#i want. to dance. with him. i want to do everything with him. hes coming to my state but not to see me and im torn tf up about it

[0mg-bird]

Lover’s Rock~ S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer isn’t the only one that stands out in the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing, because that’s what leads him to you.

Warnings: I didn’t really proof read, I’ll do it later lol. 18+ content towards the end. Um Reid is such a dweeb and adorable???? Fluff, mentions of alcohol and embarrassment. Reader is so twee (can we bring twee back or no?) idk she makes questionable fashion choices.

Really, this wasn’t your thing.

The bar scene, the club dresses all the girls where, the high heels and the whole game of cat and mouse that all the guys want to play. But you’re here, you made an effort to appease your best friends who claim you have no social life.

The entire night so far, they watched you strike out with the guys they motioned over because in their mind, you’re desperate and lonely and lame.

Okay, maybe that’s more of your headspace than theirs, but they’ve been offering you pity glances this whole time.

You’ve made a decision a while ago that maybe there was no romance out there for you. You were just born with some aspect that made normal, sane guys physically run away, and maybe that’s fine. You were really good on your own. And it never did feel right when you had a guy, if it didn’t feel like the movies, it wasn’t worth it.

Right?

Okay, maybe you should settle, at some point, you’ll be too old to marry and you’ll just keep working, with no real life and take care of Shelly, your goldfish. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be someone to share things with.

You let out a huff and watch the ice melt in your drink, not bothering to smile when your friend tells you to brighten up.

Normally, you’re a ray of sunshine, but something about getting rejected four consecutive times is raining on your parade.

An entire bar full of happy people in their element, and it’s just you, sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when your friends go dance with a few guys they hit it off with.

Too busy looking at the buckle on the ankle strap of your heel, you are sinking somewhere in your mind, to a place where you aren’t listening to cheap song lyrics of and realizing that table is stickier than you thought.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Reid.”

“Spencer!” Penelope smacks his shoulder, pulling him from the trance of his eyes on the book pages.

He looks up from the corner booth, seeing his team has returned with drinks.

“Are you seriously reading right now?” Morgan criticizes, placing a beer in front of the younger agent.

Spencer doesn’t know why he does this, beer tastes like a plowed hay field in his opinion. But he takes the drink in gratitude and before he can explain that he was just trying to finish the Russian publishing of ‘Crime and Punishment’, Morgan rips the book from his hands and tosses it to Emily for safe keeping.

“I- what was that for?” Spencer questions with a unjust squeak, feeling rather sad.

“Look around, kid, do you see how many fine ladies are here? You don’t need to be sitting here with your nose between the pages of Little Women.” Morgan states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, nobody puts baby in the corner.” Penelope agrees.

With an airy scoff, Spencer looks to the other members for help, but they all seem to side with Derek.

He gains a defeated frown.

Spencer didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he’s being forced out into the public to socialize. There has to be a law against this, he knows there’s not because he knows everything, but he is certainly going to try and create one.

“Oh come on, Spence, why don’t you try to get a date?” JJ asks, meaning well, but the laugh that comes from Emily makes him want to recoil.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Morgan offers, pulling him from the booth seat.

“Yeah, that never really works well when you try to be my wingman, you usually end up with all the phone numbers.” Spencer claims, pressing his lips into a line.

But like some mock savior, Morgan stands behind Reid as they wait by the bar.

“What about her?” Morgan would point out.

To which Reid would respond with some variation of ‘she’s too much’ or ‘she definitely has a boyfriend three times my size’.

After fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Morgan is seriously regretting he forced the hermit out of his shell.

And that’s when a rowdy group finally leaves and clears the path of vision to you.

Still sat at a high table with one leg crossed over the other, you wiggle your foot as you doodle on a drink napkin.

Reid misses whatever Morgan says, and in that air of silence, the agent follows the vision.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Derek chuckles, clapping Reid on the shoulder. “She’s pretty. Go talk to her.”

“What?” Reid looks away. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb her.”

You let out a very bored sigh.

Derek’s brows furrow. “I know you’re some boy genius but you really are dumb sometimes. Everything about that girl is screaming ‘put me outa my misery’.”

Spencer tilts his head slightly, watching you rub your eye and then frown at the way you smudged your already smudged eye liner.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” He nods. “But…what do I say?”

Derek grins. “Compliment her, ask if she wants another drink, strike up a conversation. It’s easy, man.”

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling in him, but he still braves through it. “Easy for you, maybe.” He mumbles before running a hand through his hair and takes a step towards you.

“Go get her, tiger!” Morgan encourages.

When he returns to the team with the happy news, Penelope asks if Spencer’s gonna do good.

“Oh, definitely not, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t trip over his own feet on the way over there.” Derek answers, laughing.

But Spencer makes it to you without a stumble, yet his whole plan leaves his mind when he gets to you.

You’re gorgeous, too pretty for him.

“Nice legs.”

Did he just say that?

You look up at him upon hearing his voice, your wide eyes confused.

“I’m sorry?” You question, not sure if you heard this stranger correctly.

He’s a rather handsome stranger.

“No- I mean I like your legs- tights! Not your legs, you have nice legs of course but that’s not- your tights are nice- cool! Different?”

Oh god, he should just walk away now. He’s already messed this whole thing up and surely you think he’s an idiot.

While he’s got an embarrassed look on his face, you look down at the red lace tights you wear under your skirt, something your friends questioned as a fashion choice.

“You really like them?” You ask, voice soft to his ears.

He stops his rambling.

“Yeah, of course I do, I think they’re cool.” He smiles softly.

You can’t help but grin bashfully.

“Every guy I’ve talked to tonight thought they were a little weird, but that’s okay, I kinda like weird.” You admit, watching as he shakes his head.

“People say my socks are weird all the time, don’t feel bad.” He comforts, pulling the material of his pants up so you can see his mismatched socks with funky colors and prints on them.

“Those are cool.” Your approval eases him, giving him just enough reassurance that you aren’t going to scream for help in the next two minutes.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid- sorry, force of habit, uh, just Spencer. I-I’m Spencer.” He introduces with the smallest of wave.

Still smiling more than you have the entire night, you greet him. He repeats your name like it has some special meaning, and you’ve never loved the sound of it more.

“I was going to get a drink, what are you having?” He asks, looking at your sweating glass. “Vodka soda? Cherry sour?”

You blush. “It’s actually a shirley temple…I just ate all the cherries out of it already.”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

He leaves you at your table, and then your brief moment of sunshine is clouded once more by doubt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he drugs your drink and then you wake up in an alley somewhere, missing your wallet and phone and your tights that he thinks are so cool?

This was a bad idea. Dating isn’t for you. He seemed so nice and he’s so attractive but that should have been your first red flag and-

Oh. He’s coming back.

With two shirley temples.

He places them on the table and waits for you to grab one, then he grabs the other and takes a sip.

“You mind if I sit?” He asks.

Feeling a little silly for assuming he was out to maim you, you nod.

“I seriously doubt my friends remember I’m over here, so feel free to stay.” You joke at your expense.

He sits across from you, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his team who make it very obvious that they’re staring.

You study his profile, a shaggy haircut that falls across his forehead, all tousled in an effortless way. His jaw line is defined, round brown eyes that flick back to you. When he catches you looking, he grins once more.

It’s never been so…easy, having a ‘get to know you’ conversation. Questions come without second thoughts, you find yourself laughing, actually laughing.

Playing with your straw, you try to calm your facial expressions, your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming so much.

“So, Dr. Reid, huh?” You ask, making him let out a small huff of embarrassment.

“That’s what the PhD’s say, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling really dorky about his immense amount of education.

It’s not dorky to you. Every guy you’ve talked to tonight dropped out of community college because ‘it didn’t align with their career paths’ of selling protein smoothies or working in some ‘underground’ record store.

But here Spencer is, explaining he’s on the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI and he tells you about all the degrees he has. All you can think about as he talks of universities and the academy is, knowledge is such a sexy look on a guy. Sure, you’ve never really liked the underachieving stoners, but usually you’ve been with guys who seem to say “you like school?” when you talk about working towards your Masters degree.

“Wow.” Is all you can say for a moment, clearly shocked and, well, impressed. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“That’s what most people say.” He nods, picking the cherry in his drink out by the stem and offering it to you.

By your thankful eyes batting up at him, he’s tempted on going behind the bar and bringing you all the maraschino cherries they have. He quickly turns the conversation around to focus on you so he can focus on something other than the stained color on your lips.

“What about you? What do you do?” He asks.

Compared to his job, yours seems too normal, too mundane. You almost want to avoid the question, never once have you been unsatisfied with your career but now you can’t help it. What if Spencer doesn’t like you because you don’t work for NASA?

That’s ridiculous, because to Spencer, your job makes his adoration grow.

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.” You say, fiddling with a stem in your mouth.

Spencer gains a soft smile. “You could never just be a teacher, teacher’s are important. Well, unless you’re a sucky teacher.”

His joke earns a bubbly giggle and he decides he’d like to hear that sound forever. It’s moments like this that he’s glad to have an eidetic memory.

“I don’t think I’m a sucky teacher so that’s good, my students seem to like me.” You state, pushing your hair behind your ear and dropping the knotted stem onto a napkin.

Spencer finds himself leaning a little closer, body naturally gravitating to your pull. “What do you teach?” He asks.

“I work for my schools gifted children program, so I basically teach kid geniuses advanced core curriculum because they’ve tested out of their normal classes.” You chuckle, oblivious to the way Spencer’s heart warms.

He remains quiet for a bit too long, just staring at you with an honest look, one that makes you feel like you’re turned inside out and bared for him. The panic rises again, you think you must have said something to ruin it.

“I know it’s nothing special-” You begin to say.

“No.” He interrupts, a sure tone. “I-I think it’s great. Really, that’s not an easy job.”

Deep breath out, you’re put at ease.

“I constantly have imposter syndrome, these kids are twelve and bringing up philosophies and mathematical formulas I have to go home and study because I haven’t even learned them yet. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even think they need me there.” You joke lightly, half meaning it but masking that slight insecurity by finishing off your drink.

“They need you.” Spencer assures, an expression showing he’s never been more sure of something. “Believe me, you’re probably the only person they see in a school day that understands them.”

Brows creased, you shake your head, holding his rather intimidating gaze for such puppy dog eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” You question.

Spencer takes in a breath. “Because I know what it’s like to be twelve years old and telling a grown adult about Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

Sometimes, the world has a funny way of putting two people together. For years, you’ve wandered through life and on a random Friday night, feeling a little flushed from the Summer air, here is Spencer Reid, the man of your dreams.

Your friends left some time ago after you assured them you were fine to be left at the place you were just complaining about being. You don’t mind being left with Spencer, in fact, you’re dreading the time you have to go home because it means this moment is over.

“I really would like to live in New York.” You exclaim, somehow have fallen into the rabbit hole of dreams for the future.

“New York’s really cool!” He agrees. “Did you know that they have a homicide rate of 4.48 percent right now? It’s been declining since the nineties.”

You must make some sort of surprised face because his eyes go wide and he quickly tried to recover his odd statement.

“Sorry, my job isn’t really full of happy statistics. But mostly we just find dead prostitutes in alleys in New York.”

His blushed cheeks make your heart flutter in its beats.

“I’m glad I’m not a prostitute.” You giggle, making him chew his bottom lip for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re not either.”

By the time the team gets their coats back on with the intention of heading home, they look across the room to see their quirky doctor friend is partaking in very friendly body language.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Emily laughs. “He’s finally using that big IQ of his.”

Penelope, who comes to hold onto Morgan’s arm, grins rather proudly. “It’s like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon. It’s…beautiful, actually.”

Derek laughs down at her. “I think that last long island ice tea was a bad idea. Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Good luck, my fine friend.” She calls in the general direction of you and Spencer, but the two of you don’t notice.

JJ ties her hair up and starts to take a few steps forward.

“Where are you going?” Penelope questions.

“To let him know we’re leaving?”

“No!” The team seems to exclaim, all shouting that she cannot disturb the moment Spencer worked rather hard to get to.

She just holds her hands up in defense, then follows after Emily as they leave the bar.

Spencer of course notices the way Prentiss leaves him with an encouraging thumbs up. It makes his get a little bashful, but he nods a goodbye and watches the door shut once more. His attention is brought back to his hand on the table, well, more to the way your pinky brushes against his. You continue to talk about mutual interests and what your apartment in New York would look like, a slight ramble to you that shows you’re very aware of the slight contact.

With some kind of placebo courage he can’t even blame on alcohol, he lets his fingers crawl between yours like that’s where they belong.

The team would definitely laugh at this teenage display, but to the both of you, it’s the perfect amount of reassurance, soft enough to not be too scary.

The attraction is there, Spencer forces himself to profile it just so his negative thoughts can’t prove him wrong. You’re smiling at every word, your eyes seem to stay dilated and focused on his, and he isn’t sure if you even realize the way your heel brushes his ankle every so often.

His profile, often never wrong, is what helps him reach across the slight space to tuck your hair behind your ear so casually as he tells you about his minuscule music taste.

After a few flirty comments, you force yourself yo look away from him just so you can het your breathing under control. Upon this action, you read the watch on his wrist and a frown sets on your lipstick stained lips.

“I should go home before it’s too late to walk.” You sigh, not wanting this moment to end.

He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Those round eyes he’s starting to really adore look up at him and you chew your lip, almost like you’re waiting for him to do something. Say something.

It takes him entirely too long to figure out what to do. Morgan would be ashamed.

“C-Can I walk you home?” He asks in a rush and in eagerness.

You nod like that’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

That’s how it leads to you leaning against him like it’s something you do often, walking in step as you ramble on and on about what you have to do to get your classroom ready for the new school year. He listens without annoyance like most guys would, then tells you about books he has that he thinks you might enjoy, books he could part with so you could give them to the students whose reading levels are above what the school provides.

He’s so caring and considerate, making sure he walks closest to the street, lets you be off in your own world and makes sure you don’t run into anything as you constantly gaze up at him. All the way to your building and up the stairs to your apartment door, the two of you are as comfortable with each other like two old friends would be.

That’s what makes your head spin. You just met Spencer and already feel like he’s been in your life for hundreds of years.

You pull your keys from your purse, you unlock the door but don’t make a move to open it.

“I’m really, really, happy that I met you.” You whisper to him as he slightly crowds your space in the door way.

“I am too.” He agrees, heart beating a little faster as your hand presses gently to his chest.

Don’t be crazy, you just met her, she doesn’t want a stranger trying to kiss her, tell her good night, call her tomorrow, maybe you can plan for something next weekend-

His thoughts don’t stand a chance when you wrap your fingers around his tie and gently tug him to your lips.

It’s smooth and warm and has your eyes shutting and your lungs exhaling. His gentle hand cradles your face while the other flexes against your hip.

It just feels so…

So right.

With the slight tilt of your head, the goodnight kiss deepens, you’re molded against him.

His lips part, coaxing yours to do the same, and the feeling of your tongue against his has you slightly teetering backwards. You lean against the door for support, hands roaming into his hair.

You’ve been wanting to run your hands through it all night.

He’s desperate in his movements, like he’s a starved man and you’re enjoying every second of it. His thumb runs over your jaw, you’re pushing away any space between you.

When you decide you’re going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you pull away, sucking your bottom lip to savor the taste. Spencer still holds your face in his large hands and matches your shallow pants.

It’s all so much. You’re hot, brain a little foggy, but still so sure of this situation.

And you soon find yourself saying something you’ve never ever said after just meeting a guy.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Spencer seriously thinks he misheard you.

“Yeah- yes. Yes, I do.” He nods.

A laugh escapes your lips, one he swallows up as he embraces you once more, trying to help you open the door. His arm around your waist makes sure you don’t stumble and fall as the two of you finally get inside.

He looks around the space. “I like your apartment, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble against his lips, pulling at your jean jacket and tossing it to the couch.

