#it hurt to write and I hope it will hurt to read

[kirammanswifey]

Will you, pretty please, make a pt 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their so? You know, some fluff to cure our wounds…

arcane characters reconcile with you after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: let's be honest, both you and i needed this, i love a bit of drama but a bit of fluff is also necessary sometimes, and it was so nice to write this, i loved all the reconciliations, especially caitlyn's. thank you so much for all the support you give me, it makes me want to keep creating more and more content. as you know the requests are open ;)

break up link:

alternative sad final link:

@sugurulefttesticle thanks for the support babe :3

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in an unsettling gloom, the shadows cast by the machines seemed longer, darker. Loneliness had settled in every corner, but at the center of it all, Viktor was there, hunched over his plans, as if the weight of his thoughts was crushing him.

Since you had left, time had lost its meaning. The hours blurred into sleepless nights and frantic days of work. But nothing, no formula, no discovery, could fill the void you had left.

The door opened with a soft creak, but Viktor didn’t turn around. Perhaps he had imagined that sound before, hoping it was you, and he feared that this time it would be another illusion. However, your gentle steps echoed on the metal floor, and then his heart skipped a beat.

"Viktor..." your voice was barely a whisper, laden with emotion. "Please, look at me."

He closed his eyes, as if he needed to gather all his strength to do so. Slowly, he turned towards you, and seeing you there, a mix of surprise and something akin to relief crossed his face. But his eyes were filled with something deeper, a sadness he couldn’t hide.

“I didn’t think you would come back…” he said with a broken voice, barely audible. “After everything I did… I didn’t think I deserved your return.”

You stepped closer, each step carrying the intent to close the distance he had put between you. "Viktor, it was never about deserving. It’s about understanding that we need to face this together."

“I pushed you away because… I’m afraid,” he confessed, his voice trembling with the emotional weight. “Afraid that you’ll see me fail, that everything I am won’t be enough. Afraid that one day you’ll realize you can be happier without me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a wave, but you didn’t waver. “Viktor, we all have fears. But running from what scares us doesn’t make it go away. I’m here because I don’t want a future without you, even if it means facing our fears together.”

Viktor lowered his gaze, a silent tear falling down his cheek. “You are... the only thing that has kept me human. Without you, I become a machine, soulless, heartless. I don’t want to lose myself… I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing those words, your own tears began to flow. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching his face, gently caressing the cheek where the tear had fallen. “You won’t lose yourself, Viktor. Not as long as we’re together.”

He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope. “How can you keep loving me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because I love you,” you said without hesitation. “Not for what you do, but for who you are, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Viktor let out a sob he had been holding back, and without thinking twice, he moved towards you, wrapping you in his arms. It was a fragile embrace but full of promises. In that moment, you knew that, although the road would be difficult, together you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

Jinx

The night was heavy with rain and despair. Jinx stood at the edge of a building, her feet barely touching the edge as she gazed into the abyss below. The icy wind whipped her body, but she didn’t feel the cold. She was trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts, each more desperate than the last.

“End it,” the voices in her head whispered, cruel and persistent. “It’s best for everyone. Get rid of all the pain. You don’t deserve more.”

Her gaze was empty, lost in a place no one else could reach. She closed her eyes, letting the tears mix with the rain, allowing the weight of her emotions to push her further toward the edge.

But then, through the sound of the rain, she heard something. A voice. A familiar voice, filled with anguish. “Jinx, no, please... don’t do it.”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw you, soaked by the rain, your face marked by desperation and tears. You had run to her, not stopping, not thinking of the danger. Now you were there, fighting to reach her, fighting to bring her back.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I told you to stay away... not to come back.”

“Because I can’t leave you alone,” you responded, taking a step closer, each movement filled with fear and love. “I love you, Jinx. I can’t lose you like this.”

She shook her head, the tears falling uncontrollably. “You shouldn’t love me. Not after everything I’ve done. I’m a mess. I’ll ruin you, like I ruin everything.”

“Let me decide that,” you said, your voice broken but firm. “You’re not a mess. You’re my baby, and I love you, even when everything seems to fall apart. I won’t leave you alone.”

Jinx stepped back slightly, as if your words hurt her more than anything else. “I always hurt people... I can’t stop. I don’t want to hurt you, but I always end up doing it.”

“I can take it,” you replied, stepping closer, extending your hands toward her, knowing you couldn’t rush her. “Because I’d rather be with you in your worst moments than lose you forever. You don’t have to face this alone. Let me help you.”

She trembled, the weight of her emotions too much to bear. “I’m scared... scared that I can’t stop, scared that this darkness will consume me. I don’t want you to sink with me.”

“We’ll sink together if we have to,” you promised, your hands still extended, waiting for her to reach you. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’m here to stay, Jinx. I won’t abandon you.”

For a long and painful moment, Jinx remained silent, her gaze filled with a sadness so deep it seemed impossible to heal. But finally, her hands moved, barely brushing yours at first, then clinging to them as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice broken by anguish.

“I promise,” you said, squeezing her hands with all the love and desperation you felt. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets, I’ll always be with you.”

With those words, Jinx stepped back from the edge and collapsed into your arms, her body shaken by heart-wrenching sobs. The storm still raged around them, but at that moment, they were bound by something stronger than fear: the promise not to abandon each other.

