#i think I started answering it on the train

[0mg-bird]

hii! i lovedd 'lover's rock' sososo much and would absolutely love if you'd write more about that reader & spencer's relationship! maybe the way it develops or their dynamic when they are like 100% official? anything'll do but the way you wrote reader is so unbelievably me i was absolutely eating it upp!!! i love you & your writing!

Hiiiii!!! Thank u sm !!! Lover’s Rock got so much love, here’s a part two!

My Spencer Reid requests are open!

Everybody Loves Somebody ~ S. Reid

Part II of Lover’s Rock

Spencer!Reid x Fem!Twee!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, brief smut, reader gets wine drunk with BAU women. Reid being dirty, reader being dirty. Idiots in love, omg so cute, season 6/ 7 Reid is soooooo boyfriend. Morgan thinks Reid’s gone crazy. Um yeah okay enjoy

86% of Americans believe in true love, but only 67% of them say they’ve experienced it. That’s a statistic Spencer told you once.

How lucky you are to be apart of that 67%.

How lucky you are that you didn’t settle, that you waited painfully long for it to feel right, because it feels so right.

Ever since that everything but casual hookup, it was like a stone that was always supposed to be in motion, finally started rolling. Spencer took you to dinner, a nice Italian hole in the wall because you mentioned a love of pasta, then he started to call at the end of the day just to talk, and a second date became of that. It’s like he blinked and all of a sudden you two were spending all of his free time together, watching movies, his hand in yours as you dragged him to record stores.

He seriously thinks that in the moments you’re half dressed in his bed, rambling on and on about something you think is important enough to talk about until you practically pass out, that it’s all a dream and he’ll wake up alone come daybreak.

It never happens though, he wakes and you’re curled into his ribcage like that’s where you belong.

You do, he determines.

So three months of this honeymoon dance, the words ‘I love you’ come out unexpectedly in one of Spencer’s ramblings as the breeze blows in, feeling awfully like the winter that’s coming soon. You were bundled up beside him, hand in his like it always is as he tells you about work and how Morgan is always after him about the ‘scandalous love affair’ he’s having with ‘bar room girl’. Aka you.

“They ask so many questions, it’s unbelievable the lack of privacy I have. You know what he told me?” He had asked, which you answered with “What did he tell you, handsome?” before he continued.

“He seriously asked me if I was keeping my options open just in case you turned out to be crazy, clearly he had to be joking because there are no other options. Not that I would want another option! I wouldn’t, you’re the option I’ll stick with- no not an option just, well, you’re you and I love you so I don’t really care if you turn out crazy. I’d see the signs by now anyway.”

You stopped your stride, looking up at him with wide eyes and a wide grin.

“What?” You question.

“Well I’ve been with you long enough to learn your habits and if you were crazy then-”

“No.” You stop him. “You love me?”

He faces you, realizing he had just said it. But even if he wanted to try and back track, he couldn’t, he’s smiling too wide.

“Yeah, I do. I love you.”

“Good. I love you too.” You say, watching your words click in his brain and immediately his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk, leaning over you as you laugh against his lips. Spencer doesn’t do PDA, or so he thought until he learned that it’s sometimes the only way you’ll understand his feelings and how he can’t put them into words.

You adore the sporadic behavior, getting kissed on sidewalks and trains and movie theater seats and anywhere else he thinks you’re far too beautiful in.

That’s what life has been like for six months together, madly and truly and deeply in love, deeply intimate in every word and touch and action. He goes to work and you’re the thought in the back of his mind as he crakes cases, you teach students and find yourself smiling at any free moment you have to think of when you’re going to see him next.

Now, the team has noticed the shift in their beloved Dr Reid, how he didn’t go out with them like he used to, how he spent a lot more time texting, how he’d casually mention you, but Spencer was a selfish man who wanted you to be something of only his. He shared his whole life with his team and even if they were his family, he took pride in knowing he had an escape they didn’t, which was you.

If the world got too much, you were there with your quirky outfits and strawberry lipstick to stain his cheek. You were his fix. Screw drugs, he had your laugh engraved in his head and that was far better than a needle.

That being said, there were times he was feigning, going through withdrawal all over again when he was gone for too long.

Like now. When he’s been everywhere but where you are for a week and three days just because he had back to back conferences and then fell right into a case.

He was tired and drained and felt a migraine coming on, painfully antisocial as he leaned back in the seat in the jet. Momentarily, he takes a second to breathe, then immediately digs his phone from his pocket and messages you.

He knows that you’re probably just getting home from the school day, that you’re probably sitting down at your desk to grade papers or work out lesson plans. He’s learned your routine in and out, it might be a little stalker-ish if he really thinks about it, so many cases has he worked where the unsub knows where a girl is at 4:30pm.

He’s no unsub, he just loves you enough to know everything about you.

Morgan, nosy like always, notices the way Spencer softly smiles at his phone.

“What are you grinning at, lover boy?” He asks, watching the way Spencer’s expression quickly shifts.

“Nothing.” He states, putting his phone away.

Morgan smirks. “Oh don’t be coy with me, we all know you’re dying to get home to that girl of yours.”

Spencer’s brows furrow, he opens his mouth to deny but the words don’t come. So he gives into it instead.

“So what if I am?” He questions, making Morgan- and Emily who is now paying attention- laugh.

“Aw, Reid, you’re all twitter-patted.” The dark haired agent says in a sweet tone.

Spencer presses his lips together and looks away.

“He’s not even trying to deny it.” Morgan tries to jab.

Only Spencer just shrugs. “Why would I try to deny it? I’m in love with her.”

The two widen their eyes.

“That’s a big word to use.” Emily hums.

“It’s a big feeling to have.” Spencer states. “You know, I’m used to feeling like I’m slowly going crazy everyday but ever since I met her, I don’t really feel it as intensely. It’s all the chemicals released in my brain I think, the dopamine and oxytocin over powers anxiety. Maybe it’s a placebo effect or something but I’ve never felt better than I do with her, so in short words, she’s cured me.”

For a moment, the two are at a loss for words, staring at their friend. It’s no negative thoughts they have, because they are overjoyed that their nerdy, awkward sidekick has finally found a match.

“I’m happy for you, Reid.” Emily smiles. “Sounds like she’s a good fit.”

Spencer, who could never speak ill about you, nods. “She’s probably the only one out there for me so yeah, she’s a good fit.”

“And you have me to thank for having her.” Morgan smirks. “Without me, you wouldn’t have approached her at the bar, you would’ve sat with your nose in that book and died alone.”

“Wow. Very encouraging.” Spencer says dryly.

“I want to meet her. I’m sure the whole team does.” Emily says, changing the subject.

“What’s that?” JJ adds in.

“Reid’s gonna introduce us to the girl who makes him leave the office at a decent hour.” Emily states before he can protest.

You aren’t going to like this idea, but the team is all talking about it like it’s the biggest news ever. He’d get you to settle and agree somehow, just so Morgan will finally see why he is so infatuated with you.

Besides, Rossi is already planning a night at his mansion for the team just so Spencer can bring you along.

- - - -

You completely lose track of the time as you continue to prepare dinner in his apartment, adding homemade sauce to pasta, cutting up seasoned chicken.

That’s probably why you don’t realize Spencer is home until he’s shutting and locking the door behind him.

He smiles in surprise as he sees you, dancing around his kitchen, hair clipped up in a messy updo, knee socks sliding around the floor.

“Hey.” He speaks, causing you to startle and flip around to face him.

Immediately, you’re joyous.

“Spence! Hi!” You rush to him.

He’s never been greeted so warmly until you, and now he can’t have anything different.

His arms encircle your waist as you clumsily throw your arms around his neck. The first words out of your mouth are ones he had never heard that often before you.

“I missed you.” You say, hugging him tight.

He pressed his nose to your hair, soothed by your citrusy shampoo. “I missed you too. I thought we were going to meet at the restaurant?”

You pull back only enough to see his face, your hand in his hair. It’s shorter than when you met, but it’s a good look for him.

“I know but I got impatient and figured I could surprise you with dinner. Is that okay? I suppose I could have asked. I used the key you gave me, I figured that the key meant I could stop in but I really should have asked, huh? Sorry, you know I get ahead of myself. Is this a violation of privacy-”

His lips find your rambling ones, immediately shushing you. It’s a warm welcoming feeling, something the both of you have missed terribly. You sink a little more into him, eyes shut in bliss as you slowly mold your lips with his, savoring it, deepening it.

“You being here is perfect, I gave you that key for to use. Thank you for using it.” He says closely as he pulls back, leaning his forehead to yours.

You sigh with a smile. “I really missed you.”

“I really missed you too.”

There’s a very peaceful silence for a moment, filled with your hands on his chest and your lips trailing over his face.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asks before you press into him again, a little deeper now.

You hum in question against his lips.

“Where are your pants?” He asks, all muttered.

He really wasn’t complaining if you decided a new fashion trend was wandering his apartment in knee socks and funky patterned boy-short underwear.

“Red wine tragedy.” You state, pushing his coat off. “The cork wouldn’t budge, I put a little elbow grease into it but the thing toppled over when it popped and it was like a crime scene. Red stain everywhere.”

He tosses the coat to the arm chair. “That answers my next question as to why you’re wearing my Lacoste shirt.”

“My clothes are in the bathroom sink, had to scrub them down, though I think they can’t be salvaged.” You frown, turning back to the dinner, reaching for your wine glass.

Spencer just stares, watching how domestic it all is. You in his clothes, making dinner.

“Are you tired? Hungry?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hungry, yes. Tired, not yet. Are you staying the night?” He asks, coming behind you, kissing the top of your head as he leans to pick at ingredients and snack on them.

“Oh…do you want me to?” You question, trying to be coy like you don’t already know the answer.

“Of course I want you to.” He responds, making you chew your lip.

“Good, because my bag is already in your bedroom so it would’ve been really awkward if you said no.”

Spencer laughs, squeezing your hip in affection before he goes to clean up and get out of his work clothes. He takes a quick shower, warm water rushing over him, but he doesn’t want to be away from you for too long.

He comes out in sweatpants and a graphic shirt you’ve finally returned back to him.

The two of you sit and eat dinner and you listen to every single word he has to say before you explain your day and everything you didn’t cover in the nightly phone calls he made to you while away. It’s sometime after cleaning up, after the two of you washed dishes while bumping hips, that Spencer notices the trickle of things that have made their way amongst his belongings. Some have come over time, like a collection of cd’s, books, scarves you constantly forget to grab on your way out. Some things are new, like the makeup products in the medicine cabinet, your favorite snacks in the fridge.

“Did you move in while I was gone?” He laughs, coming to sit beside you on his couch.

Your legs immediately are tugged into his lap, his hand rubbing your calves.

“What? No.” You state, taking your hair down. “I just came by to collect your mail and put it on the coffee table …and to water your plants.”

Spencer cocks his head, looking at you in question. “I don’t have any plants, lovely.”

He watches your smile grow. “I got you some plants.” You say with a giggle.

That explains the golden pathos on the television stand and the small fiddle leaf fig by the window.

He thinks it’s charming, endearing. He noses your hair line, drawing you closer to him. “I no longer live alone, it seems.” He hums.

“Does that bother you?” You question, leaning your head into the space between his collar and jaw. The perfect you size space.

Spencer is quiet for a moment, then he shakes his head and speaks something into existence that he probably should have taken more than a second to think over.

“No, it doesn’t. Actually, I think I want you to move in. Permanently.”

Why should he have to think about it? It’s you, he wants you around 24/7. You could be his home, you could greet him like this always, your perfume could linger around like a friendly ghost.

“Is that a joke? I know you have an odd sense of humor.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

Spencer smiles gently, fingers tucking hair behind your ear. “No joke. I want you to be here with me all the time, I’m selfish like that.”

“You aren’t selfish.” You scoff playfully, but your expression quickly turns into one of concern. “But-but are you sure? I’m probably not a good roommate, I can be messy and I sleep weird hours. And I leave wet towels on the floor a lot, and sometimes forget to put the toothpaste away.”

Spencer shakes his head. “That’s fine, I’ll pick up the towels and put the toothpaste away.”

You continue to fuss. “But what about all of my things? I have a lot of stuff, you’d have to move things around and you’d get sick of all my shoes in your closet.”

“I don’t have much in my closet as it is, I’m fine with sharing. I’ll get another bookcase for your books.”

“But-”

He cradles your face in his hands. “But I love you and I’d be happy to trip over your heels forever. Now, do you want to move in or not? You can say no.”

You don’t want to say no.

“Your apartment is bigger than mine…and your shower has better water pressure.” You slowly say, cheeks still squished slightly between his palms.

Spencer begins to break out in a grin, but he lets you finish.

“And I could get to work faster…and I like the thought of never having to go back to my apartment for clean clothes.” Then you pause and look back up to his eye. “It would be nice to share something with you besides my entire heart and body and soul.”

How dare you say something so loving and honest, and just sit there like you were always meant to say these sort of words to him. Spencer is going to be love sick his entire life, he has no back bone, he is not a man but your man and this is all he has ever wanted. He starts to nod with starry eyes, slowly bringing his face closer to yours. “So?” He presses.

“So yes, I want to move in!” You say in a gleeful tone, throwing your arms around his neck as you rush a kiss to him.

You can’t help the cheerful laugh that leaves you, it makes it hard to kiss when Spencer is doing the same thing, completely at your will as you nudge him to shift and lay down on the cushions, you falling on top of him.

This is usually how it goes.

Someone makes a small move and then both of you get carried away. Neither of you ever seem to mind. You could spend an hour kissing and doing nothing else, but you haven’t felt the heat of him in ten days and nights, so you’re hungry for the breath in his lungs and the electricity in his fingers.

Spencer’s hands start to wander as you sit on his hips, kissing him slow and deep. They smooth up your thighs, over your underwear and up your back. Your mind is always as good as blank whenever those hands are on you.

“I’m never leaving again.” He declares, trying to work on the buttons of his shirt that you wear.

You sit up to help him. “That’s not possible.”

“I’ll find a way to make it happen, I only ever want to be here.”

You push the fabric off, leaving you in your lacy bra that he thinks is almost too pretty to take off.

Almost.

“Right here? On your couch?” You question sarcastically, fingers in his hair as he sits up to taste the skin of your neck.

“Yes, on my couch, about to show you how much I missed you.” He clarifies.

It’s blissful and exciting, how he ends up between your thighs, giving you relentless pleasure with no indication that he’s ready for you to return the favor. He’d stay like this all night if you wanted, tongue on nerves, fingers drawing out pretty noises from your blushed lips. It’s because it’s as good as breathing, having you reacting the way you do, tasting you in the most intimate way.

“Spence, baby.” You whine, legs threatening to shut.

He’s working you up, pushing you closer to the edge, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. Your hand tightens in his hair, holding him close as you plead for your finish. There’s no need to beg, Spencer would give this to you all day long.

When you do get to that point, it’s throwing you into another existence momentarily. A rather desperate moan frees from your throat, your head digging into the arm of the couch. It makes you feel warm and shaky. You have to blink harshly for your vision to clear.

“I- mmm.” You hum as he comes up to kiss you, it’s sinful the way you taste yourself on his tongue. “I think you’re the most perfect person in the history of persons.”

Spencer chuckles. “I’d correct your grammar but I don’t think your minds working at full speed right now.”

It’s true, everything is slow and fuzzy, yet you still find the urge to ask for more.

“We don’t have to.” He says, wanting to make sure you don’t feel obligated.

You never do, your drive just happens to be something he marvels at. In all actuality, he’s learned that he can match your pace, so it’s always fine. The two of you could spend nights on end falling into each other, either softly or with a hunger.

Tonight is probably one of those nights.

That’s how it seems when he has you in the bedroom after taking you on the sofa.

It’s your shared apartment now, he could probably have you on every available surface. But he has you in his sheets, teeth dragging across his skin, bare and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Sex is never just sex with Spencer, even when it feels like it. Like when he comes straight to your apartment after a bad day and you offer yourself as a cure. It’s never just using each other, it’s all feeling and praise and making sure the other is reassured and happy. It’s nerves on fire and constantly stroking those deep, hidden parts of heavy pleasure inside each other that have never been brought to life. There’s borders pushed, you just let it happen because there is no way you’d ever want to say no and deny yourself the feeling of what he does to you. He has you arching with an empty head thrown back against the pillow as your tongue goes lame and you can no longer properly tell him how amazing it feels. Spencer has an idea, given the way you shudder and make the most criminal and attractive sounds he’s going to be replaying in his mind forever.

