance was very “Bruce Wayne Bachelor,” but it wasn’t him. He wants quiet, he wants easy, he wants focus. So Y/N gives him that.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: I tried to add everyone who wanted to be on the tag list, but let me know if I missed you! [B (24) & Y/N (22)]

“Happy Birthday, Master Bruce,” he heard Alfred over the speaker system. 

Bruce couldn’t help but gaze at the digital clock built into his car console. Well, maybe a tank console? Lucious Fox said it was called the Tumbler, but the name just didn’t feel right to him. It was a birthday present he had told Bruce, and Bruce would call it what he liked... when he thought of a name. He was patrolling, as he does, except this time, he would take his new Waynetech Tank out for a spin. Nope, that name feels wrong too.

“Thank you, Alfred.” 

“Anything special planned this year, sir.”

“You know there’s not,” he chuckled.

“I wasn’t sure if you were getting bold with birthdays,” he could feel Alfred's grin, “considering what an extravagant time Ms. Y/N had.” 

“Just doing something nice for a friend, Alfred.”

Friend. That was nice to say. It’s easy to make friends when you’re a twenty-three - well, now a twenty-four-year-old billionaire. Bruce had never been low on friendships, but he had been low on real friendships. Of course, he had good friends. Rachel, Alfred, Lucius, and Jack Drake, to name a few, but that was all before The Bat. After he had left Gotham, he’d been through a lot. He’d been alone a lot. None of them would ever understand what he went through, who he was now. When he had trained, you’d be "assigned" friends. People you had to work with, save. He had met people who would and had died for him. How can you come back to trivial friendships after that?

And when you don’t water something, it dies. So, friendships slowly crumbled. Shriveled away. It wasn’t in a huge, dramatic way, but in a lost touch way. People didn’t want to deal with the Bruce Wayne he really was, a workaholic, stressed, easily annoyed, quick, and yet she didn’t care.

Y/N had come along, and he was used to the petty fights, people making up their minds, even leaving. They'd slowly given up on him. But she didn’t. They could fight all day long, and by the end, he’d be frustrated, grabbing his coat and announcing it was the end of the day for him. She’d look up at him and say, "See you tomorrow."

Once, he had questioned her about it, half joking and half not, “You’re not going to walk out and never come back?” 

She had looked at him strangely and scoffed, “Bruce, it’s fine if we argue and argue and move on. That’s friendship. That’s life.”

“That’s life?” he had asked sarcastically.

“Yeah. Now get over it and get out,” she had smirked at him.

So, they fight, and they move on, and they fight, and they move on, and Bruce doesn’t mind at all. At the end of the day, he knows he’ll see her the next, and then he does. It’s consistent, and god knows he could use some consistency. 

“A good friend gives back,” Alfred stated. “Maybe she’ll plan you a party.”

God, he hopes not.

-

Y/N had been conspiring. Bruce had made her birthday like nothing she had ever imagined, and even if her ex-finance had soiled the evening, she was grateful. So she wanted to do something special for him, except… he didn’t really seem like he wanted to do anything. Everyone in the office was talking about The Bruce Wayne’s birthday except for Bruce Wayne himself. 

Y/N knew she never typically saw his party side, aside from him hopping into the fountain at The Ocelot. The Bruce she knew was more reserved, quiet, and calculated. Plus, when it came to the topic of his birthday, it’s like he shut the complete conversation down. So, how do you plan something for the one person who wants nothing?

You don’t.

At least you don’t plan a party; you make the day itself special. Bruce hated meetings, so she moved them. He loved the bagel place she showed him down by Dorthie’s Flowers, so she scheduled a nice lunch. The last time she was in Dorthie’s, John had told her that violets were Bruce’s birth flower, so she put some in the office. Finally, for the last hour of their workday, she had a cake, nothing special, she had made it with Carrie last night, and a few birthday cards. 

She was nervous as hell. Giving something to the man who can afford everything is more nerve-wracking than she thought it would be. 

Bruce had arrived at his typical noon timeline. He stepped into the office with caution, just praying what had happened in the past years wouldn’t happen today. When he did occasionally come into the office years ago, past assistants and coworkers would plan some Bruce Wayne Birthday Happy Hour where everyone would get plastered, and he would sneak off annoyed. He knew Y/N knew him better than that. Or at least he hoped she did.

When he stepped into the office, there were no decorations, no music, and no surprises so far. He let out a breath. There was Y/N battling it out on the phone like she usually is. She waved at him and mouthed to him I can’t do phone calls anymore, rolling her eyes. He chuckled, stepping into his office.

Violets.

It wasn’t abnormal for Y/N to grab flowers for the office. She was dear friends with his florist, but violets made him think of his mother. Every birthday, his mother would go through the grueling tale of his birth just to tease him. 

“Thomas, you don’t get to laugh. You were no help!” she squealed. “Anyways, my dear Brucie. I was in the worst pain of my life bringing you into this world. All I wanted was my ice chips when our doctor started going on about birth flowers to distract me.”

“It annoyed her to no end-”

“Stop interrupting me, Thomas,” she had giggled, and Bruce had done the same. “Anyways, I was trying to bring you into this world, and he tells me, ‘ma’am it sounds like your son’s birth flower will be a violet. I never cared for violets.’ And I thought, what a terrible thing to say to a mother. So I kicked him out, and the nurse and I worked hard for you.” 

“She’s not joking, son.”

“But now, every birthday I just have to douse the house in violets for my sweet Brucie.”

 Bruce stepped closer, touching the edge of the petals with his fingertips. It had been a while since he’d been given any flowers... but violets, he was sure he had only gotten them from Mama.

There was a light cough behind him, and he turned to see a bashful Y/N. “So, no meetings today, but we have some paperwork to go through.”

“No meetings?” he questioned. That would be a first.

“Yeah, this donator work really should take priority,” she tried to act casually. “Oh, and I was going to run to Upper East Bagel later if you want to come.”

“We’re not getting delivery?”

“Well, it’s nice outside,” she started innocently. Bad lie, she thought. It’s February. It’s never nice. “I figured I’d walk, but if you want me to go by myself I can grab something for you.”

Bruce scoffed, “You’re not walking by yourself in Gotham.”

She grinned. Bait taken. 

For the few hours before lunch, they worked on paperwork. The donator paperwork did take up a chunk of time. There were so many details like which benefits he needed to attend, which non-profits were approved for the Wayne Charity donation program, etc. He was whipped, and even worse, he was hungry. Stepping toward the door, he leaned on the frame. Y/N was digging through one of her bags, and he cleared his throat.

“Bageles?”

She grinned, “I’m literally starving.”

Y/N was excited, not just for the bagel, but because as soon as they walked down to get their lunch, Alfred was going to come and help her set up Bruce’s office. Again, nothing crazy, a cake, cards, and maybe a balloon. It was nothing that should take long. She even had everything in a tote bag under her desk. 

The bagel line wasn’t long, and they didn’t have any issues other than a few people recognizing Bruce and wishing him a happy birthday. When they did, he’d look at her curiously. While Y/N had no reaction, Bruce was suspicious. So, she knows it’s my birthday, and she hasn’t said anything. Not that Bruce cared about things like that, but Y/N wasn’t the type to forget or be silent on the subject. She had only glanced at him innocently, batting her lashes, “Should we eat lunch in the park?

Bruce humored her, so they sat in Gotham Park and ate their lunch. While the bagel was great, it was fucking freezing outside. Y/N looked over at Bruce, pleasantly eating his bagel. It didn't look like the cold had bothered him at all. Despite not being cold, the whole ordeal had Bruce's mind moving. God, please no office parties when we get back. 

He was on edge stepping back into the office, waiting for some insane ordeal… but nothing. They took the elevator straight up to his office, and walked in by Y/N’s desk and… nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she forgot and didn’t want to say anything. Y/N walked casually over to her desk and set her purse down while Bruce put the code into his office door and stepped inside. There was a balloon attached to his desk chair, a cake that was clearly not from a bakery, and cards. 

He chuckled, looking through them. One from Rachel and Harvey Dent, one from Alfred, one from Lucious, one from Jack Drake (who he hadn’t spoken to in so long), and one from Y/N. Except it wasn’t just from Y/N; her brothers had signed it with little notes and doodles, and Carrie had signed a nice message as well. 

It was so simple, so homely, and wonderful.

“Happy Birthday,” Y/N appeared behind him with a couple of paper dessert plates.

He looked at her but said nothing. In the best way, he didn’t know what to say, and suddenly she became nervous.

“I know it’s not much, and you probably have friends planning something crazy, but,” she paused, unsure of herself, “it’s just… you didn’t really seem like you wanted a party.” 

Bruce chuckled quietly. “I don’t,” he said honestly. “I’ve had friends plan a few insane things over the years, and I’m grateful, but I never really felt like celebrating my birthday without-” He stopped, a little embarrassed. “I sound like a child.”

“You don’t,” she stepped over to him, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, I do,” he mumbled.

“After my mother left, I tried to make birthdays special for my brothers, but my dad didn’t really celebrate, and neither did I,” she wasn’t sure why she was whispering. Maybe it was the close proximity between them, or maybe it was because she had never admitted what she was about to say aloud. “John, Carrie, even Russ, they all tried to make things special for me, but… I didn’t want to celebrate. I’d always leave early or fake a headache.”

“I didn’t know your mom left,” he replied back.

“I don’t really talk about it. It’s not like it’s a secret, but I don’t know. It feels so awkward to mention.”

“It’s awkward to mention your dead parents too,” he looked over at her, grinning. 

“At least you know they loved you,” she cringed like she regretted what she said. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“I get it,” he said honestly.

“So, cake,” she quickly diverted the topic.

Bruce smiled. A real true smile, “Cake.”

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt

[toomuchracket]

melted ice (dad birthday party!matty x reader smut)

temp play for day 1 of summer75. really, what else is there to do on a summer evening after your daughter's gone to sleep, other than make a cocktail with your husband and let him go down on you? enjoy <3

matty's arms are warm when they wrap around your waist. his lips are even warmer when they meet your neck, eliciting a smile from your face as you continue to concentrate on measuring the gin you're pouring. “hi, baby,” you murmur, transferring the alcohol into one of the crystal whisky tumblers you got as a wedding present. “amy all tucked in?”

“kicked the covers off in her sleep as soon as i pulled them over her, but yeah,” your husband laughs softly into you, kissing your skin again before resting his chin on your shoulder. “what are we drinking tonight, darling?”

“negronis.”

“nice,” matty's smile is audible. he unwraps himself from you, and you mourn the loss of him instantly. “i'll get the ice. do we need prosecco too, or…?”

you shake your head. “nah. i think we keep it classic tonight, if that's alright with you.”

“‘course. oh!” matty gasps, and you turn in concern; he's smiling, though, and holding up a ziploc bag filled with dried blood oranges. “can tart the drinks up a bit with these, though, yeah?”

you giggle. “i love you.”

he grins, wandering over to you with the fruit in one hand and a tray of ice cubes in the other before pecking your lips. “love you more.”

“that's impossible, you know.”

matty scoffs, delicately dropping ice cubes and orange slices into your respective cocktails and sliding one to you. “no, it's not.”

you roll your eyes as you take a sip of your negroni, matty matching you with his own. “it is impossible - oh, fuck, that's good - matthew. i love you so much. you can't possibly love me more than i love you.”

“come on, sweetheart - christ, that is nice,” your husband smacks his lips appreciatively, laying his glass down and tugging you into him. close enough to see yourself reflected in those beautiful eyes your daughter inherited, the grey is visible not only in his hair but in the day-old stubble decorating his pretty face, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by how sexily distinguished he looks. “but yeah. you're talking nonsense, darling. please stop.”

a smirk. “make me.”

another in return. “gladly.”

matty's hands find home on your jaw, tender as always, and cold from the cocktail glass in a way that sends a burst of adrenaline right through you. but that's nothing compared to the feeling when his lips meet yours, flavoured from the negroni and just as iced - the butterflies that have lived in your stomach since your first ever kiss with matty have awoken from their dormancy, the beating of their wings matching pace with your heart and blooming a trail of goosebumps across your body. all rational thought in your brain is clouded over by sheer want for your husband; actually, all thought in general has been replaced by a constant loop of his name, his face, his lips, just him in general.

you sigh happily. matty takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your parted lips, his grasp on your face tightening slightly as he does. in response, your hand slides into his curls and latches on, and the moan he lets out in response floods heat into your cheeks, your underwear, and the night itself - despite it being july, it's not a particularly warm night, but kissing matty could make even a december midnight in svalbard feel as sultry as it seems now.

he's dazed when he pulls back, lips swollen and eyes wild and hair messy and chest heaving. you're sure you must look a million times worse than he does, but matty still looks at you like you're the most exquisite thing he's ever seen, thumbs stroking your cheek as he beams. “hi.”

“hi,” you reply, breathily, eagerly, lovingly, elbows resting on his shoulders; his hands settle on your hips, familiar. “that was nice.”

“yeah,” matty kisses you again quickly, humming happily. “we should have these drinks more. your lips make them taste better.”

“i'm up for that,” you huff out a laugh, cheeks warming under your husband's adoring gaze. “i like the way your lips feel, all cold from the ice. like it a lot.”

you don't miss the way matty's eyes light up at that, nor the way his hands (likely subconsciously) travel to rest on your arse. “s'that so, my girl?”

“yeah.”

matty smiles, scooping you up effortlessly and sitting you on the counter. you open your legs and he slots between them, a well-practiced routine, before kissing you softly and murmuring against your lips. “d'you trust me, darling?”

excitement thrums in the pit of your stomach as you nod enthusiastically. “implicitly.”

“good girl,” matty leans sideways to reach for something while you preen at the praise. he returns with a fresh ice cube, already starting to drip in his hands - relatable, you think - and holds it to his lips. “can i kiss you again?”

oh.

shuffling forward on the countertop, you nod. “yes please.”

he beams at you, free hand caressing your jaw. “sweet girl.”

before you can reply, the ice cube is in his mouth, and his lips are on yours again. you whimper into him at the coldness, but it's deliciously erotic - when your husband traces your lips with the ice, you shiver, body arching further into his as the cold runs through you and leaves heat in its wake. matty smiles into you, one hand snaking down to your lower back and the other up into your hair; you can feel his wedding ring against the nape of your neck, cool gold on flushed skin, and you melt into matty faster than the ice cube does.

with a breathy laugh, he pulls back just enough to speak. “are we too old now for me to get you off on the kitchen counter?”

“depends,” you smile, scratching his scalp the way you know he loves. “you reckon your back can handle it?”

matty smirks, gently smacking your arse. “i can try.”

you kiss his nose. “go on, then.”

“thank you, darling. and remember,” he winks at you as he grabs another ice cube. “be quiet for me, yeah? don't wanna wake up our baby girl and leave you hanging, sweetheart.”

“alri- oh,” you moan as his lips (and the ice between them) meet your neck; they travel further and further down, slow as dripping honey, across your throat and over your collarbones. “fuck, baby, that feels good.”

“yeah?” matty pulls back, pretty eyes already hazy with lust as he looks up at you. “pull your top down and it'll feel even better, darling. promise.”

almost shyly, you oblige, sliding the straps down your arms, and your nipples are barely visible when matty takes the left into his mouth. a deadly cocktail of cold and lust shoots through your nervous system when the ice meets the bud, sending a strangled cry flying from your lips and into the summer night, and your hand into matty's hair. he smiles against the flesh of your tit, releasing the nipple to slide the melting ice across your sternum and repeat the motion on your right boob; as he does, tongue and the remaining sliver of ice flicking across the hardening bud, you can't stop your hips from jerking, core grinding into nothing in a desperate attempt to find friction and subsequent release.

your husband notices your wanton movement, pulling off you with a pop and standing. you don't miss the way he winces and quickly touches his lower back, but you're soon distracted from that by him softly caressing your face. “oh, sweet girl,” he coos, the slight condescension in his voice going straight to your underwear. “you need to cum, don't you?”

you nod, pathetic. “mhmm.”

“let's get these shorts off you, then, yeah? lift your hips - that's it, good girl,” matty's fingers hook into the waistbands of your shorts and underwear, gently manoeuvring you so he can slide them off your legs and lay them to the side. grabbing another ice cube, he kneels on the concrete floor in front, pulling you towards him until you're sat on the very edge of the counter. “gonna let me taste you, darling?”