It’s dark, causing you to back into a side table. The both of you laugh, but neither of you bother to reach for the light switch.

You guid him towards your bedroom, pushing him through the ajar door. The open window leaves the room painted in a low light, the breeze is cool as you clumsily fall onto the mattress with him.

“I never do this.” You state, a huff leaving your lips as he rolls you onto your back.

“I don’t either.” He agrees, mouth wandering down your jaw to your neck.

You fiddling hands make a home in his hair. “Like I really don’t do this. I don’t even go to bars, let alone take home strange men- not that you’re strange. But don’t think I am a casual hookup girl, because I’m not, I just- there’s a connection, right? I’m not alone in this?”

He pulls away, looking down at you with a loopy grin. “You’re rambling, that’s a sign of nervousness.”

“I am nervous!” You exclaim with a breathy laugh. “You’re just…you’re really great.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You’re really great too.” He whispers. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“No!” You say a little too boldly. “I mean, no, no I want this. Do you want this?”

With a nod, he assures you. “I want this too.”

Maybe you should be more shy and self conscious about this, but when he’s being so kind, all your nervousness leaves. The two of you stumble through the awkward bits with laughter and jokes, and it makes you realize that something so serious doesn’t have to be so uniform.

Really, you’re having more fun than you’ve ever had.

“Spencer?” You gasp, dangerously close to falling off the bed at how the two of you have rolled around.

“Yeah?” He asks, head buried in your neck, trying not to get too ahead of himself as he continues his deep pace between your legs.

“You’re kinda pulling my hair.”

Immediately he moves his hand, apologetic.

Hands dragging up his chest, you try to shimmy away from the mattress ledge. Spencer notices the tragedy that’s about to strike, opting to back off of you completely so you can readjust.

You gasp at the loss of contact. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He stammers, gripping you in a feverish way, mouth back to yours.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up on top, but you look at him slightly frightened eyes.

“Is this a no?” He questions, only concerned with making you comfortable.

He’s the complete opposite of selfish, he proved that the second he started you off with his tongue against your core.

“No, not if you like this? I just…I don’t know if I’m good at this.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay, no problem.”

You protest as he goes to move you. “Can I try? Will-will you help me?”

God, he could marry you.

“Yeah, of course sweetheart.” He whispers, kissing you gently.

The butterflies in your stomach are all twitter pated.

Or maybe you’re just extremely turned on.

Spencer is a great teacher, it’s you who jumps the gun at things.

“There you go, angel, slow.” He breathes in your ear, finger tips pressing into your hips as you slowly push down, letting his tip enter you. “Just go really slow, okay?”

You try to do as he says, easing him into you slowly, but by some urge to rush satisfaction, you sink all the way onto him without warning.

“Fuck! That wasn’t slow.” He grits, a hoarse moan escaping from the back of his throat, his grip on you almost bruising.

“S-sorry.” You try to say, but the sheer pressure you feel at this sudden angle has you shuddering and crying out softly. “I’m an overachiever.” You try to joke.

“Holy shit, you want an A+ or something?” He chuckles, trying to calm himself down, running through mathematical formulas in his head so he doesn’t finish just like this.

“Spence, I need- it’s a lot, I need-” You whine out, not having the heart to feel embarrassed for sounding so needy.

“I know, I know. Fuck, do you have any idea how good you feel?” He questions, swallowing hard as he guides your hips forward slightly.

“I can’t really think at all when you’re sitting in my cervix right now.” You claim, quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as you find a rhythm against him.

Sucking on your throat, he mutters something you don’t care to listen to.

“This is- is it supposed to be this good?” You moan, trying not to dig your finger nails into his shoulders.

“I think we just fit perfectly.”

With each movement, you become more comfortable and confident, soon that friendly softness is replaced by lustful roughness. Through it all, Spencer remains caring, even when you tell him he can be a little rough with you.

Never in your sex life have you wanted more and more, even when it finishes.

Even after the two of you can’t find the strength to pull any more orgasms from each other, you lay beside each other, Spencer hasn’t bothered to pull out of you yet, perhaps he’s too spent.

“So.” You clear your throat, tracing his features. “How do you want to play this?”

He hums, dragging his fingers up and down your side. “What do you mean?”

“Guys usually leave after this stuff, right?”

His brows furrow, anxiety comes to ripple through him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Staring at his tired eyes, you shake your head. “No, I want you to stay. Forever. I’m thinking about chaining you to the headboard.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save you the effort, I will gladly stay.”

A sweet smile is returned to him.

At some point, the two of you clean up and fall asleep the second the sheets are pulled over you.

Spencer is convinced it’s all a dream until he wakes up to the sun warm over his skin. He rubs his blurry eyes and rolls over in the bed that is not his, met with your bare back. Slowly, he reaches for you, kissing your shoulder to rouse you.

His phone, still in the pocket of his discarded pants, rings again and again, forcing him to retrieve it in his boxers.

Of course it’s Hotch.

Of course he needs to get to the office. On a Saturday. After the night he just had.

“I should call the authorities, there’s a cute intruder in my room.” Your sleepy voice says from bed. “Oh wait…you are the authorities.”

He likes the way you can make yourself giggle.

“I have bad news.” He says, tracking down his clothes. “My boss just called me in.”

He hates the frown you have.

“That’s a very unfortunate thing.” You nod.

He buttons his pants, then slides his shirt on as he comes to your bedside.

“I should get going so I can go home and change.”

His warm hand presses to your cheek.

You turn to kiss his palm. “Is this goodbye?”

“No. Definitely no.” He assures. “I’ll call when I can, okay? Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

You could sigh heavenly at the way he’s just so dreamy.

“That sounds nice. I’d kiss you but I might have morning breath.” You smile.

He kisses you anyway.

And after leaving the team waiting in the round table room, he appears refreshed and in a very good mood.

He takes his seat, all eyes on him.

“Sorry I’m late, good morning.” He clears his throat.

“Good morning indeed.” Morgan chuckles, sliding him a cup of coffee.

“You okay, Reid?” Rossi asks, eyeing the agent.

“I’m great.” He smiles.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ exclaims, reveling in the way he quickly grabs for his neck, only to realize she’s joking.

“Real mature.” He mutters, knowing the entire day is going to be jokes made at his expense.

He doesn’t mind though, not when he knows his reward for all of this is you.

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[wild-rise]

Sunshine

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut MDNI 18+

Summary: After a stressful day and years of animosity between you and Daryl the dynamics of your power struggle finally gets resolved. Safe to say you're finally put in your place.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Reader is a brat, Soft!Dom Daryl, Kinda mean Daryl, Teasing, Oral (M!receiving) Face F!cking, Binding (Readers wrists), Dirty Talk, Pervy Daryl, Thigh Riding, Just the t!p, P in V penetration, unprotected (Wrap it before you tap it folks), creampie. I think that's it...

“How ‘bout runnin’ that by me one more time sunshine?” Daryl gruffs out cocking his head to you making sure he wasn’t going crazy because there’s no way in hell you just said what he thinks you did.

“Your hearing going out now Dixon?” Just before you reach the door of his room you turn to face him again, invading his space, craning your head up to make sure the message gets through his thick skull this time.

 “Fuck. You. You redneck piece of shit.” The words cutting like knives as they roll off your tongue. Daryl holds his composure as he looks down at you and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“If you want to so bad all ya have to do is ask nicely.” That same smirk dancing on his lips. He made every nerve in your body boil till you only saw red. Daryl knew how to push every single button to set you off and get under your skin.

Without warning Daryl’s face is hit with your saliva “Fucking pig.” You’re seething at this point and now any hint of playfulness in Daryl’s features is gone. You turn on your heels to leave when suddenly his large hand wraps around your arm pulling you back to his hard chest.

“You’re a goddamn bitch ya know that?” Daryl practically growls the words at you as he wipes the spit off his face with the back of his hand.

“No. You’re just an inconsiderate asshat that’s just looking out for himself like always.” The venom of your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Daryl as he holds you close noticing the heat radiating off your skin and your scent invading his senses.

“I’m the only reason you’re alive right now so if you know what’s good for you, I suggest you drop it, Sunshine.” That stupid nickname he gave you back on the farm had its way of making a shit situation even shittier and Daryl knew, that’s why he made sure to draw out each syllable.

There can never be a civil interaction between the two of you. You’ve been together for so long, but the animosity never faded. Rick even tried locking you both in a cell together at the prison but after three hours of arguing he let both of you out and go separate ways. No one bothered to intervene and after that your relationship simply stayed stagnant.  

Right now, as much as it pained you he was right. The only reason you’re standing here is because he followed you on your hunt which turned sour when your kill was taken by walkers. The loss made you unhinged, being the final straw to break your back after all the tragedy your community suffered after the whispers. You went on dropping body after body till you were starting to get outnumbered, but your stubbornness never let up. Daryl noticing your struggle and intervened before you could get hurt but to his surprise you turned your rage towards him before storming off back to Alexandira.

Bringing you back here telling off Daryl for being… helpful? Honestly the stress of everything you’ve endured and the loss the community has suffered is getting to you and you need a release, and Daryl is the only one who can take it.

Taking a deep breath as you hold eye contact with him you’re finally registering just how close the two of you are. His breath fanning over your face, hand still holding tightly to your arm and that’s when the intrusive ideas locked away in the deepest parts of your mind finally come to light. “And what exactly is best for me Daryl? Hm? Please do tell.” Your voice is barely above a whisper now.

 “Is that you askin nicely?” he says watching the shift in your demeanor and matching your tone.

“Don’t push it Dixon.” The sternness in your voice lacking conviction and Daryl decided then what he was going to do with you.

He brings his other hand up to your face cupping your check and leaning down just about to kiss you when “Ask nicely. Sunshine.” He says right on your lips. How could he be even more frustrating, especially at a time like this. “Tell me what’s best for me. Please.” Sarcasm dripping on your every word. The fire in you is impossible to extinguish and honestly, it’s what Daryl loves about you so much and he’d die before he ever saw it put out but right now it needs to desperately be controlled.

“How bout ya let me show you.” And as quickly as the words fall from his mouth, he’s pressing his lips to yours. His actions are filled with hunger and desire as a mixture of saliva form between you. Your hands come up to find purchase on his broad shoulders as he deepens the kiss exploring every inch of your mouth. “Get on your knees. Now” the words going straight to your cunt but the brat in you can’t help but be defiant. “Ask nicely.” You mock him and the hand cupping your cheek travels to the back of your head grasping your hair tightly and dragging you down to your knees. “You just don’t know when to fuckin quit do ya? That shit stops now you understand?” The tenderness on your scalp stings from his grip but you welcome the sensation as a soft whimper leaves you confirming Daryl’s suspicion.

You wanted someone to put you in your place and take control. You didn’t want to have to think just do what you’re told and feel something other than the suffering you’ve endured.

“That so hard? Now, can you get my belt off or do ya need help with that too?” Realizing your predicament, you reach your hands up to undo his belt and pull down his zipper. Daryl releases his hand from your hair before pulling his belt off through the loops of his pants. “Hands behind your back.” Doing exactly what he says Daryl comes behind you tying your hands behind your back with his belt. Anticipation floods your body as Daryl stands back in front of you pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. The angry red tip directly in your face leaking precum and begging for a release. He was bigger than you imagined and the thought of him ramming your throat made your panties even more wet than before.

“Open up sunshine.” Lolling your tongue out Daryl slowly pushes his cock past your lips a little at a time allowing you to get comfortable with the position. Once you get a steady rhythm of sucking and licking his length Daryl’s hands return to your hair pulling you off him.

“Should’ve known cock would shut you up.” Daryl groans as he slides back into the warmness of your mouth. The sounds he made were almost heavenly enough to distract you from the pain in the back of your throat... almost. Your pace is quickly abandoned as Daryl starts bucking his hips in your face stuffing your throat full of his cock. Tears stream down your cheeks and the pressure from his belt straining on your wrists start to make your head dizzy and you can hardly breathe. “Fucking hell sunshine your takin me so well.” Daryl stops holding your head at the base of his dick till you start squirming from the lack of oxygen and he pulls you off completely. Taking a gasp of air trying to regain composure, you whine when he hoists you back up onto your feet.

“You gonna stop being a bitch or should I just let you finish sucking my dick and leave you here to take care of yourself?” He asks in such a kind way, but his actions moments ago were anything but. “I’ll stop. Promise, please Daryl.” You cry at him just needing something more as the desire grew within you. “Good girl. See I knew you had it in you.” He takes his belt off your wrists and has the rest of your garments following suit. Daryl guides you to lie on his bed and the vulnerable feeling of being completely exposed while he’s still fully dressed has your cheeks burning red. Daryl bends down to pick up your soaked panties, bring them to his face and takes a deep breath before shoving them in his back pocket. “Constellation prize.” He winks at you as you moan desperate for him to do anything to you.

“Are you going to actually touch me or just keep being a perv?” You groan at him as he pulls off his clothes joining you on his bed. “Just takin my time, don’t be so impatient.” You want to cry from the pressure building up at your cunt. Daryl could tell how needy you were from how much you’ve been pressing your thighs together chasing any type of satisfaction. Caging you between his forearms he slots a leg between yours adding pressure to your long awaiting cunt. Your arousal is prominent enough to leave remanence behind on his leg, but he doesn’t move. “Go on, hump my leg like the bitch you are.” His words hushed into your ear make the tears come back to your eyes. He was being so mean, and it was turning you on so much. With a strangled moan you started dragging your hips up and down, rubbing against his leg as he marked up and down your neck and chest leaving a path of hickeys and bruises. Your hips started bucking faster as you felt that familiar sensation of your approaching orgasm but just as you were about to let go Daryl pulls his thigh away from you.

“Daryl please I’m s-so ssorry I’ll be nice I’ll do whatever you want just plea-please make me cum.” You were a sight to behold, so worked up and desperate just for him and oh how he loved it. “Since you asked so nicely.” He leans down to give you a kiss but this time it was different. This time it lacked primal urgency from before, it was tender and attentive.

Now Daryl had your legs on either side of him as he lined his cock up with your dripping, aching pussy. He slowly pushed just the tip and watched your greedy cunt try to suck him in some more and your sobbing persisted. He leaned down peppering kisses along your jaw, shushing you trying to calm you down. “Next time I won’t be so harsh on ya if you use your manners, Sunshine.” Is all he whispers in your ear before sitting back up and ramming his entire length in you bottoming out.

Your cries and moans are so loud he’s pretty sure someone’s going to come down thinking you’re in danger, but he could care less because the sounds you’re making right now are music to his ears. The way he’s pressing your legs apart sends a burn through your thighs and your breasts are bouncing at the rhythm of his thrusts. “Doing so fuckin good for me f-fuck this pussy’s just suckin me in S-Sunshine.” His tough guy act falters as he speeds up his pace. Daryl quickly puts your legs onto his shoulders allowing him to hit that one spot deep in your body that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, fuck Daryl yes, yes right there oh my god please d-don’t stop.”  You cry out begging him for your release. "Wasn't plannin' on it. Fuck it's like this pussy was made for me." Daryl keeps up the same pace and brings a hand down rubbing tight circles on your clit. The added stimulation is enough to send you over the edge moaning Daryl’s name over and over again. The spasming of your cunt has him losing the fight of holding off his orgasm as he finishes deep inside you. “Fucking take it. F-fuck take it all.” He says while he delivers the final thrusts riding out both of your highs.

    Daryl rolls over, bringing you into his chest and caresses your hair while you both try to catch your breath. “What do you say? Hm?”

You look up at him through your lashes and taking in his disheveled appearance you realize this is a sight you could easily get used too.  “Thank you. Daryl.” Your voice is hoarse from the amount of screaming and moaning he pulled from you which sparked pride to flood through his chest.

“You are very welcome, Sunshine.” He feels content finally taming your fire as he traces patterns on your back while you slowly drift off to sleep.

