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ginkgo-phyta · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request Spencer (later seasons, post prison era) gifting his gf an initial necklace, but the pendant is his initial?

i.e.

"This is nice, Spence, but my name doesn't start with an 'S'."

"Yeah, but mine does, and you're mine."

Feel free to take it as far as you like 😏

A/N: ehehe yes ofc, i love thissss, but also a lil funny bc my name DOES start with an S :P so imma change the dialogue a bit. keepin dis sweet- there is a lil steamy moment for like two sentences however mostly this is fluff, hope you enjoy it, my love!

Fluff, no warnings (?), gender neutral language (im p sure, lemme know if i missed something!), 2.5k words

Spencer’s apartment is flooded with the music of joy; light jazz pours from an old style radio in the living room, your shared laughter tumbles into the rest of the place from the small kitchen, the sound of knives and forks scraping decorated ceramic plates signals the end of a well-enjoyed meal.

It was date-night for the two of you, a rare occurrence as of late due to Spencer’s teaching commitment. Initially, you were excited, thinking you would be getting more of him to yourself. You kept that thought to yourself, though, seeing how upset he initially was at not being able to help his team in the way he wanted to. That exhilaration was shut down particularly quickly as Spencer had begun bringing his work home with him. When he was working only as a profiler, sure he’d be away from you most of the time, but when he came home he’d spend all of his time present and in the moment. Now, at times, having him home almost felt worse than when he’d be away.

In the moment, however, everything was perfect. This is how you wished every night could be. The two of you bumping shoulders as you both prepare dinner; glasses of wine clinking with a cheers; old love songs serenading your flushed ears as Spencer pulls you into his arms to delicately waltz around the kitchen; his balmy eyes peering down into yours, speaking words of love and comfort. This serene feeling of domesticity was addicting. Life had been a whirlwind the past year, with it only being about six months since Spencer came home from prison. Things were jarringly different at first, both of your lives changing the way being wrongfully imprisoned changed Spencer, but you didn’t care. You could fight every battle life threw your way as long as your beautiful boy was by your side. Some days were more difficult than others, when Spencer would be reminded of the atrocities he witnessed in jail or what he had to do to survive. He’d isolate himself, snap at you, or push you away; but this evening was a good night- it almost felt like you had your old lover back.

“Dinner was delicious, angel.” Spencer beamed at you from the other side of his compact dining table, using his cloth napkin to wipe at the corners of his lips.

“Well,” you chuckled, pushing out of your seat to collect both of your plates, “you helped me, that’s probably why.”

Spencer quickly followed your movements, whisking the dishes out of your hands with a sweet kiss pressed to your cheek before taking them to the sink. “It was all you, beautiful.” he had whispered against your skin while leaving your side.

You silently shook your head, picking up your wine and water glasses to be washed. “Should I dry?” you questioned as he turned on the faucet, pulling a tea towel from the cabinet below you.

Spencer shook his head, “It’s okay, they can air dry.” he spoke with a little shrug.

“Okay!” you responded bright-eyed, throwing the towel down onto the counter next to you, a bit too excited at the prospect of not doing anything. Your reaction peeled an infectious laugh from Spencer's beautifully cerise lips, his nose scrunching involuntarily. You could stand there and just watch him exist for the rest of eternity.

And you did just that for a minute, took in the sight of him humming along to the jazz standard wafting in from the other room, engrossed in scrubbing the food stuck to the pans you cooked in. His jawline and upper-lip were shadowed in scruff, trailing down the sides of his Adam’s apple. His hair was long now, wavy and pushed back from his face, exposing his strong forehead and giving you unrestricted access to gaze into his gentle cinnamon eyes. The years passing changed his appearance in so many ways, and you loved every bit of it. Your eyes trailed down to graze over the top of his chest, exposed by the first few buttons of his deep cerulean shirt undone; they moved over the slopes of his broad shoulders, and down to his arms working steadfast to clean up the remnants of your meal. It didn’t escape Spencer how you were drinking him in without a care in the world, paying no mind to his elbow occasionally bumping into your torso.

“You having fun there?” he teased with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes never leaving the task at hand. His words spurred you forward.

You simply hummed in response as you moved to stand behind him, your front pressing firmly into his back. Spencer’s eyebrow arched questioningly, but he kept his mouth shut, simply letting you do as you pleased. Your head peeked over one side of his arm, hands sliding down until they reached the cuff of his sleeve. Deftly, you began folding them up, “Just helpin you,” you mumbled as a throwaway explanation, moving to his other side to do the same. Fingernails scratched at his newly exposed forearms, your muffled giggle turning Spencer’s smirk into a wide grin. “Done!” you announced, wrapping your arms around his abdomen before nuzzling your face into his broad back. Over the barrier of fabric, the running water, and the sound of his scrubbing Spencer barely heard you ask, “Didn’t I help so much?”

His chuckle sent vibrations into your cheek, “Yes, honey, you were a big help. Thank you.” Content, you pushed your face further into his shirt.

The two of you stood like that for a few more minutes, Spencer trying his best not to move too much in order to keep you comfortable. You haven’t back-hugged him like this since before he was framed, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until this moment. He washed the dishes a bit slower than normal, reveling in the heart-warming scene. Soon, however, he was done.

As soon as he turned off the water, you were off him, moving to pick up the once-forgotten tea towel and face him, leaning against the edge of the sink. “Thank you for your service, soldier.” you unseriously saluted before taking each of his dripping hands in his and patting them dry.

A titter broke through his smile as Spencer reverently gazed down at you, the way your eyes twinkled under the soft-yellow lights of his old kitchen, your beautiful hands turning his own over to attack any remaining droplets of water, your eyebrows twitching reflexively here and there in focus. The first time he laid eyes on you all those years ago he was shot in the heart by Cupid’s arrow, and it has stayed there, firm in place, ever since.

As soon as you were done, Spencer softly cupped your face in his palms, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as he tilted your head up to look at him. He leaned down, pushing a passionate, yet gentle kiss onto your mouth. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away just enough to mumble, “I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you looked up at him in confusion as he pressed one more peck to your lips before moving into the other room, your hands chasing after him. Once his words processed in your brain you perked up, excitedly following behind him.

“You got me a gift?” You question, reaching where Spencer stood at the side table by the front door, right in front of the intricate, gold trimmed mirror you hung up just last week. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Spencer pick up the weekly newspaper, “Uh, you got me the…local paper?”

With a roll of his eyes, Spencer wordlessly pulled you to him by the waist, mimicking your earlier actions by pressing his front into your back. You stumbled a bit, catching yourself by grabbing onto the forearm wrapped around your torso, holding you up, Spencer’s fingers digging into your waist. You peer at him curiously through the mirror before he whispers in your ear.

“Look,” he motions down with his chin, and you do as you’re told. Spencer moves the haphazardly folded newspaper to the side, revealing a glimmering deep emerald velvet box. From the size of it, you could tell it was some jewelry other than a ring. You gasped in shock, not even having seen its contents. “Spencer…” your voice was meek and unbelieving.