“please.”

matty doesn't answer. instead, he pulls your left leg over his shoulder and presses his lips to the soft skin of your inner thigh, thumbs rubbing their outsides soothingly when you inhale sharply at the coldness, unfamiliar on this new, sensitive part of your body - the breath leaves your body in a sigh when your husband starts to move his lips in some sort of pattern along your leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps and water droplets in its wake, and turns to a moan when you realise said pattern is him writing his name with the ice cube. you can feel him smile against you when you whimper it in acknowledgement, a smile that seems to get even wider when he finishes his signature and immediately turns his attention to your now-aching clit.

you cry out when the cold hits the bundle of nerves, one hand clapping over your mouth when you remember your daughter is asleep, the other raking through her father's hair in a futile attempt to keep some semblance of control. an impossible feat, really - the hunger with which matty goes down on you is enough to get you off quickly as is, and the extra stimulation from the temperature of his lips and tongue and the ice cube itself threatens to send you hurtling towards orgasm. desperate as you are to cum, though, you don't want it to be over quite so quickly, so you try to regulate your breathing, doing your best to focus on the softness of matty's curls between your fingers and reduce the overwhelming pleasure coursing though your body to a more steady, manageable buzz.

and then matty starts to actually tongue-fuck you with the ice, and all of your composure evaporates. the pleasure ramps up to an even higher voltage than before, sparking through you towards the growing heat in your lower stomach; when he adds his thumb to your sensitive clit, you're set completely alight, and it's all you can do to warn him from behind your shaking hand. “matty, matty, i'm cumming.”

“good girl, so perfect for me,” comes the reply, muffled by your body as he works every last vestige of climax out of you. whether it's because of the heat emitted from your orgasm or from the sheer enthusiasm with which your husband was eating you out, you're unsure, but the ice has completely melted - when matty pulls back and smiles at you, eyes as loving as you've ever seen them, you can see the water dripping (presumably mixed with your own wetness) down his pretty face. he hums happily, lightly kissing your thigh before resting his head on it, still looking at you adoringly. “back to the cocktails, then?”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More on doting husband Bruce? they're my serotonin 🥺

"You hate shopping," Bruce mused. More amused than angry at the bags you set down. What you bought today would hardly make a dent in your "allowance" that he kept putting in your account- given that you'd stopped taking a salary, stating that you didn't need it but the legal aid office did.

You shrug, "I do like supporting local businesses- and we've got staff birthdays coming so I was gonna have Dick help me make gift baskets."

"A capital idea," Alfred said, nodding his approval.

"It's very cute," Bruce agreed, "So what all did you buy?"

"Some fun soaps. And travel cups. Candles, some boxes of candy... Odds and ends mostly. I wasn't really sure what people would want so I tried to cover all the bases. The Baskets are still in my car."

"I think it's charming," Alfred assured you. "The ladies will be thrilled and the gentlemen will be if not thrilled, appreciative."

"How is soap fun?" Bruce asked, poking through bags.

"It's fun scents. And they make it there. It's goatmilk and oatmeal. They make the tumbler cups too."

"Note to self," Bruce said out loud, locating a soap and smelling it. "Next time we go on vacation avoid the mainstreet and-"

"Just to bougie part. I do love a good boutique. Especially if they make something on site."

[rwac96]

Jaune's birthday present for Yang is Tifa finally lifting the ban for her and her uncle for the bar. Obviously Tifa will remind Jaune of their deal, and he will need lots of water for how long "it" will be. But Yang being happy on her birthday is worth it.

"Happy Birthday, Yang," the AVALANCHE Brawler says to Yang, as she pulls the photos of the Blonde Brawler and Qrow off of the 'Banned' wall. "you and your uncle are hereby welcomed back in the Seventh Heaven, as long as you guys behave yourselves."

"Thanks, Tifa," Yang said, raising a glass of Strawberry Sunrise, and taking a quick sip of the beverage.

"Thank fuck," Qrow said, sipping a tumbler of whiskey.

As Yang celebrates with her uncle, Tifa turns to a red-faced Jaune Arc. The busty brunette approaches the nervous blonde, placing a glass of water in front of her.

"Remember our deal, Jauney," Tifa said in a cooing tone, making Jaune gulp and nod quickly.

"Yeah."

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 5

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

PART 5.

“I really hate this building,” he grouses as you push through the security door without challenge. He sounds grumpy, and it’s almost…cute. You’re not used to having anyone worrying after you like this.

“I’ve never had a problem here,” you try to assure him.

He gives one last hostile look over the street like he expects a horde of marauders to come charging after you. But there’s just streetlights, and the few harmless hipsters who are still out and about on a Friday night. This city never really sleeps.

“Do you at least have protection in your apartment?”

You reckon he doesn’t mean condoms.

“What, like a gun?”

“Yes.”

“No,” you laugh. “I have a bat under my bed?”

He makes a sound through his teeth that indicates that is not the answer he wanted to hear. Again, you stumble on that stupid odd riser, and again he grabs for you, holding your waist with an arm that feels like steel, practically carrying you up the next three steps. He is tense, on edge after the fight, his eyes sweeping the shadows of your stairwell.

You hope that once you get him inside your apartment, he might calm down. For once the tumblers yield without a fight, and you pull him inside, locking the deadbolt again behind you. “Come sit down. Let me look at you.”

Instead he strides to the window, looking out over the street with a suspicious glare. He is manic, going to every window that faces the street and closing blinds and curtains. Then he stands vigil again, looking out through a crack in the blinds, his jaw clenched. He stands like that for a good minute before you insist, “John.”

He reminds you of a hawk, the way he turns his head to look at you without moving the rest of his body.

“It’s ok, honey. Do you want a drink?”

He lets out a deep breath, maybe relaxing a tad, though he’s still grinding his bottom teeth. “Sure.”

You know his poison of choice now. It’s possible you picked up a nicer bottle of bourbon than what you had on offer last time, a small batch vintage.

“Sit,” you insist, pointing at one of your chairs in the living room. You know it sounds like a command, but it seems like the only way to get through to him in this hyper-fixated state. After a long moment he finally obeys, lowering himself down into the cushioned seat with the weariness of a man ten years his elder. He seems as though he has done this all before—and he doesn’t like it anymore.

“You’re taking all this rather well,” he remarks, gratefully accepting the cut crystal glass from you, slugging back half of it.

“Well...that guy was an asshole.” You shudder as your think about what Sasha intended to do to you, and how he’d undoubtedly treated other women before you who didn’t have someone like John on their side. “A knife in the leg was the least he deserved. You taught him a lesson he won't forget.”

“Yeah. Too bad these guys aren't big on self-reflection. They prefer revenge.”

“You think they’ll come after you?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

You digest this, chewing on your bottom lip. “I can’t imagine how they could even find me,” you try to assure him. “It’s a huge city.”

The look he pays you isn’t exactly condescending, but it definitely makes you feel like he finds you naïve.

“Did you pay for your first round of drinks with cash?”

“No, credit card.”

He nods, like that’s all they would need.

“Seriously?”

“They have their ways.”

“Who are they, exactly?”

“I feel like it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“Oh no, we’re not doing that,” you say with your hands on your hips. “If someone’s coming after me, you’re going to tell me who.”

The wistful smile that twists his lips unexpected. “What?” you ask, unable to mask your annoyance.

“It’s just…I feel like I’ve had this conversation before.”

You realize you must remind him of Helen, with your no-male-bullshit attitude. It makes your heart ache at the same time it fills with pride. “Well, I learned from the best.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, and you feel your annoyance melt away as you study this man, so forbidding and yet beneath it all, a little fragile. You see it in his eyes, and there’s still blood on his brow, and you decide you want to patch him up more than you want to argue with him.

For now.

Maybe he feels some obligation to take care of you because of Helen, but it goes both ways. You know Helen would want you to make sure he’s taken care of too. You feel a little guilty that it’s taken this long.

“I’m going to go get my first aid kit. We’ll clean you up, then you can decide what you want to tell me. FYI, the less you know the better is not acceptable tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You cannot tell if he is amused, exasperated, or maybe both.

You return from the bathroom with your medicine chest, thunking it down on the coffee table. “Want another?” you ask, gesturing at his empty glass.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t. Good stuff.” You smile to yourself, wondering if your previous offering had been closer on the scale to paint thinner, remembering how he’d drank it anyway because he was a sweetheart. He was a conundrum, was what he was. This man was dangerous, and after what you’d seen earlier, you suspected he was possibly a killer. And yet, he was sweet. So sweet, at least to you, and those he considered friends. The warmth that bloomed in your chest for him was alarmingly not exactly—or not exclusively—lust related.

“Ouch,” you sigh, inspecting his brow. It’s a deep cut, and might actually require a butterfly. You won’t know until you clean it up.

You actually possess a passable first aid kit. Sometimes, art projects involving blades go awry, and you are in the habit of taking care of your ailments yourself. The cost of healthcare is utterly obscene, and until recently, out of your budget.

John lets you fuss over him, sitting still as a statue as you cleanse his wounds with saline solution then slather him with some antibacterial goop. Though you still feel a bit sick, and a bit giddy from the adrenaline, luckily your hands have stopped shaking. You do affix one butterfly closure to his noble brow, just in case. His eyes are closed, almost as though he is enjoying your ministrations, even though you know it can’t actually feel good.

“I’m not sure what else to do for this,” you say, touching his split lip lightly with a gauze pad, dabbing away the blood.

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” you say.

This could be an excellent window for him to really tell you what’s going on. You suspect he’s purposely distracting you when he reaches for you, tracing the line of your waist before his large hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer between his manspread legs.  

“I’m feeling better now.” He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes, and goddammit they should be considered an illegal weapon.

You know you should insist on answers before giving in, but your resolve utterly dissolves under his touch and that longing look, replaced with heady desire. This thing between you is a force to be reckoned with; it obliterates your good sense, your sense of propriety, your loyalty to your late sister. Anything that might have stopped you with anyone else ceased to matter with this beautiful man.

You are not sure if he pulls you, or if you just melt down into his lap, straddling him. His long fingers splay on your legs, pushing your skirts up your thighs, sliding higher and higher until he cups your ass with only your panties between you.

“My knight in shining black armor,” you sigh, touching his cheek lightly, wary of causing him pain. You think you see a bruise forming beneath the scruff of his beard.

“Hmm. It’s nice to be the hero, for once.” 

“Are you usually the bad guy, John?”

His touch is feather light down your legs again, then up your spine and the backs of your arms, causing you to shudder uncontrollably. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m forming an idea,” you admit breathily.

“My clever girl. What ever shall I do with you?” You’re not sure why his praise makes heat and slick pool between your legs, as though you are melting from the inside for this man. His hands are in your hair now, his touch still so gentle, but oh so maddening. Your skin feels like its on fire.

You kiss him gently, because of the split lip. He is the one who deepens it, with a growing desperation and a disregard for his own pain that you find insanely titillating. His mouth travels down your neck, trailing kisses and grazing with teeth as though he means to eat you alive.

You would let him, gladly, and you writhe against him, grinding on the length of his hard cock beneath you. You didn’t even get to see it last time. Tonight, you determine you will remedy that.

Fingers hooked in the straps of your dress pull down, down and down until you are bared before him. His hand in your hair pulls, gentle but exacting, guiding you to arch your back, offering up your breasts for his delectation. His mouth on your nipples is pure magic, sucking and biting and flicks of tongue that drive you to the absolute brink. He could make you cum just like this, you think, with his mouth on your tits and riding his rock-hard cock through his pants.

It hardly seems fair, considering last time, you somehow manage to think through the fog of desire that has you so tied up in knots. You push against him, sliding down his body until you are on your knees before him. He watches you with such blatantly raw hunger it makes your legs weak; he knows exactly what you’re doing, and doesn’t have the will to tell you no. He watches you intensely as you reach for his belt, flipping it open. There is a weight on the belt that confuses you for a moment, until his hand goes behind his back, catching something.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, and you can’t think straight enough to even entertain it. He pulls out a small black blocky object—it takes you a moment to realize it’s a gun. You've never really seen one in real life until tonight, just in the movies. You are more curious than fearful as he sets it gingerly on the table. The possibility does not even register that he could be a threat to you. After everything you’ve seen tonight, this is just par for the course, and you return to your task with gusto, whipping his belt from their loops with a satisfying snap.

You cannot hide the fact that you are utterly pleased with yourself, and the corners of his mouth twitch, his hand caressing your cheek. You finish undoing his pants with your eyes half closed, so entranced by his light touch, until his manhood springs free into your hand, hot and velvety and oh my he is large. You roll your eyes up to meet his before descending upon him, slowly taking his swollen glans between your lips, swirling him with your tongue.

“Fuck, baby…”

The hand in your hair is not so gentle now; you don’t think he realizes he’s pulling, as you slowly take his length into the back of your throat, toying with the vein with your tongue. You slide more of him into your mouth, knowing you'll never be able to fit it all, but so willing to try. You bob up and down slowly, grazing him very carefully with your teeth, winning the most delicious moan from this man who is usually such a bastion of self-control. 

His fingers comb through your hair, sending chills all down your body as you work him up and down. The tips of your bare breasts brushing his tautly muscled thighs sends spears of longing to your loins, and you press your legs for some relief.

It doesn’t work, but you are enjoying this, and you want to treat him, the way he treated you so generously before. He’s taken a beating for you, fought and bled for you, protected you, and you want to thank him in the most primal way you know how. You take him deeper into the back of your throat, as deep as you can go, savoring every thick inch of this magnificent cock. What a thing of beauty. He groans, and you would have smiled if not for the mouthful.

“Baby...so good to me.” His hips rock against you of their own volition, his grip tightening in your hair. “Touch yourself for me. I want to feel you cum with your mouth sucking my cock.”

He doesn't have to invite you twice. Your fingers find your weeping slit, toying with your clit while you go down on him. You find a rhythm like this, sucking him in time to touching yourself. Maybe it’s a little self serving, but then again...there is something cosmic in this. Something timeless and primal and he seems to be enjoying it all the more with your participation, the vibration of your moans teasing his hard shaft.

You feel that scintillating pleasure gathering in your loins, know you are close. Your pleasure almost takes you by surprise, it is so swift and violent, your body spasming with the mindnumbing explosion inside you. After last time, it’s almost the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You take him into your throat fully and he cums with you, no warning, just the hot spill of his seed down your throat, filling your mouth. You swallow it greedily, only withdrawing when he stills beneath you.

You nearly collapse against his legs, your cheek resting on his lean thigh. This man is made of muscle and sinew. Through hooded eyes he caresses your face, toying with your hair. You shudder with aftershocks that are almost as pleasurable as the orgasm itself. You feel triumph as those burning dark eyes slide closed, overcome by afterglow, and maybe something else you don't care to name now.

“My sweet girl. You...are a marvel."

Something inside you blooms at hearing those soft words from him.

Slowly you sit up, stretching against him, using his hard body to help push you to your feet. Without a word you step out of your lacy pink panties and stick them in his jacket like a pocket square. He glances down with a lifted eyebrow, a small smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.

He’s so beautiful you could scream. 

“Something to add to your collection,” you quip, alluding to the fact that even though he practically fled last time, you know he took your undies with him.

“I will treasure them as much as the last pair,” he admits with a woebegone smile that crushes your heart.

Your legs are trembling beneath you, and you hold out a hand to him, inviting him to follow you. “Snuggle with me?”

A few long moments pass, until you think he might reject the idea, but then he takes your smaller mitt in his and tugs you down into his lap. It is silly, how secure you feel curled up in this man’s arms, your head finding the warm crook of his neck. His masculine smell is utterly divine, and you could fall asleep there, with his long fingers stroking your hair. You snuggle in the quiet aftermath, spent and ever so content.

This might be what heaven feels like.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when he brushes his lips against the top of your head and asks, “What would you say to packing a bag and coming to my place for the weekend?”

The suggestion takes you aback. Heat floods you as you think about just what you would get up to on a long weekend away at Casa Wick.

It certainly wouldn't be innocent.

Your little bubble of carnal pleasure bursts when you think of everything that happened outside your apartment, before you pleasured each other into a mind-numbed stupor.

“I would say I feel like you have an ulterior motive besides enjoying my company.”

“I do enjoy your company.”

“And I think you think I'm in danger. Are you ready to talk about that?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

“No.”

He huffs with laughter, clearly amused with you. But behind it all, you see the shadow of worry in his eyes, a tension at the corners of his mouth. “Come home with me, and we can talk about there.”

You tilt your head, wondering if he would be so diabolical as to fuck you into a blissfully complacent stupor so he didn’t have to answer your questions the whole weekend. You’ve never been good at taking orders—or hell, even advice—at face value. You like to make decisions—read mistakes—for yourself. But maybe, just this once, you could have faith that someone has your best interests at heart. He’s older than you, maybe wiser, and seems to know a little something you don’t about the workings of the underworld of New York City. As surreal as it seems...you could actually be in serious danger.

Seeing that you are still thinking, he sweetens the pot, nuzzling the shell of your ear with his nose. “I will cook for you and spoil you rotten.”

You can only imagine what carnal delights spoiling implies with this man.  

Well…fuck.

“Fine. I’ll pack a bag. But we are just postponing this Q & A.”

“Fair enough.” You extricate yourself from his lap with a stretch, and he gives you a light smack on your rear as you make your way for your bedroom. When you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow he pays you a panty-melting (if you’d been wearing any) smirk that turns your brain to mush.