[piastrisun]

unexpected confession.

pairings: lando norris + fem reader.

summary: as the elevator stalls, so does your composure. lando’s sudden, earnest words turn the trapped moment into a delicate dance between panic and possibility.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: lando’s birthday!!! a bit short but i hope y’all like it. <3 no use of y/n or any names at all.

you and lando are standing in the elevator, the air uncomfortably still, and the space around you both feels too small. the elevator’s hum seems louder now, echoing in the confined space. the flickering light above does little to calm the rising tension between you two, as your body instinctively shifts to press against the corner.

you’ve never thought much about how close you are to each other—how every small movement feels amplified in this moment. it's as if your very proximity makes the silence heavier. your mind races, trying to distract itself from the fact that you're alone in an elevator, stuck for what feels like forever. it should be mundane, but with lando here, everything suddenly feels too intense.

and then, he breaks the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to shake you out of your thoughts. "i don’t want to die without telling you this."

your heart skips a beat, and a chill runs down your spine. the sudden panic floods you, and you whip your head to face him, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “what?! what are you talking about? are we—are we dying?”

his face goes pale as he stammers, looking more flustered than you've ever seen him. his hands hover over the elevator buttons as though he can fix the situation with the press of a few keys. “no! no, of course not… well, i mean, i don’t think so. but listen, it’s important.” he avoids your gaze, the nervous energy practically crackling between you.

you let out a shaky, almost panicked laugh, trying to control the rapid beat of your heart. “lando, this is not the time for dramatic confessions! you’re freaking me out!”

he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the elevator. you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together, his body stiff with the weight of whatever he's about to say. “i love you. i always have. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

you freeze, your body going rigid. the words land with such weight that you can’t process them fast enough. your jaw falls open, and your mouth feels dry as you blink a few times, as if trying to clear the fog in your brain. "wait, what? you love me? you’ve… always loved me?" you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, your voice coming out in a whisper, disbelief taking over. your hands tremble, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. "are you—are you serious right now? do you think we’re going to die in this elevator?"

“no! no, i don’t think we’re dying! i mean, not right now.” lando sighs dramatically, dropping his shoulders in exasperation as he leans back against the elevator wall, seemingly giving up on fixing anything. “but… look, i just needed to say it, okay? i didn’t want to leave with it unsaid. so, if we do die, well… at least you know.”

his words hang in the air like a strange confession, one that doesn't quite make sense given the circumstances. but even then, a knot of warmth stirs in your chest, a strange mix of emotions you’re not ready to confront.

you step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if trying to shield yourself from what’s happening. you narrow your eyes at him, your lips curling into a teasing frown. “so, this is your plan? we get stuck in an elevator for five minutes and suddenly you’ve decided to unload your feelings?”

he groans, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. he slumps against the wall, letting out a breath like he's trying to deflate from the awkwardness. “this wasn’t exactly the moment i planned, okay? but i’ve been holding it in for years, and if you do kill me with that glare, at least i’ll go knowing i said it.”

you bite back a smile, your eyes narrowing in mock judgment. you raise an eyebrow as you lean toward him. “glare? i’m just trying to process this. you’ve have fancied me all this time, and you never said anything?”

his shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as if searching for some way to escape. “i wasn’t sure if you felt the same. i thought maybe you’d think i was, i don’t know, creepy or something.” his voice cracks slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. he looks down at his shoes, his embarrassment clear. “but now here we are. stuck in this tiny box together, one awkward cough away from the end of our lives…”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound light and a little shaky as you step forward, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “well, lucky for you, i don’t think you’re creepy. and maybe… just maybe… i’ve had a few feelings too.”

his eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief written all over his face. his voice falters for a moment, but it’s full of hope. “wait, what?!”

you laugh softly, the playful edge to your voice not masking the sudden warmth in your chest. "you think i’m just going to throw myself at you after you drop that bomb? i’m not that easy, lando."

his eyes light up, his expression shifting from surprise to sheer delight. he takes a step closer, his grin impossibly wide as he leans in, his voice filled with teasing excitement. “oh, really? because if we do get stuck here a little longer, i can think of a few ways to pass the time…” his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, mischievous and full of playful challenge.

you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your emotions, but the smile you can’t hide betrays you. "you’re unbelievable."

lando shrugs, his grin growing even wider as he leans back, arms crossing in mock defense. his eyes dance with a mix of humor and genuine affection. "i do try."

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto Wolff with sick!wife reader. She has lost her voice and has to communicate using gestures which Toto and Jack find it amusing. Despite their best, they still tease her. You do however you want. Thanks!! :))

It was no surprise that constant travel took its toll on your health. When you landed in Austin and felt the familiar scratch at the back of your throat, you brushed it off as a consequence of changing seasons. But when you woke up the next morning and found yourself unable to speak, the situation quickly shifted from mild discomfort to concern. Toto, ever the attentive husband, immediately sprang into action, calling everyone he could think of for medical advice. His brow furrowed with worry as he paced around your hotel room, phone in hand, while Jack, your son, sat on the edge of the bed with a grin that spoke of mischief.

“Mom, this is hilarious,” Jack said, eyes sparkling. “You should totally communicate with signs and gestures until your voice comes back.” You playfully ruffled his hair, finding it hard not to smile at his enthusiasm, despite your current predicament.

Soon, the three of you made your way to the paddock under the Texas sun, the warm rays dancing on the concrete as the familiar symphony of engines and chatter surrounded you. Jack trotted along beside you, his grin as wide as ever, while Toto held your hand protectively, glancing at you every few moments as if checking that you were still okay. “Are you feeling alright?” he mouthed, his eyebrows knitted with concern. You responded with a thumbs-up and an exaggerated nod, reassuring him that you were fine despite the loss of your voice.

Jack nudged your arm with that same cheeky smile. “Remember, Mom—big gestures so everyone can understand!” he announced, dramatically waving his arms like he was directing traffic. Toto chuckled, a hint of relief softening his features as he joined in the lightheartedness. You rolled your eyes playfully, tapping Jack’s nose with your index finger as if to say, Behave.

As you entered the paddock, familiar faces greeted you with waves and cheerful calls of “Good morning!” You waved back, responding with silent, animated gestures and a bright smile. Toto, sensing your need for an easier way to communicate, handed you a small notepad. “Looks like we’ll need this today,” he teased, smirking as Jack snatched it out of his hands with excitement.

“Oh, I’ll be in charge of writing what Mom says!” Jack declared, marker already poised. He looked up at you with a grin that promised mischief and you couldn’t help but laugh soundlessly, your shoulders shaking with mirth.

Throughout the day, Jack became your voice, scribbling out messages in his childlike scrawl, sometimes adding his own creative touches. “Mom says to stop calling the doctor, Dad,” one note read, written with a smirk and shown triumphantly to Toto. Toto raised an eyebrow and chuckled, shaking his head. “Outnumbered, I see,” he said, casting you a warm look that made your heart swell.

Jack, finding endless amusement in your silent communication, began mimicking your gestures with exaggerated flair, even getting Toto to get in on the act.

Despite their teasing, the love in their gestures kept you animated. Each shared laugh, every little mock argument over Jack’s interpretations, and Toto’s constant, caring glances reminded you that even when unexpected challenges arose, you had your boys beside you, making everything a little more bearable and infinitely more cherished.

As the day progressed and the Texas sun began to dip, casting a warm golden glow over the paddock, you felt a familiar tickle at the back of your throat. You paused for a moment, touching your neck with hope flickering in your chest. Jack noticed your hesitation and tilted his head. “What’s wrong, Mom? Do you need to write something?” He held up the notepad, ready for your next silent instruction.

Instead, you took a deep breath and whispered, “Jack.” The word was faint, raspy, but it was there.

Jack’s eyes widened as if you had just performed a magic trick. “Dad!” he shouted, leaping up and pulling Toto by the sleeve. “Mom talked! She said my name!”

Toto turned around so quickly that he nearly knocked over a chair. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of disbelief and joy. “Did you really?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

You nodded, and with a small, careful smile, you whispered, “I did.”

Relief washed over Toto’s face, the tension he had been carrying all day melting away. He took your hands in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thank goodness,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I was about to call for a specialist to fly in.”

Jack laughed, the sound high and full of energy. “See, I told you it would come back if we kept making her laugh!” He glanced at you, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Guess the signs and gestures worked, huh, Mom?”

You chuckled, the sound still scratchy but growing stronger. “I guess they did,” you replied, squeezing Jack’s hand. The three of you stood there, surrounded by the hum of the paddock and the warm glow of the setting sun. It was a simple moment, yet it held a deep sense of gratitude and love.

Toto wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered.

“I’ll try not to,” you said, your voice now a soft echo of its usual tone. Jack leaned in, sandwiching himself between you and Toto with a playful grin. “But can we keep the notepad? That was fun,” he teased, holding it up with pride.

The three of you laughed, the sound filling the space and blending with the noise of the paddock. And in that moment, you realized that no matter what challenges came your way, the bond you shared as a family would always be enough to carry you through.

[moonlightwonu]

권순영 // Kwon Soonyoung [Hoshi] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

247 너의 기억은 �� 삶이 멈출 때까지 끝나지 않아~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“The Thing About Love” by @gyuswhore

Uni au, slow burn, fluff, angst, humor || W.C: 25.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The slap you sent across Kwon Soonyoung’s face sent a reverberating sound across the dance studio. He looks up, eyes bloodshot and swimming with fury. There’s a hint of a smile on his face for some reason, which you realize may be out of disbelief. You don’t register anything else other than the rage that accelerates down your own veins. There’s a part of you that wants to do it again when he utters his next words. “That was a bad fucking idea”

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“Bluff and Nonsense” by @thepixelelf

Gn!reader || Uni au, romance, angst, fluff || W.C: 17k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?” Or Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

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“Driving Lessons for Dummies” by @shuaflix

Fem!reader || College au, strangers to lovers, fluff, humor, smut || W.C: 16.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

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“What? Like It’s Hard?” by @starsstuddedsky

Gn!reader || Uni au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, opposites attract || W.C: 24.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows.

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“Habit” by @number1mingyustan

Fem!reader || College au, friends with benefits, smut, angst || Parts: 4 || Total W.C: 14.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You're in desperate need of getting laid, whether you want to admit it or not. And it just so happens that the fuckboy from your Economics class comes knocking at your door. 

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“Let Me Try Again” by @papermatisse

Fem!reader || Angst, Fluff, Heavy plot+elements || W.C: 30k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

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“Right? Right.” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Gn!reader || Soulmate au, angst, fluff, wholesome friendships || W.C: 13.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Your soulmate mark might be broken, but at least he will always be there for you.

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“Double Trouble” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Hogwarts au, Platonic fluff, mystery, comedy || W.C: 6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Kwon Soonyoung might be too curious for his own good. He enlists the help of an equally enthusiastic and curious Ravenclaw to solve the mystery of the several odd disappearances of one Kim Mingyu.

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“Never Shall We Die” by @gyuswhore

Fem!reader || Pirate au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, smut, fluff || Parts: 3 || Total W.C: 48.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

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“Arranged Marriage” by @hoshifighting

Fem!reader || Arranged marriage au, Childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff || W.C: 10k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple.

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"Lost And Found" by @kwanisms

Fem!reader || Soulmate au, fluff, slight angst || W.C: 6.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･All your life, items had been disappearing from your room only for strange items to appear. Items that didn’t belong to you. Your grandmother told you the items belonged to your soulmate and that your lost items were in his room. You didn’t believe her until you began noticing all the items that appeared in your room had the same initials on them: S.K.

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"Caller #17" by @beomcoups

Fem!reader || 90s au, fluff, angst || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

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"I Will Go To You Like The First Snow" by @viastro

[Series] || Gn!reader || Hotel Del Luna x Goblin au, reincarnation, angst, slowburn, fluff, humour || Parts: 25 +prologue, +epilogue || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you’ve waited a millennium as a grim reaper to take revenge on soonyoung, then came the day where he had finally reincarnated. with revenge on your mind, you don’t realize that him receiving a second chance at life might have you questioning your own promise.

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"Echoes of Summer" by @mr-cha-n

Fem!reader || Camp counsellors au, fluff, angst, sunshine x sunshine || W.C: 18.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[yan-lorkai]

Kicks the door open I have come! to request a Self-aware AU with the Twst bois. When they and the Darling/MC/Player/S/O switch bodies. However, the Darling isn't inside the game. So it's like the Darling waking up in the boys' bodies inside the game, and the boys waking up in the Darling's body in the real world. Thankyou very much 🙏👍🫂✨

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: self-aware au, my beloved. It was so fun to write this and I wrote a lot too 🥺💓. It took me a while to finish, so I hope you like it, darling!

Azul could always feel your presence through the puppet you control. He felt calm when you looked at him. He felt delighted at every laugh you laughed, and he wanted nothing more than to be beside you. The real you. He wished really hard for it to be possible someday, not knowing that this was exactly what was going to happen. Although his request was successful, there was just one error in the equation: he was in your body, your holy, beautiful body. Which means... You were in his horrible body.

While others would feel happy (and he really is happy to an extent), Azul feels a sense of trepidation knowing that you were awaking in his body and there was no way for him to check on you. Or could he? He tried calling his own phone but it wasn't possible. Resigned, he then took to explore your room and home and if you have any roommates / lived with your parents, Azul would try get along with them and collect information on you. While this isn't the ideal, Azul still has to think ten times ahead so when he take you to Twisted Wonderland (not a matter of if but more of when), he could make you sign a deal.

By the way, he definitely try to unlock your phone. And since he is in your body, Azul may try to unlock your phone with your fingerprint or your face if your phone has that function. If he is successful Azul will read your messages as if it were a magazine, he would see what type of songs you listen and videos you like to watch, what's in your history. Basically he is your fbi agent seeing everything on your phone, there's not a thing he'll not see. Good luck for you, reader. That's why I always I always delete my history lol.

Meanwhile you. You wake up on Azul Ashengrotto's body, the octavinelle dorm leader. Geez, are you dreaming? But everything is so real and feels so real. Jade and Floyd seems so real. And their voices, mocking and teasing, almost condescending as you tried your best to act like Azul. They seemed to know that something was wrong but neither choose to ask, brushing off as you being busy with a new scam plan. You were overjoyed but also anxious, without knowing what to do. Could you even return to your body at all? Only time will tell.

⠀⠀

Jade always knew that something was strange with this world, it was almost too... Surreal? He can't quite put into words the things he feel but everything was so much clearer whenever he could feel your presence when he was studying or riding his broom. He could feel your presence when he was cooking, when he was talking about this terrariums, when he was beating people who broke their part of the deal. You seemed to favor him, to love him. He could feel your affection seeping through your cellphone. And he wished to see you, to know you as intimately as you knew him.

And that wish became real. One day he woke up in a different bedroom, in a different body, then, while he is a little surprised, Jade just brush this off as something you did. Perhaps you wanted to show him your world? You wanted to show him your life? Or were you trying to show him something else? Either way, Jade is having the time of his life in your body. Though, as if he was mesmerized by it, he caught himself looking himself at the mirror to see your face staring right back at him. He looks like an excited kid making silly faces in front of the mirror. Honestly he is so unserious. Making faces and silly dances, and laughing because of it.

⠀

Floyd is instantly thrilled, if somewhat bewildered. At first, he messes around with everything he can find, marveling at your surroundings and taking a deep dive into your belongings — he finds it all so fascinating. He’s absolutely entertained by exploring your room, your things, and all the little details that give him insight into your life. But once the novelty wears off, his mischievous nature kicks in. He wants to know everything about you — what you like, your habits, your friends — and he’s not afraid to dig deep. Floyd starts exploring your social media, searching for anything that brings him closer to you and your world. If he finds anyone he thinks might be close to you, he’s ready to make them uncomfortable with cryptic messages or odd behavior, wanting to make it clear that no one knows you better than him.