He watched you through the mirror, his cheek pressed against your temple as he opened the box before you. Your alluring eyes widened to their limits, hands flying up to cover your mouth. Your gaze whizzed to meet your lover in the reflection, “You got me a necklace??” your words dripped with incredulity. Spencer had gifted you generously in the past- rare books, handmade accessories, clothing you had your eye on, tickets to see your favorite artists live- but never before had he bought you jewelry. You never minded, content with wanting the first piece he gives you to be an engagement ring. That being said, this surprise moved you immensely. You took in the gorgeous necklace shining proudly up at you. A dainty chain in the metal you wore the most, in the middle sat a heart-shaped locket, no bigger than the tip of your pinky-finger. Before you could speak again, Spencer shifted to open the locket for you, revealing two pictures. One was older, taken at JJ’s wedding; Penelope had been going around taking photos of everyone and as soon as she neared the two of you, Spencer scooped you up into his arms as if you were the bride. The moment frozen in time showed you in the midst of a bellowing laugh, clutching to Spencer’s shoulders in shock, with your boyfriend looking upon you as if you were an angel incarnate, an equally wide smile plastered across his face. The second photo was more recent; you had invited the whole team out to a picnic brunch shortly after Spencer was released and this time Emily was the one taking candid photos. The two of you were cozying up at the edge of the yellow gingham blanket, Spencer's arms wrapped tightly around your figure rested between his legs. In the photo, his hand was cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to bring your lips close to his, the snapshot proudly showcasing his grinning mouth just centimeters from your own with the sunlight stretching out in the background.

“Oh, Spencer,” you were at a loss of words, your fingers hesitantly tracing the silhouette of the pendant, “It’s so beautiful, my favorite pictures…” you murmured.

Spencer hummed and nodded in response, setting the box down to take the necklace out of its confines. He straightened behind you, stretching the necklace out in front of your face, “Let me put it on you, baby.” he whispered, mouth barely moving.

You happily obliged as he brought the chain closer to your neck, moving your hair to one side to better allow him to clasp it behind you. Spencer watched you the whole time through the mirror while your eyes were fixated on the necklace. The cold metal of the locket hitting your warm skin caused a minuscule gasp to part your plump lips, but Spencer noticed it all. The way your chest rose and fell faster, chasing after your quickened heart; the way you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth; your uncertain hands grasping at his trouser legs behind you. Once the chain was secured, the locket resting perfectly in the dip of your collar bones, Spencer placed soft, warm kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, holding eye contact with you with each; even as he moved your hair to dutifully pepper the other side. You sighed as his arms returned to engulf your waist, tighter than before, your hands moved to rest on top of his. He noticed your eyelids flutter close just for a moment, taking him in, before they opened again and your gaze shifted back down to the reflection of the necklace. Your eyes glinted with uncertainty upon noticing the engraving on the locket you hadn’t fully processed earlier.

“‘S’...” you spoke, reading the letter dangling from your neck. You kept your inflection steady, trying to make it seem like you knew exactly what it stood for, but Spencer knew you better than that. Before you could make any assumptions, he spoke up.

“For ‘Spencer’.” he stated matter-of-factly, his face moving up from your shoulder to rest against your temple again.

You smiled at him, more confused than before, “But aren’t you supposed to put my initials on it. You know, cuz it’s my necklace?”

“No,” he murmured sternly against your hair. Spencer’s left hand slipped down to grab onto your right hip, his right hand traveling up your sternum to thumb over the locket before splaying out to rest just below your throat, the heart pendant resting on the back of his hand.

Another, louder gasp sucked through your lips as Spencer tugged you closer to him, your back arched a bit as it stretched, bum pushing into his groin.

“I put my initial,” he started again, heading dipping down to mouth against the shell of your ear, his eyes looking at you in the mirror through his cocoa lashes had you biting your lip, “Because you’re mine. And now everyone will know it.”

Suddenly, you whipped around in Spencer’s arms, throwing your own over and around his neck, hugging his body close to yours. He stumbled back a bit in shock, grabbing onto your lower back to steady himself before a laugh shook through his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you enthusiastically repeated, pressing kisses along his stubbled jawline with every word. “I love it so much, Spencer.” you pulled back all the way to stare up at him, gaze filled with genuinity. One of your hands remained on the back of his neck, the other coming down to fiddle with the locket, “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

His previously mischievous demeanor melted off his back as Spencer drank in how you dripped sweetness. “I’m so happy to hear you say that, honey.” His hands rubbed up and down your back. “I know things have been…complicated lately. I’ve been distant and cold, which I want to apologize for, but you’ve been beside me through it all. You’re my rock, and I just wanted to show you a bit of my gratitude.”

You shook your head as you pushed up onto your tippy-toes to kiss him again, the hand on your locket moving to lightly scratch at the side of his neck.

“I’m all yours,” you muttered against his lips, tilting your head to the other side to slot yours upon them again. You pulled away after a couple seconds, “You don’t have to thank me, my love. I know you would do the same for me.” You pressed a few more kisses to Spencer’s supple lips before pulling back again, causing him to huff. “Are you mine?” you whisper.

Innocent doe-eyes coupled with a small pout had a quiet groan dragging from Spencer’s throat. He brought a hand up to trace your bottom lip with his thumb before tangling his fingers in your hair,

“I’m yours, baby.” he nodded. “Only yours.” With that, he pulled you back in for a sensual kiss.

A/N: omg sorry if this sucks im so sleepy right nowwwww it took so long to write this for some reason i cant process words properly but i wanted to finish this! i loved writing this piece, and i hope y'all like reading it. ANON! how'd i do?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction

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verstappenf1lecccc · 6 months ago

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im in NEED of a cute fluffy fic of the aftermath of charles' win, just something cute and domestic with reader!!

thank you for asking :))

1,163 words 6,115 characters

Charles LECLERC was many things, but being a Monaco Grand Prix winner was not one of them. Unfortunately for him each year brought greater dissatisfaction and disappointment to him and to the entirety of Monaco.

Her relationship with Charles was undefined, were they friends yes were they more than that yes but were they in a relationship no. She wanted more but didn’t want to risk what she already had.

There was something about this season though, already seeing Carlos and Lando take their wins you knew it would be Charles turn soon. It was almost like you could feel it in the air, the whole atmosphere seemed to be in his favor. You stood there in all red rocking his CL16 cap as a slight hint to who you were supporting.

His eyes widened with each step you took, unsure as to why he finally saw you as the way you were. Bold beautiful and someone he wanted as his not just as a friend but as a lover. He swore that if he won the Monaco Grand Prix he would grow the balls to ask you to be his girlfriend. It was kind of a flunk on Charles’s end, he knew he was playing it safe with tying up him wining to asking you out, but whatever floats on his boat.

He almost lost it when he found out he was on pole with max long behind and the McLarens right behind him. When he saw her cheering and hugging his mother he knew that she was sent to him by his father, having someone like her in his life was nothing less then a miracle.

Charles was praying he’d make the win, he couldn’t wait to ask her out, he knew how he’d do it. He’d call her into his drivers win prior to the race ( really risky but hey no risk no reward right??) he’d drop major hints and just before joris would knock on his door to let him know it’s time to race he’d kiss her on the cheek, to some it may seem small and innocent but it would be out of their comfort zones. Charles remembers when both of them were drunk out of their minds and were watching a Disney movie where she expressed how intimate she found cheek kisses, from family it was innocent but from a potential lover a cheek kiss seemed so close yet far. Knowing that a slight slip in balance would result in a whole kiss. She found the thrill of not knowing where her lovers lips would land exciting, always wondering if she would be lucky enough to experience that in her life. Little did she know ;).