This man.

It occurs to you that this man is, in fact, dangerous to you. Not in terms of violence, but…you sense in yourself that if he asked nicely, you just might give him anything. You understand more than ever how and why Helen fell so quickly for John Wick, as you find yourself surrendering to your addiction to him with a secret smile.

<<PART 4 PART 6>>

[autistichalsin]

I should have stopped talking to my mom any of the times she accused me and my dad of incest because she was jealous of our closeness, or the time she laughed when I told her about my sister assaulting me and laughed "to be fair, I fantasized about your neck too", or any of the times she hit my dad, or the time she said she wished she could kill me, or any of the times she kicked me out in winter with no coat, or the time she called me a bitch (ON MY BIRTHDAY!) because I said i didn't know what time I'd be out of bed, or when she admitted to not teaching us life skills because she wanted us to need her, or any of the times she continued to put essential oils in my room knowing it triggered my asthma, or the time she accused me of faking my allergy to our laundry detergent to be difficult despite the hives on my skin, or the time she yanked me by the hair trying to drag me out of my little brother's room so she could scream at him and then she told my grandma I was the one hurting her, or the time she threw a tumbler at my head, or the time she said I use people because i needed my dad to drive me to the doctor, or the time my SIL was in labor and my mom sent me a picture of a baby, then when I called all excited asking if my nephew was here she laughed FAKE NEWS!!! and told me he wasn't here yet, or the time she told everyone in my family I didn't like playing music and only did to be like my sister so that they wouldn't help me afford a class trip like they'd done for my sister, or the time I was in the hospital for suicidal thoughts and then when my counselor and I met with her and I told her I needed her to stop drinking for my health to improve, she got pissed and snapped "why is this about ME??" or when she let my sister live with us after said sister sexually assaulted my brother, assaulted me with the aforementioned neck licking, and poured her beer on me and flicked bits of meat at me knowing it would upset me as a vegetarian, or when my mom yelled at me to "be a real girl for once" because i wouldn't shave my legs, or when she bought my sister a gaming system the week before my birthday one year and got me nothing, or the repeated times she showed complete and utter apathy to me and my achievements and my hobbies, or the time she lied about my coming out story and then used that to farm likes on her Twitter, or the time she called me a spoiled princess because one single time I was tired and hungry after classes at college and asked my little brother to make me a PBJ sandwich, or the time she screamed at me to use my student aid money to get her chips, increasingly mad when I refused, then when I finally caved and walked to the store to get them for her and came back, threw them at me screaming that it wasn't about the "FUCKING DORITOS" and refused to eat a single chip, or the time my little brother and i went out for my birthday and then my mom threw out our leftovers and tried to break the Super Mario Galaxy disc he'd gotten for me as a present, or the time she hit my dad and screamed at him for getting me Elton John tickets for my birthday one of the rare years we had money-

But I didn't. i should have, but I didn't. Even after I moved out more than five years ago, there was always something. I was afraid she'd retaliate, or I felt responsible for her or I was afraid she'd get sicker or I was afraid i wouldn't get to see my dad again.

Because of that, i let her continue abusing me for years after I moved out. I thought she had become a better person when she got sober. She was working on herself and on rebuilding trust. But now she's right back to the same person she was. And I can't do this anymore. I just can't. I have nothing left to give that woman. I love my dad and I know, with how my mom is, I'll only get to email him anymore if I cut off my mom, because she controls everything with him. I watched, from when I was little to when I was 18, as she cut off more and more from him. She made him quit the sports groups he was in, made him stop going to work parties and stop seeing his friends, until he had literally nothing outside the house but work. I hate thinking that I'm abandoning him to her. And that I might not see him as he gets older. But I just can't do this anymore.

And what was the last straw, you ask?

I asked if they could make a new group chat.

My best friend is like my platonic life partner, to the point of being on the family group chat that includes in-laws. My best friend also lost her mom to cancer a few years ago, and as a result, has PTSD including hospitals being VERY triggering for her. My sister's FMIL is very sick and she's been texting updates. After my best friend said it was too triggering, I texted my mom and sister aside and asked if we could make a new group chat without my best friend on it so she wouldn't be triggered. My mom proceeded to go off on me, accusing my best friend and I of being selfish and not loving/caring about my sister. She said my sister didn't choose any of this and my best friend should "just not be triggered" (wtf???)

So. I blocked her. And we're cancelling our trip to see them for Thanksgiving too.

I tried. I gave her so many chances. I put up with a hundred times more abuse than anyone else would have because I loved her and i was so sure that I could help her, and maybe in some ways I did, but the favor was almost never returned. Anyone else would have cut her off for any one of those things.

She has no one to blame but herself. i did more for her than her other three kids put together and now she won't have that anymore because of her inability to stop being abusive. Ultimately... she needs me a lot more than I need her. And I'm done sacrificing for her. i could deal with the favoritism. With knowing that if my sister and I were trapped in a burning building and she could only save one of us, it would be my sister and she would never look back. I could deal with that. I could deal with the years of abuse and manipulation. I even managed to live with her denying my little brother's sexual assault ever happened and for saying I manipulated my brother into thinking he'd been raped to "prove an agenda". But there's a reason they call it the last straw and not the only straw. There's a huge fucking pile under it and I just physically can't do it anymore.

So have a nice life, mom. If you apologize, I might consider unblocking you and maybe coming for visits every now and then. But what we had? Gone. And you have only yourself to blame. Find a new person to unload all your fucking whining on. I am going to enjoy never having to hear you whine about opioids being outlawed, EVER FUCKING AGAIN. No more hijacking my conversations to talk about politics. No more talking about yourself for a full 20 minutes without even asking how I'm doing. No more calling me three times while I'm on a work shift because you forgot your Indian food order and NEEDED me to place the order for you. Fuck off. Do it yourself. I AM DONE.

[wannaeatramyeon]

you absolutely killed my last ask (unlike gun with those poor people)!! to make up for the toxicity, i feel like sammy should be allowed to relax/be spoiled by his partner. not his regular 'the most expensive brands i can find', but sleep in, breakfast in bed, back rub, and diy face masks vibe. i don't think he's ever experienced it, and would love to see his confusion🌺

I am but a weak little person, especially after reading @lookismfanfics soft Samuel here. Sorry for the delay and thank you for this ask my sweet flower anon! There is pretty much ZERO toxicity here, and just a whole lotta love!

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spoiling Sammy

3 very fluffy, very indulgent scenes: back rub, bath, birthday

Samuel is surprisingly easy to fluster.

He's not used to tender touches or calm caresses. At least without giving anything in return.

The first time you lay your hands on his shoulders, giving him a massage and rebuffing his advances, he eyes you with suspicion. All the suspicion. Why are you touching him if you didn't expect any pleasure for yourself?

"Just relax," you instruct. And he tries. He really tries.

Little by little, tension leaves Samuel's body. This is... nice. Shoulders no longer stiff with stress, and a weight lifted. Before long, he is groaning as you continue to work out the knots and rub his back.

The noises slipping from his lips is what snaps him out of his daze. Why the hell is he moaning and feeling vulnerable from this simple gesture.

Hiding his blush, Samuel bats your hand away with some excuse of needing to make a call.

.

.

Workers is full of idiots and bullshitters, and no-one can ever convince Samuel otherwise.

He slams the front door, wishing that it was Eugene's head trapped there. Samuel could do his job a thousand times better, a million. How dare he-

"Sammy?" you poke your head out of the bathroom at his angry mutterings - another standard day in the office then, "Come here!"

Fuck, what a shit day.

He drops his jacket carelessly on the floor, and yanks his tie off as he makes his way towards you. Samuel just needs to decompress tonight, he doesn't have it in him to do anything else. Some peace and quiet. A bath, and a glass of-

"Whiskey?" you offer, handing him his favourite readily poured into a crystal tumbler.

Candles are lit, soft music drifts out, steam fills the air. The bathtub is full. And are those rose petals floating in the water?

"Is... is this for me?" he asks, and you nod enthusiastically.

You really didn't need to do this. You really shouldn't have done this. Now Samuel finds a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest.

He thinks you might be his favourite person.

.

.

Samuel awakens to the faint whiff of burning, and commotion coming from somewhere in his penthouse.

The initial annoyance, as he plods barefoot into the kitchen, is soon replaced with bafflement at the utter chaos you have created. It's not even 10am on a Saturday. At what unholy hours did you have to get up to cause all this?!

On the counter sits the ugliest cake he has ever seen.

Lopsided and tilting. Uneven frosting. A frankly obscene amount of sprinkles. Some scribbles that could read 'Sammy' if he removes his glasses and squints.

He suspects it might even be poisoned.

The rest of the kitchen fares no better. It looks like a bomb had gone off.

You stand there, undeterred, like the cat who got the cream. Flour in your hair, a smile on your face.

"Happy birthday, Sammy!"

Oh.

He doesn't recall the last time he celebrated his birthday, nevermind ever having received a homemade cake.

Damn you and damn the way you have bulldozed your way into his heart.

Samuel finds himself completely head over heels.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Twenty Questions (Part 1)

Summary: For Y/N’s 20th birthday Haymitch gifts her 20 questions, that he has to answer honestly, no matter what. Mentions of sex/forced pregnancy. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe.

Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader

Haymitch finds Y/N at the dining room table, slapping down her present beside her half eaten lunch. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh.” Y/N reaches for the envelope, warily. More instructions from President Snow?

“It’s from me.” Haymitch huffs, pouring himself a glass of gin.

From him. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well you got me something so,” he raises his cup to her.

“Thank you, Haymitch.” He turned thirty a couple months ago and Y/N gifted her husband a rather large assortment of alcohol. Y/N opens the gift, a piece of paper with the words ‘20 questions.’

“Since you’re so interested in yours truly, this is an open invitation to ask me anything you want. Twenty times, I’ll answer honestly.” By this time next year we’ll be neck deep in diapers, or dead.

Y/N smiles, softly. “First question, why are you doing this?”

“Because I-” love you. I love you and there’s no fucking way around it. “If you’re gonna have my baby, you deserve to know me.”

“I think I know you.”

Haymitch sinks back a bit more in his chair. “You know me better than most people would ever want to, I’ll give you that.”

“Do you want to have a baby with me?”

There it is, straight for the jugular. “That’s not a question, that’s a trap.”

“Tell me why,” Y/N laughs.

“If I say no, it will upset you. If I say yes, it will upset you. I can’t win.”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about how you feel.”

“I feel like,” he takes a moment to look at her, really look at her. “If I was just some guy and you were just some girl, who hadn’t managed to piss off Snow to the point of no return. We wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That is not an answer.”

“That’s how I would want to have a baby with you, or anybody for that matter.” Keep your emotions out of it. “If we were- It wouldn’t be dangerous for the poor kid getting brought into all this. We wouldn’t be rushed by orders to do this now, we would have time. And you could choose me…or hell, you could not choose me. Either way it would be your choice.”

“You think I wouldn’t choose you?”

Haymitch chuckles, bitterly. “Nobody in their right mind would choose me.”

“I might’ve.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re burning through these questions pretty quick, angel.” Haymitch warns, tapping at his tumbler.

“If I run out, I’ll just have to torture the answers out of you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Haymitch calls her bluff. “Not on purpose.”

“Have I hurt you, Haymitch?”

Fuck. “Hurting you hurts me.”

“You’ve never hurt me.”

“Not on purpose.” He agrees, “but you’ve been hurt by things we had to do.”

“That’s not the same.” Y/N shakes her head.

“It is, whether you’re ready to admit that to yourself or not-”

“Is that why you threw up the first time?”

The first time, that terrible night with those damn cameras. “I threw up because of how you looked at me.”

“How did I look at you?”

“Like you wanted me to help you and I couldn’t.”

“I’d never been that close to anyone, ever. It was intimidating, but I trusted you.”

“I tried to make it good for you.”

“You did!” Y/N raises her brows, “you made me cum like four times.”

Haymitch grins, “next question.”

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Best I’ve ever had…”

“Doesn’t have to be with me.” Y/N says, holding up both hands.

“No, it was you.” He scoffs, downing his drink and pouring another.

“Which time?”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying it.”

“No, please, Haymitch,” she pouts. “Tell me.”

Being ‘just friends for now’ didn’t stop them from kissing whenever they wanted, sleeping in the same bed, or screwing every chance they had. “My birthday.”

“Oh,” Y/N purses her lips. She’d taken one of those stupid pills from the Capitol and rode him to kingdom come. “What did you like about it?”

“That you wanted me.”

“I do want you.”

“You have me.” Dammit, get a hold of yourself.

“If I have you, then you have me.” I’m yours…if you want.

Haymitch sighs, “what number are we on?”

“Like four or five.”

“Four or five?” She’s trying to pull a fast one on him. “Gotta be at least ten.”

“No, they don’t all count. We were just talking!”

“Fine, we’ll only count five. But from here on, they all count.”

“Deal.” Y/N agrees, she can still cover a lot of ground. “What is your worst fear?”

“There’s a few, like running out of liquor.”

“Of course,” she nods.

“But the worst would be losing someone I care about.” My worst fear is losing you.

“Yeah.” Y/N swallows hard, “me too.” He has spared her from losing her family, the way he did, giving up pieces of himself to do it. “Do you ever regret what you did to help me?”

“No.” No matter what happens, he doesn’t want her to end up like him. All alone…until now.

“Next one’s hard.”

“Hard to ask or answer?”

“Both.”

Haymitch narrows his eyes, “shoot.”

“How do you feel about me?” She aims to kill.

“I feel like you know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re my friend. Best one I’ve got for miles. You are hands down the most stubborn person I have ever met and I like that about you.” Haymitch admits.

“What is your least favorite thing about me?”

That you ripped my heart open and shoved yourself inside. “You never stay on your side of the bed.”

Part 2

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | 12 | S.R

Not my gif

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer and Maeve get into a heated argument moments before Daisy’s birthday party in which Spencer is finally forced to face his real feelings over his ex. You overhear more than you bargained for.

A/N - I don’t know if it was ever stated how old the Simmons kids were, if it was I certainly wasn’t paying attention. This was a guess.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - swearing, drinking, talk of cheating, arguing, confessed feelings, overheard conversations, tears, drunk Spencer, vomit, mommy JJ to the rescue.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 12 - Let it Hurt

Seven forty two in the morning,

Eight seconds before it all sinks in.

Put your best face on for the world,

Fake another smile and just pretend.

But you're just puttin' off the pain,

Nothing's ever really gonna change.

Spencer arrived at Rossi’s early and spent the entire morning slaving over decorations and readying the house for the onslaught of teenagers due to descend upon Rossi’s pristine mansion this afternoon. 

He was exhausted before the party even started. 

He hung banners and streamers from almost every inch of the ceiling. He set up a large table that took up most of his yard with food and paper plates. 

Rossi restocked his fridge with soda bottles from the garage and beers and wine for the adults. 

Spencer wrapped a ridiculous amount of presents, the divorced parent guilt making him spend an exuberant amount of money on his eldest daughter. 

JJ arrived a few hours before the party and rewrapped them all as she told him they looked like the dog had done it. 

They had around a half hour to spare once the house was set up. Rossi had retreated to his study to recoup before his house was flooded with teens. 

Spencer and JJ sat in his backyard, JJ indulging in a glass of wine while he had one small scotch just to take the edge off. 

He could see her staring at the side of his face while he sipped from the tumbler and eventually he sighed and turned to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re nervous.” She had that knowing glint in her eye. 

“You becoming a profiler was the worst thing that ever happened to me, do you know that?” His words caused her to laugh. 

“And now you’re deflecting.” She smugly sipped her wine. 

“My ex-wife and her boyfriend are going to be here today. My ex-wife who I haven’t spent more than a few minutes with since she moved out of our home. Of course I’m nervous. I’m kinda glad we decided to do it here actually, I couldn’t imagine her spending that much time in my house. The house she destroyed with her betrayal.” He finished his scotch but it didn’t help the way he’d hoped. 

“Has it ever occurred to you to move?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, regarding him curiously.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.” He confessed with another sigh. “I thought painting would help. I thought about asking Morgan to help me just gut the place. But changing the facade isn’t going to erase the memories that house holds.” 

“A fresh start would be good for you all. Especially with your blossoming new relationship.” JJ wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, leaning over and nudging his shoulder with her own.

“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to last with Y/N.”

“But she’s coming to the party? She’s going to meet your kids?” 

“Yeah that might have been an error in judgement.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t want it to end, it’s not like I actively want this to fall apart.” 

“So why do you think it's going to?” She frowned at him. 

“I’ve done the family thing. I don’t want to do it again.” He sighed deeply. “I told her I wasn’t sure if I’d ever want anymore kids but that wasn’t true. Jennifer, I don’t want more kids. Not now, not ever. I love Daisy and Lily with all my heart but I don’t want anymore. I don’t want to get married again, I don’t want any of it. I am crazy about her and I would happily spend the rest of my life with her. But marriage and more kids aren’t in my future. But they are in hers.” 