Meanwhile, you, trapped in Floyd’s body, have to navigate his spontaneous, unpredictable moods and intense physicality — whether in class, on the basketball court, or during his shenanigans. He's having the time of his life while you are fighting for yours, even more when Azul send you to squeeze some people. Like??? How are you supposed to do this????

⠀

Silver always dreamt of you. He knew you, the feeling of your love and affection, the tone of your voice, even if when he woke up he forget everything. A blurry line separating you two. For a while, he thought that you were some higher being that he created on his mind, a simple part of his imagination. That is until this magicless student come around and your presence was all over them, controlling them, talking through them. He wanted to get closer, he wished he could talk to you, to bask on your presence. But he couldn't. He couldn't break his code. Not yet.

But when he slept that night something was different. He couldn't jump into another dream, his voice was different, his height was different, then when he inched closer to the mirror, he saw. A different face. And he knew instantly that it was your face. It was a very beautiful face, exactly how he had imagined. Though it was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to you, to tell what he felt whenever your gaze was upon him. He didn't want to be you. Or for you to be him.

⠀

Riddle wakes up in your body, feeling completely disoriented and frustrated with the lack of control he has over the new, unfamiliar world around him. But soon, the shock turns into curiosity and then into obsession as he realizes he now has full access to everything about you, your routines, belongings, even your weaknesses, and insecurities.

Riddle’s meticulous nature drives him to organize your life, make everything as “perfect” as he can, so when you’re back, it’ll be clear that he knows what’s best for you. He spends hours exploring your things, setting up strict plans, and making lists, even going so far as to cut out people he feels are a bad influence. All of this, in his mind, is for your “own good.”

In Twisted Wonderland, you’re now bound to the rules of Heartslabyul, balancing Riddle’s strict schedule, navigating his many routines, and dealing with his high standards as you struggle to maintain his reputation without causing a commotion.

⠀

Jamil is quick to adjust, immediately masking his initial confusion in favor of stealthily gathering information about your world. He keeps a low profile, but behind that calm facade, he’s strategically piecing together every part of your life, figuring out who’s important to you and how he can stay in your life even if he returns to his world. Jamil moves through your world with subtlety, observing your friends and family with a quiet intensity, noting who to trust — and who to remove from your life. He’s ready to make subtle changes to your social circle or behavior, aligning your life with what he thinks is “best.”

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re handling Jamil’s carefully hidden responsibilities, feeling the pressure of his dual life between serving Kalim and managing his own ambitions, all while trying not to slip up and reveal your true identity. It's difficult.

⠀

Kalim wakes up in your body with sheer joy and fascination, his excitement overriding any initial confusion. He’s absolutely delighted to be in your world, taking in every little detail with childlike wonder. Kalim sees this as an opportunity to become even closer to you, and he goes about learning everything there is to know about your life, friends, and family, brimming with excitement to be part of it all. He’s incredibly affectionate with anyone he meets, happy to share his thoughts, and may unintentionally end up sharing details about “you” that leave people puzzled. He can’t resist splurging a bit on your behalf, thinking he’s treating you.

As for you, adapting to Kalim’s responsibilities in Twisted Wonderland is overwhelming, as you’re thrown into his high-energy life and surrounded by his devoted friends and followers. His cheerful, social world is a whirlwind of activity and expectation, especially with Jamil by your side, assessing every move you make with a scrutinizing eye.

⠀

When Ruggie wakes up in your body, he’s initially thrown off but quickly realizes the opportunity in front of him. Instead of panicking, he takes a strategic approach, savoring every moment as he explores your life and digs into your personal world. His tendencies kick in subtly but intensely; he’s not one for grand, showy gestures, but every action is deliberate, aimed at securing his presence in your life as deeply as possible, as he changes your wallpaper for fanart of him and enters the game to level up all his cards for you.

He begins by poking through your belongings, finding small things that give him insight into your personality, routines, and friends. Ruggie is careful to go unnoticed, learning as much as he can about your relationships and keeping mental notes about anyone he thinks poses a “threat” to his place in your life. He’s not above making subtle changes, distancing you from people he dislikes and reshaping your social circle to align with his preferences, but he does so with skillful subtlety — most people won’t even realize he’s manipulating things from behind the scenes.

If you have a job, he’ll blend right in, charming your colleagues and subtly gaining their favor, leaving an impression that makes it hard for anyone to forget you. He’s naturally resourceful, too, so he takes a look at your finances, maybe even setting aside a bit of extra money “for emergencies” (which, of course, he intends to use for things he thinks you’ll need down the line).

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re adjusting to the gritty pace of Ruggie’s life in Savanaclaw. His resourcefulness is evident in every little aspect of his world — from balancing odd jobs to navigating the intense social structure under Leona’s rule. You feel the constant need to stay alert, manage his reputation, and keep up with his never-ending hustle. It’s a life of quick thinking, constant negotiation, and clever shortcuts that keep you on your toes, giving you a firsthand taste of Ruggie’s way of surviving in a world that doesn’t make things easy. You made a note to dote on him when you get back to your body, he deserves.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 87 (Ghost Night at the Salty Paws Saloon)

Though rare for bars to welcome ghosts with discounted prices, the Salty Paws Saloon in Fisherman's Wharf wanted to embrace any form of sim who dared spend simoleons at their middling establishment.

Their new Ghost Night was an experiment promoted in the Ambrosia Society's final newsletter, and Heather and Conrad had come on a mission of their own.

"You really think it's possible the man you met outside the historical museum could be here?" wondered Heather. "At Ghost Night?"

Conrad shrugged. "I haven't seen or heard trace of him since that night, and without his name I don't know how to find him. Besides, you're the one who suggested he might be a ghost."

"Yeah, but I was kidding."

Brindleton Bay had little in the way of nightlife. The Calico Lounge and Yacht Club down the road was where higher society danced and socialized, but spending the night surrounded by ghosts in a dive bar was just fine for Heather and Conrad.

In the early days of their relationship, when Ash was still a baby, they'd come here after watching seals at the pier. They'd share a basket of fries and maybe watch a sportsball game or two on the big screen. It was even where Ash learned to pull himself up to stand, and would always be a sentimental place for them.

Now with busy careers, two kids, and the added stress Conrad tried to keep to himself, it had been too long since they'd been out together. Considering their laid-back dating style, it was unsurprising they'd chosen such an untraditional night out.

Conrad pulled out his phone so they could mug for a selfie. "After everything we've seen with the Ambrosia Society newsletters, are you not just a little curious?"

"Of course I am. I want you to find an answer to at least one mystery taking up space in your mind. You're so stressed lately with work, the kids, and now with George Brindleton, closing the book on something would be good. And I want to help you, like always. It's just...What are you going to do if you find out the old man is a ghost?"

"Find out what he wants, I guess? His unfinished business."

They were both a little hungry, but the food at the Salty Paw was usually terrible, so they settled for sharing a bowl of chips from seats at the bar. The place filled first with human patrons, but as the night wore on, several ethereal beings floated into the pub.

One took a seat at the empty barstool to Heather's right. He gave them both respectful nods, and they returned the polite greeting, unsure what to say next. What sort of small talk were you supposed to make with a ghost?

But this man took an immediate interest in Heather, taking care of the small talk on his own. "Good evening, miss. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My friends call me Felix Psyded, Esquire. Lawyer, entrepreneur, and founder of the University of Britechester."

Conrad smirked. "They call you all that? I think I remember reading urban legends about you when I was in college."

"I've read them. None are true. I haven't stayed haunting the halls of my own university. I've been trying to visit as many places as I could."

"As a ghost?"

Felix turned up his nose at Conrad's surprise. "And what do your friends call you?"

"My friends call me Conrad. Pretty much everyone else calls me Sargent Gordon."

"Well, Sargent, what brings you out to pay full price for drinks on a night for sims in my predicament? Are you here to remember lost souls in the spirit of the day? Maybe a war hero?"

"My fiancee, Heather, and I are on a date tonight."

"And we're looking for someone. He might be a ghost. If he is...maybe you know him?"

The ethereal lawyer nodded warmly. "Miss Heather, I've been a ghost for many years and I've met many like me. What's his name?"

"That's the thing, we don't know it. He said he's lived in Brindleton Bay all his life, came out of the museum and offered to show Conrad around the lighthouse after hours."

"It's hard to get far without a name, and I haven't spent that much time here over the years. What does he look like?"

"Well, he's not...translucent," said Conrad. "He's elderly, tanned skin, wavy hair, mustache...I met him once outside the historical museum but I haven't seen him since. I haven't been able to get out to Deadgrass Isle much lately, either, but no one at the museum knows him, and I'm starting to think if he's not a ghost, I imagined him completely."

Felix sniffed. "Sounds very generic. Maybe it is all in your head."

"Forget it. I don't see him here, anyway."

"I'm not saying I couldn't help you. I've become a bit of a ghost historian in the many, many years since I expired."

"Why haven't you crossed over?" asked Heather. "Do you have unfinished business?"

"I most certainly do! Today is the anniversary of my death - I died all the way back in 1915, before this day was even known as Remembrance Day. And I came here to drink myself into a stupor so I can forget how I died far too soon."

"Your unfinished business is to just drink your pain away every year?"

"No, Sargent. I pine for the life I could have lived! I had just opened the University of Britechester with a ribbon-cutting ceremony and the linguistics professor told a very good joke. I laughed harder than I intended. You might say I became hysterical - very unbecoming in my day - and the next thing I knew, the Grim Reaper himself was offering to help me cross over. I told him thank you, but no thank you. Even if I couldn't live as a human, I wasn't going anywhere."

"That's a terrible reason to die, because something was funny," said Heather, as she and Conrad both took a drink of their cream colas in perfect sync. But Conrad finished his in a single gulp, and Heather noticed.

Felix sighed. "That's not even the saddest part. When I died, I lost my love. She remarried another man and had a family and all but forgot me, while I spent her years on earth unable to move on. She's spending her afterlife with her husband, and I can't say I blame her..."

"That's rough," acknowledged Conrad. "I'm sorry."

"I would be willing to keep helping you, if you can point me in the direction of someone who's here for the Ambrosia Society. I've heard the Watcher's put an end to emotional deaths, and I can laugh as hard as I like without keeling over a second time! I was hoping to finally meet someone who can make ambrosia."

Heather smiled. "I could do that. I've learned how! I haven't made it yet, but we have the ingredients. We took the society up on their challenge for our own reasons, but we could always get more ingredients later. Will you help us figure out the identity of the old man at the museum if I make you some ambrosia?"

"I would be honoured to help you, Miss Heather. Though I do have one more imposition to place on you. Would you allow me to stay in your home tonight? Brindleton Bay has little in the way of empty rooms, and I would only ask for a humble sofa to rest."

Conrad wavered. His phone beeped and he checked the call display, cringing when he recognized the San Myshuno area code in the unlisted number.

"Is that work?" asked Heather. "Do you need to answer that?"

Ximena had finally returned the call he'd placed yesterday in frustration, but she'd waited until the evening, when he was more likely to be with his family. He put the phone back in his pocket. Ximena would have to wait, and Rafa, too. Wherever he was.

"It's not work. It's an unlisted number, probably just spam." He turned to their new ghostly acquaintance with a frown. "Listen, we've got kids at home, Mr. Psyded."

"Esquire. Felix Psyded, Esquire," complained the apparition. "And I'm very good with children. I'd like to have one or two of my own someday, should I get to live again."

Heather and Conrad stood to speak quietly. "Ash and Lavender will both be in bed by the time we get home," she reasoned.

"And when the kids wake up in the morning?"

"Maybe...maybe meeting a real ghost is how I can start talking to Ash about life and death. He's so smart - too smart for his own good sometimes, I think. But if he learns about ambrosia and death flowers now, maybe one day if he ever hears about the curse, it'll all be easier to talk about."

Felix poked his head in with interest. "Who's curse?"

Conrad snapped his head back. "Just a minute, Felix Psyded, Esquire."

"You're not having a very good night. Are you, Sargent?"

"I did notice you kept giving moon eyes to my fiancee."

"Both of you, stop! We'd be happy to have you over tonight, Mr. Psyded. Esquire. But please don't get off on the wrong foot with Conrad or come home and scare our kids."

"You have my word, I won't possess a single piece of furniture!"

They spent a few more hours meeting several ghosts who made their way to the bar for cheap drinks, hoping against hope that the man from the museum might eventually turn up. But after midnight, they gave up waiting and settled their tab, bringing a giggling Felix with them.

"I'm so excited, I'm vibrating. Can you hear me?"

But Heather and Conrad were quieter. She knew something was bothering him, and she wanted to know what it was. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I didn't initially set out to schedule this post on Remembrance Day. This is just where the last week of Reaper Rewards stuff fit in my existing storyline, but how fitting, in a way. 🌺

NOTE 2: On one hand, Conrad should be romancing her extra hard considering he's lying, but if he tries over-romancing unflirty Heather she'll know something's up even more strongly. So they get a dive bar date night to fulfill the last tasks of the Reaper Rewards challenge.

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

The Lies We Tell

There were so many different types of lies that he could spend hours talking about them. The cases for them and against them. In fact, him and Quinn had spent countless hours over the years talking about lying and how fucked it was to lie. Well, it was Quinn who held steadfast in that position. He'd always defended it being okay to lie sometimes. He never wanted to admit to her just how much lying he had been doing. Lied about just looking for a friend the night they met. About how he felt every time she went on another date. He even lied to her just last night. A lie by omission. Rather than telling her that he had been absolutely terrified he'd fucked everything up by kissing her, he instead fucked things up even more.

Sometimes the biggest lies, however, were the ones we told ourselves. He’d told himself he was fine being just a friend. Told himself that she was too good for him. That he wasn’t stupidly, irrevocably head over heels for her, and definitely just fine having her any way that he could. He’d be a dead man if she ever found out. Best to keep that part to himself.

The sound of her laughter filtered through to the kitchen from the backyard, reminding him of what the fuck he was doing. Dinner. Steaks. Pretending like everything was totally normal and he wasn’t the biggest fucking idiot in the world. Easy as pie. He actually never understood that saying. Making pie was hard as fuck.

With a tray full of raw steak in one hand, and a beer for Quinn in the other he stepped outside, squinting against the god awful sun. Quinn’s screech followed by a splash brought a smile to his lips. They definitely needed to talk soon. Before his two big fuck ups fucked up the rest of the house. They needed to clear the air a bit. And he needed to apologize for being an idiot and putting everything they had all built together on the line like he had. Definitely for ghosting her, too. That was fucked. Trying to pretend like he hadn’t kissed her and avoiding her after was absolutely fucked up of him to do to his best friend.

“So, you kissed her, huh?”

Nicholas’ voice next to him startled him. Had he really been that lost in thought he didn’t hear his brother walk over? The man was in flip flops for crying out loud.

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Noah shook his head, tossing the steaks on the grill. “How did you know?”

“I mean, we all kind of assumed something happened with you two. You being a cowardly piece of shit and avoiding her was a big clue. Huge, actually. But, uh, heard her yelling at you and saw her about to kick your fucking door in last night.”

Fuck. If he had heard that, what else had he heard?

“Yeah.” No sense in lying. He would know if he was anyway. They’d been best friends for so long they just referred to each other as brothers now.

“About fucking time. Watching you two dance around each other has been fucking torture, man.” Nicholas leveled him with a stern stare. Ah, fuck. Here came the big brother part. “Did you apologize for being a fucking asshole and ghosting her while actively living in the same house?”

“Yeah? No? Man, I don’t fucking know.”

Noah flipped the steaks, all but one. While they all preferred theirs pretty rare, she preferred an even medium. Something he had learned the first time he had cooked for her. Watching her go back into the kitchen to cook it just a little more was forever seared into his brain. The first time he had let her down. From that point forward he made sure he only ever made her food the exact way she liked it. She hadn’t even complained. Just asked if he minded if she cooked it just a little longer while thanking him for feeding her.