The next day rolled in, bringing hope and anxiety with it. Charles knew he had a two massive tasks to complete, winning the Monaco Grand Prix and winning over the girl of his dreams. He swore he wished time could speed up when he saw her enter the paddock in a pretty pink outfit her waist being accentuated with the help of the outfit he wanted to wrap his hands wound her waist and twirl her around. She found it strange the way Charles was breaking eye contact with her constantly, she brushed it off as the immense pressure he was put under, having the hopes and dreams of not only yourself but your whole country was intense. Charles swore he saw her eyes lit up when he called her into his drivers room, something that small made him want to sacrifice the whole world just to see it again.

He was whipped and she didn’t even know it. Charles had opted for a different strategy he’d end up getting her a charm bracelet with his race number as well as her favorite movie character, her eyes held shock and happy tears when he put on the bracelet on her. Something felt special about this as if this was him initiating something else?? her mind was so preoccupied and clouded with doubts and questions that she almost missed how close Charles was getting to her. It was her nose that snapped her back into reality, she was hit with a fresh wave of his perfume he always smelt divine but today was something else. When his lips hit her cheek Charles swore that was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he saw how shock registered on her face almost worried she didn’t appreciate his move. What he didn’t expect was her hands around his neck and her lips on his cheek. They were so close that one could say there wasn’t even an atoms space between them.

Both their eyes held anticipation. God only knew what would happen if Joris hadn’t knocked on the door, alerting the budding couple that their time was up. Charles has a bigger task to complete now. His mind was hopelessly wandering back to her and how fucking soft her lips felt.

He couldn’t wait to win this race and kiss her lips. He was hoping to taste all the flavours of lip balm that she had to offer. 76 long and gruelling laps. Each lap held a different feeling. The first few were focused on keeping McLaren’s behind them. The following few were replaced by images of her, and the remaining three laps were focused on his father, Jules, and Monaco.

As his moment came, Charles crossed the finish line, leading the entire race from start to finish. This fabled race had finally been won by one of their own. Charles had tears streaming down his face as he watched the crowds erupt in joy. He saw the cameras slowly pan into his family and eventually her. He knew what he had to do.

He was going to kiss her right there and then. He saw that her eyes welled up with unshed tears. Each second felt as long as an hour. their secret moments in a crowded room, they had no idea that this moment would alter their relationship forever. She saw a change in his eyes; she didn’t know why he looked so desperate to bring her to the barriers, but when she reached there and found his lips crashing with hers, she finally understood why.

All her tears and pain that she carried from dating the wrong guys just to get over Charles all felt like water under the bridge. She had simply gotten a taste of the man she craved for so long, and she knew she didn’t want to stop anytime soon. They were falling fast and hard and had no way to stop. Charles put the last of his energy into that kiss with her and found himself grinning from ear to ear when he saw how flustered she was.

The kiss sealed their fate.

Later in the evening, Charles did end up asking her formally to be his girlfriend, but that’s a story for another time.

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angelliicc · 3 months ago

Text

signal

“i send you a sign, send you a signal

but it doesn't work at all”

a/n: hey guys im back again. enjoy because this is based off of a real life story to me :)

warnings: none

masterlist

| your team jumped for joy, forming a circle. “WE’RE GOING TO CHAMPIONSHIPS!!” you all exclaimed. the playoffs were a very close game, your team winning by a point yesterday. tears of joy filled the gym when you all realized you were going to the finals game.

“wanna watch the next game to see who we’re playing tomorrow?” coach asked.

“sure.” your team replied. you climbed up the bleachers sitting in the middle. you sat next to your friend, just as about it was tip off. you had no idea which schools they were. they were just yellow vs. black to you. the first half was quite boring, so you scrolled on your phone. halftime ended and it was the start of the 3rd quarter.

black was in possession of the ball until a girl from the yellow team stole it and made a wide open layup. woah. you thought to yourself. shes good. really good.

you couldnt take her eyes off of her. the way she played, her defense, her handles, her height, everything. you were admiring her from afar. you can finally see the back of her jersey. 14, williams.

you received a pamphlet of all the schools and players who were eligible to playoffs. you grabbed yours and flipped the pages quickly, looking for a williams.

“#14, ellie williams, point guard.” ellie huh? you thought to yourself.

the game eventually ended, with ellie and her school winning. meaning you were playing her tomorrow evening.

“im so scared, nervous, and excited.” you tell dina at school.

“im sure you guys will be fine! you have an undefeated season!” dina replied.

“i have a feeling we might lose. they’re really good and tall.” you said

“im sure everything will be fine, good luck tonight tho!” dina spoke

“thanks, i need it.” you joked back.

school ended at 3, the game was at 7. you had to get ready quickly since the play you were playing at wasn’t close. you brought your gym bag and water bottle and jumped into the car.

you were the first one there, with tons of emotions flowing through your body. you had a mental breakdown yesterday since you didn’t play to your expectations, which resulted into your mom scolding you. you wanted to make sure you played your best today.

more and more people arrived, parents, athletes, coaches, anyone. the gym was divided, half being in pink to support you and the others being in yellow to support your opponents.

tip off was in 5 minutes, you weren’t a starter, but you understood. your emotions were trying to get the best of you, but you tried to stop it. your coach gave you and your teammates some advice and where everyone should go, then the buzzer rang.

“on the court lets go!” the ref shouted. you sat down on the bench, watch the ball fly up in the air, then one of your teammates swinging it to your team.

“is ellie starting?” you thought to yourself. you didn’t see her on the court, but found her on the bench, watching eagerly just like you were.

2nd quarter had arrived, 15-24. you were losing. “you, go.” the co-coach told you. you got up, making sure your shoes had grip and ran on the court. you saw ellie was also playing. a foul got called against your team, so an opponent got 2 free throws. you were waiting on the 1st one.

“what are you doing? get ready!” coach scolded. when the opposing team got the rebound, coach called a timeout.

“you, take a charge on #14 if you can. shes too tall and drives fast.” coach ordered

“but who will the foul get called against?” you questioned.

“she will, shes in foul trouble.”

but before he can even explain more, reg blew the whistle, ordering everyone to get on the court. her team now had the ball. you tried your best to take a charge, but chickened out. coach subed you out. that was the only time you played.

it was a close game, but the other team started to give out towards the 4th quarter. your team took advantage of that. less than a minute left. shot clock. 52-48. your team had possession of the ball. there was 6 seconds left. ball up in the air, and it was a good. a 3 pointer made with 6 seconds left.

your team were champions. an undefeated record, the first in your schools history. you and your team gather outside to do an “undefeated” chant. all of a sudden, you see ellie in tears. you walk up to her, trying your best to comfort her. “hey, good game out there. you played good.” you said, attempting to cheer her up. all she could do was nod.

a few days later, you couldn’t stop thinking about ellie. “why can’t i get her out of my head?” you asked yourself. its like she owned your mind, and she was the only thing in it. you had no choice but to find her online, somehow.

you figured out the schools name, and decided to check the following list on it on instagram, when you see her username with a profile picture that looks exactly like her. “oh shit, its ellie. should i follow?” you ask yourself “you know what. fuck it.”

you pressed that blue follow button. next moment, your phone buzzed. she followed you back. it was like you were on cloud 9.

you went through her stories, seeing that she plays volleyball. you decided to dm her saying who you were, and that you played against her.