You learn a lot about care in the moments following bliss. Spencer could be compared to an animal of prey, the way he comforts without question, wipes tears from your face and does anything you ask of him.

“Hey.” He calls softly, leaning up on his side, watching you with your messy hair sprawled on the pillow. “You still with me, angel?”

You hum, head feeling heavy as you turn it to face him. You’re there…most of you is.

You suck on your bottom lip like you always tend to do, not needing words as you nod.

His hand reaches for your cheek, thumb brushing the flushed skin. “Overwhelmed?” He asks in an intimate tone, one he only uses with you.

You curl yourself closer to him. “A lot of feelings…I feel a lot.” You jumble, brows furrowed as you try to get power back to your limbs.

He hums, understanding, adjusting to hold you. “It’s the endorphins.” He speaks. “You have a high release of them during sex, then it all comes crashing down post orgasm. Your body’s trying to regulate your dopamine, because you got a thousand milligram shot of it basically, and now the high is coming to an end.”

You love it when he proves just how smart he is. It’s also insanely hilarious if you think about it, because he was just leaving bruises on your thighs as he pushed deep inside of you over and over, and now he’s explaining the science behind everything he made happen for you. To say the least, you were insanely in love with how much of a nerd he is.

“I feel good though. Not sad or anything…just sensitive.” You breathe out, somehow your voice trembles and squeaks, nudging closer to his skin like you need it pressed to yours or you won’t live.

“What do you need?” He asks in concern, tightening his arms around you like a weighted blanket.

You could cry. You won’t, but you could at the way he’s so caring and gentle. In what life do you do good enough in order to deserve him?

This one.

Shifting to see him face to face, your hand rests on his jaw, your thumb brushing the stubble there, and then traces to his upper lip. You like when he doesn’t shave, it makes him look more mature.

“I just need you.” You tell him, continuing your slow rubbing motions. It’s all you can say because you’re not sure he’ll understand that you have the urge to be wrapped in his skin and bones entirely, like you could just absorb into him and be your happiest.

Spencer knew in all of those years of awkward strike outs and getting ignored, that when the day came when he’d have a you to tell him sweet things and caress gently, he’d have to recognize the feeling. He’d have to be aware that this was a gift and to not be blind to the fact in front of him. The fact being that he has someone to love who loves him back just the same, and now he has to use that fact in every choice moving forward.

‘Honeymoon’ months have come and gone and though the two of you did argue once in a blue moon, things were great and were going to stay great.

He thinks a lot about this as he stares at his book page, leaned back in a chair next to the sill of the tub you reside in. Warm water relaxes you, scented bath soap makes your skin smell fresh.

You’re watching your painted toes pop up from the water, perfectly content with his hand twisting a strand of your hair around his fingers.

“I like my bedsheets…they’re soft and broke in.” You say promptly.

“I’ll take my sheets off the bed, you can put yours on.” He tells you.

You turn the hot water dial on and off with your foot quickly. “You’ll let me put my stockings in your sock and underwear drawer?”

“Of course.”

“You won’t laugh at me when I come to bed in nightgowns because I spent way too much money at a 1960’s lingerie store?”

“Did you really do that?” He asks, looking down at you, taking better notice of your hair as he does.

You must have given yourself a trim again, your bang part isn’t straight. You’re always changing your hair on the whim and it’s never perfect, but it always looks great on you.

“I was really bored while you were gone.” You exclaim. “The girls and I went shopping and I somehow ended up with lace teddy’s in four different colors.”

“Which colors?”

“Yellow, pink, blue and purple.”

“I like purple.” He nods.

You smile, then turn over to gaze up at him, arms resting on the edge of the tub. “I love you.”

He looks away from the inked words on the page and to you, resting your cocked head on your folded arms. “I love you too.” He says, leaning down and kissing your temple.

Then he drops the bomb.

“Oh, we’re going over to Rossi’s and you have to meet the team.”

“Now!?” You panic.

“No, no, angel.” He laughs.

- - - -

“My hair.” You fuss.

“You’re beautiful.” Spencer reminds, leading you to the escalator after you get off the metro.

You’ve made every excuse in the book not to go tonight, you’ve worried yourself sick about absolutely nothing.

“Is Rossi really rich?” You ask, wrapping your arm around him as he crowds your space on the moving stairs, hand on your waist, not minding one bit at how you shrink into him as he faces forward.

“Extremely rich, actually. Sometimes I think I should write a book or two and live his lifestyle.” He tries to joke, but you merely groan.

“I should’ve worn different boots, nicer ones.” You sat into his sweater vest.

“Why didn’t you?” He asks.

“These are my nicest boots!” You protest, and Spencer just laughs because he knew that’s exactly what you’d say.

He likes that fact, that he knows you well enough to predict the words from your perfect mouth.

His hand rubs your hip, feeling the thick material of your coat. “Your shoes aren’t going to make them love you, honey, they’re going to love you because you’re you.”

A frown pouts at your red stained lips despite the way you swoon over his sweet words. Spencer is always good at stringing together terms of endearment to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

“Yes, I’m me, and people tend to not like me for obvious reasons.”

He doesn’t like those words coming from your mouth.

“I like you.” He chimes.

“Yes but you’re weird.”

“That’s no way to speak to your boyfriend who just put together a brand new bookcase for your things.”

You smile now, still clinging to him as the two of you head up to the night street. You’ll get a cab and you’ll be unsteady all the way to Rossi’s mansion of a home.

“I’m scared.” You squeeze his hand, staring at the iron door knocker.

Spencer squeezes back. “They pick on me, but they won’t pick on you. Besides, if you want to impress Rossi, just say a few things in Italian and tell him about your year abroad.”

“Vuoi fare sesso con me?”

His brows draw. “What’s that mean?”

You bite your smile. “Something I really can’t say to your boss.”

He rolls his eyes and knocks on the door.

This is the end. They’ll hate you, you’re sure of it and then Spencer will break up with you because his team will tell him he should ditch you and-

“Reid! You’re finally here!” An older man opens the door, dark hair slicked back, maintained facial hair, gold chain. He quickly ushers the two of you inside.

When his attention is turned to you, he is warm and inviting, introducing himself as David, calling you Italian terms of endearment, leading you to his living room after taking your coat.

The team- more like a family- is all talking amongst themselves with drinks in hand and laughing.

You’re thrown into the mix and come to realize you made it all up in your head.

The wine helps.

While the others are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that Spencer Reid who doesn’t shake hands is showing signs of PDA, the girls who have been plotting for some time are pulling you away from him.

Spencer watches your eyes widen and he opens his mouth to suggest that maybe it’s not the best idea but Morgan sits him back down.

That’s how you end up in the guest bathroom with a bottle of wine and three women who ask you question and question. And as the four of you get tipsier and tipsier, all nerve is lost.

“We moved in together.” You say after handing the bottle to Penelope.

The three exclaim in surprise.

“He never tells us anything.” JJ frowns, possibly the most lightweight of them all.

Emily, who you learn gets more buzzed off of energy than anything, snickers a bit. “Sorry, I just got the image in my head of Reid sleeping in a twin size bed next to yours.”

The rest of you join her laughter.

“We share a bed.” You state, wondering why you thought these women were going to be monsters.

“Aw does he wear his pajamas and night cap too?” Penelope giggles. “Oh! Oh! Does he snore?”

She proceeds to imitate a very fake yet cute way of snoring.

“No, no. You guys have no idea what you’re talking about. He-he’s very normal, no striped pajamas, no oil lamp-”

“Ha! Oil lamp, that’s a good one.” JJ snorts.

“-just normal night routines, normal sex life, normal-ish sleep schedule.”

The three pause and you don’t even realize what you’ve given them.

“Normal sex life?” Emily questions, leaving you to drink from the bottle in confusion.

“Huh?”

“You said normal sex life.” Penelope presses.

“Oh…yeah.” Your cheeks go red.

The three cringe.

“Oh, ew.”

“Yeah, there’s no way Reid has a sex life and I don’t.”

“I’m never gonna get this image out of my head.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Spencer is getting a similar interview.

“You love her?” Rossi asks with a proud smile.

“I do.” Spencer nods.

“She’s going to be moving in next.” Hotch jokes, fully being satire.

“No, she’s already done that. I’m going to marry her next.”

The men freeze and their eyes widen.

Their Spencer Reid, the young genius with a funny haircut who was just 24, is sitting here now talking about marriage.

“You’re too young for that, kid.” Rossi states, the others seeming to agree.

Only Spencer has thought of this for countless nights. Sure, he isn’t going to marry you tomorrow but he is going to marry you.

“I’m thirty, that’s a very average time for a man to marry. Besides, why would I push it off? I’m not waiting to be sure if she’s the one, I already know that.” He says like it’s so simple.

There’s no reasoning with him because he already has his reasons. The men realize this and accept it, because who were they to try and damper his mood? Everybody loves somebody, and Spencer finally fits that description.

- - - -

Crash

“I broke your plant.” You frown, stumbling over your feet, clinging onto Spencer as he pulls you through the apartment.

“That’s alright, it was more your plant than mine.” He reassures, trying to get you to the bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t have left you with JJ, Prentiss and Garcia for that long. Now all three of you were wine drunk. He’s just grateful he only has to take care of you. Emily passed out on Rossi’s couch, Morgan was trying to wrangle Penelope when the two of you left.

“Your friends are nice.” You slur, hair in your face as he flicks on the bathroom light and sits you on the closed toilet seat.

“Yeah, real nice.” He huffs, pulling your hair up into a bun before going to grab your toothbrush.

“You’re mad?” You frown, mouth opening as he starts to brush your teeth for you.

Spencer looks down at you, one hand holding your chin while the other works the brush back and forth. “No, angel, never at you.” He reassures.

Once that task was tackled and he helps remove your makeup, he supports you all the way to the bedroom where he sits you in the bed and crouches to unzip your boots and pull them off.

Your eyes squeeze shut in hopes to get rid of the blur, and you yelp as he tugs your stockings down too roughly on accident. As your head hits the mattress, you erupt in a fit of giggles. Spencer can only apologize with a smile and kiss your knee.

“You’re taking my clothes off.” You state the obvious.

“Yes, I am.” He says, sitting you up after he pulls off your skirt to pull your sweater over your head.

“Careful now, I’m a married woman.” You joke, pulling at his sweater vest.

“Oh, are you?” He questions, pushing your hands away. The action draws a childish whine to escape you.

“No, sadly I’m not. I’m a spinster.” You sigh.

“That’s not what that means, lovely.” Spencer laughs.

“Doesn’t matter! Take off your clothes.” You whine and pull at the sweater again.

“Hey, I’m trying to get you ready for bed.” He dodges your advances once more, though it’s hard when you’re begging for a kiss.

Spencer kisses your nose and then goes to the dresser to retrieve a t shirt to slide on you when you’re just down to your underwear.

“I want a real kiss.” You frown, refusing to get in bed until you get it.

Spencer leans to softly peck your lips, once, twice, three times.

“Get in bed, I’ll get you some water.” He says, pulling back and motioning to the pillows.

With an audible humph, you do your best to crawl to your spot and slide into the sheets that came from your old apartment.

Spencer returns quickly with a glass of water, sets it on your bedside table and proceeds to get changed himself, well aware of your gaze.

“Spencer?” You question.

“Yeah?”

“You should make me your wife, I’d be a good one.”

He looks over at you, mostly covered in darkness accept for the light coming in from the window. You look so peaceful, watching him with love, saying the most perfect things.

“I know you would, pretty girl.” He smiles.

You’re satisfied with that answer.

Patting the empty space, you beckon him to your side, wanting to be tangled together. Spencer comes to his side of the mattress, the side closest to the door, and slips under the covers and helps you adjust into him.

Mostly incoherent, you speak. “We could get married, I could change my last name to Reid and we’d be the smartest couple around, you and me.”

Spencer hums, lying on his back as you nuzzle into his chest. “That sounds pretty nice.”

“I won’t ever ask for a divorce either, I wouldn’t even spend all your money.”

“Is that what you think wives do?”

You shrug. “That’s what my dad says about my mom.”

Kissing your head, he beckons you to go to sleep and you could continue this conversation another time.

“…Take your clothes off.” You say, shut eyes and mischievous smile.

“No, go to sleep.”

[sportswriters]

how they'd react to you not saying "i love you" back

lots of fluff with the players: rúben dias, jude bellingham, joão félix, pablo gavi, trent alexander-arnold, pedri gonzález, heungmin son, mason mount

a/n: hope everybody have fun reading these! we surely did after a few drinks in <33333

rúben dias

"amor? i'm heading out. i love you."

you quickly appear in the hallway, wearing a sweater that belonged to him.

“ok, have a nice day, darling,” you reply, waving goodbye.

the smile that had begun to appear on rúben's lips immediately fades, his hand resting against the doorknob he had opened earlier. when he hears your reply, he frowns, suspicious.

you get confused by his attitude and lick your lips, coming closer.

“what are you doing? i thought you had training.”

he doesn't answer right away, he just walks over to the sofa and sits down, unpretentiously. your lack of an answer made him a little suspicious, so he wasn't going to leave without something.

“yes, i do. but not until you answer me.”

you try to hold in your laughter, understanding the whole thing, but you still don't want to give in. his reaction wasn't what you'd expected. like, you didn't really expect him to just give up on going out just because you didn't answer his “i love you” like you always did.

you understood that it was really important to him.

“i don't get it, honey. did i answer you in a way that you didn't like?” you hold up your own joke, walking over to the sofa and sitting down right next to him.

as if he couldn't bear to never touch you when you were always close, his hand automatically moves to your thigh, where he squeezes it affectionately, almost unconsciously, because it's something he always does.

his expression closes with pure suspicion. he simply doesn't understand what had happened for you not to answer that you loved him back. until that point, for him, everything was fine. wasn't it?

“you tell me, y/n.”

his expression is so serious that you can't help yourself and start laughing. you quickly jump into his lap, turning him from suspicious to confused by your reaction. you hold his face with both hands.

“do you want me to tell you that I love you?” you ask, this time with a touched smile on your face.

he's so beautiful. so dangerously beautiful for his own good and sometimes you don't really believe he's yours.

he squeezes your thigh a little harder this time, as a warning.

“every day,” he adds, seriously.

you kiss his lips, laughing.

“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you,” you start repeating several times against his lips. “i was only joking before. i wouldn't let you go without that.”

his smile returns to his lips. it was so easy to make him happy like that, you think, caressing his cheek.

“well,” he complains. “you almost did. now i'm going to be late for training because you're going to try and convince me that it was all a joke.”

you laugh and cling to him.

“wow, i fucking love you.”

jude bellingham

with things finally sorted, jude opens the door and you get out of bed just to follow him and take the opportunity to get a glass of water, since it's your day off and you're going back to your room.

“i'm leaving, baby. i love you, see you later?”

“yes, of course. good practice,” you say and walk into the kitchen.

jude blinks, confused. his eyebrows arch up, frowning as he tries to search for something in his memory that he can't recall. your answer was different from usual.

with that in mind, he opens the door and leaves, but still doesn't move to the elevator. instead, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, unlocks the screen and opens the group immediately.

“guys, did anything weird happen last night?” he sends the text and waits.

last night there was a small party at valverde's house, which you two joined and drank a bit. maybe jude did something he doesn't remember that upset you.

the answer comes almost immediately and he reads it.

“strange, like...?” camavinga asks.

“i don't know,” he types. “something that pissed y/n off?”

“what the fuck are you talking about, bellingham?” he reads the text from vinícius.

“i just said goodbye to y/n and she didn't say she loved me back”

on the other side of the door, you pick up your phone in your room, looking at the notifications. as you read everything, you laugh heartily.

“jude, you know I'm in the group too, right?” you send.

jude opens the door again after reading your message and goes straight to your room. he finds you sitting on the bed, still laughing, and you look up when you notice his presence, staring at him amused.

“so...?” he asks you, expecting an answer to the same question as before.

you laugh again and put your phone away. you get up and walk over to him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“nothing weird happened last night,” you reply, with a playful smile. “i was only joking, darling. of course i love you”

you nearly laugh again at the relieved sigh he lets out and the way he holds you so tightly, kissing your lips.

joão félix

hanging his bag over his shoulder, joão kisses you on the temple in farewell, while you're still finishing your coffee to start getting ready for work, since you don't have to arrive until later today.

“i'm on my way. i love you,” he says, moving from the kitchen worktop to cross the hall to the living room.