“Shit,” she sipped her wine. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” He groaned, reaching across and grabbing her glass from her hand. 

She let him take it and watched him down the entire glass in one. 

“You don’t like white wine.” She rolled her eyes. 

“I do not.” He pulled a face as he swallowed. “That was disgusting.” 

“You’ve gotta talk to her, you know? Probably before she meets your daughters.” 

“That’s gonna be kinda hard don’t you think? What am I meant to do just wait by the door for her to arrive and turn her away? God I’ve fucked up, I need another drink.” He pushed himself up and JJ was quick to do the same. 

Before he could pass her towards the kitchen she grabbed his arm. 

“That is not a good idea.” She tugged him back. “You’re about to host a birthday party for your daughter, do you really want to be drunk for that?” 

“Yes?” He pulled a face with a shrug. 

“Trust me when I say you don’t.” She chuckled. “Maybe once the party is over and the kids have gone back to Maeve’s, but not right now.” 

He heaved a large sigh which told her he conceded even if he wasn’t happy about it. 

“Will you get drunk with me after the party?” He asked a little meekly. 

“Sounds like a date.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure we can even get the others on board.” 

“That would be good, I need that.” He nodded just as the doorbell rang. 

He checked his watch and frowned as he still had fifteen minutes until people were supposed to show up. 

“Why are people always early?” He grumbled, heading to the back door but once again JJ stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

When he turned back to her she was proffering a packet of mints his way with a small smile.

“You don’t want Maeve or the kids smelling wine on your breath.” She deposited one in his hand.

He nodded his thanks and popped the mint in his mouth as he continued through the back door and towards the front. 

When he opened the door she was smiling at him over a cake which was at least four times the size of his head. 

“You’re early.” He grumbled, stepping aside to let his ex in Rossi’s house. 

“I wanted to see what you’d done before the party kicked off.” Maeve followed him inside. 

“Didn’t trust me to throw my own kid a birthday party?” He huffed as they headed to the kitchen where JJ was fussing over some food in the oven. 

“Can we not do this today?” Maeve sighed as she set the cake on the counter. 

“Do what?” 

“The passive aggressiveness. Can you just take one day off from hating me so we can celebrate our daughter's birthday?” 

Spencer was going to argue, Maeve knew it and JJ knew it too. JJ came around the kitchen island and stood between the two of them. 

“Where is the birthday girl?” JJ intervened before Spencer could say anything. “Spence, take the cake out to the yard.” 

Spencer huffed like a child, JJ half expected him to stamp his foot. But he did as he was told and picked up the cake, retreating back outside. 

“Bobby took the girls for ice cream. They're going to head over in a bit. She actually believes we aren’t doing anything for her on her birthday.” Maeve giggled. JJ did not.

JJ not so secretly harboured a lot of ill will towards Maeve for the pain she’d caused her best friend. She didn’t try to hide it, didn’t try to pretend to like her. 

Even if Spencer wouldn’t admit how much Maeve’s infidelity had hurt him JJ could see right through him. And so she didn’t try to make a habit of hiding her disdain towards the other woman. 

“Ok.” She replied, heading back towards the oven to put another batch of party food inside. 

Maeve looked around uncomfortably, half wishing she’d come with Bobby and the girls and not on her own. Perhaps this whole party had been a terrible idea. 

Nonetheless she found herself gravitating towards the yard where Spencer was straightening place settings that didn’t need straightening just to avoid going back in the house and talking to her. 

He heard her step out onto the deck but refused to look up, instead kept focused on the table.

“The place looks great, Daisy is really going to love it.” She didn’t dare come closer, staying firmly on the decking.

“Glad you approve.” He scoffed. 

“Spencer,” Maeve sighed. “Is it too much to ask for you to be civil for one day?” 

His eyes suddenly snapped up at her, his movements halting. 

“Was it too much to ask my wife not to cheat on me?” He bit back. 

“I don’t know what else I can say for you to see how sorry I am. I tried to fix things, you’re the one who kicked me out. You’re the one who didn’t want to work on things.” 

“What was there to work on?” He raised his voice. “You were fucking another man behind my back for three years, Maeve! You really think we could have come back from that?” 

“I hurt you, I get it. And I am sorry for that, but at some point you have to get over it, Spencer!” 

“You didn’t hurt me.” He rolled his eyes. “You hurt Daisy. You hurt Lily. You didn’t hurt me.” 

The raised voices caught JJ’s attention. She sighed to herself as she set the oven timer, rounded the island once more and headed for the back door ready to break this up before the kids arrived. 

She got halfway across the kitchen when she heard a tentative knock at the front door. She glanced back towards it before looking back at Spencer and Maeve. 

Hopefully they could refrain from murdering each other while she answered the door. 

With any luck it would be Will and the boys and hopefully Henry and Michael could cheer up their uncle Spencer. 

She padded through the house towards the door as another gentle knock sounded. She unlocked it and opened it to see a slightly frightened young woman on the front porch. 

You rolled your lip between your teeth as you took in the stunning blonde opening David Rossi’s front door. 

Oh jeez, is that his ex? He never mentioned her being so pretty, you mentally cringed. 

She smiled a beautiful and heart stopping smile at you as she held the door open. 

“You must be Y/N?” She beamed, stepping aside. “Come in, please. Spence is in the backyard.” 

Your stomach was coiling into knots as you entered the house, feeling sick about this whole situation. Your hands shook at your sides. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” Her bright blue eyes sparkled and you felt utterly intimidated.

“You…you have?” 

“Of course! Spencer can’t stop talking about you.” She laughed. “I’m JJ by the way.” 

You felt the lead weight in your chest loosen, like you could breathe freely again. 

JJ, she’s JJ. His friend from the BAU, not his ex-wife. Thank god.

“JJ! Sorry yes, Spencer has told me about you too. I’m sorry I thought you were his ex and it threw me a little.” You laughed too. “It’s so nice to…”

You trailed off when the sound of a woman yelling filtered through the house from the backyard. You and JJ exchanged a look as the shouting continued. 

“Uh, that’s his ex.” JJ sighed. “Excuse me, I should see what’s going on.” 

You watched JJ flee towards the back of the house and without really meaning to you followed her. Through the large open back doors you could see Spencer and his ex-wife in mid standoff. 

His back was rigid, his face was bright red, the vein in his forehead pushing wildly and he had his hands clenched into fists. 

Maeve didn’t look any more composed than he did, steam practically coming out of her ears. 

“I swear to god, Spencer, you are such a child sometimes!” Maeve yelled, throwing her arms in the air. 

“I’m a child? I’m a child?” He spat. 

You and JJ stayed in the kitchen, JJ not wanting to get in the middle of this but also not wanting things to get any worse. 

“Yes! You act like you’re fine and that my affair meant nothing to you but then you can’t be civil towards me for even a second. If it really meant so little to you then why do you have to behave like this?” 

“Fine,” he snapped like a frayed cord. “You hurt me, is that what you want to hear?”

“I didn’t say that.” Maeve sighed loudly. “I just wish you would-” 

“I would what? You wish I would, what? You hurt me, ok? You really fucking hurt me.” He cut her off, the pain she’d caused evident in his voice to all three of you. 

Your stomach tightened again, not wanting to be privy to this conversation and clearly neither did JJ. 

Maeve looked away from him, somewhere across the garden and her shoulders slumped. 

“I…I’m sorry Spencer.” She lowered her voice. 

“It’s too late for that. I loved what we had, I loved you! And you hurt me more than I ever thought it possible to be hurt. Are you happy now?” He shook his head angrily. “I wanted to pretend that you didn’t cut me up inside with what you did because it was easier to deal with. I act like I only care that you hurt the girls because if I have to dwell on the fact the love of my life was cheating on me for three years I may never make it out of bed in the morning! 

Goddamnit Maeve, you fucking broke me. You broke me, ok? I will never be the same because of what you did to me. So I’m passive aggressive towards you because if I’m not I might just break down every time I have to look at you. You broke me. You broke my heart.” 

As he said that you felt your own heart breaking. In your peripheral vision you saw JJ looking at you but you were staring right at the side of Spencer’s face. 

And when his first tear escaped, so did your own. 

“Y/N, I-” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You cut JJ off. “I should go.” 

You turned on your heels away from the back door the second Spencer glanced away from Maeve. He saw JJ staring at him in disbelief first and then he saw the back of your retreating head. 

“Y/N?” He wiped his eyes. “Y/N!” 

He started after you and you quickened your pace through the house, desperate to get out of here before having him confront you. 

But of course he caught up with you, just before you reached the front door you felt his hand around your wrist. 

When he tugged you back to face him it was impossible to hide the fact you were crying. 

“Y/N I…I didn’t mean for you to hear that.” He rolled his lip between his teeth guiltily.

“But I did hear it.” You sniffed. “I’m never going to be her am I?” 

“It’s not like that.” He shook his head. “My feelings towards her are complicated. This whole thing is complicated.” 

“Let me uncomplicate it then Spencer. I’m taking myself out of this equation. I’m walking away.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. 

“Please don’t do that. Let’s just talk about this, please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. We want different things and you have very unresolved feelings for your ex. There is nothing left to say, Spencer. We don’t have the same idea of the future and maybe that’s because you can’t see yourself being with anyone but Maeve and I get it, you were together a long time. I just wish you’d been honest with me from the start. I wish I hadn’t had to witness the love of my life telling another woman she was his.” You turned away from him again to the door and threw it open. 

“Y/N, just wait please I can…” he trailed off seeing a gaggle of teenagers skulking up Rossi’s driveway towards the house.

With everything going on he had almost forgotten about the party. 

It allowed you to make a break, weaving between the kids on the driveway and Spencer couldn’t stop you. 

He plastered on a smile and welcomed Daisy’s school friends to Rossi’s home whilst watching you disappear. 

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

***

He watched Daisy and the beautiful, bright smile on her face from the kitchen window, arms folded across his chest and just trying to drink it all in. 

The teens had the run of Rossi’s backyard, the adults relegated to the house to allow them some freedom. Music blared from a series of smart speakers which Spencer had no idea how they worked. 

But the kids seemed to enjoy it. 

Daisy was sitting on the edge of the pool, a blonde girl sitting by her side as they chatted and the smile that encompassed his daughter's face told him that girl was Meredith aka the most popular girl at Daisy’s school.

He tried to ignore the way his blood froze in his veins due to the fact his fourteen year old little girl was wearing a bathing suit with teenage boys in the vicinity. 

Her cast had been removed a few days ago, just in time for the party. He was glad she’d healed but also kind of wished she’d had it in a little longer and then at least she might not have been able to swim and therefore wouldn’t be in a damn bathing suit. 

It only really occurred to him as he watched her how grown up she had become. In his mind's eye she was still a little girl, the same little girl who loved ponies and came running to her dad when she was hurt. 

Lily still did, still looked at him like he hung the moon. But it wouldn’t be long before she was a teenager too and pushing her dad away. 

He still remembered the day Daisy was born as though it could have only been yesterday and now she was turning fourteen. She’d be going off to college in the blink of an eye, moving out and forging her own life. And surely it wouldn’t be all that long before Lily was doing the same.

He’d been a father for so long now he didn’t know what he would do with himself when they grew up and he became obsolete. Who was Spencer Reid without his girls? 

He continued watching his eldest daughter, partly because he wanted to feel included in her life and partly because he was avoiding Maeve like the plague. 

He felt a presence enter the kitchen and he prayed that it wasn’t his ex. His company sidled up next to him and he glanced at them, breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Maeve. 

“Is it too much to ask to keep them young forever?” Spencer spoke wistfully, looking back at his daughter.

“Tell me about it,” Matt chuckled dryly. “My eldest is twelve now and I just can’t comprehend how that happened.” 

“I swear it was just yesterday I was bringing her home from the hospital.” 

“Yeah I know that feeling.” Matt patted Spencer’s shoulder. “Just be grateful for the time you still have with Lily before she becomes a teenager too.” 

The tone in Matt’s voice was almost pitiful and Spencer turned away from the window to look at him. 

“You spoke to JJ.” He frowned at the older man. 

“She might have mentioned an altercation.” Matt shrugged. “I assume that’s why you’re avoiding Maeve more than usual.” 

“My daughter's birthday was not the place I imagined my repressed feelings coming to the surface.” He sighed. “Not that I imagined them ever doing so.”

“And in front of your girlfriend too. That’s rough.” Matt offered him a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m almost positive she’s not going to be my girlfriend after today.” 

“Oh man, I’m sure you’ll-”

“Dad!” Daisy’s slightly frustrated voice cut Matt off. 

Spencer spun around to face his daughter who was now in the kitchen, hands on her hips and glaring at her father.

“What is it, pumpkin?” 

Daisy’s cheeks flushed pink and she glanced to her side where the blonde girl was standing, giggling under her breath. 

“Gross, don’t call me that.” Daisy rolled her eyes. 

Spencer pouted, her harsh tone hitting him straight in the chest. He’d called both of his girls pumpkin since they were babies and Daisy had never minded before. 

“Uh…what’s up, Daisy?” He tried again. 

“Can you change the music? My friends don’t want to listen to this old man stuff.” She huffed in such a sassy way Spencer wasn’t even sure he recognised this girl as his daughter. 

He frowned, tuning his ears into the music and noting a Frank Sinatra classic was playing through the speakers. 

It was a great song, but probably not to a fourteen year old. 

“I’ll sort it.” Matt spoke with a smile. 

“Thanks uncle Matt.” Daisy smiled at him before the two girls turned and started back towards the yard.

Spencer watched the blonde link her arm through Daisy’s as they walked.

“Your uncle is so hot.” Meredith’s voice carried towards them. 

Spencer grimaced and Matt chuckled. Spencer shot him a look. 

“What?” Matt shrugged. “I can’t help it.” 

As the two girls headed into the yard, Meredith’s voice met their ears again.

“Your dads kinda creepy though. He’s been watching us through the window for ages.” 

“I know right.” Daisy replied. 

Spencer slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead and grumbled under his breath. 

“This is the worst goddamn day of my life.” Spencer groaned. 

Matt laughed again and clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“No one ever said raising a teenager was easy.” 

“No kidding.” Spencer mumbled, following on Matt’s heels as he went to change the music. 

***

Two hours passed and the teens had well and truly taken over Rossi’s yard. The older man spent most of the day in the armchair in the corner of the grand living room sipping scotch and trying to pretend the kids weren’t going to destroy his house. 

Spencer kept himself out of the kitchen, not wanting his daughter or her friends to see him as creepy as Meredith had so kindly labelled him. 

Instead every fifteen minutes he sent another member of the BAU to the kitchen for something innocuous so they could subtly check on the teens.

Maeve kept her distant but he still caught her looking his way every so often. He tried to ignore her the best he could, knowing no good could come of talking to her. 

Lily flitted about the room, dividing her time between her parents and all her aunts and uncles as Daisy had strictly told her mother that Lily was not allowed anywhere near her party. 

He excused himself from the room after a while and headed upstairs to make a call. He knew you wouldn’t answer but it didn’t stop him trying.

As expected he got your voicemail and left a long rambling message about how sorry he was for what you’d overheard and how he wanted to explain. He begged you to call him back but wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t. 

When he was about to head back downstairs, he saw her heading his way and he honestly wanted to throw himself over the railing and straight into Rossi’s marbled floor below. 

Anything was better than talking to her. 

“Daisy wants her cake and I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.” Maeve had her hands in the pockets of her summer dress and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Ok, thanks. I was just coming.” He nodded. 

“No sarcastic response? No passive aggressive comment?” Maeve frowned. 

Spencer sighed loudly, shaking his head. 

“I’m so tired, Maeve.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I am exhausted with it all. I can’t keep fighting all the time.” 

Her frown deepened. She was fairly sceptical, and with good reason. For the last year all Spencer had wanted to do was fight, he almost seemed to enjoy it. 

“You don’t want to fight?” 

“I don’t have the energy to fight.” He shrugged. “We’re never going to be friends or anything like that, but I’m not fighting anymore. It takes too much out of me. You’re the mother of my children, you’re always going to be a part of my life whether I like it or not.” 

“I appreciate that.” Maeve softened, smiling gently. 

“It’s not for your benefit.” He scoffed. 

“Well that was short lived.” Maeve rolled her eyes, turning away from him and heading towards the staircase. 

“I’m trying.” He called after her, stopping her in her tracks. “I’m not saying it’s going to change overnight but I am trying.” 

She didn’t turn back to him, but she nodded her head as she started down the stairs. 

***

“This has honestly been the worst day ever.” Spencer slurred slightly, waving his glass around and spilling some of the contents over his shirt sleeve. 

“Should we cut him off?” Luke whispered to Penelope who was sitting on his left. 