r: “hey, are you one of the players from the championship game?”

e: “yes, are you one of our opponents?”

r: “yup, i just wanted to say like your really fucking good i saw your semi-final game on sunday you killed it.”

e: “thank you so much omg you are rlly good too. i saw you guys play at the finals game. you are rlly good.”

r: “thank you, how long have you been playing?”

e: “7 years, wbu?”

r: “technically 2, i player when i was younger and i play now. i played volleyball for the first time this year, it was interesting.”

e: “vb is amazing. why, what happened?”

you then told her the unnecessary drama that happened at that time. it was definitely an experience.

r: “i wanna join club vb but its so expensive”

e: “fr like thousands of dollars to hit a ball over a net?”

r: “there’s a club near my city, but they want $6k”

e: “jesus, for hitting balls?”

r: “exactly! i can do it for free at my house”

you both then continued to talk about club volleyball, until you mentioned her volleyball videos. god she was amazing, you can see her going pro one day. she complimented you for your kind gesture. you both talked about how you can go against each other in the future again.

the next couple of days, you were contemplating weather or not to try out for club vb, so you texted ellie about it.

r: “hey ellie, i kinda wanna try out for volleyball. do you have any tips or what to expect?”

e: “theres gonna be passing, hitting, and serving. just keep practicing those.”

the conversation continued until it was getting late, and you both stopped responding to each other.

over the summer, you kept throwing hints to her how you liked her. you were head over heels for her, but you didn’t know if she liked you. you went complete stalker mode, looking at her reposts. you put songs on your story that reminded you of her. you replied to her stories and her notes, but she just didn’t get it.

over time, you made it to her close friends list. you felt like you won the lottery. you told dina and jesse about this crush, but they weren’t supportive.

“you can do better.” jesse commented

“first of all, what the fuck? and second, shes cute and a good baller.” you replied.

“i don’t think she likes you, sorry.” dina said. “shes friendzoning you. you’re the one always texting her first, replying to her, etc. i think you need to stop.”

“and what if i don’t?” you questioned.

“you’re gonna get your hopes up, all for nothing. don’t let her break your heart.” jesse added.

from then on, the signals you sent her died down. you didn’t text her as often as you did. you replied to her stories only rarely. you were forced to fall out of love.

i give you a glance and keep throwing hints

but you don’t understand

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader

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andkisses · 10 months ago

Text

♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder. “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him. “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him. You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks. Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now. The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again, and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play.

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You’re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them.

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come.

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment.

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips. "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance. He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt scanarios #txt imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #fluff #angst #scarios #imagines #all #prose #txt

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polkadothop · 1 month ago

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So im going to throw out a theory I have for the next 3 episodes.. SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVENT WATCHED THE CAMPAIGN

So I have seen a lot of people worried about episode 6 being the shows equivalent of Bard's Lament, which I don't believe for a second. It is possible it will be different when it actually happens, but I do not think the creators would spend all this time building Scanlan's insecurities within the group just for him to peace out quietly like that. But! It does bring up the question of him getting back to the group after he meets with Kaylie.

Now it is pretty clear, given the second half of episode 6, that episode 7 will most likely be Glintshore, which I am beyond excited for I have been waiting since season 1 was airing for this. So when I watched the trailer for season 3, I noticed one shot of the group flying through a rainstorm, and I immediately clocked it as being the part when they travel to Glintshore (I could be completely wrong about this, but im just going based on the campaign as they did have to go through a storm to get to the island).

So I was watching the trailer again for the 100th time and I noticed that in that shot Scanlan is not with them.

I don't think he will be at Glintshore at all. So then when will he come back?

I think he is going to arrive in Whitestone for the Aftermath™. I think there will be a moment that is essentially -

"Hey guys what'd I miss?"

"WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?! PERCY'S DEAD!"

And good god if they do that...the angst of it all..😶

but that's my theory anyways, we'll find out on Thursday

#tlovm spoilers #the legend of vox machina #the legend of vox machina spoilers #tlovm #tlovm season 3 #polkadothop talks

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nowimyurdaisy · 1 year ago

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best friends? - j. fisher

summary: You told yourself this summer would be different. You would be getting over Jeremiah fisher not pining over jeremiah. But things never go as planned especially not when you sign up to be a deb, with your other best friend. An escort and some ice cream?

warnings: bad grammar? some swear words

a/n: Im so excited to introduce you to my new series! I really hope all of you like it!! Watching season 2 Jere got me all inspired again ;) I know there isn't much Jere in the first chapter but I promise there will be so much more in future chapters and they'll be a little longer

masterlist

series masterlist

part one

This summer would be different. That's what you told yourself. You were going to Cousins, like you did every summer. you would hang out with the Fishers and Conklins, your best friend Jeremiah as always. But this summer you wouldn't pine over Jeremiah, as always.

Your family owned a house down the street from the Fisher's. You basically lived at their summer house, Susannah was like a second mother to you, and Conrad an older brother, and Jeremiah is well complicated. Belly was the only one who knew about your crush on Jere. Crush was an understatement, you were are madly in love with Jeremiah Fisher. Madly deeply in love.

Maybe you'd get a boyfriend, a new crush?

You had no idea what was in store for this summer, but as you breathed in the salty air of Cousins, you could just feel something different was gonna happen.

You pulled up to the Fisher's, honked twice to let them know you had arrived. Although your family had a house down the street your parents were traveling to Europe or something this summer. So you were staying with the Fishers and Conklins. That is the other thing that was changing this summer, you would be sleeping in the room next to Jeremiah's. All. Summer. Long.

Avoiding him will not be an option.

You saw Jere running out of the house, Belly following close behind with Susannah at her side. You stepped out of the car, and Jeremiah engulfed you in a hug, spinning you around.

"Damn y/n/n looking better than ever!"

You blushed, "why thank you Jere bear." He rolled his eyes at your nickname for him, you'd been calling him that ever since you'd met him. Belly was next to greet you. "BELLS!"

"Y/N!" Belly responded, laughing, pulling you into a hug.

"Missed you."

"Missed you too," then she gave you this look, and not so subtly nodded her head at Jere.

You shook your head in response. She frowned a litter, "this summer is gonna be the best one yet," whether you liked it or not things are changing.

Later at dinner Susannah brought up how she pulled a few strings and wanted you and Belly to be debs this year.

Jeremiah and Steven started laughing. "Belly a dev?" Steven laughed again.

"Shut up Steven!" Belly glared in his direction.

"Are you sure that's a good idea Beck? I mean debutante balls are outdated." Laurel asked.

Belly rolled her eyes at her mother's words, "I'll think about it Susannah"

"Great! Y/n what about you?" Susannah asked with pleading eyes.

You were about to respond when Jeremiah spoke up. "Y/n/n no way you're gonna do the deb ball scene." Jere clapped Stevens shoulder laughing. "You in a white dress?" What was with Jeremiah? You asked yourself.

"You know what Susannah, sounds super fun, I'm in" You directed your response at Susannah but held eye contact with Jeremiah.

"Ahh! This is so exciting!"

"I'll do it too Susannah" Belly said, speaking up again.

Laurel sighed but Susannah's smile lit up the whole room. Her eyes too, like it was Christmas morning. "I'll take the two of you shopping tomorrow! Laur you have to come too" and just like that it was decided that four of you would go shopping tomorrow.