“alright, i'll see you later!” you reply, pouring a little more milk into your coffee, without looking at him, appearing a little distracted by your task.

you don't notice that he didn't cross the hall. he just stands there, as if waiting for something, which doesn't come. that's not how you normally say goodbye, so he's instantly alert.

turning around, joão appears at your side again, hugging you from behind, his hands around your waist in a very tight way, giving you the chance to smell his perfume even more closely. you chuckle, not expecting this attitude from him and turn your face to him, frowning.

“is everything all right?” he asks, a little hesitant, and kisses your shoulder affectionately.

the whole time his eyes are on you, as if he's studying your reaction, looking for something he didn't notice before or missed.

“yes... why wouldn't it be?”

you know why he's asking, but you don't say anything. you just carry on. just a little longer. even though you're sorry to see him with that expression of someone who thinks he's done something wrong, but hasn't yet found out what.

“like, there hasn't been any more shit gossip that you've been tagged in, right? anything like that?”

you lick your lips, staring into his eyes. ever since you started your public relationship, some people have been cruel enough to say things about you cheating on him, like his ex, that you wouldn't know how to take care of his heart and other shit. at first, this affected you and also worried joão, but then you dropped all those negative comments, focusing only on the good things with him.

“no, darling, there hasn’t” you reassure him, kissing his lips quickly, turning to face him, his hands never leaving you. “why now?”

he squeezes your waist.

“ah, you didn't say you love me back” he replies. “and you always do, right?”

you finally let out a laugh. he's confused, so you wrap your hands around his neck.

“i was joking, love,” you say, smiling. “i got you used to it, didn't i?”

relief washes over him instantly and he smiles.

“wouldn't that be a bad thing?” he tries to correct.

you widen your smile and shake your head.

“no, i've got you used to it very well,” you reinforce. “because that's the least you deserve: to hear every day that i love you. i love you.”

so he just kisses you, his heart warmer than ever, even though it's cold in chelsea.

pablo gavi

“did you get everything? aren't you forgetting anything?”

gavi checks his bag once more, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything after your question. when he seems sure, he quickly denies it with his head. 

“no, all set. shall we?”

you nod and pick up your own bag. you walk out together and enter the elevator hand in hand. you didn't live together, but sometimes you spent the night and went to work in the morning from his place, since some of your things were there and it made your life easier. it had been his idea and, even though you hesitated a little, you ended up accepting.

the elevator leaves you both in the parking lot, where your car is.

“see you later?” he asks and you nod, remembering that you were getting used to sleeping there more than once. “i love you.”

he kisses your lips and you return it, pulling away soon after.

“see you later, sweetheart.”

you say goodbye once more and walk to your car, ready to be on your way.

gavi stands still for a moment, trying to take in what has just happened. he watches as you get into your own car and drive past him, blowing a kiss into the air, but he can't even smile.

he stands there for a moment, feeling confused and odd, the situation was odd. you said goodbye to him in a strange way. 

now he was going to barcelona training with his head a little distracted. he couldn't keep up with the banter with the boys or do his best in practice. he seriously thought something was wrong with you, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't figure out what. 

his teammates asked him if he was all right or what was going on that had him so distracted, unable to concentrate one hundred percent on training. he would give a vague answer and carry on, even though his mind was wandering towards an answer that wasn't coming.

he thought a lot. about everything. about anything. he thought about texting you, but gave up. you always received a message from him every time he arrived at the training center, but this time he didn't. gavi simply didn't even think about it, his mind wandering back to the moment you said goodbye, trying to find out what had gone so wrong.

he tried to remember if he had missed anything, but he couldn't find it.

hours passed and it was time to go home again. you arrived first, a little tired, but you tried to prepare some homemade dinner to welcome him. gavi always arrived at the same time every day, on time, but on this one, he was ten minutes late.

you waited, sitting on the couch, watching some reality show that you didn't follow much, but that was what was passing your time. ten minutes later, you heard the door click.

when you turn to look at him, gavi goes off first, without even expecting anything beforehand.

“i just can't do it,” he begins, dropping his bag with his training stuff. “i've been thinking about it all day and i still can't reach a conclusion.”

you suppress a smile, but you're still a little confused.

“gavi?”

he looks at you, his shoulders slumped, his puss in boots expression.

“did i do something? are you upset about something? did something happen?” he fired off without taking a breath.

you pause the show and turn completely towards him, still sitting on the couch. you knew exactly what that meant, but you thought it would be fun to take it further.

“what do you mean ‘something?’ what are you talking about?” you play the fool.

gavi takes a deep breath. that had been torturing him all day. not even the smell of home-cooked food calms his nerves.

he approaches the couch.

“you didn't say you loved me back this morning,” he explains.

you try, but you can't suppress your laughter. you put your hand to your mouth, trying to control yourself, and gavi's expression changes.

“what's so funny?”

“baby, i was joking,” you confess.” i love you, gavi.”

you get up, trying to approach him while standing on the couch.

his mood changes. his eyes narrow towards you, trying to take in what you've just said.

“wait a minute, what?”

you laugh again.

“i was only joking. i didn't say i loved you this morning on purpose.”

you try to kiss him, but he pulls away, his expression tight.

“you…” he shakes his head, disbelieving that you had done it on purpose. he can't believe that he was stuck on it all day, while you knew it was a joke.

of course you let him think about it all day.

“that was ridiculous,” he says, still shaking his head and walking away, without giving you a chance to get closer and kiss him. “ridiculous, y/n.”

he walks down the corridor towards his room, totally shocked that it was all a joke, although part of him was relieved that everything was still fine and that he hadn't done anything wrong.

“come back here, it was a joke, baby!”

trent alexander-arnold

after checking his watch and realizing that he'd have to hurry if he wanted to be on time for practice, trent slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his keys from the bedside table. you were in the kitchen cleaning and rearranging some glasses to make room for the new wine ones you got as gifts. you'd almost forgotten about the prank you'd planned, but you only had to feel trent's kiss on your neck for a mischievous smile to appear on your face.

“i have to go, i love you. don't forget to check our reservation later.”

“ok, i'll let you know when i've confirmed it,” you replied, giving him a kiss.

trent smiled and made his way to the living room, then stopped. his head tilted slightly as if he were experiencing a sudden lightening.

“aren't you going to tell me you love me?!” he asked, still standing in the same spot.

“what? sorry, i'm distracted.”

“last chance!”

the sink tap was turned on, followed by other utensil noises. trent squinted his eyes and came back into the room to look at you – you really looked busy, too busy.

“hi, love. do you need anything else?”

trent arched an eyebrow.

“no, i'm on my way. love you.”

“ok, text me when you get there.”

silence.

“yeah, i'm going to spend a few days at dom's, good luck without me.”

he then dashed to the door, slamming it hard.

“what? trent!”

when you got there, you couldn't move the handle. it clearly wasn't locked, so you laughed in frustration when you realized what was going on.

“trent, i love you! it was a joke!”

you knew your boyfriend was considerably stronger, but you still tried to force the door once more. to no avail.

“oh yeah? now you do? didn't convince me.”

“you're going to be late!”

“this is more important, it's a life lesson.”

“fine! now let me see you and apologize properly,” you asked, resting your forehead on the door.

you stepped back when you felt the doorknob move slowly. there he was with the most unbearable expression of all and with his arms crossed, you soon knew that you would have a lot of work to do to make up for this great and terrible mistake.

you moved closer, uncrossed his arms and put them around your body.

“i love you very much, i just wanted to tease you with a little prank,” you said as you spread kisses along the length of his neck. “but you already knew that, right? you know i wouldn't let it slide.”

trent pouted, pretending to think about it, which shocked you. when you tried to pull away, he brought you back, smiling again – a genuinely cheeky smile.

“i know something would be very wrong if you'd forgotten, it's just that you're a pretty bad liar, so it was easy to figure out your little game.”

trent pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“just don't do it again, or i'll have to come up with my own pranks too.”

pedri gonzález

“damn, i'm really late,” you say, picking up the car keys and throwing them to pedri, who always seems to forget them when he goes out.

he picks up his bag and phone, quickly answering a message and looks up to see you putting on your heels, ready to leave together.

“i can drop you off at work,” he offers.

you wave your hand in denial.

“that means you'd be late, since it's the opposite direction. and we both know how coach flick feels about being late.”

he can't disagree and he knows you're right, but even so, his expression drops and you notice.

“it's okay, love. i've already called an uber,” you reassure him and pick up your own bag. “shall we?”

the two of you leave together and he locks the door to the apartment. since you always arrive first, he gives you back the key, because he always forgets to make his own copy, and you take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

“did gavi confirm dinner?” you ask.

“yes, we're coming together,” pedri replies.

you nod and when you finally reach the parking lot for pedri to take his car, you check on your phone that your uber will arrive in front of the building in two minutes. you tell him so.

“i'll see you later, then.” he leans in to give you a kiss and you reciprocate. “i love you.”

“good training, love,” you say and say goodbye, turning to leave.

you hide a smile, proud that you managed to remember to play a little prank on him before you left. pedri is confused, the gears of his brain turning slowly as he processes the fact that you didn't say you loved him back.

then you feel a hand grab your arm and turn you around – it's him.

“pedri?”

“should i apologize to you for something?” he asks, his voice a little uncertain.

“do you think you need to?”

the panic takes over his face and you can see that he's trying to remember what he did wrong. it was more likely that he wouldn't find out and would send a text to the boys, asking how he could best apologize, even if he didn't know what the mistake was.

“did i leave the wet towel on the bed again?” he asks, first try. “jesus, fer gave out my number again and some girl called and you got it all wrong?”

“fer hasn't done that since the last time i scolded him.”

you try not to laugh when you see how desperate he is.

“pedri, i have to go. the uber's coming.”

“no!” he holds your arm tighter. “you can't leave without telling me what i need to apologize for. you didn't say you loved me back.”

you laugh, giving up. the plan was really to leave without telling him, but his genuine distress made you realize that you couldn't let him torture himself the whole way wondering what he'd done wrong and what he needed to apologize for. you'd rather he concentrated one hundred percent and entirely on training.

“i was only joking, okay? there's nothing for you to apologize for, love.” you approach him, caressing his cheek affectionately. “not even for the towel, which, by the way, yes, you forgot it wet this morning.”

pedri rolls his eyes and pinches your waist lightly.

“no funny business, y/n.” he snorts.

but his unhappy frown doesn't last long when you kiss his lips gently, this time being the one to apologize. 

“i couldn't resist,” you say. “i really have to go now. i'll see you later.”

“and...?” he encourages, still not letting go.

you chuckle and hear the uber notification.

“and i love you.”

it's only when he finally seems satisfied that he lets you go, but still makes you delay a minute longer with a kiss on the lips.

heungmin son

you brought the jacket that heungmin had forgotten on the couch, so he could finally close his suitcase. he was preparing for the season with the Korean national team, so you took the opportunity to spend your days off together. this time you couldn't join heungmin on the trip because your work schedule didn't allow it.

the drive to the airport was smooth, while you hummed along to the songs on the radio, heungmin took the chance to doze off in the passenger seat - his hand resting on your thigh the whole ride. 

you parked at the entrance to the airline gate, as you had to say goodbye to him there.

“send me a picture of the snacks in first class on this plane,” you asked excitedly, even though it wasn't the first time.

heungmin laughed.

“i love you, take care on the way back and let me know when you arrive.”

you pressed his cheeks with your hands and kissed him several times.

“have a good trip.”

heungmin pulled away and stared at you with a broad smile. then he got out of the car and you opened the trunk so he could get his things. in the rearview mirror, you noticed when he closed the door and stared into the distance with a question mark on his face. it took you a great deal of effort to hold back your laughter when he tapped twice on the window right next to you.

“i'm going now, i love you.”

“all right, take care,” you said, and gave him another tender kiss.

however, heungmin didn't move, leaning his elbows on the door.

“honey, i'm going to get fined if i stay here another minute.”

“i'm not worried about that. is everything alright?”

“everything's fine, did we forget something? do you want me to go back and get it?”

“i think i might have missed something, because you haven't said you love me.”

you pressed your lips together, unable to contain yourself in front of his worried expression. although you knew that heungmin would be fully capable of paying any fine, you didn't want to spend money on this kind of nonsense.

“it was a prank, my love. i love you, ok? now get going, because i don't want you to be late, and i don't want to spend money on an airport ticket.”

he stayed there, watching you, analyzing any sign of a lie. analyzing you like someone who has made a mistake and doesn't want to repeat it.

“heungmin!”

“fine, but you're not geting off that easy,” he warned, then walked away.

“come here, give me one more kiss.”

“no, rethink your actions. i'll see you when Ii get back.”

“heungmin, no! i love you!”

you could see his satisfied smile as he walked towards the airport entrance. a honk made you take notice of your surroundings again, but that wasn't what worried you. you honked back.

“i'm leaving, damn it!”

a few hours later, you saw the notification with a text from heungmin.

baby: [photo] i've already written down the names of the things that were served to us on the plane. i'll buy them for us when i think you deserve them again.

y/n: cruel

baby: only fair

mason mount

"have a nice day, sweetheart. i'm heading out. love you."

you were still curled up in bed. the day off came at a good time, because you felt completely exhausted and all you wanted to do was rot in that bed. it was unfair that mason had to leave, but you accepted it, not having much to do, but you thought you'd play with him a bit, before he left.

"have a good game this weekend. text me when you get home, yeah?" you mumbled.

mason nodded and was about to close the bedroom door and let you go back to sleep, when he realized what had just happened. you didn't say it back. you always did, it was something that came out automatically and genuinely from both of you, but not this time.

he put his hand on the doorknob and went back to looking at you in bed, your eyes alight with a mischievous gleam that he didn't notice.

"is everything alright?" he asked, worried.

mason wasn't usually insecure with you, he simply had no reason to be. so when something like this happened, he got worried that something was wrong and he didn't notice.

"yes," you answered, falsely confused by his question, when you knew where it's coming from.

mason shook his head slowly, processing. he dropped his bag on the floor and stepped closer to the bed, stopping right next to you.

"are you sure?" he continued, looking for something in your expression.

"what is it, mase?"

he let out a frustrated sigh. you could tell he was struggling to understand what was going on.

"you know you can tell me anything, right?" he reinforces.

"mase. love."

you got up, pushing the sheets away from your body, sitting up in bed.

"you didn't say you loved me back. is something wrong?"

"love, i don't..."

your heart squeezed when you saw his expression.

"because i say i love you every day in the most sincere way i can. come on, tell me, what happened? i can cancel my flight right now and we'll sort it out."

"mase, what? no!"

he couldn't be serious about canceling his flight and not being at the game this weekend, for goodness sake! it was an important game and he was still earning his place in the team, you would never let him do that, even if there was something wrong.

"baby, i was joking. of course i love you back." you giggled, leaning your forehead against his.

"what?" he let go and you laughed even harder. 

"that's not funny, y/n! you scared me."

"sorry, sorry!" you rushed to say, kissing his lips."it was just a prank. no canceling flights, okay?"

he shook his head, his lips almost forming a pout.

"i'm not convinced it was a prank. are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

him doubting you made you realize that the prank didn't go as planned. however, you also learned that it was important to him, in a way you hadn't imagined.

"there's nothing wrong, i promise."

he arched his eyebrow.

"really?"

this time you rolled your eyes.

"mason. you don't believe me?" you fire back.

"i just...” he tried to say, but you interrupted him.

"i love you. yesterday, today, tomorrow. the rest of my life. i love you."

he finally seemed convinced and held your face with both hands, foreheads still pressed together.

"even if things go wrong?"

"especially if things go wrong."

he smiled. so openly that you found yourself melting for his beauty again - secretly.

"i'll never get tired of hearing that."

[silversurfersx]

pleaseeeeee give us a part 2 of filns of anger PLEASEEEEEEJSJDHNDE IM BEGGING

Christmas pressnt to us maybe?!? 🙏🙏🙏🙏😔😔😔😔

It’s the first of December, close enough, haha

Had the beginning of this actually in my notes since I posted the first part, but I hadn’t really finshed it, but I saw a few people now ask for a part two so here it goes.

I don’t really know how to feel about this, but anyway

Happy December, guys 🎄

Films of Anger | pt. 2

Part one

sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader

summary: basically brocedes 2.0 (with a happier ending), childhood friends turned rivals turned back into friends in a sappy way

warning: a bit of angst and fluff, swearing

It's been weeks, almost months, since you last spoke to Sebastian and it started to get to you. You weren't used to this kind of cold distance.

Distance as such was never much of a problem, seeing as both of you were busy in different places around the world. But this was not like those times.

You saw Sebastian almost all the time, he was always there like your own shadow, but just like it, he didn't speak a word to you. He didn't even dare to look at you (at least not when you were). He only ever did look when he knew you weren't.