The party had been over hours ago and all the children had since left, leaving Spencer and his old BAU team to drink in Rossi’s trashed yard. 

Daisy had a wonderful birthday and that was the most important thing to Spencer. The second most important thing was the fact he had royally messed things up with you. 

The moment he’d seen Daisy and Lily off with their mother he’d poured himself a giant glass of scotch in lieu of going home alone. Taco was at the kennel for the night so he had no need to go home.  

At this point he was well over half way through the bottle.

“I think he needs this.” Garcia shrugged sadly. 

“I fucked up with Y/N. She’s never going to talk to me again! What the fuck was I thinking?” He groaned loudly, splashing more alcohol down himself as he gesticulated. 

“It was probably time you finally faced your feelings over your divorce, kid.” Rossi sipped his drink. “Divorce is hard, it’s a shit thing to go through. Trust me, I would know.” 

“You know what’s dumb though? Really fucking dumb considering I’m supposed to be a genius?” He paused to sip his drink. “I honestly didn’t think I was in love with Maeve. Not until she told me she’d cheated. And it felt like my whole fucking world crumbled around me.” 

At least he had stopped crying. For at least an hour he’d sobbed and JJ, Garcia, Emily and Tara took turns holding him while he wept. 

They would all take him angrily ranting over crying any day. 

“Have you considered seeing a therapist?” Tara threw out the question on everyone’s lips. 

“What would I do that for?” He frowned, trying to focus on her but his eyes were misty from the alcohol. 

“Clearly you have a lot of unresolved issues.” Tara replied and that was putting it nicely. “I think talking to a therapist will really help.” 

“No, not gonna happen.” He was scrambling to get out of the lawn chair and failing miserably. 

JJ rolled her eyes and got up, wrapping her arm around his waist and helping him to his feet. 

“Where are you trying to go?” She asked, keeping an arm around him in case he fell over. 

“I…I don’t know.” He pouted. 

“May I suggest bed?” Emily piped up. “Sleep it off Reid.” 

“Yeah I’ve got plenty of room.” Rossi waved a hand in the general direction of the house. 

“Hmm good idea.” He nodded, leaning his weight against JJ. Seconds later he pulled away, his face drained of colour. “Oh fuck…gonna puke.” 

Maybe it was her mothering instinct but JJ jumped into action and managed to speedily help Spencer inside to the kitchen sink, just in time for him to violently spill his guts. 

The sounds emanating from him echoed around the room and into the yard. JJ stroked his back soothingly while he vomited profusely. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Matt downed his drink and stood up.

The rest of the team silently agreed, finishing their own drinks and meandering into the house. 

Rossi saw them off, Matt and Tara who had only indulged in one drink each got in their cars while Garcia, Luke and Emily shared a cab toward their own homes. 

Spencer spent a long time being sick in the sink before he finally stood back and JJ handed him a glass of water. He leant against the counter and sipped it slowly. 

Rossi had taken his leave to bed, not much wanting to clean up after Spencer. 

“I’m sorry. You really don’t have to look after me.” He grumbled. 

“But I’m gonna do it anyway.” She smiled at him. “Let me help you upstairs. I think I’ll stay the night too. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this.” 

She thought he might argue but he honestly didn’t have the strength to. Instead he heaved a sigh and nodded. 

He finished the water and JJ aided him to one of Rossi’s guest rooms with an arm around his waist. He flopped to the bed fully dressed and on top of the covers. 

He was asleep within seconds. 

JJ quietly retreated from the room and made her way to the other guest bedroom whilst sending Will a text to let him know she wouldn’t be home. 

She got into bed, her heart aching for her best friend. She’d never seen him like this before, not even in the aftermath of Maeve’s affair. 

She’d always known it would come bubbling to the surface one day, pain needed to be felt one way or another. But now he’d unlocked that particular box she feared he may never come back from it. 

The beast had been unleashed and if Spencer didn’t find a healthy way to cope with his demons, she knew it would ultimately be his demise.

***

When Spencer finally surfaced around midday he looked about as bad as JJ expected him to. He still wore yesterday's clothes, now wrinkled from being slept in. 

She’d spent the morning helping Rossi clean his house of the mess from the party and both of them were sipping coffee at the kitchen island when Spencer emerged.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” JJ asked. 

He went straight to the sink, poured a glass of water and downed it in one before he could speak. 

“Like I drank an entire brewery, screamed at my ex-wife and destroyed my relationship.” He croaked. “Pretty impressive for one night.” 

“I know this isn’t what you’re gonna want to hear but you’ve been bottling up your feelings for Maeve for over a year, it was bound to come out.” Rossi shrugged. 

Spencer grumbled a little, padding to the chair on the other side of the counter and slumping into it. 

“You know I sometimes still picture her at the house.” He sighed deeply. “Like I close my eyes and I can sense her you know? Hear her in the kitchen when I come home from work, hear her reading to the girls, taking a shower or whatever. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night because I swear I can smell her shampoo on the pillow.” 

JJ reached across the counter and placed her hand on top of his as his eyes glazed over with tears. She didn’t talk and so he continued. 

“I did love her, I still do. I don’t want to be with her anymore, not after what she did. But I miss her. I miss the life we used to have. But it makes me feel so stupid admitting as much when she made me feel like our life together meant nothing.” He dislodged his hand from under JJ’s and raked his fingers through his knotted hair. “I really messed up with Y/N. There’s no coming back from this.” 

“You’ll figure it out. You’re a genius after all.” She smiled softly at him. “You ok to drive home?” 

“Yeah I’ll be fine. Thanks for letting me throw the party here Dave and for letting me crash.” 

“No problem, kid. Get home safe.” 

JJ and Spencer got to their feet and said their goodbyes to Rossi. They headed to their cars but before they went their separate ways he threw his arms around her. 

He held her for a long few minutes, trying to communicate without the use of words just how much her friendship meant to him. 

Eventually he let go and they got into their respective cars. 

Spencer drove out and collected Taco from the kennel before making the pilgrimage out to his home in the suburbs. 

Once he got home he forced himself to shower and change even though his head was pounding from last night's alcohol. Something had to give. He couldn’t keep living like this. 

His alcohol use was becoming unhealthy and it was a slippery slope into addiction, as he knew all too well. 

After he was dressed he collected every single bottle of alcohol in his house and without a second thought he poured it all down the drain. Out of sight, out of mind. 

He fed Taco and let him play in the yard while he sat in his office with a large mug of coffee. He switched on his computer and started Googling realtors in the area. 

He knew he’d never be able to move on whilst living in this house. He didn’t want to go far, didn’t want to pull his girls out of their school and away from their friends but he couldn’t stay in this place any longer. 

He sent off some emails enquiring about having his home valued and specifications of what he was looking for in a new house. 

He knew he needed to go out but he was purposefully putting it off, finding anything to distract himself from what he needed to do. 

He even sat and watched Taco roam the yard for at least half an hour, just to avoid the inevitable. 

But he needed to do this. He needed to face this. 

Eventually, several hours after he arrived home, he forced his feet in his shoes and grabbed his car keys. Hopefully Taco wouldn’t cause too much of a nuisance while he was gone. 

He jumped in his car and started his journey into DC, knowing full well that nothing he could say would make this better. 

It was time to face the music. 

@andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

[alicerosejensen]

Please tell us you’ll do a part 2 for your head canon about Leon’s girlfriend finding out about Ada and Claire. Surely he wouldn’t just let her run off like that if he loves her.

All you need to know is that while I was writing this part, I listened to "I Love How You Lie" - Eminem feat. Rihanna. At least twenty times. Maybe more.

There is no physical violence here, but you can see a broken Lеon when his girlfriend left for TWO months without explanation. Fuck knows why Tumbler gave me some character restrictions in the last post, but out of fear I shortened some part of the text. (And this time there were no such gifts)

Tornado meets volcano.

So, a few people asked for the second part and I translated it as far as I could into English. Enjoy it if you can.

I like this text. I consider this one of my best works (I think it looks much better on the original).

If you need a translation of the third part, then let me know. Because of the fucking restriction, I'm not sure it's worth putting this whole story out.

As Cersei Lannister once said, "Love is poison. Yes, it is sweet, but it kills no worse than any other".

Because of one man, you have no desire to go out into the daylight, there is no reason to smile or laugh. The realization that for Leon you were nothing more than a beautiful doll still makes the heart bleed and quietly cry into the pillow looking for salvation in the night while everyone is sleeping.

It seems that there will be no end to this pain, and your hero turned out to be the main villain in your story, because of which you suffer. You allowed yourself to be deceived, you allowed yourself to be played with. You're the one who let a stranger become someone close. You're the one who let Leon rip out his heart, leaving a gaping wound that's slowly rotting away.

Nevertheless, you still miss his warm, slightly rough hands at night, who hugged you tightly, hugging you on cool nights. Now this whole stupid story reminds of how the moth flew into the light and eventually burned to the ground, so that only ashes remained of it. The truth is that the fire is Leon, and you are a stupid moth that has gone out. Although now, looking at the night sky, pressing your knees to your stomach, hugging yourself tightly, despite the great loss, you hope one day to start shining brighter than comets again.

Carey called last week, telling the latest news and gossip, not forgetting to mention your boyfriend who came to college looking for you, but she lied to him saying she didn't know where you were and where you disappeared. Leon hardly believed it, but he was not a man who beat the truth out of others. At least not from stupid students. But your happiness is that he did not know where your parents' house was, which means that in any case his search will not be successful.

You're very happy about it. Here you allow yourself to walk through the fields, remembering your youth and go with your father to the forest, just like in childhood jumping on the biggest stones. In the evening, the old man plays guitar to you and your mother while you and her clean up the dishes after a hearty dinner. Here at home, your wounds don't ache so much from the pain, and you look with laughter at the childhood photos taken by your mother in Calcutta, when you wrapped yourself in someone's sari trying to repeat the movements of Indian dancers. Flipping through the pages, you came across a photo with your fifth birthday, where you joyfully got dirty with a birthday cake.

And while your parents were laughing, you suddenly remembered that for some reason Leon didn't have more than one child's photo. Then, for some reason, he still said that his parents died quite early, but it was a sore subject that the two of you never touched on with him again. But he really liked to hear about your childhood adventures.

So you thought…

You so wanted to escape from the noisy city, away from Leon, and now involuntarily the soul is drawn to him. Although it doesn't make sense to dream about a summer together anymore. You had a wonderful, romantic love. You left Leon your dream of living together, but he never touched on the topic of future family with you.

It was really funny. Your father still doesn't like your first high school crush, even though you were fifteen and there was nothing between you and this guy but a chaste kiss on the cheek, this guy was forever blacklisted by your father. To make him think about Leon, who was twelve years older? Most likely, he would have tried to shoot him with his hunting rifle.

All the things, books, clothes, cosmetics, even the phone - everything is left with Leon and you will have to come back for them anyway. However, the mere thought of the collision of these sapphire eyes makes, the body goosebumps. You can lick your wounds at home, but there…all the scabs will open up again if only he touches you. If he suddenly says that Ada does not matter to him, however, by that smile and the compact in his bedside table, you realized that she would always be in the first place for him.

I wonder how long he's been looking for you? You called your friend because you wanted to clarify (and once again slash at the heart with a sharp knife of truth) whether Leon appeared in college or tried to reach you through friends, but the truth is cruel: he wasn't looking for you. Of course, it was probably stupid to worry, but you hoped that you meant something to him at least a little.

Leon has become your sweet poison.

Somehow, all thoughts returned to him alone. You are ready to fall into the abyss after him, get a hundred bullets instead of him, but it was his bullet that killed you.

Therefore, no matter how much you love him, the mind, and not the remnants of feelings, tells you a reasonable "Let him go." This is what needs to be done, and it will be the right thing to do.

Unfortunately, Leon is not the hero of Tolkien's beautiful story. He is not Beren, and you are not his Luthien. Funny comparison… But this is an analgesic balm, so you can stand firmly at the door of the apartment from which you escaped a little more than two months ago.

However, uncertainty again knocked down your legs at the very last minute, turning you into a mess with swollen red eyes, drowning in a puddle of your own tears. But to hell with it! You weren't tempted to listen to his voice or reread old messages, so why the hell are all these fucking feelings coming back out?! The cleaner handed you the keys and you exhaled with relief, hoping that you would have time to pick up all the things before Leon returned and then the need for an explanation would disappear by itself.

You will simply disappear from his life. He will cherish his love for Ada Wong or find someone who will not mind being a replacement for this irreplaceable woman.

But you cross the threshold of the house, leaving the keys on the bedside table, intending to finish it as soon as possible. This person is not capable of loving you, and by and large your days together are numbered. This is what you repeat to yourself, pulling out of the closet a large suitcase and a bag, alternately putting your things there.

Yes, you notice a few bottles of alcohol in the kitchen, a mess and your phone. Leon unlocked it, and you think that maybe he decided to check your correspondence or recent calls, but he definitely didn't find anything "criminal". Because Ada Wong didn't write to you.

Without wasting precious time, you continue packing, still taking the phone and putting it in your coat pocket. Your blouses, dresses, underwear…actually, you wouldn't mind quickly changing into more comfortable clothes than the one you took from home. But still discarding the thought of changing clothes, you zipped up suitcase, grabbing an empty bag with her free hand to put all the cosmetics there. You turn around to go to the dressing table and…freeze.

Leon.

He tricked you. He wasn't on your side. Burn it with fire, but he will not see you in tears. You won't stay with him and let him tear you to pieces. You are not the heroine of Lana Del Rey's music video…

But Leon was just silently watching your hurried movements. With those deep bruises under his eyes and a faraway look. He looked so exhausted that you wanted to go up to him and kiss him almost on a reflex level, but your brain was still saying "let him go! Save the remnants of your poor heart!"

You thought one thing, and Leon did not understand why you poured caustic poison on him in this way, running away without explaining anything. Smouldering like a coal, he was still just glad to see you alive and unharmed. And yet the sandcastle that he was building with you was now being destroyed on his hands.

The only thing Leon knows is that if he loses you, he will lose his only home.

"I can't…I'm leaving you," you whispered, still fiddling with the strap of the bag, watching the light blue eyes darken in an instant.

"What do you mean?" - Leon takes the bag out of your hands, throwing it on the bed at the same time looking strangely at the already packed suitcase. - "Baby, if you've been wanting to tell me something for a long time, then you should have done it, and not run the devil knows where without money and a phone. What was I supposed to think? Where have you been? You haven't been to college for two months!"

My God, your body is screaming again, as it did then: "Run." Although it was a lie. Leon's voice remains even, calm… and gentle. Just don't run away from him. His hand gently grabs your palm, warming it, forcing the blood to circulate through your veins. He's been so damn worried, missed you so much, that he seriously thinks he'd rather tie you to a bed and set the fucking house on fire than let you leave.

"I'm not her. But I'm not a fucking piece of cake that you can take whenever you see fit. I loved you, but I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to talk to you and know you."

The good question is, who is going to hurt who now? Some part of you wants to cause him at least a fraction of the pain that you experienced, while Leon becomes a shadow of his former self in front of your eyes from these words. You fucking promised him! Be with him!

"I'm not Ada Wong. I'm not a mysterious spy. But I'm not your toy either, Leon. I'm the fucking person whose feelings you played with! When I loved you so much that it went beyond sanity, you loved a completely different woman!"

You're crying, turning away from him to grab the remnants of things and throw them into a fucking bag and run far, far away to start all over again. Away from Leon and his woman in red. The main thing is that he does not look at you with that sad, tired look, otherwise you will not stand it and burst into tears out loud. Do you want to yell at him when he asks one simple question, "Is it because of Ada? Is she the reason you left?"

But you turn around abruptly.

"No. The reason is you, not her. You hurt me. Not Ada. She's the part of you that you'll never let go of. "

This quote and the compact should be enough for him to understand. But it drives to lose your mind. Your love melts when you look at him and listen to his tacit consent. He would never let this woman go. And you still have some remnants of pride. "Maybe you're right." - This is what finally breaks your love. Next to him, you become quieter, smaller…Leon won another round, and you lost to him. Your heartbeat slows down, but his words finally force you not to let him touch you.

"Good" - Your lips whispered it so simply. As if it doesn't hurt at all. "I'm leaving."

"Don't!" - Almost a plea, but you jump away from Leon when he grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you to him. Despite how much you missed him, now in order to save yourself, your brain began to make a monster out of him. "I won't let you go. I love you, you know that! That should be enough!"

"But it's not enough! You love her and you will always choose her from the two of us. I'm not coming back to you anymore. I'm NOT her replacement! I won't fall into these nets anymore!

This is your end.

The last point. You don't know how to continue to believe in better days, but it's time to part. It's time to leave and forget this feeling. You resist when Leon tries to hold you to him. This is what tears apart. You just loved him. Your emotions are in a mess, you don't even realize right away that you are choking on the howl of that same beaten dog. How can you love and hate him at the same time?