The next day the four of you went downtown Cousins. Shopping for sun dresses and fascinators and a white dress of course. You were in a wedding dress shop, doing a 360° turn for Susannah and Laurel in a off the shoulder puffy dress.

You looked at Belly as she walked out of the dressing room across from you. Getting up next to you, also doing a 360°. And in unison the two of you sighed, "So?"

Susannah looks at you first, "Mm. No."

Laurel looked at Belly and without saying a word, grabbed the simple white dress that you had noticed Belly staring at the entire time you had been there. "What about this one?" Susannah went to argue with Laur, but you cut her off. "It is so Belly, Laur."

Bly's whole face lit up. She eagerly grabbed the dress and went into her changing room.

"Susannah" you sighed, "I've tried on like, twenty dresses," you complained.

"We just have to find the right one, don't give up." She responded. And because it was Susannah you listened.

When you came back out of the dressing room you saw Laurel and Susannah ogling over Bellying her new dress. You walked up to the rows of dress. Flipping through them until one dress caught your eye. It had a sweetheart neckline with little silver jewels lining the top of the hoop skirt. It was gorgeous. You quickly grabbed your size and rushed off to the dressing room

You snapped a quick mirror selfie to send to Jere. Then exited the room practically glowing and spinning around. Susannah gasped and clasped her hands together. "Oh y/n it's gorgeous" Laurel said actually gushing.

"I need to get a picture of you in that" Susannah said, grabbing her phone. Tears forming in her eyes?

"It is perfect" Belly said turning to you.

"It really is Bells, it really is" you agreed, a smile adorning your flushed face.

taglist: @sourcherryandsprinkles @bigassnocash @jeremiah-fisher @xtom-darling-x17 @buckys2thicc @almostcontentcreator @crazylokonugget @coolestgirlhere @abbygrace333

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x you #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jere 🧸#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #best friends? 🩵🧡#tsitp x reader #belly conklin

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bubblesxo · 8 months ago

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i dont know if you will see this but i am a big fan of your g!bruce meets the batfam!!!! I literally have tumblr just for this series (and now that I’ve tried it im beginning to love it ngl) . Annyywaayy ive just read the new chapter and it’s so good!?? Like i am really excited for the next chapter!!!

Oh and I haven’t watched gotham ( im planning too ) but i sometimes mix the twins????? Like your explanations are good dont get me wrong but yk when your reading and you need to check which ones which? Yeah … and like i want to fix that idk how .do i just like memorize the twins personalitys??

also in this au is theres 2 jokers??????? I saw you once mention Jerome(?) being revived or something

ps .im that great at English sorry .

oh wow wow wow thank you so so much!! i'm really glad that you're enjoying my story so much! it really means a lot to me. <33 i think your english is good! but if you need/want me to clarify anything i say here, just let me know and i'll try to rephrase it for you!

okay, so in the Gotham tv show (this has spoilers for all 5 seasons, so read on if you're okay with that) the way that they approached writing the joker was actually really up in the air in the beginning. this is because they didn't have the rights to use the name "joker," and so fox (the company that made the show) planned on making a bunch of smaller characters in the show as a kind of easter egg as people who could be the joker or who resemble him in some way.

this changed when cameron monaghan (the actor for both jerome and jeremiah) guest starred in s1e16 "the blind fortune teller." in it, the character of jerome is introduced as a 17/18 year old boy who travels with the circus with his mother, who is a snake dancer. he is meant to be one of the aforementioned joker-like characters in the show and wasn't actually supposed to be included again after that episode, if i am not mistaken.

however, the viewers LOVED his performance and jerome came back in season two as a member of the maniax, a group of arkham inmates who were broken out of the asylum. i won't go too into detail about the actual plot, but in seasons two, three, and four, jerome shows up in at least a few different episodes with very memorable storylines each time.

it isn't until season four of the show that jeremiah is even revealed at all! jeremiah and jerome are identical twin brothers, however, jeremiah has been in hiding for years under the fake name "xander wilde" in an attempt to escape jerome, who wants to get revenge on him for lying to their mother about what he (jerome) did when they were children. basically, jeremiah lied to their mother (lila, who jerome is revealed to have killed in 1x16) that jerome tried to kill him, causing jeremiah to be sent away and be adopted by rich people and get to go to a well-funded private school where he could live out his best life as a child prodigy (which was jeremiah's end goal to this), whereas jerome was left behind in the circus that they lived at (haly's circus, the same one that dick grayson later was raised in before being adopted by bruce). during this time, jerome was horrifically abused by his mother, his uncle, and his mother's many romantic partners. this eventually caused him to crack, which creates the character we see in the show.

here's an easy way to remember the difference in their personalities:

in the standard american deck of cards, there are two jokers: one that is black and white and one that is in color. in this analogy, jeremiah is the black and white joker and jerome is the one in color.

this is jerome:

he's got a *very* boisterous personality. he's outgoing and charismatic and, of course, severely messed up in the head. he *enjoys* the pain he causes people and does it with little to no reservations. he thinks things through less thoroughly than jeremiah but jerome always has a plan and is actually quite smart. i couldn't do him the disservice of calling him the dumb twin, despite some points about jeremiah that i'll get back to later.

anyway, jerome has a grand plan for all of gotham: he believes that, fundamentally, everyone in the world is like him and is also at least a bit crazy inside. he wants everyone to tap into their inner selves and let themselves run free / go crazy. he successfully ensnares huge hoards of gothamites with his persuasive way of speaking and interesting flare to his words. he amasses a large cult following, all of whom are very similar to him in the sense that they all demonstrate similar signs of instability.

here's some more gifs of him.

jerome kind of invented the iconic "HAHAHA" signature joker laugh in the gotham universe, even though he isn't the one who goes on to become "mr. j" (gotham's version of the joker) in the end (that's jeremiah, though i have a lot to say about that).

jerome's always smiling, a genuinely creepy smile that throws people off at first but can be really scary once you know what you're looking at. he single handedly turns gotham into a madhouse on multiple occasions and is the one who basically spread the "crazy" to the general population (for short: genpop).

he's a classic cult leader in the sense that he can mesmerize a whole room with his magnetic presence but also will ruthlessly cut down any of his followers if they so much as upset him (or even if they're just being annoying or could have a greater purpose, like when he stabbed a follower in the gut to take their blood to draw a frowney-face on bruce).

that reminds me, another important thing to know about jerome is that he has an iconic stapled-on face! this is because he died once (in season two, though he came back to life for season three onwards) and one of his followers tried to revive him using some insider medical knowledge from doctor hugo strange (who is just... a whole thing. ew.). he thinks that he failed at doing this and steals jerome's face so that he can wear it on television in an attempt to control jerome's followers (spoiler: this doesn't work).

however, it turns out that jerome *was* revived from this, and he's pretty upset that some dude stole his face! so he uses a staple gun to re-attach it after he gets it back (and kills the guy who did it). his face is later punched off by jim gordon but reattached more properly during his time at arkham afterward (the carnival scene happened in season 3 and jerome came back with a kind-of healed face in season 4).

here's some gifs with jerome's messed up face!

jerome is the colorful joker because he's very much expressive. he lets out every single emotion he feels---unless he's trying to deceive someone, at which point he is a phenomenal liar. (in season 1 when we are first introduced to him, he almost successfully gets away with the murder of his own mother.)