There was a heavy feeling building up in his chest when he noticed you around and wanted to talk to you, hang out with you, just like you always did, but something stopped him.

You felt similar. You wanted your best friend back. The one who would always play video games with you after training. The one you would sneak out with to eat stuff you weren't supposed to. You wanted your other half back. The one that was so close yet so far out of reach. It pained you to look at him and there were times, especially after a bad race, when all you wanted to do was run to him for comfort. But you couldn't. Or at least you felt like you shouldn't.

Michael watched the whole situation from the outside. He saw the longing looks the both of you threw at each other. His own heart felt heavy at the thought of your friendship ending. Corinna and him witnessed the joy brought to your face whenever his name was called. Though now there wasn't anything like it, quite the opposite actually. And it was painful to witness for both him and his wife, knowing that the tight bond knitting the two of you together was broken over something like that. They wanted to do something to stop it from breaking any further, but both felt like only you could do that.

Your brother and sister alike noticed the lack of Sebastian around. Mick and you were playing a game of one on one, something you had done since he was very young. Both inspired by your fathers own love for football.

"Why don't you hang out with Seb anymore?" He asked shooting the ball towards your goal, but you blocked.

You didn't want to tell Mick what truly had happened between the two of you, because you weren't really sure either. Dribbling past him, you used the distraction as a way to hold off your answer. Needing a moment to think anyway.

Of course you had an accident, which you still didn't think was on you, but that wasn't new. The two of you had a few crashes over the years, sometimes caused by either one of you, but you always reconciled. But not this time. Something was different. Or maybe it was just you. Maybe the two of you had just drifted apart over the years, at minimum speed, that it only took one moment of anger from the both of you to cut the string that held you close.

"I don't really know Micky. We had a fight and need some time to calm down, I guess." You answered your brother, who knocked the ball away from you.

"Hey!" You shouted watching him kick the ball inside the net of your goal.

Mick grinned at the goal, before turning back to you. "But you are still friends, right?"

You didn't answer, not sure yourself. It still felt like you were friends, even if neither of you spoke. You reckoned that that would never change. But you didn't know how he felt, so you just answered for yourself. "Yes."

"Good. You too sappy without him." Mick nodded, taking the ball, you had just talked out of the net with your feet, away from you and once again dribbling it away from you, once again scoring. You laughed shaink your head at his cheekiness.

"There was a time when I used to beat you all the time."

"Yeah, when I was five." Mick chuckled, preparing to once again take control of the ball.

"Ey, be quiet." You gently pushed your brother. The blonde laughed while you tried not to be hurt being beat by a 12 year old.

The next race weekend approached quicker than you'd hoped and over was the small break you had at home. You and your father both packed your bags and got ready to race once again.

"Fernando!" You called out to the Spaniard, running down pit lane, nodding at him when he turned around.

The both of your wearing the familiar Ferrari red, marking you teammates.

"Good morning, y/n." He greeted you stopping for you to catch up and walk down the pit lane together.

"Morning, Nando. How was your time off, done anything fun?" You started the conversation, holding your hand up to cover your eyes from the bright sun.

You had to admit you missed what Fernando was saying, as you just passed the RedBull Garage and you unintentionally made eye contact with a very familiar RedBull driver. You held eye contact, neither of you ready to break it.

The usual distance you recently felt coming from him wasn't there. It was as if the short break betwene the races kind of reduced the anger, or whatever it was, from his mind.

You had turned your head away from him, back to Fernando, but you could have sworn you saw him frown sadly as you broke eye contact.

It wasn't a big change in behaviour, but it still felt weird in your mind, not used to him being so nice once again. Or at least civil. And to even acknowledge you properly.

You hoped that it wasn't just some kind of mind play, from him, but you knew that that wasn't his thing. At least it hadn't been with you.

It was during the qualifying session that you were in a somewhat fight with Sebastian. It wasn't much of a fight as you knew that this was just quali and not the race, yet.

So neither of you intentionally raced the other, but you did aim to beat his time. And it appeared he did too, as your time kept getting beaten by him.

Everytime your engineer told you your time, you requested to know Sebastian's as well, which he did give you, even if he was a bit unsure if he should. But as long as it encouraged you to drive faster, it wouldn't hurt. He thought.

Meanwhile you relived moments of your childhood. Back when your father and spent your evenings after school at the karting track. When no one else was present and it was only the two of you. His voice, soft but stern, was sounding in your head over the sound of the engine.

You remembered the moment you finished your lap, and took one of the corner as late as you dared to do. It took your breath away, but in the end you set your new personal lap record.

"That corner, yeah," Your father started. "If you take every corner, like you did that one, you'd beat them all."

You always followed his advice of course, but there was also always the possibly to do more. To go further. So you did.

And you went too far. Breaking too late, added with a strong wind in the wrong moment, suddely sent you into the wall.

Weirdly enough, the first thing you thought of when the car stopped was how horrible the media would react to yet another crash. The first one with Sebastian, was on you, according to them. The other times, after the initial crash, when you started to get a bit more aggressive with each other, was because of your hormones.

The times when you made just the tiniest mistake, was picked up by the media instantly. It was as if they were only waiting for you to slip up, to throw insults and doubts at you. To question whether you truly belonged in the world of formula one or if it was just there because of your family name.

Sebastian used to talk it all good. He mocked the media's stupidity to make you feel better. But of course, that didn't happen recently, which is why you felt even worse about all the comments being made, which only led to you doubting yourself more, with lead to you making even more mistakes. It was an endless circle.

Maybe adding onto your odd thoughts was your pounding head. Hopefully not a concussion. You tried to act tough, hiding your sick feelings, and aching body, quickly replying to your race engineer and pushing yourself out of the car.

You took a moment, after climbing out, to calm down. Sitting down on the body of the car, pretending liked you did that because you had to wait for the safety car and not because your body gave you a hard time.

'No weakness. Show no weakness.'

The voice in your head repeated. You kept your helmet on, even if you wished to just take it off to breathe better.

Marshall's surrounded you, made sure you were alright and then lead you towards the arriving safety car, while taking care of the crashed car.

___

"I don't know why I keep messing up so bad, Papa." You told him as you left the medical centre. The impact you had sustained was hard, 30G. But you tried to push through the aftermath. Michael came over to the medical centre right after qualifying and interviews (which you gladly didn't have to attend), to walk you back to the hospitality and then to the hotel. He wanted to make sure that you rest.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Your father started. "that is what makes you mess up. You lose confidence and get scared."

Michael wasn't known for talking around the point when it came to racing. He felt that if there were words that can help you get better, they should be said, no matter how hurtful they may be. You knew that, it was always something you appreciated.

"I'm not scared." You replied honestly.

There may be some fear in your body when you drove, but that only fueled you to go further, to press for more. It wasn't the kind of fear that led you to be scared, but to go even harder than you thought would be possible. You loved the adrenaline, when you did something dangerous. It gave you an extra boost. "I think I just can't concentrate. I feel so... I don't know.

Michael watched you for a moment, halting in his words, as he let it sink in. Deep down he had his suspicions what might cause your loss in concentration.

"You need to talk to Sebastian." He announced. You bit your lip, but didn't say anything.

Michael was right, of course. He was most of the time. But you didn't know if you dared to speak to Sebastian, yet. You weren't scared of driving your car dangerously, but to talk to Sebastian. You were not that brave. Not yet at least.

Your father didn't really mention anything regarding Sebastian after that. He took you back to the hotel and insisted that you'd spent the rest of the day in bed, just as the medical team had ordered you to do. You didn't resist that order as you felt your body ache from every movement. You head was feeling liked it would explode. It was difficult for you to move your neck and raise your arms as the G-force hit you straight on.

After your father left, it wasn't difficult for you to fall asleep. And you stayed that way until you were awaken by a knock on your door in the late evening hours.

You didn't realise who stood in front of you for the first few moments, still too drunk on sleep.

"Sebastian?"

"Hey." He whispered, almost unsure if he should be there. "Uhm, your father gave me your hotel and uh room number, I just wanted to-"

You didn't know why you did what you did, but it just felt right to hug him right then and there. You felt Sebastian suck in a breath, before carefully hugging back, his grip so light in fear of putting a hand wrong and pushing you away from him.

Slowly you let go of him, frowning over your own actions. "Sorry, I don't know why I just did that."

Sebastian shook his head, smiling softly. "No, it's alright."

"I saw the crash today. It looked bad, I just wanted to make sure your were alright. I know we, uhm-" he looked for a word to describe your current relationship. "We haven't really talked in a bit, and I know that's kind of my fault, but I just felt so helpless, not being able to visit you after a crash like that because I felt like I'd lost every right to do so."

"You would never lose the right." You interrupted his rant, watching his hands nervously knit each other, while he watched them too scared to look at you. You remembered your fight with him and th way the words had stung. You were so angry with him whenever you remembered them, but now that he stood here, in front of you, looking like a sad puppy, you couldn't help but want to forget all of it.

"Well, after the shit that happened between us-" Sebastian argued.

"I know." You felt the same way, like you'd lost your right to care about anything regarding him. "I think we're just idiots."

Sebastian chuckled, nodding agreeing. "Yeah, we are. You more than me."

"Oh?" You replied teasingly, a tone which he didn’t quite pick up on. He looked up eyes wide, his mouth opening as apologies spilled out, in fear that he had pushed it too far once again.

"Hey, hey. It's alright, I was only joking. Probably not the best time to do that." You quickly replied to calm the poor guy down.

"No, you're fine." Sebastian stated. "I just… I want to fix what went wrong between us. I miss you. It was stupid to let such a thing do all of this. I was so wrong for doing this to you.“

You noticed how you still stood in the doorway, which probably wasn't the best place to have that type of discussion.

"Do you maybe want to come inside?" You stepped aside and held the door open for him.

"Oh." He whispered, also realising where exactly he was standing. "Yes, of course."

Sebastian stepped inside, and you closed the door. You turned back to look at him. He looked more than unsure of himself. Nervously fiddling with his fingers, wipping on his feet as he let his eyes move around the room, taking it all in.

“Listen, y/n. I know I messed up badly, I said things that were so incredibly shit. It was wrong for me to say all those things, to throw the same shit at you that the press does. I know that you didn’t get into f1 just because of your name, I should know that better than anyone else. I don’t know why I said that. I hate that I said those things and I regretted the words right after I said them.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” You asked, watching him patiently. Sebastian gulped before shaking his head. “I don’t know, I think I felt too ashamed and embarrassed.”

“That was really messed up, Seb.” You crossed your arms, frowning at him. Your chest felt heavy.

“I know. I know how you hate to be reduced to only your name, but I was just so angry at everything in that moment, that I let it out on you. It was so wrong and I am so incredibly sorry, y/n.”

You nodded, your own head filled with the moments he referred to.

Sebastian hesitated, his eye taking you in, analysing the way you feel. He knew you inside out, every little habit you had, he knew the meaning of. So he saw the hesitation inside you. How the voices in your head argued over whether to forgive or to fight him further.

"Please forgive me." He whispered, trying to aid the side of you wanting to forgive him.

Internally, that decision had been made some time ago. You knew Sebastian just as well as he knew you. You knew how he ticked and how he sometimes struggled with idioticy. Talking before really thinking, especially after being pumped on adrenaline.

He never truly means the words he spoke in anger. Sebastian was never the type to insult people, especially you. You could only think about the regret he had been carrying around these past weeks, almost overshadowing your own anger at him. Almost.

A part of you didn't want to forgive him just yet. It wanted prove that he really meant it, ignoring all the times he had already proven it. The times he cheered you up, speaking words of affirmation after the press made some ridiculous statement and spoke highly of you afterwards to everyone who'd listen, just to make them forget any bad word ever uttered.

And the more you thought about where or not to forgive him, you realised that you had already forgiven him. But you weren't able to fully admit that, yet.

"I'm really glad that you came." You answered instead, breaking the silence that started to build up.

"Yeah?" Sebastian asked, looking hopefully at you. His big blue eyes held a distant fear much like the one you felt when you thought it might be over. Which was now overshadowed by the light of hope for a rekindling.

"Yeah." You agreed honestly. "And I missed you too."

"Good." Sebastian smiled. "Then I don't feel sappy on my own."

"No."

"How are you, then?" Sebastian continued, looking you over. "I haven't heard much about the crash, only that it was like 30G. I've been worried."

You smiled at his words, the care in his voice brought a familiar warmth, one you had missed over the last few weeks. You went over to sit down on your bed, gesturing for Sebastian to join you. "I’m feeling better than earlier today, but still a bit weak. My head is pounding and I'm having a hard time with my neck and shoulders. But other than that I'm surprisingly fine."

"Are you cleared to drive tomorrow?" Sebastian asked while sitting down beside you.

"Yeah." Nodding you ran a hand through your hair. "They still want to do a check in the morning, but they said that I should be alright."

"So, you're gonna race?" He continued a bit worried, but he knew that even if he tried he wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

"What, scared I'll beat you?" You chuckled looking at his soft expression. Sebastian chuckled as well, shaking his head. "Always. No, but I was really worried. It looked a lot worse than how it ended up being. I though you might get seriously injured. And I know that that's part of the sport, but all I could think about was that I never apologised. That you might always believe that I couldn't stand you."

"Seb-" You halted in your words, before throwing your arms around your best friend. Pulling him towards you, his own arms pulling you closer. "I didn't think that you couldn't stand me, at least I hoped."

"But still. I wouldn't have known, that you didn't think that." He muttered against your shirt.

"You know now, and that is what counts." You reminded him, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

"Could we talk things through, get on common ground and get this over with. I really don't want something like this to happen again." Sebastian asked now with more confidence. " I don't want to lose you again over silly things."

"I don't want to lose you either over silly things, Sebby." You agreed using the nickname you hadn't used since you were kids. His groan of annoyance at fueled your laughter.

And for an moment then, it was like back when you were just kids, fueled by nothing but passion, friendship and capri-sun.

___

a/n: I feel like I should have added more drama, like a bit more beef between the two before they rekindled, but I didn’t have any ideas for more dialogue, lol.

[moosesarecute]

December 3rd

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s plans for the day was to train, hide in his shadows and maybe, just maybe, acknowledge some of his feelings.

He did not expect his brothers to basically attack him and force him to sit down at the River House. He was handed a cup of hot chocolate, but the smell only made him nauseous. Hot chocolate was your thing. He hadn’t been able to drink it since you disappeared.

Az sat in a couch and Cass and Rhys took their seat in front of him. He knew what was coming, but he didn’t want to start the conversation.

Rhys let out a sigh and started talking.

“It’s been over three years, Az. You can’t keep doing this.”

He tried to block out his brother’s words and the concerned and painful look on both of their faces. But somehow, they managed to get through his emotional barrier.

“You’re rotting away, and we hate to see you like this. We have tried and tried, but you won’t let us help!” Cassian continued.

Azriel hated to see his brothers like this. He loved them, very much, but he was too deep into grief. He couldn’t think of anything or anyone that wasn’t you. Which meant, he couldn’t even think about himself.

“Please, just talk to us,” Cassian said.

Azriel had been looking down on his lap for the entire conversation, but now he looked directly into his brothers’ eyes. And then, he shook his head. He felt the cool and comforting feeling of his shadows moving up his arms and chest.

Cauldron, how he wished he could just disappear for the entirety of this month.

“Okay, but then we have no choice,” Rhys said and quickly grabbed both Cassian and Azriel and winnowed away.

“Therapy? Really?” Azriel asked his brothers.

They stood at the entrance of a therapy studio. Azriel would have tried to leave, if it wasn’t for the strong and almost painful grip both of his brothers had on his arms.

A female wished them welcome and showed them to a room. Inside the room sat an older male. He had glasses, a big brown beard, and wore a thick wool sweater. In other circumstances, Azriel would have called the room cozy. It had a small sofa, windows that showed a snow covered Velaris and it smelled from the fireplace.

Cassian made sure Azriel sat down on the sofa before he and Rhys walked out.

“Hello, Azriel. My name is Jonathan, but you can call me Jo. Your friends were hoping you wanted to speak to me. They said December is a hard time for you and that you might needed someone that wasn’t family to speak to.”

Azriel didn’t answer Jonathan. The room was big, but it felt tiny. He felt so out of place. His wings were too big for the sofa and the smell of the fireplace brought him too many memories from you.

“The first session is usually used to get to know each other. Is there something you would like to tell me about yourself?”

The more Jonathan spoke, the harder it was for Azriel to keep out from his shadows comforting embrace. Why couldn’t he just disappear?

“Well, I can start. I’m Jo. I’m 967 years. I love reading and baking and I often go for runs beside the Sidra. And I’m a widower after my mate died almost a century ago.”