That's all. Leave. Run. But you fall to your knees because you can't do anything against him! You love him so much! Whether he's a monster or a scoundrel. What should you do? It shouldn't be like that at all.

"Angel, believe me! It has not been as important as it used to be for a long time. I love you. That message doesn't mean anything!" - His hands hold you tightly by the waist, not allowing you to leave. He also loves you no less than you love him. Why didn't you just tell him what was bothering you? - "You are my love."

He's fucking lying. He wasn't even looking for you.

"Let me go!" - You scream, remembering all the nights with him without sleep, when everything was fine. You want to believe in this fucking lie, but in order to escape, you grab the very last thread, strike a fatal blow: "I don't love you anymore!"

It was painful. Leon feels a ringing in his ears and wants to loosen his grip at the last second, but for some reason he leans against the top of your head, still hoping that you are lying.

"It is not true." You both knew that. You heard only a pulse pounding and one boundless silence. You would be ashamed to look at yourself in the mirror, but Leon turns you over to face him, wiping the wet tracks of tears on his swollen cheeks with his thumbs. - "I don't believe it. Princess, if you would tell me…I was going crazy. You ran away without even explaining anything. Do you really believe that I could hurt you? I love you, not her. That's all you need to know. I will always choose you."

"I want to leave." Leon nods negatively, feeling a lump in his throat, but you want to leave him. You've already decided everything. Even for the first time, only now he continues to deprive you of strength, being your biggest weakness. Even if you feel calm right now, burying your nose in his neck, you have to do it.

"Please don't say that…"

"But it's true!"

Leon's hands close around your waist as he kisses your temple. He has found you and right now he is holding you in his arms not so that you will leave. Not so that everything that you both have been building for so long will collapse. He doesn't need tears to hurt. He needs you.

And again a single tear falls from your eyelashes. Why is he lying to your face? Why did you become his victim? But you can't order your heart and you can't lie to your soul - you want your love for him to disappear like a bird in the sky, what a pity that miracles don't happen.

You are bound by these hands and absolutely unarmed. Hell, you can't even leave as beautifully as Ada always does.

"You don't want that, I know. Please baby…We can talk about it. Look at me." - You're doing it. Idiot. You look at him when his gentle touches become rough, as long as you just don't look away. Unlikely you could have turned your head even a couple of degrees. - "It's all good."

It would be better if you died now. There is no doubt in your sincere love… he will always come back to her. Therefore, not a damn thing is all right! You're not okay! It's you who are suffering from agony, while he just needs the warmth of a young body.

This is what you shout at him, pushing him away from you, getting to your feet, grabbing a suitcase. You don't care about anything anymore! You're running away forever. Leon's reaction, however, is faster than yours, and he manages to intercept you faster than you get to the open door, throwing the damn suitcase aside.

You are probably the unluckiest girl.

A familiar record of Leon's promises that he loves you. He pinned you against the wall, hanging like a mighty rock, cutting off escape routes. At this moment, you do not have enough air, as if the breathing taps have been blocked.

"Princess…" - You smile bitterly. A princess who was banished from her own kingdom and from his heart. You turn from a princess into a prisoner. It was he who left you a deep crater instead of a heart. -"You're not her, but that's why I'm with you. I don't love you for your body. If I wanted a beautiful girl for the night, then this relationship would never have happened."

"Please go" - The request hidden from the lips responds with a dull pain inside Leon. Taking a step towards you, he bumps into an obstacle from your hands that have fallen on his chest. - "I don't want to be second place anymore."

All Leon is thinking about at this very second, while you are tearing his skin and flesh getting to his heart in shreds, which bastard drove this thought into your head?

You're the reason he's still alive. How can you want to leave him after he has allowed you to become a part of his life? He's been looking for you these fucking two months! Sometimes, in a frenzy, I rushed after every passerby thinking that it was you. You are his most beloved person, so how can you leave him?

Why has everything changed so much? Because of that stupid message from Ada and the compact, which he hadn't thought about for a long time. He just threw it away and forgot, not thinking that you can find it, but if you find it…Why didn't you just ask him about it?! He would have gotten rid of this item in front of you!

You have to stay. But you had different points of view on the situation.

He couldn't fucking sleep in a shared bed, thinking about where you were and who you were with. What if you had actually been killed in an alley somewhere? But the way your friend calmly said that he allegedly knew nothing about your whereabouts made him calm down, because he was sure that this girl was not one of those who are in the dark. So you were either with her or at least safe.

The thought of another man who could touch you the way he touched you turned him inside out. You couldn't run off to another guy to hurt him even more. That's not your style.

"You always came first." - It's true, but why the hell do you think it's a lie? How can you think that he has someone else?! What the fuck is wrong with you? - "Since came into my life. All I ever wanted was you."

Leon wants this whole two-month performance to be a fucking manipulation. God, he'll forgive you for your stupidity. He will strip you naked, hold you close and tell you that he loves you very much. The main thing is not to leave. He'll take you wherever you want, just stay with him. Don't lie to him that you don't love him!

"I don't believe you." - The end. - "You're right, my heart is full of blind love for you, but enough of this torment. My biggest mistake is to think that you loved me too. I'm tired of this pain, and if I stay here, it will kill me once. I want to be happy. But to become one of them, you don't have to be in my life! Аlthough I love the way you lie."

"Don't say that!" - Leon grabbed you, hugging you to him, which is why the familiar smell of cologne hit you in the nose, which made you want to close your eyes, enjoying it. You become a disassembled puzzle in his hands again. - "I've never lied to you! Not a single day. Princess, Ada was an important part of my life. However, what I feel for her is nothing compared to what I felt for you. Believe in it."

And that's what you want. It seems that only one step separates you from the possibility of leaving. You pressed against his shoulder-so strong, warm, safe, while his palm covered the back of your head.

So weak. Grabbed him by the back, giving a spark of hope that you will stay. Instilling in him the hope that now he will calm you down and you will put on these shackles again when he puts you on the bed and makes love sex to you.

You thought it would be easier to do.

"That's it. It's all good. I'm here with you. You're with me." - Leon's voice is shaking. If you believe him now… remember the compact in his bedside table. Push him away! Save yourself! - "I love you."

He is the one who kisses your tears from your cheeks and nose. He holds your neck, so it seems he can squeeze it until it crunches in order to end your life, but Leon just strokes the skin with his thumb.

Leon's heartbeat slows down, returning to a normal rhythm. And you are his little favorite toy, which he takes away from the door, confident that everything is in the past. Sure he convinced you. And you take six whole steps forward with him, glancing at the suitcase he threw.

Your pulse is pounding in your temples. If you stay, then only God will know how much loneliness you can endure. Leon may not be cheating on you physically, but his thoughts will always be with the woman in red. With Ada. He will always come back to her.

If you stay, you will lose yourself forever. You suddenly thought that one day you would want children, but Leon's work does not imply their presence. Then even they won't be your outlet. And one day, the best solution would be to just kill yourself. Poison, knife, rope… you will be so broken by him that you will absolutely not care.

You're leaving. Point.

Don't forget about all the happy moments that he gave you, but don't you dare let him destroy you!

If you can't leave like Ada, then do it your way. Even if it looks ugly and pathetic. You may look like a beaten dog, but you will be ALIVE.

Someday this day will be just a nightmare from which you could wake up. Just find a little strength in yourself to take the handle of the suitcase and… leave.

Then you bend down, grab the handle and lift your luggage off the floor as Leon takes a few small steps away from you, intending to remove the empty bottles and finally throw Ada's compact away. He knows that you picked up the suitcase and for ten whole seconds was sure that you just want to put things back in their places.

So scary.

Both him and you.

"Sorry." - You exhale. It's so complicated. Either God is such a masochist, or you yourself. Leon looks at you and doesn't believe you. Some strange smile appears on his lips mixed with despair.

"Sweetheart, wait."

"Goodbye Leon"

And you're really leaving him.

You run out of the apartment like the first time, leaving him alone. But you won't come back.

Your days together were numbered.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Modern au - Vesemir royally screws up by driving Aiden away.

“Aiden.”

“I’m sorry Lambert. Please believe me I am so fucking sorry, but I can’t keep on like this and I’m not going to be the boyfriend who makes you choose between me or your family.”

“So your making the choice for me. Real fucking nice.”

Aiden gave him a sad, teary smile as he threw his duffel bag into the trunk of his beat up, third hand car, “Your family’s everything to you, Pup. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t regret cutting ties with any of them.”

“You’re family too!”

“It’s been made pretty clear time and again that I’m not and never will be as far as certain people are concerned. I love you Lambert, but there’s only so many times I can take being made to feel like some lowlife criminal every time I interact with your dad.”

Lambert felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth when he realised that he couldn’t even argue that. As he had when he and Lambert had first started dating, Aiden had been upfront about the shit he’d been involved with when he was younger and new to trying to fend for himself after ageing out of the system when the conversation at their first meeting had turned towards questions about his family and childhood. Ever since, Vesemir had taken every opportunity to weaponise it against the younger man - despite the fact that Aiden’s life could very well have been that of any of his own sons had fate played out differently. Lambert, Geralt and Eskel had been some of the lucky ones in the Care Kid Lottery. Aiden, not so much.

Every time, Lambert had asked him to give Vesemir another chance, promising it would be different this time (it had taken him awhile to warm up to Jaskier too, and he was a god damn ray of sunshine) and every time, Vesemir had made him a liar.

Aiden moved his arms awkwardly, looking like he was trying to decide if going in for a hug would be a wise idea until a couple of tears finally fell. He wiped them away hastily as he stepped back, opening the driver’s side door, “Goodbye, Lambert. I wish you every happiness.”

Lambert could only stand and stare as his every happiness drove away down the dirt track.

He heard the front door creak open followed by multiple pairs of footsteps, because of course they couldn’t even let him get his heart stomped on in private – they’d probably all had their noses pressed to the kitchen window. Jaskier was stood shoulder to shoulder with Geralt, looking like he was making a huge effort not to start crying himself while his brother was grim faced. Eskel strode towards him, giving him the same heartbroken look as he had when Lambert was newly seven and had casually informed them he’d never gotten birthday presents before.

“Shit, Lambert.”

He went to pull him into a hug which Lambert immediately ducked away from, “Don’t Esk. Just...fucking don’t .” He pleaded, voice breaking as he stomped back towards the house, jabbing a finger at Vesemir with a snarl as he did so. The old man had yet to react to anything that had just transpired, despite being the cause.

“I am never going to forgive you for this.”

Vesemir sat hunched over in his customary chair by the fireside, elbows resting on his knees as he stared into the tumbler of vodka he’d been nursing as his little granddaughter, Ciri, busied herself making popcorn garlands at the table. It had been over a month and he’d yet to hear anything directly from Lambert no matter how many times he tried to call or how many texts he sent, with any necessary replies being sent to him through either one of his brothers or Jaskier.

He turned when he heard someone clearing their throat pointedly.

Speak of the devil.

Jaskier stood slightly awkwardly, eyes darting between the man and the girl, “Ciri, why don’t you go see how your uncle and dad are doing untangling those lights?” It was flimsy at best but Ciri didn’t seem to notice as she darted off, too caught up in the excitement of Christmas preparations.

Vesemir held the bottle out to Jaskier in a silent offering as he took the chair opposite, “He said he’ll come, but only for Ciri.”

Vesemir sighed through his nose. That was about what he’d expected, “How is he?”

Jaskier bit his lip, “No change really. He still misses him and I...”

Vesemir raised a bushy eyebrow expectantly as he waited for Jaskier to carry on.

“I don’t think that’s going to stop any time soon.”

Vesemir shook his head, “Why does that boy have to be so stubborn? I tried my damn hardest to stop them all from heading down that path and then he goes and throws himself head first.”

“Sir?”

Vesemir downed the rest of his drink, “Do you know how many people see those in the system as easy targets for criminal activity? They purposefully prey on kids who are lonely, desperate for acceptance.”

“Kids like Aiden?”

Vesemir looked up sharply, Jaskier looked for all the world like he hadn’t intended for that to slip out. He took a deep breath before continuing, “With respect, while I think it’s incredibly sweet you’re still looking out for them, Lambert’s a grown man now and Aiden’s had no issues with the law for the last decade or so.”

“That still doesn’t mean he’s good enough for my son!”

Jaskier held up a finger as he started tapping away on his phone, “I remember you thinking the same about me at one point.”

“And what made me change my mind about you?”

“I think the fact that I wasn’t Yennefer turned things in my favour in the end. I don’t know if it’ll change anything but, perhaps you should look at this. Please.”

Lambert took the proffered phone. It was a candid picture of Aiden and Lambert, sometime late in the summer from the looks of it. They were stood in each others arms, smiling softly and looking absolutely besotted, their heads so close together their foreheads were touching and seemingly oblivious to everything else happening around them. Was this how they’d been when he wasn’t around?Vesemir felt his chest clench as he recognised the look in the picture, it was one that had passed between himself and Luka too many times to count before...

Good God, what had he done?

Vesemir knocked smartly on the black painted door for the third time. The apartment building was nicer than he’d expected and he instantly felt shame at his assumption that Aiden would be living in some rat infested hovel. He heard the click of a lock and inwardly winced at the sight that greeted him. Aiden eyes were sunken and puffy, as if he’d been crying himself to sleep before falling victim to insomnia, his clothes were dishevelled and Vesemir found himself wondering when the last time was he’d eaten a proper meal. Nevertheless, he drew his shoulders back and met Vesemir’s eye, even if he did have a death grip on the door knob.

“Jaskier gave me your address. Can we please talk?”

Christmas Eve came around far too quickly as far as Lambert was concerned. He couldn’t deny he was looking forward to seeing his niece and brothers but the thought of long periods of time with Vesemir right now was already mentally exhausting him. He grit his teeth as he threw the last of his things into his overnight bag, it would be fine. It was just two days, and if he needed a distraction God knew Geralt wouldn’t be able to assemble and find correct batteries for all of Ciri’s new toys single handed. It was just two days. He could do this.

Lambert sent up a prayer of thanks that Vesemir wasn’t there when he arrived in the late afternoon, Geralt informing him that he’d just gone out to grab some last minute things and had instructed them to make a start on preparing dinner.

Dark had well and truly fallen, the food was almost ready and Geralt was half threatening Ciri, Jaskier and Eskel with coal in their stockings if they sang ‘grandma got run over by a reindeer ‘ one more time (Lambert might have been partly responsible for that and had zero regrets) when the tell tale beams of car headlights flashed through the kitchen window followed by Vesemir elbowing his way through the door, a neatly wrapped present under each arm.

“Seriously dad?” Geralt sighed, “Ciri’s going to be getting enough from Santa tomorrow without you adding to it.”

“Why should Santa get to spoil my granddaughter? Lambert, there’s one more back in the car. Run and grab it please.”

Lambert rolled his eyes but conceded at Geralt’s ‘Don’t start’ look.

“Happy Christmas, Pup.”

The smallest breath of wind could’ve knocked him over at that moment. Aiden was leaning against the side of the car, arms crossed as he smiled shakily at Lambert, “Vesemir came to see me and we talked. Really talked. He apologised and promised I’m welcome here from now on. If you want me here, that is.”

Lambert all but ran to him before sweeping him up in his arms and into a desperate kiss which Aiden eagerly returned, clinging to him.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too, you have no idea how happy I am right now. Mainly because Vesemir was my ride so, kinda would have made for a very awkward Christmas if you’d said no.”

Lambert yanked Aiden’s hood down over his eyes with a laugh, “Dork.”

Jaskier had let out a whoop of delight when Lambert led Aiden into the house, followed by Lambert and Vesemir sharing a brief bear hug in silent apology and the start of forgiveness and when they weren’t eating, Aiden’s hand was firmly wrapped in his.It was perfect.

“Aiden?” Ciri piped up from opposite him, all wide eyed innocence, “Do you know grandma got run over by a reindeer?”

Aiden quickly took in the smothered laugh from Eskel, Geralt’s eyes turned heavenward, and flashed Lambert that impish grin he loved so much, “You know Ciri, I’m not sure I do. Remind me, how does it go?”

[zandlikething]

WARNING BIG SPOILERS FOR QSMP BAD POV AND A LITTLE BIT OF PHIL POV ALSO JUST A LOT OF RAMBLING READ AT YOUR OWN RISK BECAUSE WOOO BOY THERE A LOT AND IM NOT EVEN DONE YET

I have so many thoughts on Bad's last stream the fact like OMG my heart QSMP needs to pay for all of our therapy

I'll probably do another post because holy crap there is a lot that happened today

I thought it was sweet Dapper and Pomme went to qPhil first because Dapper said they know he has concretions to some kind of goddess of death obviously referring to Kristin but I still am not sure if she is actually canons but it was a cute reference and it's nice to know that Phil has lots of tickets if they need cookies this week.