jerome is funny and laughs a lot and is *loud.* he's also absolutely insane and incredibly cruel, as well as impulsive, but he's able to curb his instincts if he feels like he can pull off a big plan.

jerome is a showman by nature. he's a product of the circus and it *shows.* everything he does is like an act, something that is acknowledged by many people in the show.

he's a funky lil dude. totally crazy, but kind of adorable at times.

he's also SEVERELY traumatized from his horrible past and has huge trust issues.

so, yeah. jerome is colors! remember that.

unfortunately, pookie died in season 4 and doesn't seem to have been revived this time </3

now, onto his twin brother jeremiah!

jeremiah is, at least at first, presented to be the complete opposite of jerome. he's calm, collected, and seemingly sane---at least at first. bruce trusts him at first and he even befriends him for a period of time before jeremiah betrays him.

jeremiah is a genius engineer, and, when looking into his past, we can assume that he was a child prodigy. he worked with thomas wayne before he died and designed the wayne plaza building under the aforementioned alias "xander wilde." he also locked himself in an underground maze for ~6 years (i believe?) and never went outside, instead sending his proxy (ecco) out to act in his place during business transactions.

as seen here, jeremiah seems to be the complete opposite of showboat jerome:

when we first meet jeremiah, we are told that he is totally sane, but we can later see that this is not the complete truth.

i'll use jeremiah's project as a metaphor for this. jeremiah was building a set of generators which could make energy harvesting and usage much less expensive and much more bio-friendly (if i remember correctly). bruce promised to fund his project and jeremiah accepts his offer quickly.

after jerome dies in season 4 after kidnapping bruce and jeremiah, he left behind a concoction of chemicals that seemingly make jeremiah go insane. this is a play on joker toxin / joker venom from the greater dc universe.

however, after jeremiah reveals his new self

he says that the spray did not actually change who he actually is, but just gave him an altered appearance. there are a lot of fan theories about this, but the general consensus is that the spray likely lowered his inhibitions, which gave him the kick needed to reveal his true self.

even his complexion resembles the joker he corresponds with: black and white. he is the black and white joker because he isn't as expressive, is way more calculated, and is more cruel and less happy. even his skin is paper white.

here's some gifs of what he looks like after those "slight cosmetic changes" :

that looks a lot more like the joker we know and love today, right? bleach-pale skin, red painted lips, green hair. he's instantly recognizable as the stereotypical joker now.

remember when i mentioned the generators? let's go back to them. the entire time that the generators have been around, they've also been perfectly functional as powerful bombs. their ability to be used as bombs does not undermine the fact that they can also be used as generators, and both of these things were true at the same time *for the entire time they have existed.*

it is in this way that jeremiah's paradoxical nature has always existed. jeremiah is crafty, cunning, and absolutely vicious. he has no care or concern for human life in general and will sacrifice most people in his life if it means that he will get what he wants in the end.

this is shown both before and after the joker toxin in how he lied about jerome when they were children (which caused jerome to be heavily abused) and in how jeremiah willingly killed one of his most devoted and beloved followers, who was being ransomed, just because someone put him on hold and it was personally easier for him to just kill him than sit on hold on the phone for a while. (he also has a vicious streak, though, because he immediately moved the demolition of the bombs up to immediately once he was out of the blast zone because those people inconvenienced him.)

something that's important to realize about jeremiah is that he has an issue with being called crazy. jerome does, too, but he eventually comes to accept the term, almost like he's reclaiming it, but jeremiah is *violently* against it. that's one of the things that set him off in the previously mentioned interaction.

both jeremiah and jerome are obsessed with bruce, though in different ways. jeremiah sees bruce first as his best friend and later as the "brother [he] could never have, that jerome could never be." jerome just sees bruce as a particularly entertaining and interesting kid who he enjoyed tormenting who he would eventually kill.

anyway, despite jeremiah being crazy (or, depending on who you ask, just less inhibited) he is still crazy smart and calculating. he thinks through everything before he does it and his master plans seem like they go on forever with 10000 parts to them and backups and contingencies galore.

the only time that jeremiah ever really seems to break out of this is when he's fighting with bruce. while he still does have a greater point to make or something he's trying to accomplish, he thinks through things less with him and shows his impulsive and rash side a bit more, which is interesting because jerome showed his thoughtful and contemplative side when faced with the obstacle that is bruce thomas wayne. i love parallels and contrasts, especially in these two characters! i just love writing about twins, they're always so interesting.

some important things about their relationship to one another:

even though jerome kidnapped jeremiah and seemingly strapped a bomb to his neck (after breaking into his house and telling him that he would kill him), jerome doesn't seem to actually want jeremiah to die. instead, as we later find out, he wants jeremiah to unleash his true self and carry on his legacy of chaos and cruelty in gotham for him after his death. this is why he left behind the laughing gas for him.

(the fact that jerome thought to do all of that shows that he really was a smart character and that he truly did understand the world around him well. he knew exactly what would happen in the event of his death, i.e. bruce offering to fund jeremiah's work and jeremiah accepting, as is shown when jerome has the joker venom in a present box which claims to be sent from wayne enterprises.)

jeremiah *hates* to be compared to jerome in any way, as he thinks of himself as "the face of true sanity." he actually has an entire notebook full of jerome's ideas, which he says he will outdo and perfect, thus defeating his brother in the end, which i don't know if i agree with, but whatever.

i think that it's because of the reputation that jerome got at the circus. jeremiah wanted people to think of him as better than jerome and as the perfect child, which he succeeded at. to him, jerome is synonymous with crazy, which i've already mentioned that he hates to be called.

okay, just one more part to talk about. the infamous, much anticipated Mr. J!!!

in the series finale, it is revealed that jeremiah, after falling into a vat of acid, is horribly disfigured and pretends to be in a vegetative state for the whole ten years that bruce is on his quest to improve himself before becoming batman. he does this as a way of waiting for bruce to come back to gotham so he can continue to be obsessed with him.

however, though this is jeremiah, it seems that he has actually gone through immense mental trauma sometime during this time (perhaps during his fall into a vat of chemicals), which has caused him to sort of lose his sense of self. he once says that there was "another me" [another him] once, which is, of course, referring to jerome. this implies that jeremiah sees jerome as an extension of himself, almost, and almost makes it seem as if mr. j is a whole different entity of his own.

hopefully this clears everything up a bit for you!! let me know if you have any questions or want to know anything specific about the characters and i will be glad to oblige!

thank you once again for being so kind as to leave this ask!! it really made my day. thank you for enjoying my fic, i hope it continues to live up to expectations. i have a lot of fun things planned (and i am very happy that you decided to look into these characters more, because they are actually extremely important to the plot as we get more into the actual story!). <33

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reidmania · 1 year ago

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DAY 1 OF FLUFFMAS

miguel o’hara

romantic gestures

summary: miguel loves doing big romantic gestures for you

warnings; pure fluff, miguel being a big lover, some swearing

an: THIS IS 12 DAYS OF FLUFFMAS AND THIS IS DAY 1!!

it was cold outside, there was a slight fog covering the sky, which could mean it would get worse throughout the night — or it would start to snow, you hoped for the snow.

living here, was new, fairly new, it had only been a year or so and you had yet to witness snow in your whole life, so you hoped for the snow, especially during the christmas season.

cheeks were puffed with a red hue, tinting the skin on your face, as you walked the streets, your car had broken down and your phone had died before you left work, meaning you were carless, phoneless, and left to walk 30 minutes in the cold, to get back to your nice warm home, and see your man.

he would probably be stresses due to your lateness, and would probably go insane over you walking alone at night, but it was peaceful, you knew the way like the back of your hand and the orange tint from the street lights set a calming setting that you could spend the rest of of life walking in.

finally, you had arrived to your house, walking up the stairs, you press your keys into the door, unlocking it and opening it, once the door opens your instantly flushed by warm air contrasting with the cold air.

you step inside, shrugging your jacket off, “im home miggy- sorry my car wouldn’t start, then my phone died so i had to walk” you call out, he steps into the entrance way with a soft smile on his face.