“Do it. Man up, Noah. I hate to say it, but if you fuck up this family we’ve all built brick by boring fucking brick, she gets me in the divorce. Don’t worry. I’ll visit on the weekends.”

Noah flipped Quinn’s steak, taking the others off the grill. He knew Nicholas wouldn’t actually just stop being his friend. It was all his way of letting him know he was fucking up. Which meant he had to be okay with just friends again. And he was. He really was.

Sometimes, the biggest lies are the ones we tell ourselves.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @mrscevans

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Part Three

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: none, fluff as always and some angst

Part One | Part Two

Masterlist

As you step through the door, balancing the warm pie in your hands, a flurry of laughter and chatter greets you. 

“Miss Y/L/N is here!” Elizabeth shouts excitedly and grabs your free hand, practically dancing you inside. 

“Hey!” Steve appears from the kitchen, giving you a welcoming smile and takes the pie from your hands. “Glad you could make it.”

Before you have a chance to reply, Elizabeth pulls you further into the gathering, introducing you Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce, all gathered around with warm smiles and friendly greetings. Bucky hovers a little ways back, hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders a touch tense. His eyes meet yours, just for a moment, and he gives you a small, slightly shy smile before looking away.

As you all move into the living room, the group’s easy chatter and laughter fill the air. You find yourself among a mix of friendly faces, each one seeming to bring something special to the room. Sam, ever the conversationalist, quickly pulls you into a story about an “epic” camping trip that had apparently ended with him rescuing Bucky from a raccoon, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Trust me,” Sam says with a grin, “Bucky here might look tough, but get him in the woods, and he’s toast. Isn’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky, leaning back with his arms crossed, rolls his eyes, clearly amused but trying to hide a smile. “I’d like to see you handle it any better, Wilson,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” Sam says, his gaze sliding toward you with a gleam of mischief. “He talks a big game, but you wouldn’t believe how much he’s told us about you.”

You feel a surprised blush creeping up, and Bucky’s expression goes from mildly amused to visibly embarrassed in seconds. “Sam,” he warns, his voice low but lacking any real bite.

Sam just smirks, clearly having too much fun. “What? You can’t spend weeks talking about someone and then get shy now that she’s actually here.” He turns back to you with a wink. “Honestly, we were starting to wonder if you were even real.”

Everyone laughs, and you can’t help but join in, glancing over at Bucky, who’s now rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze but clearly fighting a smile. “Don’t let him get to you,” he says, half under his breath, still looking anywhere but at you.

“It’s nice to know I made such an impression,” you say lightly, hoping to ease his nerves.

Natasha chimes in, leaning forward with a teasing smile. “Oh, he’s told us plenty. All good things, I assure you.”

Bucky’s face reddens slightly, and he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. You smile, touched by how endearing his shyness is. There’s something reassuring in knowing he might have felt the same quiet, lingering thoughts about you as you have about him.

You excuse yourself, wanting to say hi to Peggy, who you haven’t seen for a while for school pickup. 

In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, there is Elizabeth and Peggy, who is finishing up the last touches on dinner. The scent of roasted vegetables and warm spices fills the air as Elizabeth stands on her tiptoes, carefully sprinkling fresh herbs over a dish. She’s focused, her little hands steady, but when she sees you step into the kitchen, her face lights up.

“Come help!” she whispers, gesturing you over with a small wave.

“Oh hi Y/N. It’s so good to see you again! Elizabeth is so excited to have you over.” Peggy smiles brightly as she pulls you into a hug quickly. 

“I really appreciate the invite. Can I help with anything?” You offer your service up. You always hate showing up empty handed or standing around while the hosts do everything. 

“Elizabeth, why don’t you help Miss Y/L/N set the table?” Peggy hands her napkins while gesturing to the remaining dishes on the counter. 

You follow Elizabeth’s lead, handing her each item as you arrange the table. Elizabeth glances around to make sure no one is paying attention, then leans close, her voice low.

“Guess what?” she whispers conspiratorially, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Uncle Bucky likes you. He told me you’re his favorite friend.”

The comment catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. You look down to hide it, but as you lift your gaze again, your eyes meet Bucky’s across the room. He’s leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with a gentle expression. The second he realizes you’re looking back, his eyes widen slightly, and he quickly shifts his gaze to the floor, looking like he’s been caught.

You try to laugh it off, but you can’t help glancing back at Bucky. This time, he’s watching you more openly, his gaze soft and unguarded, as if he’s allowing himself to hope. The rest of the room fades for a moment, and in that shared look, a quiet understanding passes between you—a feeling unspoken but undeniable, settling in the spaces between words.

Elizabeth tugs your sleeve gently, breaking the spell. “See?” she whispers with a grin. “I knew he liked you.”

The table is soon filled with food, and everyone finds their seat. You end up across from Bucky, who seems even quieter than usual, his gaze flicking between his plate and the people around him. When your eyes meet across the table, he gives you another brief, tentative smile before focusing back on his mashed potatoes.

As everyone digs into their food, Natasha catches you up on a few funny stories about Steve, who rolls his eyes but laughs along. Clint chimes in with his own antics, earning a lighthearted smack from Natasha, and the easy laughter fills the room, warming the space around you. Bucky seems to relax as he listens to them, glancing your way every so often but always looking away just as quickly.

As dinner progresses, you’re drawn into lively conversations with the others around the table. Bruce, sitting to your left, asks about your work, genuinely interested, his warm smile making you feel right at home.

“So, how long have you been teaching?” Bruce asks, leaning in as the others pass around dessert plates.

“Quite awhile now, almost eight years,” you reply, glancing over at Elizabeth, who’s absorbed in a chat with Peggy about the cookies they baked together earlier. “It’s challenging, but it’s worth every bit of effort. Kids like Elizabeth make it all so rewarding.”

Across the table, Bucky catches your eye. He’s been quiet throughout the meal, but there’s a look in his eyes—a mixture of admiration and something deeper—that makes your heart skip a beat. He gives you a small, almost shy smile, as if he’s only just realizing how much he appreciates having you here. You feel a warmth settle over you, a silent exchange that says more than words could.

“So, Y/N,” Natasha says from down the table, her voice pulling you back into the moment, “you seem to be handling our chaos well.”

“Oh, it’s definitely been entertaining,” you laugh, glancing around. “But in a good way. I think I could get used to this.”

Natasha grins, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re sticking around, maybe you’ll be here long enough to see us all argue over board games next,” she says, her tone mischievous.

Steve chuckles, setting his fork down. “Careful—Nat’s competitive streak knows no bounds. She once beat Clint’s winning streak at Uno, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t forgiven her yet.”

“Rematch is on the agenda,” Clint interjects with a dramatic sigh, giving Natasha a pointed look. “Just wait until tonight.”

“See?” Sam says, throwing you a wink. “If you’re up for some cutthroat board gaming, you’re in for a real treat.”

You smile, settling back into your chair, and your gaze drifts back to Bucky. Across the table, his expression softens as he watches you, his thumb absently rubbing along the rim of his glass. There’s an unspoken connection building between you, and you can feel it more clearly with each shared glance, every gentle smile that passes between you two.

As the evening begins to wind down, you find yourself surrounding the coffee table with the others as an intense game of Uno is being played. You’ve practically given up at this point as Sam has conveniently played all his pick twos and fours on you. 

“UNO!” Clint yells as he holds one card in his hands, staring Natasha down. Natasha actually looks nervous and annoyed by the five cards in her hands. 

“Okay you suck Barton. You got lucky.” Natasha tosses a card down, then Bruce, Peggy, Steve, Sam and finally you, until it gets to Clint again, who plays his remaining card, winning the game. 

Clint grins triumphantly, leaning back with his arms crossed, basking in the group’s groans of defeat. “What can I say? Skill like this can’t be taught,” he teases, earning a playful nudge from Natasha.

“Oh, enjoy it while it lasts,” she retorts, narrowing her eyes at him with a smirk. “I’m coming for you next round.”

As the group resets the cards for another round, you glance around the room, only to realize that Bucky and Elizabeth are no longer there. You hadn’t noticed them slip away, but the absence of their presence makes you suddenly curious.

Excusing yourself, you rise from the couch and quietly make your way down the hallway, glancing into a few rooms before pausing at Elizabeth’s bedroom door. Inside, you spot them: Bucky, seated cross-legged on the floor, and Elizabeth, eagerly arranging a circle of dolls in front of him.

Elizabeth is chattering away, explaining the intricate backstory of each doll, while Bucky listens intently, nodding with the utmost seriousness. The sight is both heartwarming and a little amusing—Bucky, who so often keeps to himself, fully engrossed in this imaginary world with her.

“...and she’s the queen, so she makes all the rules,” Elizabeth says firmly, placing a doll in a paper crown in front of Bucky. “And you have to be the king. That’s the rule.”

Bucky lifts the doll she hands him with gentle fingers, studying it with a small, genuine smile. “The king, huh? What’s he supposed to do?”

“He has to make sure everyone is safe,” Elizabeth replies, glancing up at him with an adoring look. “And be brave.”

You feel yourself smiling, charmed by the way he goes along with her game without a trace of reluctance. Leaning against the doorframe, you clear your throat softly, and Bucky’s head snaps up, surprised. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s something unspoken there—an almost shy warmth that makes your heart race.

“Oh, hi!” Elizabeth says, beaming when she sees you. “Do you want to play, too?”

You step inside, kneeling down beside them. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your royal council,” you say with a grin, looking between them.

“Nonsense,” Bucky says, giving you a playful look as he scoots over to make room for you. “Every kingdom needs a trusted advisor.”

Settling in beside them, you pick up a doll, and the three of you quickly fall into an easy rhythm, building an imaginary world that feels as warm as the room around you. At one point, your hand brushes against Bucky’s, lingering there for a moment, and he glances at you with that same gentle, quiet smile. There’s something comforting—and thrilling—about being here like this with him.

When Elizabeth leans forward to adjust the queen’s crown, Bucky catches your eye again, his gaze lingering, filled with a depth you hadn’t quite noticed before tonight. There’s a silent understanding between you, one that promises more than either of you have said aloud yet.

And for now, that’s enough.

As the evening winds down, the group gradually disperses, the air filled with laughter and a lingering warmth that only a night with friends can bring. One by one, the others begin saying their goodbyes, each of them giving you a warm smile or a quick hug, leaving you feeling more at home than you’ve felt in a long time.

Elizabeth, exhausted from the excitement, gives you a sleepy smile as Peggy ushers her toward her room. “Thanks for playing with us,” she murmurs, her eyes heavy-lidded. You smile and squeeze her hand gently.

“Anytime,” you reply softly. “You were the best queen tonight.”

Elizabeth beams at you, her face lighting up for just a moment before she stifles a yawn and allows Peggy to lead her away. You watch her disappear down the hall, feeling an unexpected warmth in your chest.

When you turn back to the living room, Bucky is there, his hands tucked into his pockets, a soft smile on his face. The others have mostly gone, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, cozy glow of the dimmed lights.

“Looks like you’re about to head out too,” he says quietly, his voice low and slightly raspy from the night of talking.

You nod, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Yeah, it’s getting late,” you say, trying to keep your tone light, though your heart is racing a bit.

He steps forward, hesitating for just a moment, his gaze lingering on yours with that same softness that’s been there all night. “Thanks for coming. Elizabeth had a great time tonight,” he says, his voice warm. “And… so did I.”

The two of you stand in silence for a beat, neither one of you quite ready to break whatever has been building between you since dinner. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but stops, looking at you with a quiet intensity that makes you wonder if he feels it too.

You reach out and gently touch his arm, giving him a small smile. “Thanks for having me over. I really enjoyed tonight… and seeing this side of you,” you add, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his cheeks flushing slightly as his gaze drifts to the floor, a faint smile on his lips. “Maybe, um… we could do this again sometime. Just, you know, without the whole crew.”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, warmth spreading through you. “I’d like that,” you say, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for a moment longer. “Here, put your number in and we can talk more about it later.” You grab your phone with shaking hands, flustered from Bucky’s presence. 

Bucky types his name and number, saving it. As you tuck your phone back into your pocket, Bucky glances at you, his blue eyes holding that same softness from earlier, now laced with a spark of anticipation.

“Guess I’ll, uh, see you soon then,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur, as if not wanting to break the fragile quiet around you both.

“Yeah, soon,” you reply, your voice coming out softer than intended, carrying all the unspoken things you want to say but aren’t quite ready to. 

Your smile grows as he helps you pull your coat on, and just before you turn to leave, he gives your hand a quick, gentle squeeze—a touch so brief that if you hadn’t been paying attention, you might have missed it. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice wrapped in that low, comforting tone that you’re starting to find so familiar.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you reply, your voice lingering a little longer than it should, letting the silence stretch between you both for just a breath more.

You step out into the cool night, the air feeling sharper after the warmth of the evening, but your mind is buzzing too much to notice. As you walk down the quiet street, you can still feel the gentle brush of his fingers, the look in his eyes, and the quiet promise hanging in the air between you.

The next day, you find yourself reaching for your phone, unable to resist the urge to text Bucky. After a little mental back and forth, you type out a message and hit send:

You: Morning, Bucky 😊 Hope you and Elizabeth got some rest after last night’s big feast!

It doesn’t take long before he replies:

Bucky: Morning. We definitely did—she practically passed out the second she hit her pillow.

You smile, picturing Elizabeth’s sleepy face and tousled hair, and quickly type a reply.

You: Well, she was a very busy queen last night! Hope you got some rest, too.

Bucky: I did. Kept thinking about how much fun she had with you, though. I think she’d keep you around full-time if she could.

You: It was a perfect end to Friendsgiving! Are you sure you’re up for a repeat next year?

Bucky: Only if you promise to sit across from me again. I’m not sure I could handle it otherwise. 😉

You feel your cheeks warm at the subtle flirtation, and you can’t help but lean into it a little.

You: Oh, so it was my company that kept you going? I’m flattered, Barnes.

There’s a pause, and then a new message pops up:

Bucky: Speaking of… I was thinking about next weekend. I’d like to take you somewhere, if you’re free on Saturday?

Your heart does a little flip. You can almost hear his voice through the words, steady but with a hint of anticipation.

You: Definitely. I’d say I could survive another night of your charm.

Bucky: Oh, you’re in trouble now. I’ve been told I’m even more charming one-on-one.

You: Is that so? Guess I’ll have to brace myself.

He calls suddenly, interrupting your next message, and you pick up, a little caught off guard but excited.

“Hey,” you say, trying to sound casual, but there’s a definite smile in your voice.

“Hey,” he replies, his tone warm and familiar. “Thought I’d call before I accidentally type a novel. Or break my phone trying.”

You laugh. “Honestly, I was ready to read the whole thing.”

“Noted,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Guess I’ll have to brush up on my typing skills.”

“I don’t mind this though,” you reply softly. “Hearing your voice instead of reading texts.”

There’s a comfortable pause before he speaks again, sounding a bit more relaxed. “I’m looking forward to Saturday… any food preferences, by the way?”

“Nothing fancy,” you say. “Just good company—and maybe a view?”

“Company I’ve got covered. And I know just the place with a great view,” he promises, his voice softening. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” he replies, his tone warm. After a beat, he adds, “Thanks for giving this a chance.”

“Thanks for asking,” you reply, the warmth in his voice settling around you like a blanket.

There’s a comfortable silence, neither of you quite ready to say goodbye, as if each shared word and laugh has deepened the connection even further.

“Well,” he finally says, his voice quieter, almost reluctant. “I’ll see you Saturday, then.”

“Looking forward to it,” you reply, a smile on your face.

It’s been a busy week, and the anticipation of your date with Bucky tomorrow has kept a quiet excitement buzzing through you since this morning.

You say goodbye to the students as their parents pick them up. Elizabeth is the last one out running down the hall with a shout of a goodbye to you. You laugh at her eagerness to get to Bucky and you can’t blame her. You’d do the same. 