But also like Damn Phil cannot get a break first Tubbo now Bad I swear soon all the eggs will be ophans /j

Also apparently Taulluah is seeing the ghost of the eggs that died and one more. Idk if it's also an egg or something/someone else but if it's an egg I think it's either: 1. A-1 the egg that evil quackity was testing and died or Hope.

For those who don't remember Hope was an egg in a different orphanage than the original eggs that Cellbit found a while ago. The egg left a diary of their time in the orphanage. No one came for the egg and died but told that whoever is reading their book should not be sad for them. That's all I remember I'd have to go back and look to see what else I can find.

ANYWAYS Yeah so Taulluah sees ghosts now that are sad for some reason and she doesn't know why and Bad is missing and also presumably dead or a ghost? Because as we were following Dapper and Pomme on Bad's stream the thing would have reactions a lot of like what Bad would have. Like nodding and shaking his head or rolling his head for rolling his eyes. It all just felt very Bad like.

Also he was very against using any spells of stuff to block spirits so I think it might be Bad somehow looking out for them but not able to talk or interact with them for some reason.

I know these are a lot of signs at once but I find it very sweet that Dapper despite everything is trying to keep a positive view of everything and trying to cheer Pomme up.

I love how this is the plan they come up with to get Bad back lol 😆 I'm sure they'll come up with a real plan but who knows this could maybe work

Dapper and Pomme did this a lot and I love it. Them just leaning their heads together silently telling the other it's ok we are together aggghhh it is so sweet. And the fact that they did it multiple times I imagine just reassuring the other and themselves that they are there.

This was so pretty and nice just Dapper and Pomme watching the sunset (07 Bobby) together going over memories

Talking about their dead siblings and Max saying they should build a new place for them to remember them and wish them a Happy birthday every month

I didn't get screenshots of it but Dapper telling Pomme that all of their past siblings would have loved her with how sweet Tiln was and how good it was to be around Flippa, how Trump would have loved picking flowers with her and how Bobby would have loved doing pvp with Pomme :,) like bro I am literally tearing up

I am going to make a part two because tumbler is at its limit of how many screenshots I can show because guess what there is more heartwarming and heartbreaking stuff I need to talk and show

[billlydear]

pairing: billy hargrove x steve harrington / WC: 4501

summary: based on this post by @ariesbilly (i was anon), el shops rather creatively for billy's birthday and steve has some things to say about his new look

this will be crossposted on AO3 as soon as i've got the time to set up a new account there. i hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving some feedback! also, i've got a harringroveson spidey/venom au in the works, so please let me know if you'd like to see that :-)

Billy’s genuinely, truly concerned when Jim pulls him aside at his little birthday dinner, and not just because he’s still a tiny bit wary around the man. He hasn’t done anything awful yet, so far there’s not a bone in his body that resembles his dad’s, but Billy’s lived with Neil all his life, and Jim only a few months. He’s getting better, but he’s not there yet.

“Listen,” Jim murmurs, taking the hand he’d used to usher Billy into the kitchen off of his arm. Billy appreciates it, it’s like Jim knows he doesn’t like being grabbed; like he pays attention to Billy’s comfort.

“She’s come a long way,” Jim praises El, “-but gift giving for anyone but Max is… hard. She just shops for herself, it’s like-” Jim rubs an exasperated hand over the scruff on his chin, leaned up against the kitchen counter while Billy leans in slightly to hear his low voice, “It’s like she finds something she likes. And since she likes the person she’s giving it to, she equates the two. ‘Thinks that whatever she likes, they’ll like too. That’s why I drink out of that glittery cup every morning,” Jim gestures to the tumbler currently drying on the rack, ‘BFF’ written in white loopy letters on the plastic, “She’s got the spirit, just not the know-how. And I was really trying to get her to branch out for you, I took her to the mall but she beelined for Claire’s, and-” Jim sighs, shooting a cautious glance back to the living room where the girls are waiting with their gifts, “Just- please act like you like ‘em. If you want, I’ll give you the receipt, and you can return them for cash, just- humor her. Please.”

“Okay,” Is all Billy says, really all he can think of saying, and Jim reaches out to pat his bicep.

“Thanks,” His shoulders slump in relief, “Alright, birthday boy, let’s get going.”

Billy’s used to birthday gifts, but not nice ones. If he was lucky, he’d get gas money for the week from his dad, but that’s only because Susan insisted on acknowledging the day. Gifts have always been an obligation, never a gesture, so sitting on the couch in front of three tissue-paper-stuffed bags is a bit daunting for the man.

“Mine first,” Max demands, pushing her bag forward. Billy sends her what he hopes she perceives as a smile, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. They’ve gotten a lot better with each other now that Neil’s not goading Billy anymore, and Billy’s glad for it.

Inside there’s a gift card to a surf shop he’d worked at one summer back in California. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything on it - for all he knows, she found it in a box of his old stuff - but just seeing the logo of the place makes him nostalgic, and his barely-smile blooms into an unbridled one. The gift of memory is one he didn’t know he’d appreciate this much.

“Damn,” He huffs out a laugh, plucking the thin plastic out of the tissue, “Where’d you find this?”

“I wrote to my grandma,” Max confesses, “There’s 50 bucks on there, but for the record, all I sent her to put on there was 20.”

Billy remembers Max’s grandma; they’d visited her once. She was awesome, but the kind of awesome that made parents distrust her, and contact was lost after the move to Hawkins. The old lady had crammed Billy and Max into the back of her cluttered bug to get ice cream after Neil and Susan had gone to bed, and it was nice for Billy to hear she was still doing well.

“Thanks,” Billy laughs, almost a scoff as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. She pretends to hate it, maybe she does a little, but she lets him, which is like another birthday gift: Annoying Privileges.

He sees a flash of black as he puts the gift card back in the tissue, and it explains why the tiny plastic was wrapped so excessively.

Don’t show Hopper, the note reads, with an arrow down, so he discretely peels away the paper to find three cartons of cigarettes beneath it. He’ll worry about how she got them later, for now he shoots her a smirk that she returns.

“Alright, mine’s kinda-” Jim fumbles for his bag, “-tied into hers. Here, kid.”

The tissue crinkles under Billy’s fingers, and he peers down into the blue bag to see a paper.

He pulls it out, squinting at the fine print.

It’s a hotel booking. A hotel in California, shit, right by the beach.

“I already called you off of work,” Jim smiles at Billy, “It’s about a month from now. Only condition is you take the girls with you, they’ve got their own room and we’ll send ‘em with gas money.”

Max’s grin is bright, and Billy knows this is just as much of a gift for her as it is for him. His chest feels tight, like each word on the page had sucked air out of his lungs until there was none left, and now he’s struggling to breathe. He’s wanted to go back since the moment he left, but his dad never would have let him, and moving in with Jim and El then immediately fleeing the state seemed rude, so he’s grateful for the push. He doesn’t even know how to begin thanking Jim, so he starts with the words themselves.

“Thank you,” Billy croaks, trying not to let a gush of emotions overwhelm him. “Seriously, I-” His voice wavers and he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and pinching his fingers along the folded crease of the paper to thin it down even more, “Thank you, Jim.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jim reaches out again, gives him that little pat pat to the bicep instead of trying to hug him. Billy thinks just for that, he will let Jim hug him next time.

Once Billy’s regained his composure and only let one gruff sniffle slip, El is handing over her bag.

“Mine was not as much money as theirs,” She looks serious, like Billy’s going to backhand her for not renting them an RV for the trip, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jim starts, ready to console her and teach her an etiquette lesson, but Billy lets out a weak chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, El.” He tugs at the tissue paper, “One time I wrote I.O.U. on a piece of paper for Max’s birthday.”

El’s brows furrow at the unfamiliar phrase, and Max leans in, “It means I owe you, like, ‘I owe you one’. He didn’t get me anything.”

“I offered you something,” Billy gripes, pausing in his unwrapping efforts, “Not my fault you chucked it out.”

“Oh, no,” Max laughs, “I still have it. But I wasn’t gonna waste it on arcade tokens. I’m gonna make it count, you’re gonna bail me out of a bad party or lie to the cops about-”

She reconsiders, looking at Hopper who’s stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowed at her, “-Nothing. Lying to cops is bad.”

“Nice save,” Billy deadpans, ducking his head back down towards the bag. The tissue inside is messy, he can tell El did it herself. 

Beneath the first layer of tissue, the stuff crumpled up to give the present volume, there’s six individually wrapped packages. Billy’s stomach does a little flip; call it nerves, call it endearment, but whatever it is, he reaches for the first package without paying it any mind.

His fingers peel at the tape sticking it all together, and his strong grip rips the tissue. He goes with it, tearing into the gift, and a purple plastic card falls into his hand. It’s punched in two places near the middle, and inside each hole is an earring. They’re- not his style.

They’re studs, little balls of gel in rainbow colors with squishy spikes sticking out of them. They honestly look like something a kindergartener would make with a hot glue gun, but there’s an expectant smile on El’s face and Billy finds himself smiling back at her, genuinely so.

“Thanks, El,” He flips the package over, price tag ripped off messily and silver backings staring at him, “These are cool.”

“I know you like earrings. There’s more,” She prompts him, the section of her hair that she’s tied up bouncing as she leans forward enthusiastically, “Open them.”

“Okay,” He laughs, setting the earrings aside. The second package yields another pair, this time two pieces of bread with little smiley faces on them, one painted brown for peanut butter and the other purple for jelly.

“That’s cute,” Billy laughs breathily, “That’ll go good with my purple button up.”

“Mhm,” El nods, hair once again bouncing, “That’s what I thought.”

As Billy expects, each package contains a pair of earrings. He gets tiny springs, a gradient of pink to purple to blue covering the curved metal, and they look like they’d be permanently damaged if he stretched them out even once. Then a pair of jellyfish-inspired ones, a clay head with a smile on its face connected by metal rings to all of the tentacles dangling below. Next are lollipops, stiff sticks leading into plastic that’s swirled in design and shaped like a bear’s head with yet another smiley face. Each little black curve on the earrings’ faces only makes his own grow. The fifth pair are meant to look like goldfish, suspended in resin that fills the bowl to make it look like they’re swimming in water. It’s the most intricate pair of earrings he’s ever seen, he’ll give Claire that. The final pair is much bigger than the others, and when he unwraps it, a pom-pom sticks out.

They’re big puffballs, tie-dyed pink and purple, connected to a peace sign stud that goes through his ear. They’re obnoxious, something you’d only see on a child whose grandparents had bought the biggest pair of earrings they could find because their vision was too poor to appreciate any smaller designs. Nevertheless, Billy pops the squishy backing off of one of them, and sticks it between his teeth. He slips his own earring out of his ear, and tucks it into the breast pocket of the shirt he’s wearing. He sticks the puffball into his ear right then and there, and El’s grin is almost unbearably wide.

“It looks pretty,” She gushes, and Billy laughs.

“Thank you, El.” He gives her the obligatory brotherly hair ruffle as well, but she looks honored compared to Max’s exasperation. In leaning forwards to reach her, the metal point of the second earring digs into Billy’s palm where he’s holding the card still, and he glances down at it thoughtfully.

“Here,” He thinks fast, plucking the backing off of it and handing it to El, “Let’s match.”

She looks at it wide-eyed, caught off guard, “You want me to wear the other one?”

“Duh,” He nods, hand still outstretched, “How else are people gonna know who bought them for me?”

She’s more than happy to snatch the second earring from him, sliding it into her own pierced ear and shivering slightly at the feeling of the fluff brushing against her skin. 

“Alright,” Jim claps, a loud, striking sound, “You guys look great. Cake time?”

“Cake time,” Max agrees, already rising to her knees to stand and head for the kitchen, “Chocolate, Billy, your favorite.”

Billy’s all Thank you’d out. Not because he’s not thankful for this, because he’s more than that, but because he’s said it so many times today that the words are starting to lose their meaning, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be insincere, so he’ll save the ‘Thank you’s for when they really count.

Max and El settle on the floor in front of the tv to watch the movie they’ve picked out, clearly one that Jim hadn’t seen until now.

“Oh, not Terminator,” He reaches for the television to shut it off, but both girls scramble to fight him off, “It’s rated R, girls!”

“It’s Billy’s favorite,” Max huffs, and that’s not true, but he knows nothing in the movie will shock her, and El grew up being bounced around dimensions, so she probably won’t lose any sleep over a bit of blood.

“It’s true,” Billy drawls settling back on the couch with his cake and his beer (that Jim only reluctantly handed him because it’s his birthday), “But it’s fine, Jim, we don’t have to watch what I want, they can turn on My Little Pony or some shit.”

Jim wonders briefly how he’s been outsmarted by two tweens and a teenager. If he says no, he’s the asshole that ruins Billy’s birthday. If he says yes, the girls are going to see gratuitous shots of naked Arnold Schwarzenegger that he’d rather them not witness.

“You cover your eyes for the first scene,” Jim finally concedes, narrowing his eyes at Max and El, “I mean it, no peeking or I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay,” They agree, already far too amused for Jim’s liking, and Max turns to grin mischievously at Billy. It’s nice, he thinks, to do dumb shit with her. Like real siblings.

The movie starts, and Jim’s a bit too preoccupied eagle-eyeing the girls to make sure they’re not seeing anything raunchy to notice that Billy’s paying more attention than he ought to be. But once the man straightens back up so does Billy, mentally so, and turns his attention to Jim when he leans over towards Billy.

“Hey,” Jim’s whisper is gruff, but El doesn’t hear, “Thanks for that. She’s really happy.”

“No problem,” Billy admits, “They’re… different, but they’re kinda cool.”

Jim laughs, and Billy gets the sense that Jim doesn’t think he’s being sincere, but really, he is. The earrings themselves aren’t kinda cool, a year ago he’d rather have pitched himself into the quarry than wear rainbow-colored springs dangling from his ears, or a smiley piece of peanut butter toast, but what’s kinda cool is that someone gave them to him because they thought he’d like them; because they like him. 

What’s kinda cool is love, Billy figures out that night, and his cake tastes a little sweeter because of it.

--

El doesn’t usually accompany Billy to work at the auto shop, but that’s only because he leaves too early for her to be awake yet. She’s recently discovered sleeping in, and sometimes she’s not awake before two in the afternoon. Now, though, she’s bursting with excitement for the California trip, even though it’s not for another month. Billy hadn’t slept with the puffball earring in, but he’d put it right back on this morning, and so had El. They’re sitting behind the counter now, planning an itinerary for the trip he’s not too stressed about, because he knows El will lose the paper before they leave in a month.

“And we have to go to In-n-Out,” She decides, “I know those are in California.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs, “They’re not that good. I mean, I like ‘em, but there’s good burger places everywhere. They have these palm trees though,” He moves  his hands to cross over each other, “They cross like an ‘x’, it’s pretty cool. My friend tried to climb one once, we got kicked out.”

El giggles, and her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the expression. Billy likes it, he wonders if his own eyes scrunch when he laughs. But he doesn’t do it very often, and especially not in front of a mirror, so he might never know.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, so Billy turns his attention to their customer log instead. There’s a man coming by in two hours to pick up his car, but the repairs are complete, so Billy doesn’t have to do anything about it. And there’s another customer coming at five for an oil change, but it’s only eight in the morning. He hears the scrape of wheels on gravel, and he cranes his neck to see over the reception desk and out the door.

Fuck. It’s a red beemer, one he knows almost better than his own car because of how frequently he’d crammed his camaro in beside it in the high school parking lot. It’s Steve Harrington’s car, and that means Steve Harrington came with it.

Billy tugs on the hem of his tank, tightening the shirt over his chest. It’s not that he wants to look good for Steve, it’s just- well, no, that’s it. The banter he’d shared with Steve over their time at Hawkins High was the most tension he’d felt in his entire life, and it came at a time when he sought thrill and excitement the most; apparently being sweat-covered, shirtless opponents on the basketball court does things to a man’s head. He’s not naive enough to think he’s gonna be able to sweep the guy off of his feet with one suave remark, not when just last week Max had somehow convinced the man to give her a ride back home from Jim’s place after a sleepover, and Steve had seen Billy bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and pajama-clad. He’d tried to own it, leaned back on the couch with his legs spread, one arm up on the back of the couch and exposed by the shirt he was wearing as he nodded with a lazy grin at Steve, ‘Morning, Harrington’. If he’d squinted, he could see a bit of pink coloring Steve’s cheeks. But a success or not, the experience was embarrassing, and he’s glad that he’s a little more put together today. 

Billy forgets just how put together he is today. He feels the soft brush of the fuzzy earring against his neck right as Steve starts towards the store, and his stomach drops.

He has a very important choice to make.

He can take the earring out, giving him a better chance at this coy little game they have going, and subsequently insult his new sister, or, he could leave it in, puff up his chest with pride, and greet Steve with confidence, ultimately risking his win.

He almost tears his ear from how hard he rips the earring out.