“what did you do?” you smile, tilting your head as you notice the cheeky smile on his face, he chuckled, “can i not be excited to see my princessa after a long day, i was worried about you!” he says, coming up to grab ur hand above your head and twirl you around.

“miggggyyy” you say softly, “what have you done?” you ask again, “come see” he whispers in your ear, pulling you by your arm to the bedroom.

a wide gasp leaves your lips as you see the room, covered in red rose petals, a few bouquets scattered around the room, a massive teddy bear sitting on the bed, a packet of your favourite chocolates on the bed, along with a box full of skincare, and beauty products.

“miguel!! w- what the fuck” you curse, eyes wide in shock as you look at him, he has a goofy smile on his face. “what is this for!!?” you ask, complete shock.

“i missed you” he shrugged, you wrap your arms around his neck, jumping up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his torso, “i missed you too baby, thank you for all of this, i love you so much” you say, peppering his face with kisses.

“i love you i love you i love you” he says back, squeezing his arms around your waist. “do you like it baby?” he asked

“i love it miggy, you know you don’t have to do these big gestures everytime you miss me” you say softly, smiling at him.

“i know baby, i know. i like to, i like showing you how much i miss you when you aren’t here” he says, “come look at all the stuff i got you” he says sofly, placing you on the bed.

you spend the next hour, looking through everything he had gotten for you, he watches you and the way your face lights up, it makes it so insanely worth it.

“should we go pick up your car, i still have to lecture you on walking home in the dark” he says softly.

“how about, you kiss me instead?”

#miguel x y/n #spiderverse miguel #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel fanart #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #12daysoffluffmas #12 days of christmas #12 days of ficmas

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

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OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 9. Guero

A/N: im trying my best to complete my list for this fall season. In MY brain winter doesn’t start until December hits and winter isn’t officially until late December which blows my mind every time I look it up lol but don’t come at me X-mas lovers because I get it! just don’t bring that Holly jolly bs my way just yet 😉!!! Anyways missed my man so he’s next up for this short thing.

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: “Please, I’m begging you. don’t make me watch the nightmare before Christmas again.”

WARNINGS: language, family drama, mentions of violence, + slightly sexual content towards the bottom.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

“Fucking bitch makes me sick!” You huff as you flail the bed sheet up into the air for what should have been the fifth time.

Guero is smirking to himself, fresh out of the shower in his lounge wear, leaning against the doorframe that leads back into the bathroom.

You just got back from your outing with your sister-in-law and niece maybe twenty minutes ago but Guero figured things must have gone left when he heard you mumbling to yourself while he was drying off. He even called out to you through the crack of the door as he got dressed asking who you were talking to, since he didn’t see you on the phone and you didn’t hesitate to continue your rants.

“What she do this time?” Guero questions, knowing this tangent was aimed at your sister-in-law, since you only tolerated her and adored your niece.

Throwing the sheet against the mattress in frustration you whip around to face your boyfriend, “what doesn’t she do?! You know how she is.”

Guero nodded his head. He did in fact know how your sister-in-law was and he also didn’t care for her either—not just because you didn’t fuck with her but they got into a debate about guns that left a sour taste in Guero’s mouth. He didn’t have to engage with her much like you did but he definitely listened every time you vented that she annoyed the shit out of you…so in a sense she was still around him too.

He waited for you to continue as you began pacing now, “was I not tasked a week ago to get Ely her dress for the fall dance because her mother’s dumbass was too busy partying with her best friend of a mayor—who’s she’s probably screwing and my brother’s oblivious ass was too tied up with work?”

Eloise, or as you both called her, “Ely,” was your twelve year old niece that was just getting into fragrances and dresses—which was a complete contrast to her mother. It was no shock to you that her mother, Reagan put that off on you since she wasn’t the most stylish and didn’t really connect to her daughter in that way.

“Hell yeah you were,“ Guero said, “you were almost as excited as Ely was. What went down?”

You turned to work at the sheets again, straightening them out in the air and failing to get them to fit on the corners, “I go to this lunch date with them just to find out Reagan returned the dress! Said it was too inappropriate to wear to a middle school dance. And that I was trying to make Ely to look like a hoe since she’s already top heavy.”

Guero frowned, “the one you showed me a pic of? That little burgundy shit with the puff sleeves and flows at the bottom? I don’t get what was wrong with it? Ely looked pretty and happy in it.”

“Yes! Nothing was wrong with it! It wasn’t too tight or short. Reagan was all smiles when I dropped Ely off that night too, almost thankful that I got something done that her ass should have been doing.” You hissed and balled up the sheets out of frustration.

Guero stepped in then, gently prying the sheets from your hands to put the sheet on the bed correctly. It was something you mentioned on your first date that you were always criticized for not making your bed right as a kid so your potential significant other had to be down with at least putting the sheets on.

Childhood trauma was a true bitch…much like sister-in-law’s apparently.

Guero repeated, “So Reagan went and returned it?”

“Yeah and I think she truly did it out of spite because you won’t believe the dress she got Ely,” you informed with your arms crossed, watching as Guero put the sheets on with ease, “she’s gonna make my niece look like a pilgrim at that dance.”

Guero glanced at you, “that bad?”

“And I told her straight to her face when she showed me a video, that the dress Ely originally picked out was much more fitting than that floor length dress. I wasn’t rude about it or anything.”

“Floor-length? Nah, that’s crazy. What she say after that?”

“That I wouldn’t know the first thing about appropriate wear considering what I wore when I first met you.”

Guero furrowed his brows, “fuck is she getting at with that? We met at the damn fair in hot ass Arizona!”

“Exactly,” you agreed, “the fact that she even remembered that back then let’s me know that she’s been keeping tabs on me just to talk shit and probably about me to Ely too but I don’t care! She can run her mouth all she wants but don’t try to take your insecurities out on Ely. That’s when it becomes a problem for me.”

Regan was a jealous person, you peeped that from the first day you met her unwillingly at your seventeenth birthday party. She barely let your brother mingle alone without interjecting herself into their conversations and this was after she was already introduced to family and friends. You knew she wasn’t the person for your older brother, Kelvin but he insisted on settling for her after getting his heartbroken by an ex who cheated on him and fell in love with his (then) best friend during their college years. He didn’t give himself enough time to heal right before he was back into another relationship with the very set in her ways Reagan. There was a five year age gap between you and your brother and sure you didn’t understand it all back then but you were always aware that your brother tended to love long.

As siblings you didn’t always see eye to eye and when he did bring his serious significant others around you were open to them opposed to him who gave yours the third degree. Just because you were his little sister didn’t mean you wouldn’t look out for him either. The moment you expressed your doubts of Reagan being the woman of his dreams, he decides he’s going to propose to her despite their heavy arguments of not being trusting of each other or really in love.