As you lock up your classroom and exit the school doors, you immediately spot Bucky, leaning against his car parked by the curb, Elizabeth sitting in her carseat with her tablet, watching her favorite Barbie movie. 

Bucky is leaning against his car, looking as relaxed and calm as you’ve ever seen him outside the school. He’s dressed in a deep red henley and dark jeans. It's the small bouquet of flowers in his hands that catches your eye—a simple, elegant arrangement of red roses.

You stop in your tracks for a moment, heart skipping a beat. As if he senses you, he looks up, his face breaking into a grin when he sees you.

"Hey," he says, pushing off the truck slightly and onto the sidewalk with one glance toward Elizabeth to make sure she’s still okay. "I hope you don’t mind. I figured I’d bring you these... thought it might be a nice way to kick off the weekend."

You feel warmth spread through you as he offers you the flowers, and you can’t help but smile. "Bucky... these are beautiful. You really didn’t have to."

He shrugs, a soft laugh escaping him. "I wanted to. Plus, I figured I’d start things off right before our date tomorrow."

You raise an eyebrow, the teasing smile playing on your lips. "Are you trying to set the bar high already, Barnes?"

Bucky looks a little flustered, his cheeks flushing slightly, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, you know, I’ve gotta keep up with any other contenders to make sure I stay on top." His voice drops a little as he adds, "And I just wanted to make sure you knew I’m really looking forward to tomorrow."

“I can assure you, there is no other competition.” Your heart melts just a little at the sincerity in his voice. "I’m looking forward to it too," you reply softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Bucky's gaze softens as he watches you, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good. Because I think tomorrow's gonna be a lot of fun."

Before the moment can stretch into something heavier, Elizabeth's voice cuts through the air from the car, her high-pitched excitement unmistakable. "Uncle Bucky! Look! Barbie's going to the beach!" she announces proudly, waving her tablet in the air as if it’s a trophy.

You both glance over at her, and Bucky chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "She's really into that movie lately," he says, a touch of amusement in his voice.

You laugh, watching the little girl practically bouncing in her seat. "Well, Barbie certainly knows how to make an impression."

Bucky smiles at the comment, but there's a soft, almost nostalgic look in his eyes as he watches her. He leans in toward you, his voice quieter this time. "She’s been asking about you, you know. Keeps asking when you’re going to go back over to her house again."

Your heart flutters at the thought. "She’s such a sweetheart," you reply, the warmth in your chest spreading. "I’m glad she likes me."

Bucky’s smile widens, but there's a subtle vulnerability in his expression that makes you pause. "I think she’s kind of hoping you’ll come hang out with us more. I can’t say I blame her."

"Well," you begin, trying to keep the mood light, "it’s hard to say no to such a persuasive little one."

His gaze softens and for a brief second, there’s a quiet intensity between you, the world around you seeming to fade for just a heartbeat. "Alright then. Tomorrow it is," he says with a small nod, his smile growing.

"Definitely," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him climb into the driver’s seat of the truck, Elizabeth already turning the volume up on her tablet.

He waves at you through the window before pulling away, and you watch them drive off, feeling that same buzz of excitement filling you up for what tomorrow might bring.

As you make your way to your car, you can’t help but replay the quiet exchange in your mind—the warmth in his eyes, the sincerity of his words. Tomorrow might be the start of something even better than you’d imagined.

The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky as you finish up your preparations for the evening. It’s Saturday—your first real date with Bucky, and the nerves you’ve been feeling all day are only now settling in. You’re nervous, but it’s a good kind of nervous. It’s the kind of nervous that comes with looking forward to something new, something exciting.

You’re just finishing up a last-minute check in the mirror when you hear a knock on the door. Your heart skips a beat.

You open it to find Bucky standing there, his familiar grin lighting up his face. He’s dressed casually, in a deep green button-up shirt, sleek dress pants, and a leather jacket, his usual relaxed style elevated with a subtle touch of sophistication. Somehow, tonight, it all seems to make your pulse quicken in a way you didn’t expect.

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm and easy, though there’s a slight hint of nervousness in his eyes as he holds out his hand. In it, he’s holding a small bouquet of white daisies. The simplicity of the gesture has your heart swelling.

“Hi,” you reply, your smile spreading across your face as you take the flowers from him. “They’re lovely, Bucky. Thank you.”

His expression softens as he watches you, and a small blush tints his cheeks. He steps back slightly, glancing toward his car parked on the curb. “Ready to go?”

You nod, feeling your heart flutter a little as you step outside, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. The night feels alive with possibility, and as Bucky opens the passenger door for you, you slide into the seat with anticipation, your nerves buzzing. The butterflies in your stomach don’t seem to quiet down as you settle into the car.

Bucky slides into the driver’s seat beside you, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. You both fall into a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the road and the low music from the radio filling the space between you. The air feels easy, though you can sense a shared nervousness underneath it all. Neither of you speaks for a few moments, but the silence is pleasant.

After a beat, Bucky clears his throat, his voice a little rough as he glances over at you, his hand adjusting the steering wheel slightly. “You look, uh—really beautiful.”

The compliment catches you off guard, but in the best way. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a slight flush spread across your cheeks. You meet his eyes for a brief moment, your smile soft and sincere. “Thank you. You look very handsome tonight too.”

At your words, Bucky visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping a little as if he’s relieved. His lips twitch upward in a shy smile, but there's a quiet warmth in his eyes that makes your chest tighten in the best way. The drive continues, but now there’s an added sense of comfort, like the space between you both is slowly closing, becoming more intimate with each passing second.

“You know,” Bucky says after a while, keeping his eyes on the road, “I’m really glad we’re doing this. I’ve been... kind of nervous, actually. But in a good way, you know?”

You smile, your eyes drifting back to the road as you consider his words. “I get it,” you say softly. “I’ve been nervous too. But I’m glad we’re finally here.”

The tension that lingers between you both starts to fade with each passing mile, and the drive feels easier, more natural. Bucky doesn’t seem quite as tense now, and the silence between you becomes less heavy, replaced with small talk and laughter.

When you finally reach your destination, Bucky parks the car near a secluded spot. It’s a quiet overlook on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by tall trees and the soft sound of wind through the leaves. The view is stunning—the sprawling city lights twinkling in the distance, the stars just beginning to pierce the night sky. It’s peaceful, private, and you immediately feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“You wanna head up?” Bucky asks, motioning to the small path that leads up to the overlook. “I, uh, packed a little something. Thought we could hang out up there.”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying to act casual, but your heart’s racing as you follow him up the path. You try to ignore how nervous you feel, focusing on the quiet hum of the world around you, the rustling of leaves in the wind, and Bucky’s presence next to you.

When you reach the top, you see that Bucky has set up a small blanket on the ground, with a basket beside it. There are candles in mason jars lining the edges, casting a warm glow on the area around you. It feels cozy, intimate, and it’s clear that Bucky’s put a lot of thought into this.

“I wanted to make it special,” he says, looking a little shy as he sits down on the blanket. “I don’t really know how to do dates like this, but I thought maybe a quiet place would be... nice.”

You sit down beside him, your fingers brushing against his briefly, and you can’t help but smile at how sweet this all is. "I love it, Bucky. It’s perfect."

The two of you fall into a natural silence for a moment, both of you unsure what to say next, but the quiet is comfortable. The only sounds are the occasional rustle of the trees and the soft hum of the city below.

“So...” you start, glancing over at him. “How’s, uh... how’s everything been for you lately?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, looking out over the city, his voice thoughtful. “It’s been... different. In a good way, I think. I’ve gotten used to the quiet in my life, but sometimes it feels like I’m missing something. Like I’m waiting for something, you know?”

You nod, understanding more than you expected. “I get that. I think sometimes, when life gets a little too quiet, you start wondering if something’s missing. Like... maybe you need to take a chance on something, even if it feels a little scary.”

Bucky’s gaze shifts toward you, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “That’s kind of how I feel right now. Taking chances. But with you... with Elizabeth, it feels different. It feels right.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You feel the connection between the two of you deepening, a quiet understanding that neither of you has quite been able to put into words.

For the next hour or so, you talk about everything and nothing—your pasts, your dreams, the things that scare you, and the things that make you feel alive. There’s an ease between you now, a comfort that grows with each passing minute. You talk about your favorite books, childhood memories, and what you hope for in the future. Bucky shares stories of his time in the army, of the people he’s loved and lost, and there’s a quiet vulnerability in his voice that makes your heart ache for him.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence with a small smile, “what’s one thing I’d never guess about you?”

Bucky thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “Hmm... I don’t know. I guess people always think I’m just a tough guy, you know? Like, I don’t know, all muscles and no heart.” He chuckles softly, the sound warm, but there’s a touch of vulnerability beneath it. “But I’m not like that. I can be... sentimental. I keep things, little reminders of people or moments that meant something.”

You nod, your smile softening as you listen. “I can definitely see that about you. I think we all hold onto things in different ways. I'm kind of a book hoarder. I’ve got shelves full of them.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Really? What’s your favorite genre?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment. “I guess mostly fiction. I love stories that take me to places I’ve never been, things I could only ever wish to experience myself.”

He leans forward slightly, genuinely intrigued. “I get that. Some days I wish I could escape into something else for a while.”

You look at him, sensing a deeper layer beneath his words. “Where would you go, if you could? Somewhere far away, I mean.”

He leans back, arms circling his legs, eyes distant for a moment, like he’s picturing it. “I think... maybe a quiet place. Somewhere with a view. Maybe a cabin in the woods or on a mountain. Somewhere peaceful. I’ve spent a lot of time in chaos, in places that were loud and demanding. I don’t think I realized how much I missed silence until I had some time away from it.”

There’s a softness in his voice as he talks, something that makes your chest ache just a little. “That sounds... really nice. I think we all need quiet sometimes.”

Bucky glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “What about you? Where would you go?”

You pause, your thoughts drifting. “I think I’d go somewhere similar. I’ve always loved nature and the coziness of rain. I’d like to go somewhere that gets cold but not too cold. I’d like to spend time dreaming up my own stories or just think.”

Bucky nods, seeming to understand. “That sounds good, too. Sometimes being alone with your thoughts is the best way to find clarity.”

You nod, the quiet between you settling comfortably again. After a moment, you break the silence, wanting to know more. “You mentioned before, in passing, that you were in the army along with Steve and Sam. What was that like?”

Bucky’s expression shifts, and you notice a subtle change in his posture. His shoulders tighten slightly, and he stares down at the ground for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “It was... a lot of things. Good and bad. You meet people who become your family, and you see things you wish you didn’t have to. But you learn a lot about yourself, too. What you're capable of when it really matters. But... you lose people along the way. Some of them were like brothers to me.”

His voice softens, and there’s a quiet ache in his words. “It’s hard to talk about sometimes. I don’t always know what to say.”

You’re silent for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle between you, but there’s no rush to fill the space. You don’t push him. Instead, you simply say, “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

Bucky gives a small, quiet smile, his eyes distant again. “It’s not something you ever get over. You just learn to live with it, you know? Keep going, because that’s what they would have wanted.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “I think that’s really brave. I don’t know if I could be that strong.”

Bucky meets your gaze, his eyes serious but with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “You’d be surprised. Strength isn’t always about big things. Sometimes it’s the small moments, the ones that nobody else sees. Like... showing up for someone when they need you. Or just listening when they need to talk.”

Your heart swells at his words. You didn’t expect to find such depth in a conversation so early, but it feels easy, like you’ve both always been able to talk like this. You swallow, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky.”

His expression softens even further, and he leans forward slightly, his voice low. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, but it’s different this time. There’s a deeper connection between you now, a shared understanding, as if you’ve both opened up in ways that most people never do. And it feels right—like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Finally, Bucky clears his throat, breaking the silence with a small chuckle. “Sorry, I got a little heavy there. Didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

You smile, shaking your head. “No, not at all. I like hearing about you. All of you.”

Bucky’s eyes twinkle, and he grins that soft, easy grin of his. “Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you more sometime, then.”

You laugh, the sound light and free between you. “I look forward to it.”

As the evening starts to wind down, you realize how much time has passed. The stars are fully out now, the city lights dimming beneath the vast sky. The two of you are sitting closer than before, your shoulders brushing every now and then, and you both seem reluctant to leave the spot.

“Do you wanna head back?” Bucky asks, his voice soft, though you can hear the hesitation in it. “I don’t want this to end yet, but I also don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You smile, a little shy. “No, I’m good. I’m really glad we did this. It’s... it’s been nice.”

Bucky stands, offering his hand to help you up. “Well, I’ll take you home then. If you’re ready, that is.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you say, slipping your hand into his as he helps you to your feet. You both make your way back to the car, neither of you speaking for a moment, just enjoying the peaceful quiet around you.

When you arrive at your apartment, Bucky parks the car in front of your building. “I had a really great time tonight,” he says, turning toward you with a soft smile. “Thank you for... you know, giving me a chance.”

You look up at him, your heart full. “I’m glad I did. I think we have something good here, Bucky.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both just look at each other, and before you can say anything else, you surprise yourself by offering, “Would you like to come inside? I could make us some tea.”

Bucky seems caught off guard for a second, then smiles softly. “I’d like that. I think I’d like that a lot.”

The two of you walk inside, and you get to work making the tea. The conversation flows easily between you, filled with laughter and small moments of silence, as the next couple hours slip by unnoticed. You talk about your favorite childhood memories, your first jobs, your biggest fears. Each topic somehow leads into the next, like you're both unraveling the little threads of who you are, but it doesn't feel rushed.

You laugh at something Bucky says, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, and he catches the movement, his gaze softening for a moment.

“You know,” Bucky says, his voice a little quieter now, “I never thought I’d be here, doing this... with anyone. Not after everything.”

You glance at him, curiosity piqued. “Doing what?”

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “Just... talking like this. Being open. Letting someone in. I’ve spent so much time keeping people at arm's length. It’s easier, I guess, to just... not let anyone get too close.”

You feel your chest tighten, the words hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected. You lower your gaze, trying to hide the way your heart swells with sympathy and understanding.

“I think I get that,” you say softly. “I’ve kind of built my own walls over the years, too. Not because I didn’t want to let people in, but because... I don’t know. It’s easier to be alone sometimes.”

He looks at you, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. It’s as if the weight of your shared vulnerability is lingering between you, hanging in the air.

Bucky leans forward just a little, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to think that... I’m not interested in letting you in,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Because I am. I don’t know if it’s the right time or the right place, but I want you to know that I am.”

Your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest. There’s a rawness in his voice that makes the air between you feel thick, heavy with unspoken words. You hesitate for a moment, before speaking.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bucky.” Your voice is soft, but certain. “I’m here. I’ll always been here, just... sometimes I think I don't know how to say it.”

There’s a quiet, tender moment that passes between you. His lips part slightly, and he leans in just a fraction more, as if testing the space between you.

And that’s when the tension shifts, palpable now, crackling in the air. You both seem to feel it—a pull, something that draws you in, something that makes the moment stretch, and the space between you disappears. For a breathless second, everything else seems to vanish.

Your lips are so close now. His eyes flicker down to your mouth, then back up to meet your gaze, searching for permission, for a sign that you feel what he does.

You feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the closeness, and your pulse quickens. The intensity between you is almost too much, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you let it hang there, both of you caught in the moment.

And then, just as it feels like the gap might close between you, Bucky exhales sharply, pulling back slightly as if snapping out of it. He runs a hand through his hair, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice tight. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

You laugh softly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart is still racing. “It’s not weird, Bucky. It’s... nice.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours again, a bit of uncertainty there. “I don’t want to rush anything,” he says, his voice steadying. “I just... I don’t know. I really like being with you.”

You nod, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I like being with you too.”

The tension in the air lingers for a while longer, but the moment passes, and you both settle back into the comfortable rhythm of conversation again. You talk about small things—silly anecdotes and favorite songs, and the connection you’ve built feels stronger now than it ever has before.