“Harrington,” Billy drawls, “Car trouble?”

“Battery’s dead,” The man huffs, and there’s sweat beading at Steve’s hairline, “I had to push’er down the street, I was getting groceries.”

Billy feels like a cartoon character; he almost audibly gulps at the thought of Steve muscling his car down the road. He wonders if Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing if he really did dry swallow. He wonders if Steve would watch.

“Tough luck,” Billy sends Steve a lazy grin, passing the sign-in book over the counter with a pen, “Just fill that out, I’ll get your service started.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, “Got an estimate?”

“Depends,” Billy shrugs, “I might do you a favor and replace those ugly seats you’ve got, too. That’ll cost extra.”

“Like your car’s hot shit,” Steve scoffs, but his tone isn’t demeaning, and Billy’s chest does that weird tight thing again when he realizes they’ve advanced to friendly banter, “Do you know how ugly that blue and yellow license plate looks against the blue of your car?”

He laughs, but before Billy can quip back, say that it’s California grade, that he’d rather die than replace it, the door to the back opens up, and El comes out.

“Steve!” She smiles sweetly, “Is your car broken?”

“Yeah,” He laments, eyeing her accessory, “Woah, crazy earring.”

“Billy has one, too.” She brags, then notices it’s missing from his ear. Billy’s stiffened where he’s rifling through the desk drawers for a form to give Steve, and before he can make any excuses, El spots the puffball where it’s fallen to the floor.

“Oh!” She lunges for it, handing it to Billy with a sweet smile, “It fell out. Here it is.”

Billy has another choice to make.

Scoff at her, say ‘nice one’, and tell her to put her earring back in. Or, take it from her and embarrass himself in front of Steve.

This time, he decides she’s ultimately more important.

“Thanks, El.” He grins at her, taking the puffball from her hand and hooking it expertly through his ear. It dangles against his neck, and he passes the form over to Steve who’s looking between the two of them with some sort of guarded amusement.

“Fill this out, too.” Billy instructs, “And I’ll start on your car.”

“O-kay,” Steve complies, more of that amusement painting his features as he ducks his head to fill out the form, “Pink looks good on you, Hargrove.”

Billy shuts the door to the back room as a response. He feels like punching the wall, because did that mean ‘good’ as in good? Or good as in ‘ridiculous’? He’s well aware Steve had a mean streak in high school, and Billy isn’t interested in being bullied.He’s never worried about being bullied by his peers before, he was always on top. Now it’s different, this isn’t high school and he doesn’t have backup boys to make his posse. It’s a one-on-one fight, and Steve’s got the advantage. And- and if it did mean good, what’s he supposed to do with that information? Wear a pink shirt the next time he sees Steve? Go as Pink Panther for halloween? He considers just about everything but dying his hair, mind swirling with possibilities.

He starts on Steve’s car to distract himself, and he barely manages to gather the courage to take his shirt off to push Steve’s beemer into the garage like he’d originally planned. He still does, of course. But it’s a hard decision to make.

--

“Steve,” El steps out from behind the counter, walking over to where Steve’s flipping through an old Highlights that Billy’s boss keeps there for kids, “What did you get Billy for his birthday?”

The man flounders, “Uh, when’s his birthday?”

El’s brows furrow, “It was yesterday. You didn’t get him anything?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, El. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to, though, ‘probably didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“But friends give each other birthday presents.” She insists, “Why didn’t you?”

“He’s not my friend,” Steve grimaces slightly, but backtracks when El only gets more scandalized, “We- I… Ugh,’ He groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “We, like, hated each other in high school or something. I think he’s only nice to me now ‘cause he has to be, we’re all friendly, y’know?”

“Billy likes you,” El promises, “That’s why he comes out of his room when he knows you’re coming over. And why he always takes us to get ice cream. He likes seeing you.”

“Uh, I think-” Steve stammers, heart pounding so viciously he can hear it, “That’s probably… not what that means. Hey, um, do you have any water I could have? I’m really thirsty from pushing my car.”

He’s out from under her scrutinous gaze for long enough to compose himself, tamping down any hope she might have given him. It doesn’t help that he’s first heard Billy’s genuine laugh today, and the vision of the man’s bright eyes, scrunched and wrinkled at the corners have been plaguing him ever since. Things need to stop piling up, he decides.

When she gets back she sits in the chair beside him, one leg bent beneath her and the other firmly planted on the floor, “You should get him a birthday present.”

Steve hums, bringing the cup she hands him to his lips to buy him time to respond. Eventually, he settles on, “I’ll try to find something,” and she seems to like that answer, so she lets it go.

“I got him earrings,” She explains, and pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place in Steve’s head, “The ones that he’s wearing now. And five other pairs.”

“Wow,” Steve nods, feigning awe even though he knows Jim probably paid for them himself, “That was nice of you. He liked ‘em?”

“Yes,” She nods, “He likes earrings. And he said he’s going to wear them with me when we go to California.”

“California,” Steve echoes, brows raised, “That’s nice. When are you going?”

“In a month,” El recites, “Billy’s from California.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, eyes drawn to Billy’s framed employee picture on the wall, noticing the tan adorning the smooth skin of his handsome face, “I know.”

--

“Okay,” Billy turns to look at the girls in his backseat, bright smiles on both of their faces, “Gas money?” 

“Check,” Max slides him a wad of cash, and so does El.

“Snacks?” Billy pulls his wallet out, stuffing the bills inside.

“Check!” El takes over this time, a plastic bag in her hand that’s filled with enough ziploc bags of goldfish to last them halfway through the road trip. 

“Bags?” 

“Check,” Max jabs a thumb towards the camaro’s trunk, “We didn’t forget our suitcases, Billy.”

“If you did, and I hadn’t asked, you would have blamed me,” Billy narrows his eyes at his stepsister, “Don’t make me push you out of the moving car.”

What can he say: things are better, they’re not perfect. She knows he’s joking, though, she sticks out her tongue in response.

“I have one more thing,” El calls, effectively breaking up Billy and Max’s banter. The two look curiously at her, and she passes Billy an envelope, thick towards the bottom left corner.

“It’s a late birthday present.” She informs him, “Open it. It’s for the trip.”

“El,” Billy tears at the envelope with a confused furrow in his brow, “You got me stuff for my birthday. Why more?”

“It’s not from me,” She admits, “Just open it.”

The envelope was sealed well, by whoever sealed it. Billy all but mangles the paper to remove its contents, and when he does, a pair of earrings falls out, mounted on a purple plastic card. Claire’s.

There’s a pink and white striped surfboard on the left side, and a glitter-covered palm tree on the left. There’s a note inside too, and Billy peels it apart much more cautiously than he had the envelope.

Billy,

Happy birthday. Enjoy California.

- Steve

P.S: I wasn’t kidding. You look good in pink.

Billy nearly rips the earring card trying to wrench the surfboard off. Once he gets it out, he slides it into his ear, passing the palm tree back to El and grinning at the girls through his rear-view mirror. He admires the way that the earring looks against his tanned skin, and- oh, look at that; his eyes do scrunch when he smiles.

“Ready?” He raises a brow, sunglasses perched on his head and lost in his curls  in wait of the California sun.

“Ready,” They confirm, and El’s nod sends the palm tree earring swinging beside her face.

Billy revs the engine, and it’s never been a happier sound, “California, here we come.”

[cariantha]

All He Wanted

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1.5K Prompt: Ethan doesn’t care to celebrate his birthday, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend it alone. A/N: My Ethan’s birthday is October 5th. This fic takes place during Sawyer’s intern year.

For @choicesoctober event: autumn / favorites things / celebration For @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event: Birthday Surprise

It was a crisp autumn morning in early October. The sun was still rising when Sawyer exited the hospital and came face to face with Ethan. 

“Hi! You’re here early,” she greeted, surprisingly perky after a grueling night shift.

“And you’re here late. Wasn’t your shift supposed to end at five?” 

“It did, but after clocking out, I went and checked on Dr. Banerji one more time. He was awake, so I stayed and chatted with him for a bit.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated the company, thank you,” Ethan replied. 

“I think he did. He was all too happy to share several stories about you as an intern,” she smiled devilishly.

While teasing him about getting caught in a supply closet, Sawyer began to shiver. Accustomed to much warmer climates, she had not yet adjusted to the much colder temperatures in Boston, and found herself unprepared nearly every time she went outside.

“Hold this for a minute,” Ethan instructed, handing her his tall cup of steaming hot coffee from Derry’s. 

As he unzipped and removed this jacket, Sawyer was distracted by the words written on the side of his cup. Happy birthday, Ethan! 

Busy processing this bit of information, she was almost startled when Ethan offered her his coat.

“Here,” he said, holding it open for her.

“Oh, thanks…but wait…are you sure you won’t need it later,” she stammered, shifting the coffee from one hand to the other as she slid her arms into the sleeves. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ethan assured, spinning her around and zipping the jacket. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hands and cleared his throat, “Sorry, you probably could have done that yourself.”

Sawyer smiled, unfazed.

“Thank you. In Arizona, we would still be wearing shorts and flip-flops this time of year,” she chortled, “I’m still getting used to real fall weather.”

Sawyer handed his coffee back and wondered if he had forgotten about their plans to research Naveen’s case that night. Presumably, he would have other plans for his birthday.

But before she could ask, he confirmed, “Just bring it back tonight.”

“You’re still wanting to work on the case tonight?” 

“Yes…but if you are no longer available, I understand–” 

Sawyer could have sworn she caught a flash of disappointment and quickly interjected, “No! I mean, I am. Available.” 

“Good. My place at seven? If I get delayed checking on Naveen, let yourself in and make yourself at home.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” she nodded, a plan forming in her head as she started toward the train station.

A hot shower and a few hours of sleep later, Sawyer left her apartment on a mission. 

When Ethan arrived home shortly before seven o’clock, he was not expecting to find the lights on.  

“Sawyer?”

“In the kitchen!” she called back.

As Ethan rounded the corner, the kitchen came into full view, and he was taken aback.

“Happy birthday,” she softly exclaimed.

Genuinely surprised, “How…how’d you know?” he asked.

“Your coffee cup this morning.”

“I see. Outed by the coffee rewards program,” he said amused.

On the kitchen island, there was a large paper bag, a bottle of wine and scotch, and a bouquet of chocolate bars with a couple balloons tied around the base. 

“You…you didn’t have to…thank you,” he fumbled for words, sincerely touched.

Sawyer gestured to the two options, “Take a load off and pick your poison. I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I got both.”

Ethan reached for the scotch. While Sawyer hunted down two tumblers, he examined the bottle. 

“This is one of my favorites.”  

It wasn’t the most expensive brand, but a bottle would certainly stretch an intern’s budget. 

“Yeah, I know. I stopped by Donahue’s and asked Reggie what you liked,” she revealed. “That’s actually a gift from him. He insisted when I told him it was for your birthday.”

Ethan shook his head in wonder. “I’ll have to remember to thank him when I see him next.” 

He finally sat and poured a glass, taking a sip and savoring the smooth, smokey flavor. 

Meanwhile, Sawyer busied herself with dinner, removing takeout containers from the paper bag and grabbing plates from the cupboard. She plated his dish and passed it to him. 

Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked down at the swirl of black pasta on his plate. 

“Is this from Coppa’s?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered, “...you conveniently mentioned it was one of your favorite restaurants last week.”  

“But I don’t recall telling you Linguine Alla Sepia was my favorite dish,” Ethan countered, twisting the squid ink pasta and Rhode Island calamari around his fork.

“You didn’t. I gave the hostess your phone number and they were able to pull up your previous orders in their system.” She continued, “And in case you’re wondering how I knew about the candy bars, well, you left a wrapper in your coat pocket.”

“First, you discover the secret behind Patient X, and now all of this. I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared,” he poked fun. 

“Or proud that my mentor has instilled in me the importance of listening and observing,” she suggested with a wink.

“What did you order?” Ethan wondered, as Sawyer reached for her meal container. 

“Pizza.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled.

“Why is that funny?” she asked.

“Rookie, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you would be perfectly content ordering from the kid’s menu.”

“Says the guy eating squid!” Her body trembled in disgust and she pretended to gag, earning a toothy smile from Ethan.

As they dug into their meals, their playful banter eventually faded into a peaceful lull. After a couple minutes, Sawyer finally broke the silence with the question that had been on her mind all day. 

“Hey, why didn’t you cancel for tonight?”

“Why would I?” he asked innocently, taking another bite of pasta.

“Surely you had better things to do on your birthday. Dinner with your family? Drinks with friends? A date?”

From the corner of his eye, Ethan could see her staring down and picking at her pizza, appearing almost nervous. 

“My dad and I usually go out to dinner. He’s coming up this weekend,” he explained. “To be honest, I don’t care much for the attention, or for people making a big fuss.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I–,” she started.

Covering her hand with his own, he cut her off, “This is perfect, Sawyer. Thank you.”

As the evening wore on, they enjoyed the rest of their meals, drank, talked, and laughed. When it was time for dessert, Sawyer lit a candle, pressing it into Ethan’s tiramisu. She spared them both a solo rendition of the birthday song.

“Make a wish,” she insisted, holding the plate a few inches away.

Ethan’s eyes flitted between the burning candle and Sawyer’s eyes before he blew it out.

Neither had realized how much time had passed until Sawyer cleared the dessert plates and noticed the late hour on the microwave’s digital display. 

“Wow, is that really the time?”

Checking his watch, Ethan too realized it had gotten late. Much too late to start any research on the case.

“I’ll find some time tomorrow to review the new case studies. We should probably call it a night.”

Like this morning, disappointment once again flashed across his face. Not realizing that Ethan was only upset that the night had to end, Sawyer misinterpreted his distress as frustration and offered an apology.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get any work done.”

“Don’t be. If I’m being honest…,” he exhaled, “it was nice to have a night off.”

“Then, I'm glad I could help provide a distraction," she smiled, internally breathing a sigh of relief.

Together they cleaned up and waited for her ride. 

“Your car is here,” Ethan announced when his phone pinged. Sawyer gathered her things and he followed her to the door.

“Thank you for tonight, Sawyer.”

“You’re welcome,” she beamed up at him. 

Suddenly the air became heavy, a standard goodbye not feeling adequate for the celebratory occasion. Cutting through the awkward tension, Sawyer slid her arm over his shoulder and pulled him in. 

Ethan far from minded the gesture, but even still, he cautiously accepted the friendly squeeze, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

The hug only lasted long enough for the intern to wish her boss a happy birthday one last time. 

“Happy birthday, Dr. Ramsey.” 

Then they parted. When Sawyer cracked the door, Ethan reached over her head to hold it open for her.

“Goodnight, Rookie.” 

She offered a small wave and Ethan closed the door with a contented sigh.

All he wanted for his birthday was to spend an evening with the person who made his worries disappear and his burdens feel lighter. Tonight, he got everything he wanted. In fact, much more than he had hoped for. And if birthday wishes came true, there would be many more nights like this in his future.

Tag List: @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey @zealouscanonindeer

[chaosfairy18]

Newsiestober Day 12 : Bats

Tumbler had already been shaking the moment he woke up, for the best reasons. He would turn seventeen today and while he didn’t do a big party – he’d see everyone on Halloween in a few days anyways, so they celebrated late, in a way – he’d get presents from his family, Skittery’s boyfriends and his best friends.

Flapping his hands for a moment while being excited in front of his door, he got out in his pyjamas and comfy shoes, sure the others would already be up. “Morning!”, he greeted as he peaked his head into living room, already seeing a bunch of wrapped presents as well as decorated cupcakes sitting on the table, making him run down even faster and rock up and down on his feet. His Mom and brother were sitting closest to where he was, Skittery getting up and ruffling his hair while their mom wished him a wonderful happy birthday.

Bumlets and Swifty, Skittery’s boyfriends, were next, but they kept seated because Skittery wasn’t finished yet with him. And last but not least was Kat, Tumbler’s best friend and, since a bit ago, kind of boyfriend. They weren’t completely sure yet, but they’d kissed a few times.

As much as he was looking forward to the cupcakes, he still went straight to the presents first – after saying hello to everyone. He got new headphones, a nice Lego where he could build a Tiger or Red Panda, a new farming game and, where he had to laugh and stop, two stuffed bats.

Tumbler might have a bit many stuffed animals, admittedly, but he just never stopped liking them, no matter how old he was, so it was to be expected he’d get at least one, but two?

They were both cute, one more a realistic bat, looking self- made, so probably from Swifty who was always great at crafting and the other a vampire bat with magnetic feet and it’s wings looking like a cape.

“That from you, Kat?”, he asked, smiling widely.

The other boy just nodded, scratching the back of his neck with a blush. Tumbler gave him a kiss on the cheek and then hugged all his family for the nice presents.

Something very short today but at least with a supporting picture (of the two bats I own)

I intended to trace and draw them but... time issues.

prompts from @newsiestober2024