Eloise wasn’t far behind after the wedding if you connect the dots.

It was odd to you that you always got scolded for voicing your opinions on your brother’s well-being by your parents, that you were always expected to keep your mouth shut and just follow along but that same energy was not reciprocated when it came to Kelvin. He was the older brother, he was “supposed,” to set the standard for you but at the same time you would always be different people.

Funny how that turned out now with your parents not wanting to be bothered with Reagan but preferred your four year going strong relationship with Javier “Guero,” Bardales.

“She’s the fucken worse,” Guero says fixing his side of the bed after you retrieved the duvet from the bay window seat, “was the kid messed up about it?”

“Oh absolutely, it was written all over her face and you know how she shields her true personality away when her mom’s around,” you say then clench your jaw which would probably trigger your TMJ later but you continue, “I’m so pissed with Reagan. Of course kids can’t always get their way but you don’t have to shit all over their enjoyment because of your own personal problems!”

“Did you tell Kel about it?” Guero smacks the pillow against the headboard, already sensing that was a lost cause.

He was just waiting for the day that Kel kicked Reagan to the curb. Now listen, Guero wasn’t down with divorce, given that his own parents went through it and it resulted in lost time Guero got to spend with his own dad but…Guero actually liked Kel, although he gave him shit from the very beginning he walked into your life but they grew to actually like each other. Guero had his own fun and deep conversations with Kel, noticing that he was also most like himself whenever Reagan wasn’t around. And one thing about Guero, if he saw someone he cared about being held back by someone else? he was always ready to do something about it; especially if the person was capable but taking too long to go through with some action.

Guero was a actions kinda guy.

“For what? That’s like talking to a brick wall and I’d rather save my breath.” You responded placing your hands on your hips before a smile spread over your lips.

Guero stared at the wicked expression on your face, “…what’d you do? We gotta hide the body?”

You snickered and then let out a sigh, “That time hasn’t come yet but my breaking point is among the Horizon I fear.”

Here you go with the dramatic stare off into the distance for a moment that it has Guero jumping onto the bed to get to you. The anticipation was bugging him and you were well aware as you kept smiling at him.

Resting your hands on his shoulders you said, “I went back and repurchased the dress and snipped the tags off. Reagan’s going away that same day as the dance to some conference in D.C. so obviously Ely’s gonna get ready here instead with her little girlies and non-binary friends.”

Guero wasn’t thrilled about some pre-teens being at his shared spot with you but the expression on your face made him ignore that.

“That’s what I’m talking’ about baby! Fuck what Bride of Chucky has to say, you’re more of a mother to Ely anyways.” Guero hyped you up as he gripped the sides of your neck to place a kiss right in between your brows.

You brushed your shoulders off, “and if she finds out and decides to get buck with me, I got something for that ass. She just doesn’t know that I’ve been counting on the day.”

Guero knew you meant that too and that made him smile. He was never above violence, it was always fuck around and find out in his mind. He’s been by your side for four years now and knew it took a lot to drive you to that point but he always encouraged you to speak up for yourself too since it was always conditioned for you to keep it all locked in.

Not when it came to Reagan though and he knew you had it in you, hearing of the fights you got into in your teenage years (one story consisted of: aged sixteen banging some girl’s face into the pavement, a story your father told him about—and another : aged thirteen with you jumping in to fight some older guys that tried to jump your brother at his high school graduation party—just to name two of Guero’s favorite stories) and a recent road rage incident that happened two years ago which almost sent Guero into cardiac arrest.

So his girl was never no pussy, don’t let the face fool you.

Guero instigated, “I dunno…ain’t she on a softball team?”

“She was until she fucked up her rotator cuff.” You gave the man a dark stare, “you think beer muscles scare me?”

Guero snickered and put his hands up in surrender, “relax baby, I’m just fucking with you. No need to go assassin on me.”

“You want me to be one so bad.” You rolled your eyes as Guero reaches out to slip his hands over your hips.

He has no shame in his game as he nods his heads at you, “oh yeah, listen it’ll be the dream costume, huh?”

“You just want to see me in more leather.”

“Yeah I do.” Guero laughs before nipping your bottom lip.

You flick your French curls over your shoulder as you drape your wrists behind Guero’s head, leaning to brush your lips against his ear you state, “that’s just too bad, daddy.”

Guero let out a groan as you untangle yourself from him, hand going right to his chest, almost as if you just stabbed him while he flops back onto the bed. “Such a tease and these are the things I get when I just made the damn bed?”

“Oh the horror! Oh the bare minimum!” You joke as you plop on the edge of the king sized bed after locating the remote for the mounted flat screen, “that’s what you get for not being my bone daddy last year.”

Guero sits up on his elbows, “you’re still pressed about that? Baby I got enough art on my skin already, now why would you want to decorate this handsome face? Which is my best art piece.” He winks at you as you scoff at him from over your shoulder.

Shushing the man, you don’t grant him with a response as the movie begins to roll the credits and you start to bounce from side to side at the music.

Guero glares at the tv, “please, I’m begging you. Don’t make me watch the nightmare before Christmas again.”

Ever since late September hit, you started off with the light hearted fall themed movies first. This was your third time now watching the nightmare before Christmas and Halloween wasn’t even near! Now if Guero suggested watching something like, “Terrifier,” then you’d be ready to kick him out the house or go sleep at a friend’s instead.

“This is my comfort movie, let me vibe.”

Guero sighs, sitting up to sit beside you to glance at the screen before settling his eyes back on you. It had to be a good solid two minutes of Guero just watching you that even when you tried to grip his chin to face the tv again, he wouldn’t budge.

Stubborn ass.

“You know, I could be your comfort too.” He places his hand right on your thigh.

“Don’t worry you already are,” you say eyes still locked on the screen with your fingers holding onto his jaw, “if you weren’t, I would have been dropped your ass.”

Guero breathed out a laugh as he quickly gets to his feet and yanks you up, “Oh so like this?”

Before you can even process what’s happening, you’re being lifted over Guero’s shoulder just to be slammed right back onto the bed. “You’ll never be my Roman reigns.” You puffed out.

Guero kisses his biceps before turning his expression serious, “and he’ll never get to touch this belt, which will always be mine just so you know.”

You smirk up at Guero as he gets to work unfastening the belt on your low-rise jeans.

And when you’re bare, exposed to the fall chilliness in the air of your bedroom, you keep your eyes on Guero as he places open-mouthed kisses with his incredibly soft lips against your lower belly. He trails a feather-like touch against the side of your ass as he knocked your right thigh to the side so he can get better adjusted.

“Whatchu looking at me for? Eyes on the movie, remember babe?” Guero says with his lips right above your throbbing center.

His reaches a hand right between the valley of your pale pink sweater covered breasts to grip your jaw to tilt upwards instead.

You weren’t sure how this man thought you were supposed to be focused on the iconic film when there were so many sensations going on. From the light scratches of the copper leaves against the bedroom window, the softness of the moss colored duvet, the theatrics of the soundtrack playing from the classic animation film, and the firm but solace grip of a loved one’s touch…it was all just what you needed to get by.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

Continue with my fall anthology prompts here.

#queued #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc x reader #mayans imagine #mayans x reader #guero mayans mc #Guero Mayans #andrew jacobs #fall prompts #mayans season 5

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