As the conversation winds down, your eyes begin to flutter, exhaustion finally catching up with you. You let out a soft yawn, leaning back against the couch. Bucky watches you, his eyes soft, but there’s something almost reluctant in his gaze.

“I should probably go,” he says quietly, standing up and stretching. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You sit up, still a little drowsy. “You don’t have to leave,” you say, your voice a little more vulnerable than you intend. “I... I don’t want you to go.”

Bucky hesitates, his expression conflicted as he looks at you. “I... I don’t want to leave either,” he admits, his voice low. “But I don’t want to make things awkward either.”

You smile softly, trying to push the sleepiness from your eyes. “It’s not Bucky. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

After a long pause, he sits back down beside you, though his body is tense. He watches you closely for a moment before finally settling in. “Alright. I’ll stay. But just... just to keep you company. And because I don’t want you to be alone either.”

You feel a warm flush spread through you as you nestle deeper into the couch, the quiet between you comforting and safe. Bucky lies down beside you, careful not to get too close, but still there. You fall asleep, your head on his chest, and for the first time in a long while, you feel at peace.

Bucky lies awake beside you, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the thoughts that swirl in his mind. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to wake you, but the weight of his past—the nightmares, the fears—keeps him from fully resting. He stays awake, just listening to the sound of your breathing, hoping that his presence won’t disturb your sleep.

It’s the first time he’s ever felt this way with someone—so close, yet so distant, fighting the demons inside. He wonders, for just a moment, if he’s ready to let someone in completely.

Thanks for reading! Please reblog & comment <3 would love to hear how you enjoy it and feel free to send in requests!

[leavemurph]

sometimes i get so upset thinking what if hotch wants to come back cuz like jack’s in college and he’s home all the time, he’d need something to do?? and the fact that the writers still didn’t use this one excuse to bring him back to emily is just… ugh.

a few comments here and there about his life while he was gone, laughing with old friends who are still friends no matter what, teasing him cuz he tries to call his son and gets constantly ignored with the “dad, please, i’m busy”. then jj’s like, oh yeah, i get it, teenagers gonna be teenagers, and emily’s kinda feeling left out? but it’s cool. it’s just that time’s passing and she doesn’t have that for herself, which is strange, since she always thought she would. but then again, time sucks, this job takes so much, and yeah, maybe it’s too late.

no kids, nope, well, she’s busy. really busy. this thought keeps looping in her head, and a few situations end up making her rethink it, over and over—did i do this on purpose? did i avoid making any decisions that could’ve taken me down that path because, deep down, i felt like i didn’t deserve it?

hotch finds her in her office, asks if she’s okay because she seems so distracted all the time. of course, she doesn’t say anything, she’s not big on venting, but she does ask him if he ever thought about what it’d be like if they’d made it differently all those years ago.

he’s… confused at first, mostly because he’s not sure if this is her way of allowing them to talk about all the stuff they never said, couldn’t say, or were too scared to. so he asks, what do you mean? emily’s tired of dancing around it, they’re older now, more mature, there’s not much left to lose, so she just says, “you knew how i felt about you. that’s fine. i know how you felt about me.” hotch gives her a small smile, and she gets it. she really gets it. “i can’t believe i even considered going with you. like, a part of me really wanted to, so badly. i talked to you about work every day, told you things you didn’t even want to hear, didn’t care. and i kept hoping, hoping that one day you’d ask me to, or even just… i don’t know, say you missed me. my god, i would’ve dropped everything, run off into witness protection. with you. with jack.”

“emily.” hotch looks genuinely surprised, and maybe it’s because she’s holding back tears. “you had all these things here, things you built for yourself. look at you now.”

“right,” she mutters, waving it off with a comment about their previous case, because why get into that now? it’s a waste of time.

aaand…

they kiss for the first time on new year’s, in their natural habitat—at work, of course. everyone but emily is ready to party, but at midnight, hotch brings her a glass of champagne while she’s scribbling reports. she looks up and says, “are you guys going out? i’m gonna have to pass this time, i’m so busy,”

and he laughs because, “you sound like me ten years ago,” while gently coaxing her out of her chair. she tries not to freak out, laughing nervously, rolling her neck to release the tension from hours of sitting and staring at fine print. hotch brushes her hair back, studying her face, and she lets out a deep sigh, touching her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “a little nervous?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips. “still the same tell, huh? some things never change.”

“i really can’t go with you guys,” she insists, eying his lips, almost on the edge of feeling butterflies for the first time in over a decade.

“heard you the first time. so i’ll be your first new year’s kiss, and then i’ll get out of your hair.” okay, butterflies all the way down to her toes. she barely nods, just a slight movement, before he leans in and kisses her. it’s the best kiss she’s ever had, hands down. my god, she can’t stop thinking about it.

he literally left her to do her job and went out partying with the others. he’s learned to live more than she has over these years, and honestly, it’s not bad. it’s not terrible. it’s nice.

their relationship grows through little moments scattered throughout the season—tender touches, good morning kisses, emily jumping out of bed late, the looks they share. they talk about the moments they’ve lived, the times they wanted to say something and didn’t, or do something and held back. “do you remember that time we…?”

the first time emily faces any life-threatening situation, hotch’s immediate reaction when he sees her getting her cheek stitched up is: “that was really brave of you to do.”

“hotch,” she winces, frowning through the pain as the stitch hurts. “really?”

“okay, what, are you out of your mind? didn’t you wait for backup?”

“that’s much better, thank you. and, no, it’d be too late.”

“almost died,” he crosses his arms, and emily is doing everything she can not to bite her nails. “i’m gonna need you to marry me. is that okay with you?”

and emily’s like, “what?”

“you heard me right. i want you, and i want to do this, all of it. you’ve always wanted kids, and you’ve been thinking about it, don’t lie to me, and it’s not too late. and we’re gonna do it, you and i. there’s surrogacy, adoption… we can—”

yeahh…. so.

gimme gimme.

bye.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Any Stefek fic that is based off the movie Dirty Dancing? A friend of mine said she read a few but I can not find any! Thank you!!!

Nobody puts Sterek in a corner!

Awkward Dancing by StaciNadia

(1/1 I 1,193 I Teen)

Love and dancing come together at Argent's Resort.

I Can't Live Without Your Love by Val_Brown

(1/1 I 4,898 I Not Rated)

Derek stared out the car window as the green trees of the Oregon Coast highway rolled past. Every summer since he could remember they would head to a resort just outside of Bandon, Oregon. This was the last summer before he began college. The last summer before he had to start his future. He was going to make the most of it.

I Carried a Watermelon for Werewolf Equal Rights by alphasnark

(1/6 I 5,359 I Teen)

A Dirty Dancing AU.

feel the magic between you and I by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 11,432 I Mature)

“See?” Derek holds his arms out, “Everything’s working out great for you, and I still have no dance partner,” he turns to Erica, “Face it, no one is as good as you.”

“We still have one more,” she sing songs.

Derek peers over to the list, flinches when he sees Stiles’ name, “No.”

“You haven’t even seen me dance, and you’re already dismissing me?” Stiles sails into the room, tossing his bag in the corner as he does so and doing a dramatic spin to face them. “I got moves.”

Hot, sweet and wild by kishmet

(2/? I 14,665 I Mature)

When his father had announced the trip to the Argents' resort, Stiles had envisioned long days spent lounging on the beach with his laptop. He'd never imagined rigorous training sessions with the world's hottest, strictest dance coach.

Nobody puts Stiles in a corner by Stephaninnie

(7/7 I 39,565 I Mature)

Dirty Dancing AU where Stiles is Baby and Derek is Johnny and some things have changed but most things have stayed the same.

Certain Kind of Fool by saraubs

(1/1 I 36,530 I Mature)

Derek, who has been dragged against his will to the same resort his family visits every summer, is determined to spend the next two and a half months sequestered in his room. His only friend, his sister Laura, is preoccupied with her newly-bonded mate, and doesn't seem to care about anything but making him happy.

When Derek meets Stiles Stilinski, a sharp-tongued waiter, he thinks that this summer might not be a complete waste of time. There are only two problems: First, Stiles is human. Second, he doesn't believe in mates.

Dirty Dealing by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

(13/? I 47,100 I Teen)

Stiles had a plan for his final summer before college. He was going to intern at the Sheriff's station, get ahead on the plans for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, his dad had some hazy idea of him having 'one last summer' as a lazy teenager. Now, he's stuck cooling his heels and feeling very out of place at some stuck up country club, where he feel he has more in common with the staff than the other members. Of course, that could be because the staff include his new 'how have we never met before' best friend Scott and the 'it should be physically impossible for someone to be that perfect' new crush, Derek. Who apparently hates him - but not enough that he won't swallow his pride and put up with Stiles' presence when he's needed to help get Erica out of trouble...

I May Be Naive But I'm Not Stupid by FelOllie

(18/? I 73,472 I Explicit)

Stiles Stilinski is the young, naïve high school graduate who's headed off to Columbia University (with every intention of going on to Columbia Law) because that's what his parents expect of him. Even though, really, all he wants to do is take after his father and become a cop.

Derek Hale is the sexy, mysterious, just-this-side-of-standoffish-and-rude dance instructor. He and his partner, Lydia Martin, work the summers at the playing-at-posh mountain resort teaching the over-privileged adults and their spoiled kids how to do the merengue.

The summer proves to be exactly what Stiles needs to finally learn how to take control of his life.

But, what happens when it's over?

[antebunny]

There’s something wrong with Jason. 

Early autumn of Cass’s first full year as Bruce Wayne’s daughter. Trees droop, browned and unbearably brittle, onto the cracked sidewalks. Children skip and slouch and trudge their way back into classrooms for another dull year of learning. The exception is Cass, happily at home with Barbara and Bruce, Tim and Steph and Dick and all the new members of her new family. None of them know quite how old Cass is, and resolutely refuse to have anything to do with Lady Shiva or David Cain, the only people who could tell them. But Barbara went to bat for Cass, arguing that the American education system was not beneficial for all American children, much less Cass, who was still adjusting, as Barbara put it. Learning to come out of her shell. So there’ll be no school for Cass this autumn or any autumn. Only apple cider and hot cocoa, safely tucked away by the fifth fake fireplace of Wayne Manor, curling up in window frames just to listen to the psithurism before the rain, and a flood of scarves and mittens and boots as every member of her family tries to prepare her for the incoming Gotham winter. 

Personally, Cass doesn’t get why introverts are always encouraged to become more extroverted. She thinks extroverts should be told to shut the hell up more often. Perhaps it is an American thing, she muses, but then, she loves her new family for their relentless positivity and inability to shut the hell up. From Steph, who drags her on girl’s night after girl’s night with Barbara, Harley, and all the other crazy girls of Gotham who want to paint their toenails neon purple with little stars and crack skulls open just to feel something. (Whenever Harley robs a department store she always sends Cass a dress she thinks she’ll like in the mail. Bruce always gives her a look, sends it back, then buys ten variations of the same dress). To Tim, who is hard at work learning ASL so they can communicate better and shares all of his embarrassing interests with her. Niche anime, questionable manga, decrepit video games, card games, board games, and a stash of Batman and Robin photos he swears her to secrecy over. To Dick, who remains upbeat and cheerful in the face of all her silences and stony stares. He always makes time to take her (and usually some of his other little siblings) to a pizza parlor, or an ice cream parlor, or an abandoned parking lot perfect for doing donuts. Dick Grayson is a busy man who gained most of his current family after turning eighteen and losing most of them beforehand. Yet his heart opens, bottomless and sincere, for every new orphan that shows up on Bruce’s doorstep. When he drops by Cass’s ballet studio, exhaustion crinkling in every forehead line and eye wrinkle, how can she not love him back? 

So she takes it personally when Jason continues to avoid them. Perhaps she could ignore it if it was clear that he wanted nothing to do with them, no matter how much the others missed him. But everytime they run into Jason it is clear to Cass that he misses them fiercely. She may not be an expert on the standard personality and behavioral ticks of Jason Todd, but she is an expert on body language, and everything about Jason screams bad, wrong, liar, liar, LIAR–

Cass goes to Barbara. 

These days Barbara spend the vast majority of her time in the Clocktower. Ever since the Joker, Cass has been told, and hung up the Batgirl cape. She rotates between the library and the tower, retreating from regular life while her law degree collects dust. And even though Dick gets sad whenever he see her, and Barbara feels guilty and helplessly furious, he never says anything. The two of them dance around in silent conversations–I love you, I know, I’m sorry–that start all over again the next time they see each other. As if Cass can’t tell.

“Cass! So good to see you.” Barbara smiles and wheels herself over to the window when Cass drops in unannounced. She’s in pain.

Cass is not a vigilante but she was trained to kill them. When she takes to the rooftops of Gotham, she wears a nondescript black mask. She shucks this mask off now so that Barbara can see her face and plods over to her dearest friend and surrogate mother. Steph tells her the term is “mom friend” and not to get weird about it, but Cass believes she’s well beyond the point of being considered weird. 

“Jason,” Cass announces. 

She leans down awkwardly to hug Barbara, so she misses everything that is said in response. By the time she straightens, Barbara’s face worries, deep emotional lines of someone whose loved ones spend 80% of their time in mortal peril, and her body twitches backwards, itching for the long row of computers and tech equipment on the far wall. Barbara is concerned about Jason, but she believes the trouble lies in whatever Jason’s doing right now. That she’ll know what to do with just a little cyberstalking. But Cass’s concern is more long-term than that. 

“Is there something wrong with Jason?” Barbara’s cadence indicates that this is not the first time she’s spoken. Oops. Cass missed her out-loud words because she was so busy paying attention to what Barbara was actually saying.

Cass points at the computers. She doesn’t know how to explain it with words.

Barbara takes the hint and wheels back over to her computer lab, where she pulls up all the surveillance footage she can of Jason’s usual haunts until she finds him disappearing up the fire escape of an old brick apartment building in the very edge of Burnley. Any further south and he’ll be in Gotham’s Upper East Side, and Jason can’t stand that neighborhood. 

As Robin, Jason had to be bullied into the Diamond District and the Upper West Side, but Bruce dragged him into Chinatown to practice his Cantonese and Jason went to Old Gotham willingly for the vibe. A lot of gargoyles, Cass has been told. Worn bricks, gothic spires, flying buttresses, and properly intimidating gargoyles for brooding. There is so much that Cass knows about Jason from other people. The reverse cannot be said, because Jason doesn’t really talk to them anymore. 

Barbara boots up a drone from the Bat-hideout closest to Jason’s apartment and flies it over. It’s a lovely little three-room apartment on the third floor of an old brick apartment building. One bedroom and one bathroom, which Barbara does not attempt to enter, and a kitchen/living room area. All the furniture in the living room looks new. A comfy armchair, two bookcases overflowing with newly-purchased novels, shiny new wood cabinets and a marble finish to the kitchen island. Three wooden stools, two of them as sturdy as the day they were bought. 

Remotely, she and Cass peer through the window as Jason makes his guns disappear before he reaches his kitchen island. Stripped down to a form-fitting black shirt and brown pants, Jason washes his hands, preheats the oven, and sets about making lemon and herb salmon.

“This looks pretty normal to me,” says Barbara.

Jason slides into one of the wooden stools around his marble kitchen island counter. He drums his fingers on the marble. He checks the time on his phone. The salmon, now covered in garlic, thyme, and rosemary and such, is still baking in the oven. 

“He’s just making himself dinner,” Barbara observes. She won’t call Cass a liar, but this isn’t worthy of the label “trouble.” 

She doesn’t see it. Cass is at a loss. If Barbara cannot see what is in front of her eyes, how can Cass possibly explain it? 

“Look,” Cass insists. 

After checking the time on his phone again, Jason gets up and paces. At over six feet tall, he makes his cozy apartment seems small. He picks a book out of his shelf, seemingly at random. He examines the cover. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. He puts the book back and resumes pacing the perimeter of his small home. 