Azriel’s eyes shot towards the male after he heard his words.

He had also lost his mate.

Jonathan lifted his eyebrows to encourage Azriel to speak.

For cauldron’s sake.

“I’m Azriel. I’m 541 years. And my mate disappeared over three years ago.”

Azriel felt the immense need to cry fill his body and mind from just saying aloud that you disappeared.

“She disappeared?” Jonathan asked him and he just nodded as an answer and Jonathan continued. “It took me almost forty years to manage to live a life again after my mate died. I cut all contact with my family and tried to pretend that he wasn’t dead. It took me forty years to ask for help and after I did, I spent another forty years building a life. So Azriel, how many years do you want to spend?”

All it took was one shaky breath and Azriel broke down.

Annette walked through the library. That was the most frequently place she visited. She remembered reading almost half of the books, and she constantly found new ones to enjoy.

She walked towards one of the shelves with books she hadn’t read. She stopped, let her finger fall in front of a random book and counted. Annette counted to seven and for each number she took a new step. She never knew why she always counted to seven, but it felt right.

She picked up a book and read the title: “The Light in Winter”. The cover held a beautiful illustration of green and red waves in the sky. Annette could almost imagine the movement of the lights. She saw them dancing, almost like shadows.

Bringing her new read with her, Annette went to sit in the living room. She sat down in her chair, took her awful medicine that Cathrine brought her and put on her two big blankets, before she started reading.

The book told a story of a place where everyone loved the winter. Where the cold was embraced and cherished. Unless it was snowing, the sky was shining in the most beautiful blue colour and fae, trolls and elves all lived there.

Every night of the month of December, the Winter Lights would dance in the sky and the fae and creatures that lived in Winter would dance along with it. The lights were special for Winter and could only be seen one other place.

Annette felt her eyes grow at least double in size. Imagine seeing the dancing lights. How amazing it would be.

She spent the rest of her day reading the story multiple times to get the most details. And when it was time for bed, she felt she had lived an entirely different life just from reading a story about the magnificent Winter Lights.

Dividers by @issysh3ll

[petalsonmoon]

one touch but you felt enough... you are in love.

(writing so i don’t think about the manga. for the wellness of my mental health. thank you for reading <3)

there's this thing shouto does

it's all too fresh. you can't even tell what you guys are.

shoto is a very sincere yet blank person. you can't read in his expression what he's feeling nor can you interpret his little actions. but if you ask him what he thinks about something he’ll express his opinion in the most clear and gentle way possible.

the course to what you both are now it's werdly cute. you noticed this little something he did because, well, who didn't notice the presence of shouto todoroki? he's the personification of kindness and quietude and tranquility. turns out these definitions created the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

and by noticing the details you noticed the overall and by doing that you two ended up getting closer and closer. you could rely on him to come to your dorm to tell you dinner was ready and be right there by your side during it and you would find him during his training or studing sessions to give him a water bottle. you would’ve thought that with a quirk like that he'd remember to drink it, right? he didn't.

you two would find easement in each others patience and honesty. it's actually being there for each other and not jumping any steps and boundaries that made you two unintentionally friends.

so on third year todoroki, being his straghforwardly serene person that he was, appeared in your dorm and cofessed to you how he had an affection for you for quite some time now, how much your time together was heightening to being the most comfortable he's been with someone and asked you if you wanted to stay by his side from now on.

those were his words. like, c'mon.

so you said yes. that you very much feel much calmer in his presence and would be absolutely happy to be by his side.

that was 2 weeks ago.

since then you noticed this little thing he did.

which is funny, to perceive a slight action from someone whose words were his main character.

and you wait for it to happen at least three times before saying anything.

right now you were in the communal space, sitting in the sofa while your remaining colleagues were still stretching after a 2 hour movie and chatting the plot away,

it was summer so the air conditioner was on. a few glasses with only ice could be found on the coffee table.

you were next to shoto, by his right, smuggled between him and furniture’s arm. you turn to look at him and gets irritated how his profile is so fucking powerful.

“do you like fantasy movies?” you whisper to him. he thinks about it for a moment.

“i like them” he replies, gazing down at his hands. “but they’re not my preference.”

“and what would that be?” you start fidgeting with your fingers, very slighly.

he takes a deep breath and squint his eyes for a second. he turns his eyes to you and you have to seriously fight your lungs to not hold it’s breath just because your heat leaped a beat.

“romcoms.” he says under his breath, expression clearly blank.

you pinched your lips trying not to let the chuckle escape. it makes sense, actually.

“can i ask why?”

“they’re very entertaning.” he comteplates softly “not too much going on but you can always have a great time and even a good laugh.”

he finishes his thought and looks away, satisfied. you can’t help but feel your body sink in fondness.

“that’s true. they’re always nice.” you reply.

“what about you?”

“my favorite genre?”

he nods and looks at you again.

“i would say...” you look down and think how you’d already know the answer. would he think less of you for being too different from his likes? “drama? with a bit of suspense in it?”

he nods in response and you don’t feel his eyes on your face anymore. you’re both looking at your hands.

“it makes sense.” he concludes after a moment and you look up at him, intrigued. “they’re always very interesting.”

you let the little smile in your mouth win and checks around discretely, after seeing only a few people far in the kitchen you leave a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

the little smile also make an appearance on his face for a millisecond.

 “i also really like animation.” you say.

his eyebrows go up for a second. “yes, some of them are really impressive.”

“they have a way to make hugs so beautiful and comforting...” you let it out before even thinking. that’s just how comforting it was being with him.

“oh. the studio ghibli embraces, isn’t it?” he completes.

“yes! it’s really profound somehow and sometimes a hug like that is all you need.” you look away and shiver. it is hot but you did not go well with air conditioners. the temperature people tend to feel content at usually was the same one where you needed to be in a hoodie. but that was a unimportant fact that would die with you.

“hm” he replies “i think princess mononoke is my favorite one...”

“it makes sense.”

he turns to you once again, expressionless. “does it?”

“uhum.” you feel your body shivering again “it’s very humane and important...”

“what else?” he whisper.

“and emotional and romantic... it’s perfect, really.” you hold his gaze, already wanting to stay there forever.

and then he does it.

right when you conclude your description you feel his fingertips slowly touching yours with such tenderness and delicacy you’d almost miss it, if you didn’t also automatically felt your body warming up to the exact condition for you to feel perfectly comfortable.

“oh, shouto...” you let it escape, feeling like you could cry. you didn’t say a word about your issue but he noticed. he noticed you.

he interlocks your fingers and takes your knuckles to his mouth, placing a warm and short kiss there.

“it seems to me that it’s your favorite movie too.”

you move your free hand and position it in the back of his head, your fingers starts moving sweetly and he closes his eyes.

you take the opportunity to kiss him. he immediately responds and kisses you completely. his kiss is slow and patient and sure and you feel yourself melting in your feelings for him. your hand on his head makes sure to intensify the kiss and shoto lets a delicious and lovely sound escape his throat.

you pull back for a second. “i’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

his eyebrowls furrowing and his eyes sparkling.

“like i’m in a romcom.”

[wonderjanga]

Rewrite of the Shazam! Movie

I… personally disliked the Shazam movie. It could’ve been better in my opinion. So, this is how I think the movie should’ve gone.

So… let’s just get to it.

It’s 1944 during the height of World War II. People are abuzz with wanting to learn all the newest updates on the war. Whiz Radio is a Fawcett owned company on the verge of bankruptcy due to its lack of popularity.

The movie opens with Billy running from a couple men. In his hands are a couple of canned food items, bread, and other things. The opening credits would simply be Billy running past a wall plastered with posters advertising the new position open at Whiz. Every time a person would run in front of the wall, the credit would change to another person. So like Billy would run and the opening director’s name would appear, one of the men running after him would pass in front of the wall and the screen writer’s name would appear, etc. There can be like ten dudes for comedic effect.

During this entire chase, Billy would be nameless, the only things he’d be called are brat, thief, etc by the men. He eventually lose them in an alleyway and retreat to whatever hobbit hole he’s staying in. On his trudge back home he’d pass by a mansion, Ebenezer’s mansion, because remember he stole Billy’s inheritance. He’d stop and stare and we’d get a whole flashback of him learning how his parents and sister died, his uncle kicking him out, and so on. This is where we’d actually learn Billy’s name. After this, he’d continue his trudge back home and that scene would end with him walking into his apartment and closing the door with the camera getting the door shut in it’s face.

The next scene would start with Billy opening the door and heading out. We’d see a little bit of Billy’s day such as him taking on odd jobs and such for cash. But, when he’s on his way back home, he hears a whisper and looks over to see… his dad? We don’t actually get to see his dad‘s face. It’s just fuzzy. He waves to him and walks off with Billy following after.

Billy: “Dad?”

Billy’s Dad(?): *doesn’t answer and keeps walking*

Billy: “Dad?” *sounds more urgent*

Billy’s Dad(?) leads to the train station. They get a cute little moment of waiting by the tracks together were fuzzy C.C. offers his hand which Billy takes as they get on the train. As soon as they get on the train, Billy’s dad disappears and Billy’s left alone.

Then, fast forward the usual thing. The Wizard tells him that he’s worthy and pure hearted, and that he should be the Champion of Magic and to light the brazier if he ever needs him. Like usual he dies from getting crushed by the rock.

We see Billy stuck with no idea of what to do with his Marvel form. But, he gets his idea to be a superhero when he’s walking out of the train station and passes by a war propaganda poster with Bulletman and Spy Smasher on it. We get a quick little monologue about how they’re both amazing heroes and Billy even drops a little detail about how he used to have Bulletman’s action figure. This is when one Billy decides that he wants to be like them. A hero who can spread joy through saving others. Someone with a greater purpose. Someone who is more than Billy Batson. (Place emphasis on the self-deprecation of how he wants to be more) The scene ends there with the camera facing Billy’s back as he stares at the poster.

The next scene opens with Captain Marvel’s back to the camera. It’s now been two weeks and Billy is now officially Captain Marvel. We get a little scene of him, stopping a purse snatcher like it’s nothing. Right after him stopping the snatcher is when Sivana’s finally introduced. He’s also Danny DeVito because I say so. Anyways, since the movie is meant to be lighthearted, Sivana acts much like a cartoon supervillain. He has this robot suit and they duke it out before Marvel beats him and takes him to jail.

Of course, Sivana breaks out, but while he’s breaking out, Billy is at the Whiz Radio trying to get the job because he needs money. We get a little scene of Mr. Morris interviewing Billy.

Mr. Morris: “Now, do you have any experience reporting? In the slightest?”

Billy: *in the fanciest clothes he could find, aka his red and yellow sweater with his jeans* “Ah… no. But I tell stories to the other homeless kids and they like them. So, I was kinda hoping that would be enough….?”

Yeah, Billy was not Mr. Morris‘s first choice. So instead, Mr. Morris makes a deal that if Billy can turn in Sivana, he’d give the kid the job, not that he believed the kid could catch a Supervillain. After this interaction, Billy leaves bummed that he probably isn’t gonna get it because he thought Sivana was just a one off thing and was still in jail. Eventually, though he finds out, he broke out.

So Marvel goes around looking for Sivana only to realize that this time it won’t be so easy to catch him. Somehow, Sivana upgraded from that one incident with Marvel. This results in Marvel running around, actually having to gather information as both Billy and Marvel, both through spying as a little kid, and intimidating goons as a grown man. Every time he can uncover a little bit of information we get shown in a notepad with facts on it and as the information gathering goes on, it gets filled with more and more notes and even little drawings and scribbles too. I would also like to see Billy scratchy handwriting, and Marvel‘s beautiful handwriting, alternating.

Unfortunately, when Billy is spying on some more goons, he accidentally gets caught and tied to a chair. This is where he meets Sivana face-to-face as Billy instead of Marvel.

Sivana: “That imbecile sent a kid? Gosh.” *rolls his eyes*

So, yes, he gets trash talked straight to his face and then alone in the in the room. This is when Billy discovers that he doesn’t need Marvel to be great. He gets his Miles Morales moment and lightnings the binds off of him, rips off the gag covering his mouth and says his magic word. Billy leaves as Marvel and as Sivana is wrecking havoc, he gets sent a video from a security camera in the room of Billy transforming.

Sivana: “It was that little brat the whole time?! The sneaky little thing was right under my nose!”

He throws a bit of a temper tantrum, and Marvel finally shows up to throw hands. They have their big battle, they somehow end up in a secluded area, Marvel finally beat him, and drags him to the Whiz building as Billy. The scene ends with Billy walking into Mr. Morris‘s office with Sivana knocked out. He has the biggest widest smile on his face. He looks the happiest he’s ever been in this movie. This scene ends like the first one with closing the door on the camera, but with Billy proclaiming that they have to talk business.

The end.

As for the end credits, after they play, we get a tiny little tidbit at the end that’s supposed to take place two years later and it's of Sivana working on a something with his back faced towards the camera while in the background, we hear Billy on the radio reporting on something. The camera then proceeds to slowly pan over him until it’s looking directly down on him and you can see in nice big bold letters: Suspendium.

Yup. The Suspendium bomb.

Boom. Perfect cliffhanger. I’m out. Deuces. I’m going to sleep now.

[quinnverse]

"You're allowed more than that. No one's stopping you." Her voice sounded pathetically weak in her own ears, each wavering syllable sounding more like a muffled love me, love me, love me. Her eyes linger on his lips as she shivered at the feeling of his fingers against her skin. She knew the answer but she didn't want to admit it. She wanted to exist on this realm of fantasy for a little longer, to pretend that there could be something between them if only they wanted it badly enough.

When he pulls away, Sarah swears she can hear her heart cracking like porcelain. She knew this was a bad idea from the start, knew that this could only ever end in frustration and heartache. But now that she'd tasted the forbidden fruit, how could she be expected to go back to how things were before?

"And if one has already developed? What then?" Sarah sat up, her gaze trained on him as he balled his hand into a fist. Only moments prior she had felt like a woman, beautiful and bold and powerful, but within the blink of an eye, she was left feeling like a helpless child again. She blinked away the tears that rose to her eyes. She refused to cry or beg. She refused to be one of those girls that cried over a man. But how was she supposed to react when their first time might very well be their last?

"Men keep mistresses all the time." She croaked before she could think better of it, her brows pinching together. "It's not ideal, but it's not entirely frowned upon, either. I-I could be your mistress. No one would have to know, a-and you wouldn't even need to pay me. We could just enjoy one another's company." Slowly, Sarah reach out to touch him, resting her hand tenderly on his forearm as if he were a wounded animal.

"We're not hurting anyone." She leaned forward and pressed a trail of delicate kisses across his shoulder. "We don't have to pretend when we're together, Mister Tallmadge. Isn't that enough?"

"That's it? You just adore me?"

Despite the teasing quality of Sarah's query, Benjamin's smile instantly vanished. "It's all I can give," he softly reminded her. "Or rather, it's all I'm allowed to give."

There was a wounded quality to her voice that lent credence to his fear, and though his initial instinct was to draw away, to put distance between them, he cradled her face with one hand and stroked her hair with the other, lightly brushing his thumb over the bridge of her nose, the full, ripe curve of her lips, and then the gentle slope of her chin.

Sarah smiled beneath his touch and peered up at him hopefully. "When can we do it again?"

This time, Benjamin could no longer maintain the façade. He drew up until he was sitting upright, his forearm moving to rest over his knee as he squeezed his hand into a fist. "You know the answer to that," he lowly said. "If you do not wish to develop an attachment, we can't ever speak of this again." His eyes darkened with sorrow at the thought. "If I had my way, the answer to that question would be always, Sarah, but what good is pretending? What good is hurting ourselves by chasing what can never come to pass?"

[lay-z]

🎅🏼 Day 3 ‒ Altruism

Synopsis: Being part of the military means making sacrifices and a lot of times – those are personal. Sometimes, though, they do pay off.

Pairing: Kyle Gaz Garrick x fem!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | Kyle’s POV; military!Reader; fluff; pining; friends/teammates to lovers

Word count: 1.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

When Kyle enters the rec room, packed duffel bag slung over his shoulder and ready to leave for the holidays, he stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you lounging about in one of the armchairs, mug of tea in one hand and some magazine splayed open in your lap.

The room smells of chamomile tea, some tangy Yankee candle and fresh gingerbread and biscuits, and it almost seems too homely for this particular room while you look terribly casual in your civilian clothes, shoulders slumped in a relaxed posture.

A sight he rarely gets to see and it’s doing something funny to his stomach.

He almost sounds accusatory when he addresses you, “What are you still doing here? It’s Christmas Eve.”

You look up from the page you’re reading and the way your face lights up with a soft smile has Kyle’s heart thudding rapidly in his chest.

“Hi, Kyle,” you greet him casually, “Gonna hold the fort here. I’m on standby over the holidays. I swapped my vacation days with some of the lads, so that they can celebrate with their families.”

Kyle. Not Gaz or Garrick. Kyle.

His name spilling from your lips so smoothly is like a commando that has him stand at attention like the soldier he is.

His duffel bag hits the floor with a heavy thud as his shoulders tense and spine straightens, “Wait – What? Why the bloody hell would you do that? Is Price in on this?!”

Kyle can’t wrap his head around the fact why you’d do such a thing. You’ve worked your arse off all year and the team has only come back from a four month deployment less than two weeks ago; if there is someone who deserves a break – it’s you!

However, you merely shrug and nod nonchalantly before blowing on your steaming mug and taking a small sip.

“They have wives and kids and I don’t, and of course, the Captain knows.”

Bastard, Kyle thinks and scoffs; face setting in a frown, though he can’t quite argue with your reasoning. Still, it feels wrong, and Price could’ve told him. The Captain knows that–

“But you have a loving family waiting for you, too.”

And here Kyle was hoping to see you, perhaps invite you over to his place during your leave, but he’s not going to tell you that now. Then again, it never seems to be the right timing between you, and it’s starting to frustrate him more than anything.

The way you tut, quirk an eyebrow and then ponder, pursing your lips cutely about his statement, almost makes him smile triumphantly. There’s a reaction and he can work with it. He grabs his heavy duffel bag from the floor and carries it over to the vacant sofa across from the armchair you’re sitting in, dropping it onto the cushions before flopping down next to it.

“I’m no one’s wife and I’m not a mother, and can I be completely honest with you?” You don’t even wait for Kyle’s answer as you continue, “My siblings all have partners and, hell, even kids now, and I kind of feel–“

You hesitate, fiddling with the pages of the magazine in your lap, clearly either struggling again to open up or simply searching for the right words, but either way, Kyle waits dutifully like he always does, not daring to interrupt you in a moment of rare vulnerability. He knows how to make people talk, is trained to do so, yet you’re like a Rubik’s Cube he can’t quite solve.

Whenever Kyle thinks he’s getting closer, you show him a new side, give him a new piece of intel on you, and it’s like he has to start all over again. Or perhaps, his feelings for you are in the bloody way, always self-sabotaging him.

You let out a deep sigh, “I feel out of place at home, like I don’t even know how to handle being there anymore and– it’s only getting worse.”

Oh, shit. There it is.

He shakes his head, having made up his mind already, “I’m gonna stay here with you, then.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you shuffle in your seat, sitting up straight and meaning business. Kyle can barely suppress a snort at how cutely you prepare yourself to argue with him; he will hear you out, though. Perhaps you’ll say something and spill some beans he hasn’t heard from you before.

“No, Kyle, you’ll get in trouble with your ma and I ain’t having that.”

“Please,” he flicks his wrist dismissively, “She’s aware that I can get called in for an emergency mission anytime. She knows what comes with our job.”

“This isn’t an emergency, though.”

“Nah,” he hesitates before adding with determination, “This is far more important and who the bloody hell says that I don’t feel exactly the same, hm?”

The look he gives you is non-negotiable and your lips close while you huff through your nose.

The whole evening could very well be the plot of some corny Christmas romance movie.

After informing his family of his absence with a well-meant white lie and making other arrangements – and promises – to be home for Boxing Day, you and Kyle end up making dinner from scratch, both of you refusing to resolve eating some shitty MRE’s on Christmas Eve.

It’s all terribly domestic between you then, and Kyle has to actively remind himself throughout the evening that this isn’t going to be a permanent state of affairs between you two.

Not until he addresses the elephant in the room, at least, because it’s suddenly too easy to let his hand linger on the small of your back when you brush past him in the kitchen and soak up all the soft glances and smiles you shoot in his direction.

Once dinner is finished and the dishes are washed, dried and put away – Kyle scrubs while you wait with a dry kitchen towel, working alongside each other like a well-oiled machine just like you do in the field – you retreat back to the rec room together.

“I haven’t watched Home Alone yet,” you chime, walking towards the sofa where Kyle has already laid down on his back, head resting on the armrest while he lounges with his long legs stretched out, clutching the remote of the large flat TV in one hand as he scrolls through Netflix lazily.

He raises an eyebrow in mild surprise, “Like, ever?”

You snicker quietly, shaking your head, as you set the warm bowl of buttered popcorn on the low coffee table.

“No, this year,” you answer, and Kyle can see the way your eyes flicker briefly between the armchair and the sofa he’s already spread out on. You’re pondering your next move, he can tell very well, can see the gears turning in his head, and his stomach starts fluttering with nerves, quarrelling internally to make the first move instead.

God above, he’s never felt this lost and anxious because of a woman before.

But it’s you.

Kyle clears his throat before untucking his arm from behind his head,

“C’mere,” he says and his voice is way too breathless, sounds way too unconfident for his own liking, “Lay down with me.”

He pats his chest with his flat palm invitingly, holding his breath in anticipation of your reaction while his stomach twists with knots. A rejection from you would certainly hurt more than a bullet wound and take longer to heal, too, he’s sure.

The moment seems to stretch endlessly and while you hold eye contact with him, Kyle is starting to feel incredibly awkward with each passing second. His pulse starts to throb in his neck, cheeks heating up with the sudden blood rush, and in a brief panic, he wonders if he should back-pedal before it can get even more cringy.

However, when the crease between your brows softens eventually and you close the short distance between yourself and the edge of the sofa, Kyle nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

“You sure about this? I might be too heavy,” you mutter, bracing one hand on the backrest while Kyle parts his legs instinctively to make space for you.

He scoffs in mock offense, making a vague gesture at the length of his muscular body, “Are you serious?”

You roll your eyes and when you get settled on the sofa with him, Kyle notices how flustered you look, and it makes his chest swell with an odd mixture of pride and affection.

He acts on autopilot then, makes adjustments as soon as you lower yourself on his chest oh so tentatively; tugs you closer and wraps his arm around your waist, deciding then and there to never let you go again.

Sure he’s hugged you before, been in close quarters, and shared a corner to catch some shut eye in some rancid safe house, but it has never been like this. He’s hooked.

“This okay for you, sweetheart?” He asks, tucking your head below his chin while his hand roams along the length of your spine with a feather light touch, not wanting to overdo it and cross a line you don’t want to cross yet – if ever.

“Mhmm,” you hum and your cheek rubs over his sternum as you nod slowly, making his breath hitch at the friction.

And, oh God, but Kyle realizes he might’ve been too overzealous with his invite to cuddle up with him; might’ve bitten off more than he can chew, now that he’s so hyperaware of your warm body moulding flush atop his own.

Two perfect pieces of the same puzzle. He knew it.

He focuses on keeping his breath steady then, lips slightly parted; eyes flickering between the TV screen with the Home Alone cover on display and the crown of your head, so close that he could purse his lips and place a kiss on your hair, while he’s frozen in place, blood rushing and heart pumping so fast, he’s sure you can feel it.

“Hey, Kyle?”

Kyle swallows thickly, trying to get some moisture down his throat, “Uh, yeah?”

“Just start the bloody movie.” You utter with a soft sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase three:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none :)

➴ word count: 2.5k

💌 from me to you: woke up with devils win and 500 followers this is INSANE! i never thought i’d have 20 followers let alone 500, literally half a thousand. thank you so much. i love you. also, if you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the story’s universe masterlist!

𖧷

𖧷

A MONTH had passed since you and Nico started fake-dating each other.

You’ve already lost count of how many dates you both went to, how many times he’d held your hand or how many times you called him “baby” in front of his friends.

You can’t really say you’re fine, because you’re not. Apart from the lying thing not really being your thing, it’s exhausting to pretend that what you feel for Nico is just compassion and empathy.

Lying to your friends is terrible and you feel like the worst person ever, especially knowing that you all swore to always tell the truth about everything to each other.

But what really makes you hate yourself is the fact that you can’t help but feel like you’re lying to Nico too. You enjoy way too much the time you spend with him, and you pretend that what you both have is true whenever you’re with him, which isn’t part of the deal you both made. At all.

But now, it doesn’t matter, because today, out of all days, is the most important day of your fake-dating thing.

Today is Friday, and the Devils are going to play against the Chicago Blackhawks. And not only that, but some sort of dinner is going to happen after the game, and no one other than Nora Ellis is going to be there.

So, all this time, all this training, all this faking, led you and Nico to this day. The day you’ll both see if Nora will finally reach out to Nico.

And your plan already went well since last week Nico called you after his game to tell you the news.

“Hi?” you say as you answer the phone, balancing it between your cheeks and shoulder as you continue to cook dinner, stirring the chicken in the oven with a fork. “Nico?”

“Hi, Em,” he says back and you can tell he’s got the biggest smile on his face just by the tone of his voice. “Can you talk right now?”

You close the oven door with your feet and grab your phone with your right hand, properly adjusting it against your ear. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“So, I just got home, right?” he sounds so freaking excited that your heart decides it’s enough to make you happy for the entire week.

“Right?”

“And I opened Instagram to check some shit and you won’t believe it. Nora just followed me and liked three of my most recent photos.”

You stare at the clock that sits on top of your fridge, not really reading the time, just looking and thinking. Of course Nora would do something like this as soon as you and Nico started being more obvious both online and offline.

It infuriates you. It makes you feel something ugly inside your chest, and you have to close your eyes for a few seconds so you can focus. You can’t ruin this for him. Nico’s too precious for you to fuck this up.

“Em?”

“Oh my God, that’s so cool!” you put on your best fake excited face and try your hardest to sound happy. “Did you follow her back?”

Please say no, please say no.

“I kind of already followed her…” he coughs, and you can hear some movement. “But that’s a good thing, right? Your plan is working.”

You bite your lip hard enough to bleed, and the pain brings you back to the present time.

“It’s not… my plan only,” you stutter. “This is teamwork.”

“No, baby,” Nico chuckles. “This is all you. All of this is happening thanks to you.”

This is all you.

“Sure,” you whisper, squeezing the phone. “I’m glad it’s working, then.”

All of this is too confusing, but you don’t have time to try to understand what’s really going on inside you. You have a dinner and a game to attend, and you’ll be on your best behavior.

Thankfully, you managed to convince Mia and Ella to come with you, so when you leave your house and find Mia’s car parked in front of your door you smile, relieved.

At least you wouldn’t have to go through this by yourself.

“Hi, lovelies,” you greet them as you sit in the back seat, kissing both of them on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Hi, Em.” Ella smiles at you, always the sweet angel she is.

“Hi, baby,” Mia also grins widely, turning the car on and getting out of the parking spot. “You look so freaking good.”

You look down at your own clothes: Nico’s jersey that he gave you a few weeks ago when you had to attend one of his games, a black, mini-skirt and boots.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I like it too.”

“You look like the perfect WAG.” Mia jokes and you laugh, as Ella shakes her head.

“Well, that’s probably what they’re calling me online so I might as well get used to the name.” You shrug, looking through the window.

“Don’t listen to them, Em,” Ella says, looking at you through the mirror. “They’re just mean and rude.”

“Fuck the haters!” Mia shouts.

“Yeah,” Ella smiles. “I guess you could also say that.”

𖧷

𖧷

NICO LOOKS like a god.

He plays like one too, defying gravity and moving so fast your eyes can’t barely see where he’s going.

The arena is somewhat full, and you already lost count of how many people took photos of you and your friends, even when you’re in a secluded area, near the ice.

The shouts, the loud music and the sound of the puck being thrown from one side to the other is overwhelming, but you get through the first and second period just fine, Mia and Ella helping you a lot— you laughed more than you watched the game, and if you’re being honest, you were more interest in the gossip Mia was telling you than in the scoreboard.

Still, Nico looks good in his Hockey uniform. Good enough to eat. And even though you know you shouldn’t be thinking things like this, you keep telling yourself that, as long as no one knows what you’re really thinking, it will be fine.

“Here we go.” You hear Mia’s unamused voice and you turn your head back to the game, only to realize there was a huge fight going on.

“It’s so violent.” Ella murmurs beside you, and usually you’d just laugh at her sweetness and tell her that’s just how Hockey works, but when you catch a glimpse of the number thirteen in the midst of the sea of bodies and gloves being thrown, you can help but gasp out loud.

“Oh my God. It’s Nico!” You jump on your seat, getting close to the glass in front of you. “Nico is punching someone!”

“Geez, this is gold.” Mia laughs beside you but you can’t even get mad at her, you’re too focused on the punch party unfolding in front of your eyes.

It’s not the first fight you see, but it’s the first time you see Nico getting involved. It’s the first time you watch a fist hit his perfect, angelic face and it’s the first time you watch him throw the punch back.

He’s winning the fight, a small blessing, but you can see blood on his cheek, and your heart shrinks to the size of a pea.

“Why are the refs just watching?” You say, louder than you probably should’ve. But people are busy watching the fight, so you keep going. “Do something, man!”

As Nico throws another punch, the refs finally decide to jump in and separate all of the players. Nico ends up in the penalty box alongside Jack, who decided that protecting his captain was more important than keeping up with a clean game.

“I wish Jack had gotten punched in the face.” Mia sighs, like the fact that Jack’s face’s still pretty and intact annoys her.

“Mia!” Ella reprimands her, like a mother would, and you can tell they’re going to start their daily bickering about how Mia should stop fighting Jack (from Ella’s point of view) and how Jack should stop being an asshole (from Mia’s point of view).

You stare at Nico sitting in the penalty box with his head down, and you want nothing but to go there and hug him. You know he’s a big boy, and you also know that he was the one who started the fight (and won it), but you feel bad anyway.

The rest of the game flies by and you’re eager to see Nico. You want to hold him and ask him if he’s alright, or if he’s hurt and in pain. You want to see those two dimples adorning his cheeks like they always do, and you want to look into his hazelnut eyes and want them to look back at you.

That’s why you don’t even think twice before walking faster when you spot him entering the room where the dinner would be held, and that’s also why you hug him tightly, surprising him and everyone around you.

“Oh, hey, there.” Is what he says, and you catch yourself inhaling his clean, soapy scent before removing your face from his neck and standing in front of him, your eyes scanning his entire face, barely blinking as you stare at the bruise on his cheek.

“You scared me,” you can’t help but pout— it’s only natural when you’re this upset. “I look away for a second and when I look back you’re there, in the middle of everyone, throwing punches here and there and for what?”

“The guy was an asshole, Em,” he chuckles, only to wince with pain afterwards.

“You’re hurt, Nico,” you whisper, caressing his face with the back of your hand. “It’s not funny…”

“It’s Hockey, baby,” he shrugs. “I’ll end up getting hurt in one way or another.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper. “I just wish it wasn’t like this.”

Before he can answer, someone with a huge camera takes a photo of the two of you and it probably looks awful— you had a worried expression on your face, pouty lips, arms wrapped around Nico’s neck and you were also standing on your tiptoes.

“What—”

“Can I get a photo of the two of you?” the man, probably the photographer, asks and you’re suddenly too stunned to speak. One thing is for you and Nico to post subtle, faceless pictures of each other on your Instagram, another completely different one is for one of the team’s official photographers to take a picture of the two of you as a couple and post it everywhere.

“Well—”

“Yeah, you can,” Nico, always the nice, cool guy, answers for both of you, and before you can explain to him why this isn't a great idea at all, you feel his arms around your waist pulling you closer to his body, while your arms are still resting on his neck.

You try to remove them, only to have Nico tsc-ing at you. “Keep them there.”

You nod, dumbfounded, smiling at the camera in front of you, wincing slightly when the flash momentarily hits your face.

“Beautiful!” the man smiles, angling the camera again. “Now what about a kiss?”

You feel Nico’s body freeze beside yours, and you can sense how tense he is.

“Oh, I don’t think—” he starts speaking, stuttering a lot for someone who has just been asked something as simple as kissing his girlfriend. He’s red too, cheeks flushed like maple leaves during October. “Kids will see that, no?”

“Just a tiny peck, it’s no biggie—”

“Man, no—”

“Come on, captain, give the fans what they want—”

You’re about to intervene in their bickering when you see her. Nora walks in like she owns the place, holding her father’s arm with an elegance that should be illegal. She’s wearing a red, tight dress that holds her curves in all of the right places, her hair is braided and down and her gold jewelry matches her dark-skin so freaking well.