Barbara sighs. “I don’t understand.”

She wants Cass to be able to just spit it out, but won’t say so because she knows Cass cannot. They’ve reached a stalemate. 

Here is what Cass cannot articulate: Jason Todd is lonely. Loneliness is built into Jason’s bones. It gathers in his bed at night like a soldier returning from war. It lashes at the confines of his self-imposed cage. When the loneliness threatens to break him, it explodes in the form of rage at anyone who dares to be near him. Ah, but what a liar that rage makes of him. Claiming he loves nothing and no one when all Jason has ever done is love. Raging against the state of his beloved city, fury at the father he will not forgive, and hate–blackened love–for those he once called family. A cruel, self-perpetuated cycle. The lonely drives him to rage which in self-delusion to hide his shame he lies about until everyone learns to stay away. Thus creating more loneliness for Jason to feast in until he inevitably withers away from eating nothing but emptiness. 

And Cass fears she is the only one who sees it. But Jason is a fool for thinking no one else understands. Is Cass not the unwanted daughter of a world-class assassin and the wanted weapon of a monster? Her first months in Gotham she did nothing but drive people away because she didn’t know any better. The only reason she has good people around her now is because there is something so irrefutably good about the Bats. Barbara never withdrew her hand even when Cass bit her literally and metaphorically. Bruce took her in without a second thought for her background. Tim tries his hardest to be a good brother to her even when he’s hurting. Steph and Dick didn’t blink twice at the half-feral, non-verbal, former assassin addition to their family. They bring their good cheer out for Cass even when she can tell it’s fake, and she can always tell. 

So why does Jason, who is hurting and so lonely that it hurts Cass to look at him, insist on pushing them away? 

[poetryvampire]

Something Something erotically taking off Gil Galads rings — yeah with my mouth

Yepyepyep ♪(^∇^*) Anon I'm so glad we're on the same page about this. I've been thinking about this exact idea waaay longer than id like to admit so why not have a lil drabble 🎇

Gil Galad x gn reader

Lightly nsft

At the end of a hard day you only want to comfort your king.

You shivered at the High King's touch, his warm palm finally making contact with your cheek. A seemingly simple act of comfort that spoke volumes coming from your beloved ruler. Yet again the two of you had found yourselves partners in a dance of missteps and maybes, of following an easier path only to be drawn back to an endless forest.

"No more words of sorrow." Gil Galad spoke lowly, cupping your chin to raise your eyes to his.

Your whole face felt alight under the gaze of those wise brown eyes you'd come to adore. For what felt a lifetime, the two of you studied each other caught under the weight of everything still unsaid. You were moths transfixed by the heated glow of your own desire.

"Is that an order, my king?" You mange, not breaking the gaze.

"Yes." He breathed as his thumb rubbed small circles onto your skin. "These burdens are mine to worry over. Do not concern yourself."

"Would that I could lighten your load, my king." Your faced reddened farther, your voice plain with yearning. "That I could take these worries from you." without another thought you turned, nuzzling into the familiar palm.

You thanked the Valar he did not move anyway even when you pressed kiss after kiss into his palm, his wrist, his fingertips. Your love for your king threated to drawn you if you could not release it that very moment. You could not bring yourself to meet his eye but your fears were dashed as his thumb began to trace ever so slowly against your lip. A moan escaped you as your body- yet again- moved of its own accord and took his thumb inside your mouth.

Gil Galad froze as you set to work, immediately intoxicated on the taste of his flesh. You lapped at the digit and curled your tongue around it accidently loosening the ring sitting at the base. With a soft hum you removed it altogether before freeing his thumb. Sheepishly you pulled the ring from your lips ready to apologize when you were halted by the look on your king's face. The surprise on his parted lips was overshadowed by the unmistakable lust burning in those perfect eyes.

A playful smile danced over your mouth before your tongue found the underside of Gil Galad's index finger and slowly licked up the length. The High king released a shaken breath but he did not dare turn his eyes from yours as you sucked it into you mouth. You ran your lips tip to base again and again humming in delight. The feeling of his rough skin was enough to make you melt. That, and the realization just how much larger your king's hands were than yours, how thick his digits were, how they might feel else where.

Your head was swimming by the time you pulled free the second ring. When had Gil Galad captured your waist with his free hand? When had he moved so close you could feel his hot panting breaths on your face.

"I-I am sorry for my..." You're not sure what else to say as you silently bag him to let you go on.

"No." Gil Galad, the High King himself, the most wise elf you had ever met, now fought for words. Again he brought his adapt fingertips to brush over your lips with an adoration that weakened your knees. "You honor me. Never have I been adorned with such a precious gem as these."

"Let me adore you." you sigh. " As you deserve to be." Keeping your eyes fixed to his you took both his middle and ring finger fully into your mouth with a single motion. You gave yourself over fully to the lewdness of the act and gave your beloved a show of just how you yearned to please him. You sucked deeply not caring for the wet sounds and light gagging at the length of them. Well worth it to watch Gil Galad's eyes roll back before shutting them tightly. He shuddered and lowly rumbled your name, a vibration that shot straight to your aching core. You pressed your thighs together trying to quell you own need.

The High King let out a sharp groan and to your surprise he ripped his fingers from your mouth. The protest forming in you throat was snuffed out as his lip captured yours. His mouth hot as it was impatient and terribly needy. His tongue just as curious and hungry as yours. Your arms locked around his neck as Gil Galad embraced you, pressing your body tight to him which drew urgent moans from both of you. There could be no more pretending you did not burn for each other. Not after the rush of heated confessions spoken between kisses. Not after feeling the steel hard testament to your king's desire pressed eagerly against your stomach. Not after the night that was in store for you. One neither you would ever forget.

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

THE BEST FRIENDS RULE PART 2-JOBE BELLINGHAM

Part.1

After you walked away, Elena gave Jobe a curious look, watching him for a few seconds in silence before asking, "Hey, is everything okay?"

Jobe nodded quickly, almost mechanically, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, of course. All right," he replied, though his expression and redness on his cheeks indicated a certain agitation.

Elena looked at him for a moment, uncertain. She seemed to accept his answer, but her expression revealed that she was not completely convinced. As soon as he turned to the track, his eyes looked for you in the crowd and found you immediately, dancing and laughing with your friends, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

Your movements were full of energy and charm, as if you knew exactly how much your way of being left everyone breathless, especially Jobe. Elena was watching the scene, unsure of what was happening. He always knew you and Jobe were different, but there was something new in the way he looked at you, an attention that he couldn’t quite explain.

Jobe, meanwhile, tried to avoid Elena’s gaze, but it was almost impossible not to look at you. The way you danced, moving naturally and letting your eyes slide on him every now and then made it all harder. With every smile or laugh, he felt his heart beat a little faster, and could not stop wondering what it would be like if there were no rules to complicate things.

After a few moments, Elena tried to report the conversation on the partners they were talking with, but Jobe was distracted, occasionally casting glances in your direction.

In a moment of pause, one of your friends approached you to talk, and you nodded, laughing, still looking and a bravado that seemed to grow every time you noticed Jobe looking at you. With a light move, you pretended to ignore him, focusing on your friend, but you threw Jobe some brief glance and charged with provocation.

Noticing your look, Jobe let slip a half smile that Elena did not miss.

"Jobe... are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jobe took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders. "What? No... I was just... it’s just that..." He stopped, realizing that he didn’t even know how to explain what he was feeling.

Elena sighed, glancing back at you as well. "Look, I know that Y/N can be... well, intense," she said with a vague smile. "But remember the rule, okay?"

Jobe nodded, though he felt that the rule was becoming increasingly difficult to follow.

---

The next morning, Elena’s family was invited to the Bellingham home for a casual lunch. In his room, Jobe was getting ready, digging through his clothes and trying to find something that was both elegant and casual, something that could impress without looking too much. He was examining a shirt, assessing whether it was too formal, when his older brother, Jude, entered the room with a funny smile.

"Hey, what’s this concentration?" Jude crossed his arms, looking at Jobe with a complicit smile. " You’re choosing the outfit as if you were going on a date."

Jobe turned around, pretending to puff. "I’m not looking for anything special," he replied, trying to seem casual, even if he couldn’t hide the slight anxiety completely. "Just... I want to dress up, that’s all."

Jude raised an eyebrow, amused. "Ah yes? You just want to dress up today as Y/N is coming here." He gave him a slight pat on the shoulder. "Admit it, you have a huge crush on her."

Jobe flushed, shaking his head and trying to defend himself. "What do you say? I don’t care at all. It’s just... just Elena’s sister, that’s all."

Jude laughed, noticing how Jobe avoided looking into his eyes. "Yeah, only Elena’s sister, sure. It’s a shame that every time she walks into a room, your brain seems to stop working."

Jobe tried to ignore the comment, returning to focus on his wardrobe, but he could not deny himself that, thinking of you, his heart beat faster and he got a feeling of agitation. Finally he chose a shirt that he thought you might like, trying to ignore the funny smile of Jude leaving the room shaking his head.

Meanwhile, at Elena’s house, you were also preparing. You were wearing a skirt just above the knee, adjusting it in front of the mirror to find the right balance between casual and chic. Just then, Elena entered your room, leaning against the doorframe with a pensive expression as she watched you.

You noticed her look and turned to her with a mischievous smile. "What is it? Do you think it’s a bit much for a simple lunch?" you joked, fixing your skirt one last time and fixing your hair.

Elena sighed, getting a little closer. "You know, you could stop messing with Jobe like that. He’s my best friend, I don’t want him to think..."

You smiled innocently. "What did he think? That I had a crush on him?"

Elena looked at you with a certain severity, but you noticed a hint of concern. "You know what I mean, Y/N. Jobe is shy and... I wouldn’t want him to get deluded. You know how it can be."

You raised your shoulders, visibly amused. "Elena, calm down. Jobe is your most shy and cute friend, I know. But I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just... chatting, that’s all." You winked at her, which made your sister sigh even more.

"You’re incredible," said Elena, shaking her head. "But try not to drive him crazy, okay? He’s very committed to the rules, you know we said not to get involved with relatives."

Your laughter filled the room. "Oh, sure, the famous rules. But you really believe that Jobe is so respectful of those rules?" you asked with a mischievous smile.

Elena glanced at you one last time, as if she had guessed that maybe, that time, Jobe would have more trouble keeping his commitment. And as she left the room, you stayed with a smirk on your lips, anticipating lunch with an entirely new enthusiasm.

---

After a few moments, you felt the door open, and on the other side was Jobe, who took a deep breath before greeting your parents with a polite smile.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Smith!" he said in a gentle and respectful tone.

"Hi, Jobe!" they replied as they entered. Elena, immediately afterwards, embraced Jobe warmly. "Hi, Jobe! Thank you for the invitation," he said, with a radiant smile, before going to say goodbye to Denise and Mark.

Jobe watched Elena move with ease, greeting her parents affectionately, but then a different sound caught his attention: the slight ticking of your boots on the floor. When he turned to you, for a moment he lost his voice.

Your simple but flawless look and short skirt inevitably attracted her gaze, and Jobe felt hot. The mind gave him warning signals, reminding him of all the rules and the duty to keep control, but apparently the heart had different intentions.

You immediately noticed his surprised expression and, amused, you let out a flirtatious smile. You let your gaze rest on him, walking slowly from head to toe with a note of malice, letting him know that you noticed the effort he put into his look.

"Well, look who’s dressed up today," you commented in a provocative tone, raising an eyebrow and making him feel even more awkward. "It almost seems like you’ve been trying to impress."

Jobe swallowed, feeling the redness rise to his cheeks, but he forced himself to respond with a shy smile. "Uh... thank you, Y/N. You too... you’re very pretty," she stuttered, trying to mask her own agitation.

You laughed, amused by his reaction, and slightly tilted your head as if to study him a little more. "Just 'pretty'? I’d say you can do better," you replied, giving him a friendly look before passing it to enter the house.

Jobe stood still for a moment, trying to recover, as he watched you walk towards the living room. Inside, he felt a storm of conflicting emotions: between the desire to follow his heart and the commitment to respect the rules of his friendship with Elena.

[nourangul]

Missed Connections

It's my first attempt at anything x reader, but thanks to a few notes from @darktrashsoulbear I think I've gotten it. I hope so at least. Comments are always welcome. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Now to enjoy another Ewan Mitchell x Reader oneshot!

————————————————

It had been a last minute thing, Ewan had fully intended just to hole up in his hotel room for the night and rest with a book he was attempting to read.  He’d read the same page a few times when a friend on the crew called him–inviting him out to a local show.  At first, he’d been teetering on no, but had asked what kind of show–something metal.  Matt’s girlfriend knew the band, had even helped get them sorted out with a small label that wouldn’t take them for all they were worth and then some.

What the hell

He’d thought, he’d go and enjoy the evening.  More than anything, he wanted an outlet–to do something fun that made his stress melt away.  What better way than to go a little mad in the pit?

——

No matter the city or even the country, clubs were all the same: strobe lights thumping along with the bass of varying degrees of quality, shouted conversations to and from everyone and no one, the smell of spilled and shake liquor on top of a hundred perfumes and colognes with a base layer of sweat, the clank of ice and glass as overworked bartenders kept up with the ebb and flow of humanity in search of social lubricant. 

It was sensory hell before trying to get through the crowd and Ewan had been firmly left at their chosen table while he nursed a drink and watched his friends “dance”. It had at least started as dancing and now it was a scant step up from grinding. Now he was looking at anything else to avoid an accidental eye fucking he’d never recover from. Everyone was a stranger here and he wasn’t prepared for that, not tonight at least. 

Drink in hand, he headed outside to save some of his hearing and to have a smoke. A nasty habit, sure, but one he had no intention of quitting…

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

After a thorough pat down of every spare pocket he had, Ewan realized he’d left his pack of smokes god only knew where. 

“Ewan? It’s Ewan, right?”

A woman had come up to him and for a long moment, he didn’t recognize her. Was she a fan or…

“Yes… Wait, I know you–from the flight to Heathrow?”

“I thought this was you! Your hair looks good!”

He’d been dark blond the last time she saw him, not the bleached blond he’d chosen for the premier of the second season. He’d run a hand through his hair out of habit, a little smile at receiving a compliment from a pretty girl. 

And god she was pretty with that big smile of hers. She looked intimidating, but that could just be the nerves… Oh god, but that smile… fuck, she could light up all of London. 

A hug was offered and accepted, they’d become fast friends on a red eye from New York to London. Yet he hadn’t ever expected to see her again when she sprinted away to make a connecting flight to Helsinki. Fate was funny that way, it seemed. 

Their conversation was about everything and nothing. Sharing a pack of cigarettes he later learned was from Finland. She’d come back to London to do press for a new ep. Just like he had just finished his own press tour. 

Over shared experience, one drink turned into two, then three. His phone buzzed occasionally—Matt had been an unexpected friend and he was grateful. Tom was an even better friend and both liked to check on him from time to time. Especially Matt in this case. He and his girlfriend had invited him out. The least they could do was check on him. 

“You have good friends, they like to check on you. Nice for a night out in a loud club.”

“I do, it’s a gift.”

“Any of them here? I can release you if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I came with a mate and his girl, they’re about to call it a night.”

“And what about you?”

“Haven’t decided yet. The company is good.”

“Hmm…” She played with one of the pendants she wore. “I could eat. Wanna get out of here and find some food?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

——

Which led them to perhaps the seediest kebab shop he’d ever seen, but it was open all night. 

It was the sort of place Matt’s girlfriend had called “a greasy spoon”. It fit: the tables were a little sticky, napkins were thin, the plates were almost as thin, but it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. Something about the beer, tobacco, and the company. 

It would be a warm memory, he knew it already. Knew it when he brought her back to his hotel only for them to both fall asleep at the beginning of some 2000s horror movie.

A perfect surprise. 

A perfect night.