She’s stunning and she’s breathtaking and she’s looking at you and Nico.

“Nico, kiss me.” You whisper, and Nico looks at you with a worried expression.

“Em, we don’t have to do this, it’s fine,” he squeezes your waist and turns his head around, ready to tell the guy to fuck off probably, but you grab his chin and turn his head back to you.

“Nico Hischier, kiss me. Right. Now.”

You don’t give him enough time to answer, you just glue your lips together. His eyelids fluttered closed just seconds before you leaned in, as you closed your own eyes. It was slow at first, tentative, a brief connection that hung in the air before it deepened.

Your lips parted, and his followed, a soft press that turned into something warmer, more certain. Your hands found his arms, a quiet reassurance, while his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, the warmth of your skin sending a ripple of sensation through him.

Nico’s heartbeat was a rhythm, steady but quickening, like the rise and fall of the breath between you. There was a sweetness to it, a soft and tender give-and-take, as you were both tasting each other for the first time, exploring the familiar and the unknown in the same breath.

When you pulled apart, only a fraction of a second later, the world rushed back—sounds, light, movement—but there was still that lingering warmth, a spark that hadn’t quite faded.

And neither of you said anything, not yet. You just stood there for a moment, the kiss still hanging between you, both a question and an answer all at once.

“Woof,” the photographer laughs, putting the camera down. “Now that’s what we’ve been waiting for. Thanks, Cap, thanks Mrs. Roberts.”

Neither of you say anything, because you’re both too busy staring at each other like two…

Idiots.

“Emma—”

“Well, don’t you two make the best couple in town?”

You didn’t expect her voice to be this penetrating, this ethereal. But of course it is. It’s perfect, just like everything else about Nora Ellis.

“Mrs. Ellis,” you hear yourself saying, and suddenly, all of the feelings you didn’t even have time to process after kissing Nico become something horrendous and awful. “Thank you.”

“No need to be so formal, Emma, we’re the same age,” she flicks her hand, addressing you like you’ve been friends for the past ten years. “It’s just Nora for you,” she turns to Nico, her eyes showing something that makes you feel even worse. “And for Nico.”

Nico smiles, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Nora. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” she bites her lip, smiling afterwards. It makes you sick to your stomach, and you remove your hands from Nico, placing them on your tummy. “So nice to finally meet you.”

Her words keep replying inside your head for the rest of the night, and you’re reminded of what you’re doing there in the first place.

You’re with Nico to make Nora Ellis fall in love with him.

You’re certainly not with Nico to make him fall in love with you, or the other way around.

<next chapter>

[rosenfey]

which patron saint are you? (oc version) tag game

⊱ tagged by @ecofear and @lucaanis to do this quiz for my ocs, thank you so much!!

Went with Faerene who is my go-to oc and a self-insert, and Odetta who is my second go-to oc I play when I want to channel female rage. I also included my own musings after each result, detailing why those results fit so much (and why it feels like I have been hit in the throat with a brick).

FAERENE • ROSENHALL — a fey necromancer and mycologist. Fascinated by the duality of life and death and raised by a well-off family of mages, she somehow never managed to find her footing around the living. The dead stay dead after all; less chance to end up with a broken heart that way.

patron saint of heartbreak. not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

my thoughts: Faerene' first memory is that of her heart being broken. She is a fey, a foundling, discovered amidst the roots of house Rosenhall's family tree. Believed to be a blessing by some, a bad omen by others, the babe was whisked away shortly after; yet the maid who was paid to smother the baby hesitated, either by mercy or cowardice, and instead tossed the child in a crypt, leaving her to her fate. And the fate answered, for Faerene was found by a pair of undead and delivered to the well-off family of necromancers who took her in. Finally, she had a place to belong to. Except she didn't.

Her life has been a series of little heartbreaks ever since. Stumbling through her social life and struggling with communication, she always felt like she was out of this world, her fey origins aside. Pouring her soul out like a dam that has been burst open was all she ever knew. She never knew how to do half-measures: her highs were those of the incandescent sun (don't come close you will burn), her lows the most violent storms (run away save yourself lest you be swept away with me). Opening her heart to someone meant everything - sinew, marrow, bone; all would be laid upon the altar (like a lamb led to the slaughter).

She was told she was "too much" one too many times. And she would pick her heart up after, again and again. Lock it in a cage (they can't see, they can't know). She would curse and cry and wipe the blood (it won't come out, won't ever come out) springing from her heart. She would accept kind words the way a parched flower accepts rain. You could tell her you love her and she would offer to bleed out on your grave.

ODETTA • D'PAVENSEI — a former acolyte, presently a warlock, of the eldritch horror variety; what else do you think could have happened to her eye? "Which one?" I hear you ask. The left one. Indeed, the right one was a gift from her goddess instead. A miracle she got to keep it after all that has happened.

patron saint of bones. patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

my thoughts: Solidity. Structure. Frameworks. Bones, supporting our forms, our hearts. Foundations upon which we are all built. Cages, locking us in. This is all Odetta has ever known. Sheltered ever since she was a child and believed to be blessed by her God, she grew up in a temple (some would call it a home, she knew better) riddled with strict rules and tradition. They put her on a pedestal; they trained her to kill. She was told the rules were there to protect her, that she should never question her faith, and that she should never - ever - get caught.

And for the better part of her life she never did. But what happens when all those rules turn out to be a lie? What if her God is a lie? Everything she has ever known? The structure serving to protect her all her life shows its real colors now: it's a prison, armed with steel, talons and teeth.

She used to fear chaos and unpredictability more than anything else. But when her entire life ends up falling apart at her feet it is to the very forces of chaos she turns for assistance. Making a pact with the deep dark evil lurking beneath her family house (a temple desecrated, what does it matter? there's blood on my hands already) it's time for her to break down all the chains that were holding her.

And this time she will be making the rules.

⊱ tagging: [un]like this post to be added / removed.

@thanekrios﹒@lavampira﹒@euryalex﹒@starforger﹒@armorofhexes

@florbelles﹒@aldwirs﹒@pawnguild﹒@archonfurina﹒@inafieldofdaisies

@feykiller﹒@zahra-hydris﹒@noughtomaton﹒@corvus-rose﹒@ferwynter

@thefrostyshepard﹒@melancholicrainstorm﹒@sylvthara﹒@katsigian﹒@rindemption

@vilnan﹒@eldensrings﹒@claudiawolf﹒@therapyvibes﹒@sibeal

@epheyang﹒@lotusfaebell﹒@anoramactir﹒@gallusneve﹒@lutebard

@brightaxe﹒@spectordameron﹒@merdruid﹒@shaweetiehs﹒@ladyinthebluebox

@thedeadthree﹒@lurakha﹒@lord-woolsley﹒@quendiviner﹒@pinkfey

@azatas﹒@theviridianbunny﹒@heartfluttered

[ae-cow]

L.Over

Warning: Angst, Strangers to Lovers to Strangers again, Camp Counsellors, Establish relationship, Reader swore once. This is a work of fiction with nothing to do with the idol's actual life. I do like some feedback. If you ever feel like "Hey this is very offensive." do tell me.

Pairing: Yeosang of Ateez x ballerina fem!reader

Summary: You to applied Juilliard. Unfortunately your phone was taken away so you used Yeosang’s phone to apply. Fearing you would leave him, Yeosang intentionally hid the acceptance emails and calls from you.

Word Count: 2.3k Words

A/N: Posted this on Wattpad but WP is not the place for a oneshot sooo here it is!!

Written: 23 March 2023

Reposted: 1 December 2024

Masterlist © ae-cow. Do not claim, steal or repost. All rights reserved

It was a Sunday afternoon, and the campers were packing up from their last activity: rock climbing.

"Okay, you guys, let's go to our next activity!" Yeosang called out with an enthusiastic smile.

"Ooh! What kind?" a boy curiously asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

"That's a surprise," Yeosang replied, and the kids groaned in response.

"It's a surprise for a reason! Now hurry up and go!" Yeosang urged, waving them off

"Yeosang!" Dalgi's voice called out from afar

He turned to see her walking toward his team. "Kids, go join camp counsellor Bitna's team. I need to talk to the counsellor Yeosang for a moment," Dalgi said.

The children nodded and rushed off to join Bitna's group.

Yeosang turned his attention to Dalgi. "What is it?"

"We have a new trainee joining us," Dalgi began, her tone professional. "She’s from a dance academy and is on a two-month break before the next semester starts."

"She’ll be your responsibility," Dalgi continued. "The other teams have CITs, but you don’t. This is a perfect opportunity for you. Don’t worry, she’ll be staying in my team’s cabin while you train her."

Yeosang raised an eyebrow. "What’s her name?"

"Y/N," Dalgi answered with a smile. "She used to come here as a kid, but it’s been a while. Show her around and let her join your team for the next month."

Yeosang nodded, his mind already whirling with the new task. "Got it."

As soon as you arrive at the campgrounds, Dalgi greets you with her usual bright smile.

"Hi!" She says, her voice full of energy.

"Hey…" you reply, offering a small wave.

"I’m Moon Dalgi, the head counsellor," she explains as she gestures around. "I’m in charge of activities and managing the counsellors."

"Oh," you bow awkwardly, still adjusting to the new environment.

"No need for that," she chuckles, waving it off. "Welcome to Camp Treasure! You applied as a CIT, so you’ll be joining Aurora’s cabin but staying at my cabin." She flashes a warm smile. "Don’t worry, it’ll be a good experience."

You look around, still processing. "I don’t get it. Why am I staying with your team instead of Aurora’s?"

Dalgi laughs lightly. "Well, Aurora’s cabin doesn’t have a CIT, but the other teams do. It’s a male cabin, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for your counsellor to teach you and for you to improve your skills.”

"But for all the private stuff, showers, sleeping, you’ll be in my cabin, Utopia," she adds with a wink.

"Wait, so I’m essentially staying in your cabin?" you ask, still not quite understanding.

"Yep," Dalgi grins. "I already have a counsellor, a CIT, and myself in Utopia. We have enough leaders there. Plus, I only have one kid in the cabin, while Yeosang has three boys to look after."

"Okay," you nod, processing everything.

"Oooh, there’s Yeosang!" Dalgi suddenly says, her eyes lighting up. "Yeosang!" she calls out, waving energetically.

Yeosang looks up and notices the two of you. He approaches with a calm stride, his expression friendly but professional.

"Yes?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at Dalgi.

"Kang Yeosang, meet Lee Y/N. Y/N, meet Kang Yeosang, your counselor for the month," Dalgi introduces you both.

Yeosang gives a polite smile and a slight bow. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, too," you respond, your voice soft. You’re still getting used to the camp atmosphere and the new people around you.

-

Two Months Later

The cafeteria line moves slowly, but you’re in a good mood, excited about the progress you’ve made during your time at the camp. As you wait for your turn, you turn to Yeosang with a bright smile.

"Yeosang, guess what!" you exclaim, bouncing on your feet.

"You just got your monthly pay and you're planning to buy new ballet shoes?" he teases, his tone light.

"No, but you’re close!" You quickly check your phone, your eyes widening as you see the direct deposit notification. "I didn’t know that, but yes, I am going to buy new shoes!" you grin, feeling a rush of excitement.

Yeosang laughs softly, amused by your enthusiasm. The line inches forward, and the campers behind you stick their tongues out at Yeosang, their playful behavior bringing a rare smile to his face.

As you turn back to face him, you keep the conversation going, eager to share your news. "So, you know I’ve been doing ballet since I was seven, right?"

Yeosang nods, giving a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"Well, Juilliard Arts School is having an open audition, and if I’m good enough, I might actually get in and study in the States! Can you believe that?!" you say, your eyes shining with ambition.

"I’m sure there are a lot of talented dancers they’ll accept," Your voice trembles slightly as you voice your concerns.

You keep blabbering about your fears and doubts, not seeing that Yeosang is lost in thought. Deep down, he knows how incredibly talented you are, and if Juilliard doesn’t accept you, they’re making a huge mistake.

But the thought of you leaving, of going to a completely different country and potentially forgetting him, stirs something uneasy inside him. He pushes the thought away, focusing back on you.

"You’re going to get in, I promise," he says softly, a reassuring smile crossing his face.

-

Later that evening, after a long day of camp activities, you both find yourselves seated at a table with the other camp counselors. The conversation is light, filled with laughter and casual talk about anything and everything. But you turn to Yeosang, a more serious thought on your mind.

"Hey Yeosang, you don’t mind if I use your phone, do you?" you ask, your voice quiet. "Head counsellor Dalgi took mine, and I need to check something."

"Seriously?" Yeosang chuckles. "That strawberry hates you," he teases, but his tone is light-hearted.

You laugh softly, "Understandable though, she caught me sneaking out to the lake at night." You pause before continuing. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the Juilliard audition… I’m going to leave my family and...you. It’s hard, but I’ve made up my mind. It’s my dream, and I can’t pass up this chance."

Yeosang’s expression softens, but deep inside, a knot forms in his stomach. He knows this is your dream, but he can’t help but feel like he’s losing something precious.

He hands you his phone, his fingers brushing yours. "Here."

"Thanks. I could have used the laptops, but they’re outdated and slow," you whisper as you type an email. "And please don’t tell anyone else about this. I want to leave without all the tears and gifts. I can’t fit all of it in my bag," you add, your voice barely audible.

Yeosang nods, his heart heavy with unsaid words.

-

Weeks Later

Dalgi gathers all the camp counsellors for a meeting to announce the monthly scheduling. The air is tense, as everyone anticipates what she’ll say next.

"Hey, uh, Y/N..." Yeosang calls your name gently, but the words that fall from his mouth hit you like a cold wave.

"I... didn’t get accepted?" you ask, your voice small, the disbelief crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Deep down, you had known it was a possibility, but hearing the words spoken aloud makes it all too real. The tears threaten to fall, but you hold them back, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You had gone to the audition with hope, confident that you’d impressed the judges. They had smiled at you, said all the right things, but in the end, they didn’t accept you.

You freeze, unable to hold it together any longer. The overwhelming disappointment crashes over you, and you let the tears spill as Yeosang pulls you into his arms, offering you a comforting embrace as you sob against him.

"I’m so sorry," he whispers softly, his arms wrapping around you tightly, as if he could shield you from the hurt.

-

You were sitting on your bed, still overwhelmed by the crushing disappointment of not getting into Juilliard. Tears streamed down your face, unable to shake off the weight of the news. You had poured your heart into your dreams, and now it felt like everything was slipping away.

The knock on the door was a sharp sound in the otherwise silent room.

"Hey, Y/N?," came Dalgi's voice from outside.

You sat up straight, quickly wiping your eyes. "Yes?"

Dalgi entered with a concerned expression, holding your phone. "Here, your phone kept ringing, and I thought it was important. It’s all yours."

"Thanks..." You muttered, hand trembling slightly as you took the phone.

You unlocked it, heart sinking as you saw eleven missed calls. Seven were from an unknown number, the others from your mom. You quickly called your mother back, hoping for some clarity.

"Mom?" Your voice was shaky.

"Y/N! I heard the great news!" Your mother answered with excitement.

Your brow furrowed. "What good news?"

"Juilliard! You used my number as a backup, and they called and emailed saying you got in but missed a meeting!"

"Wait, what?!" you gasped. "I got in?"

"Yes, they said you didn’t attend the meeting. They want you to come for a second audition. You need to go ASAP—they want to talk about the second round and the theme. You can’t miss it!"

You were barely able to process the words. The thought that you had been accepted and not known it... "Thank you, Mom. I’ll call them right now!" You said, voice cracking with both relief and newfound determination. "Love you!"

As soon as you hung up, You packed your bags, adrenaline kicking in as you rushed to make the second audition. You couldn’t waste any time—this was your chance, the opportunity you had dreamed of for so long. But there was still a heavy lump in your throat, the betrayal weighing heavily on your chest.

-

Yeosang knocked on your cabin door later that day. "Y/N?" he called softly. When there was no response, he stepped inside, looking around. The cabin was empty.

"Where's Y/N?" he asked Dalgi, who was sitting nearby.

"She left," Dalgi replied casually. "Said she had something urgent to handle back home."

Yeosang’s chest tightened. He had sensed something was off, but now it felt like the distance between them had grown too vast to bridge.

He called you, three times, each one going unanswered. Growing anxious, he asked Hera to try calling. This time, someone answered.

"Hello?" Your voice was faint, but there was a tension to it that Yeosang noticed immediately.

"Hey, Y/N, Where are you? Dalgi said you left?" Hera asked.

"Oh, I’m at home, attending a meeting for a school I’m going to," You forced, the words coming out too quickly.

Yeosang’s heart sank. Without thinking, he snatched the phone from Hera’s hand, his voice shaky with worry. "Y/N?"

The second you heard his voice, you hung up. Yeosang stared at the phone, shocked. He tried calling you again, but you didn’t answer. A sense of dread washed over him. What was going on? Why were you avoiding him?

-

Days passed, and the silence between you both was deafening. You and Yeosang had questions, but neither of you knew how to face them. Then, one evening, you sent him a message: Meet you in the kitchen.

Yeosang stared at the text for a long moment, unsure of what to expect. He took a deep breath before replying with a simple Okay.

When he arrived in the kitchen, you were standing there, holding a letter in your hands. Your expression was unreadable, but your eyes were swollen from crying.

"Y/N..." Yeosang spoke softly, but his words felt heavy with regret.

Without allowing him to speak further, you started, voice trembling with emotion. "Two weeks ago, Dalgi told me I was getting all these calls from an unknown number, and that it was from Juilliard," You said, voice cracking. "My mom called, and she told me I had been accepted, but I didn’t believe her. I trusted you, Yeosang. I thought you were telling me the truth, and now I find out you were lying to me all along."

You paced around the Kitchen. "I went to call back the Juilliard and found out I was accepted, If I hadn’t been at the lake, trying to figure everything out, thinking about leaving you?! I would’ve had my phone, and I would have seen the email first-hand! But instead, I had to hear it from my mom. You… you kept me in the dark, and I couldn’t believe you would do this to me.”

Your words stung like a thousand needles, piercing deep into your boyfriend's chest. "I didn’t believe her because I trusted you, and now... now it’s all a lie."

You stopped pacing, eyes wild with frustration. "You could’ve ruined everything, Yeosang, If it wasn’t for Dalgi and my mom, I would still be here, staying with my boyfriend—my liar of a boyfriend!" Your voice raised, full of anguish

"Y/N, I had my reasons," Yeosang tried to explain, but his words were hollow. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

"Reasons? What could you possibly fucking say to make this okay?" You laughed bitterly, wiping at your eyes in frustration. "You didn’t want me to leave, but now look—because of your selfishness, I’m leaving you anyway."

Your voice was small but resolute. "I’m the one who’s at fault, aren’t I? For trusting someone like you." You picked up your wallet and phone, face hardening with determination.

A car pulled up outside, the driver stepping out. You looked at Yeosang, your expression a mix of pain and disappointment.

You turned, taking a step toward the car, but stopped, glancing back at him. "And just to make it clear... we’re over."

Yeosang stood there, unable to find the words to stop you, feeling his heart break with every step you took away from him.

-

No part two 😅

[puppiesareperfect]

i personally wld love to hear ur thoughts on perrys baby days......

Baby Perry!! Honestly it’s mainly just jumbled headcanons but:

I like to think he was a stray platypus rescued by OWCA (because the alternative is OWCA breeds their agents which just. does not seem like something that would be happening on Phineas and Ferb. No hate to people who hc otherwise ofc!)

Specifically Carl found him. Because of course

As I said in the tags of that post, I definitely think everyone at OWCA adored baby Perry

He mainly slept his first few weeks at OWCA because he was quite literally just a baby

Even as an infant he was EXTREMELY sassy. He also was good at punching things from the get go

He was about a year or two when he got adopted

Also he spent a few years just vibing with Phineas and Ferb before starting agent training

He was slightly more active around the Flynn Fletchers as a baby because he hadn’t fully grasped the “I’ve got to keep a secret identity thing” but also because having any young untrained animal in your house means you have to deal with Constant Zoomies

That’s all I’ve got for now, thank you for coming to my TEDtalk :)

(Also if anyone wants to hear me ramble about a specific topic I always love to answer asks!!)

[afewproblems]

Shawn doesn't show his face around the SBPD for two weeks after the incident at the smoothie place.

He doesn't answer his phone, and Gus is the only one who picks up at their shared office and lies badly when asked if the pair are available for a case.

Vick is starting to ask questions now too due to the stack of unsolved cases since their consultants fell off the face of the earth.

Lassiter finally has enough on a Saturday and makes the decision to confront Spencer about his uncharacteristic disappearing act. The man had responsibilities to the department and the fact that he was acting this way was inexcusable.

Carlton prepares himself to tear another verbal strip off Spencer as he raps his knuckles against the door to the laundromat converted to apartment, only to stop in his tracks as the door opens to Shawn with Charlotte in tow.

"Lassie, pray tell, what brings you here to our humble castle?"

Carlton opens his mouth to ask Spwncer what the hell he's talking about when he spies the fairy wings over Charlotte's shoulders and the plastic silver crown perched atop her bountiful curls.

Shawn clears his throat, his eyes dart once to his daughter as Carlton feels his brain finally begin to catch up.

"The, uh, court is in need of aid," Carlton says slowly, watching as both Shawn and Charlotte perk up at the same time. She has the same bright curious eyes as her father and they watch Carlton intently now.

"The kingdom needs its--it's, oh sweet justice Spencer, you haven't been in to the station in two weeks and Vick insists you come in".

Shawn sighs through his nose, and turns to Charlotte, "Munchkin, I need to have a conversation with Mr. Carlton here about some boring grownup stuff okay?"

Charlotte nods as Spencer puts her back down but doesn't leave immediately. In a small voice she says, "do you like princesses Misser Carly?"

Oh God.

Carlton looks up to find Shawn starring at him with a mixture of amusement and something a little wary in his gaze

"Charlie's still working on names but I gotta tell you that Carly suits you," Shawn says ruffling his daughters hair.

Carlton clears his throat, ignoring the way he can feel his ears begin to heat. He chances a glance down to see the child still watching him and nods once.

"Yes, uh Princesses are great".

Charlotte beams shyly at Carlton and darts off down the hallway as fast as her little legs will carry her, ignoring Shawn cry of 'no running!' with a peal of laughter.

Shawn smiles, shaking his head as he stares at the spot where he child had been before sharply turning back to Carlton.

"You can't just come here without telling me, that's not okay, Lassiter," he says, all trace of the lighthearted Spencer gone in a flash.

He doesn't wait for Carlton to say anything, instead he motions for the Detective to follow him inside, closing the door behind them before making his way to the kitchen.

"I don't need cops, or Detectives, showing up at my place, even for work, that's the last thing I need, especially now," Shawn says quietly, "not that you knew that," he acknowledges with a grimace.

"Spencer," Carlton huffs, his patience waning by a thread, "what the hell is going on? First we find out you have a secret child, then you disappear from work, and now you, what, insist that we can't check on you for going AWOL?"

Shawn winces, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter, "when you say it like that it sounds bad--"

"You think?" Carlton bites out, keeping his voice level, cognizant of the small child in the next room.

"Okay, okay, cheese and rice Lassie, fine," Shawn sighs, lifting his hand to roughly scrub down his face.

"Look, when Charlie was 2 her mother died, and that's not all that long ago so I don't really want to get into it," he says quietly, his eyes trained on the fridge to the left of them.

There are several pictures on the fridge door, mostly of Charlotte and some of Shawn, his daughter, and a woman with dark curly hair.

Shawn clears his throat again, swallowing once, "her parents, Charlie's grandparents, wanted custody...and I get it, she's all they really had left but it's not like I wasn't left in the same boat. Was I supposed to lose them both-"

Shawn clears his throat again and shakes his head, forcing a sharp laugh, "plus they live in Utah, what the hell was she gonna do in Utah? Ride horses? Learn the evils of drinking coffee and the benefits of multiple wives? I don't think so Lassie".

Shawn tries for a smile but it falls flat as Lassiter blows out a long breath he hasn't realized he was holding.

"So keeping Charlotte a secret?"

Shawn winces again, "gave me the best chance of keeping her away from the more dangerous parts of this job and anything that might give her grandparents ammunition against me".

The sound of little feet scurrying into the kitchen catch both men's attention as Charlotte stops in front of Carlton and holds out a piece of paper for him to take.

It's a stick figure of a princess with loopy curls and a silver crown and oh god, are kids always this cute Carlton thinks to himself

"That's awesome sweetheart, I'm sure Mr. Carlton really appreciates it, don't you?" Shawn says, looking between them.

Carlton nods once, ignoring the way he can feel his ears heat again, "yes, uh, thanks Charlie".

The little girl giggles and takes off again into the other room, leaving Carlton and Shawn starring at the drawing in his hands.

"I just don't want to mess this up Lassie" Shawn says in a quiet voice that Carlton has never heard Shawn use before.

"Then you won't," he hears himself say before he can stop the words, "i'll--we'll make sure of it".

Okay but why does picturing Shawn Spencer with a daughter whose mother passed away and is raising her with uncle Gus and Papa Henry make me super emotional.

Especially if the little girls other grandparents on her mother's side were a little upset about not being considered for full guardianship.

Imagine Carlton and Juliet finding out about his kiddo when they run into Shawn and Charlotte out for smoothies with Gus.

Juliet asks if this is a niece and bends down to her level to give Charlotte a little wave while Lassiter is silently cataloging all the similar facial features between Shawn and the little girl who is now hiding behind Shawn's legs.

He reaches around to pick her up and whispers something in her ear that Carlton can't quite hear.

"This is Miss Juliet and Mr Carlton, can you say hi Charlie?" Shawn says in the same soft voice, but loud enough for both Carlton and Juliet to hear this time.

Charlie shakes her head and buries it in Shawn's neck, he reaches up and strokes her curly brown hair, "sorry guys, she's a bit tired, we normally are home by now for her afternoon nap but uncle Gus insisted on smoothies".

"Um, excuse me, in what universe are you living? You absolutely wanted smoothies too--" Gus tries to interject but is cut off by a gasp from Juliet.

"Wait a second, she's yours??" Juliet blurts out, her blue eyes wide with shock, "when were you going to tell us?"

"Eventually," Shawn says cryptically after a beat.

He shifts the little girl in his arms slightly, away from the pair of Detectives, protectively for some reason, as though worried that one of them will snatch her out of Shawns arms at any moment.

"Look I can explain later, right now I have to get her home, Gus, I'll see you later".

And with that, Shawn grabs his bag from the table beside him and books it out of the smoothie place, leaving Gus with their drinks and a pair of thoroughly confused Detectives.

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[elizabethemerald]

The Future of the Pantheon of the Gods

@prehistoric-catgirl added onto @stealingyourbones 's post about Random DC characters interacting with DP characters. Her character was Cassie Sandsmark and she created a prompt where-in Cassie is assigned to become part of the new Pantheon and to seek out other members of the new Pantheon, including Danny Phantom who will be the new God of Death.

Masterpost

***

"Is this true?" Cassandra Sandsmark asked.

Cassie, Donna Troy and Diana Prince, stood before the gathered gods of Olympus. Cassie had been surprised to be summoned alongside the original Wonder Woman and the first Wonder Girl, her mentor and greatest inspiration respectively, to stand before the Olympians.

"Yes. Though we have tried to stop the decline, the truth is the gods are dying." Zeus rumbled, ozone and petrichor filling her nose as he spoke.

Cassie hadn't wanted to bring it up, but the gods around them did seem... older... weaker than they ever had been. They were still far over any mortal, but even with all the gathered Olympians the air was suffocated by their power like it had been even a few years before.

"Is there some way we can assist?" Donna asked, looking around them and no doubt cataloging the same changes Cassie had noticed.

Hera smiled at the trio of Wonder Women.

"Your noble spirit is why we have summoned you, but there is nothing that can be done to save us now." The words had a weight of surety to them. Everything had already been tried. The end of the Olympians was inevitable.

"The worship from the mortals has declined in recent centuries." The ground rumbled and shook under her feet as Poseidon spoke. "We are not as powerful now as we were a decade ago and in another decade more our infirmity will only grow."

Hades spoke next, his voice cracking with cold that stole Cassie's breath away. "There were some of us who felt we should just fade away, if the mortals no longer wished to worship us, then they can see how well they do without our influence over our domains."

"However, the rest of us wanted to ensure our domains remained to serve the humans even after our passing." Hera said, her words like a gavel. "The solution we have reached is to pass on our mantels to new, worthy successors. Those who have some skill with our domains, unshakable moral codes, and a deep love for their fellow mortals."

Cassie pondered the words of the Gods in the following silence. Then her eyes widened and her head whipped up to meet the eyes of Zeus who smiled at them as she gasped.

"Yes, we plan to pass on our duties to heroes such as yourselves." He declared, his arms open, magnanimously.

Cassie could see that Donna and Diana were as shocked as she was, though both of them kept their gasps silent. Diana gave a short bow.

"If there is no other way, than is a duty I can bare." She said.

"Not you Diana." Hades said, his empty eyes capturing them each in turn. "You have your own purpose among the new Pantheon, God-killer."

Diana stiffened and rose to face the Olympians once more, her shoulders set. Hera was the one to speak next.

"We decided those best to handle the weight of the cosmos would be those who are young enough to grow into their new roles. There are many such young heroes in your world who could train alongside us before our decline is complete."

"And if they should fall short of your standards, you expect me to serve as their executioner." Diana's disdain could have only been more clear if she had spat on the floor.

"Yes." Poseidon snapped like the crash of wave. "The power we have, that we are offering is too great to exist without some kind of check to prevent its abuse."

"Besides," spoke Athena for the first time, her eyes still filled with power despite her declining worship. "How many problems have been created for the mortals by the petty squabbles of those who sit on these thrones? We believe you, Diana, will be a worthy mentor for our successors, but you will not be among them. Always apart, always with your sword ready."

Diana's fury burned off her in waves, hating the idea that she would have to turn her blade against some of the junior heroes that she had helped raise, and seen grow up. Cassie swore she could hear her grinding her teeth and was afraid that Diana would decide to end the Pantheon right there.

"So! Who is it you have decided to be your successors?" Donna spoke up quickly, clearly thinking the same thing Cassie was.

"We have consulted the greatest oracles and soothsayers and each of us have chosen one who will suit." Hera said. "Zeus, why don't you go first."

Zeus held his hands out towards Donna. His eyes locked on hers. He stepped down from his dais as Donna stepped back, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Who else could take my place other than the sister of our dear Diana, who has proven her metal through lifetimes of strength and suffering. Donna Troy, you will be the next Queen of Olympus."

Donna looked like she might pass out, but shook the shock off and stood firm, earning her a proud smile from Zeus. Cassie patted her on the back, proud of her idol for everything she has accomplished.

"And you Cassandra, daughter of Zeus will take my place as the Goddess of War." Ares declared. "As you should."

Cassie carefully kept her snarl inside, her problems with her "brother" Ares was better left for when she was away from the rest of the Pantheon. At least if she were the Goddess of War, she wouldn't revel in the violence like he always did.

"We will not transfer our power now." Zeus spoke up again, returning to his throne. "Once the New Pantheon is assembled we will hand over our mantels, retaining only a fraction of our power to train our successors."

"Your responsibilities, and the reason we called you first, is so that you may notify those who will join you by your side." Hera said, settling to the details of their mission. "Diana, you will inform the mentors of these young heroes to prevent a panic. Diana, many of these are known to you, and you are known to them, so you will be the primary contact."

Hermes and Athena stepped forward to hand off scrolls to the two of them. Cassie fought to keep her emotions neutral. She would help no one by pouting at being redundant. Diana and Donna looked closely at the scrolls, their faces journeying through emotions as they considered the names.

"And you Cassandra," Cassie looked up in surprise at being addressed by Hades. "There are other heroes that you must reach out to who are not known to your organization, including my own successor."

"Secret would be a perfect-" Cassie started, quick to suggest her own teammate before Hades cut her off.

"No!" He snapped, the word stealing her breath away, forcing her to gasp and clutch her chest. "Your companion does have skills with regards to my domain, but there is another whose power and dominion of death is absolute. He is already a king in his own right, and his connection to life remains strong enough that he would be able to sympathize with the mortals. While he is unknown to your Justice League he is know and beloved to me."

Cassie nodded her head as another scroll, this one cold as ice was handed to her by Hermes. She couldn't help but be impressed by whoever this person is. She hadn't heard Hades call anything beloved other than Persephone in all the time she had known him. She looked at the names and coordinates on the scroll.

"Who on Earth is Phantom?"

[abyranss]

I like the idea of putting my blorbos on the Infinity Train. Force them to go through a harrowing experience specially fashioned to make them work through their issues (and leave them with a new set of issues afterwards)

So here's Bonesaw! She needs to stop thinking of other human beings and little more than art supplies. And being stuck on the Train for an indeterminate length of time will forcibly separate her from Jack, so she can begin to build an identity of her own for the first time in her life.