Vi

The weeks without Vi have been torment. Each day feels like a part of you fades a little more, as if her absence is slowly tearing your soul apart. Today, you’re in the gardens of your home, holding a photo in your hands: the first one you took with Vi, both smiling, happy, unaware of the pain that would come after. Tears blur your vision as your heart breaks over and over with the memories.

Then, you hear footsteps, and there she is, standing, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. You quickly try to dry your tears, to hide the photo, as if that could erase the pain consuming you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice trembling, not sure if you can bear what’s to come.

Vi takes a step forward, her expression more vulnerable than ever. “I miss you,” she says, her voice broken. “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did. I can’t live without you.”

You close your eyes, feeling every word of hers like a direct blow to your heart. “None of that matters now, Vi,” you respond, trying to maintain your firmness. “My family has decided to marry me to a member of the Piltover council.”

Vi looks at you, her face pale. “Marry?” she whispers, as if the word were a curse. “You can’t do it. I know you don’t love anyone else. You can’t love anyone but me.”

Tears threaten to return, but you hold them back. “It’s not my choice, Vi. They decide for me. You’re the one who left me, who pushed me into this destiny.”

“I was an idiot,” Vi admits, taking another step toward you. “I know. But I can’t let this happen. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to face the whole world. I won’t lose you, not like this.”

“And what will that change?” you shout, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You can’t fight everyone! You can’t change who I am, what they expect of me.”

Vi stops, her gaze fixed on yours, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “The only time you’ll stand at an altar will be with me by your side,” she says with unbreakable firmness. “I won’t let you marry anyone else. Not as an act of pride, but because I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.”

“Vi, please,” you whisper, the tears now falling freely. “This is bigger than us. You can’t fix it with pretty words.”

“Then I’ll fix it with actions,” she responds, with a resolve you hadn’t seen before. “I’ll go wherever necessary, face your parents, that damn council, anyone who tries to come between us. I won’t let them take you from me.”

Her voice trembles, but her determination does not. “I don’t want you to be my savior,” you whisper, your voice almost inaudible. “I want you to be my partner, my equal. But I can’t do this alone, Vi. I can’t keep fighting if you’re not by my side.”

Vi comes closer, until the distance between you both disappears. “You’ll never be alone again,” she promises, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, and I swear I’ll fight for us, until my last breath. I won’t let them separate us, not them, not anyone.”

The weight of her words envelops you, and finally, you let yourself fall into her arms, allowing all the pain, fear, and contained love to overflow. Vi holds you tightly, whispering promises of a future together, promises that, this time, you’re willing to believe.

Caitlyn

The trial is a public spectacle, a circus meant to satisfy Piltover’s thirst for justice. You stand in the center of the room, hands tied behind your back, as the council leaders gaze at you coldly. The accusations fly over your head like sharp daggers: treason, conspiracy, disloyalty. All because you tried to talk to Ekko, to seek a peace you believed possible between the two cities.

Caitlyn stands at the back of the room, her face impassive, her gaze fixed on you. She hasn’t said a word since the trial began, and the emptiness in her expression breaks you more than any word of condemnation. You know she’s fighting internally, but her silence feels like a sentence in itself.

Finally, the judge announces the decision: "For the charges of treason, this court decrees that you will be stripped of your position as Enforcer and permanently exiled from Piltover."

The verdict falls like a hammer on your heart. You feel your world crumble in an instant. You look at Caitlyn, searching in her eyes for some sign of support, of compassion, but she remains motionless.

As the judge is about to strike the gavel to conclude the session, Caitlyn steps forward, her voice resonating with dangerous calm. "One moment."

The entire room turns toward her. Caitlyn advances with the elegance and authority she has always possessed, but there’s something new in her eyes, a spark of defiance.

"I cannot allow this sentence to be carried out," she says firmly. "This isn’t justice; it’s an act of fear and repression. The person you’re accusing only sought peace, a diplomatic solution to prevent more bloodshed."

The judge frowns, but Caitlyn continues before he can interrupt. "I am the leader of the Enforcers, and my loyalty is to true justice, not a system that punishes hope. If you expel my partner from this city, if you strip someone whose only crime was trying to save us all, then you’ll be provoking a rift you cannot control."

Caitlyn takes another step forward, and her voice lowers, but each word is a sharp edge. "I could easily take control, dismantle this corrupt system from within, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me. But that’s not the justice I seek. What I want is fairness, compassion, and truth."

The silence in the room is deafening. The council members exchange glances, understanding they are not dealing with someone who can be manipulated or intimidated.

After what feels like an eternity, the judge finally relents. "We will review the sentence. The accused will be sanctioned and will not be allowed to leave Piltover, but she will not be exiled or stripped of her position."

Caitlyn nods slightly, then approaches you, freeing you from your bonds with her own hands. "Let’s go," she murmurs, her voice soft yet filled with authority.

You leave the courtroom with her, and once you’re away from the others’ eyes, Caitlyn stops. For the first time, you see her tremble. "I’m sorry," she whispers, her eyes finally filling with tears. "I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have left you alone."

The vulnerability in her voice disarms you. Despite everything, despite the pain, you know Caitlyn did what she could to save you. "Cait," you say softly, taking her face in your hands. "What you just did... was the greatest act of love you could give me. You chose between authority and me, and you chose me."

She closes her eyes, tears falling freely. "It will always be you," she says, her voice trembling. "No matter the odds or the problems that come, I will always choose you. You are my justice, my reason, my everything."

The words sink into your heart, bringing overwhelming relief. You kiss her softly, sealing with that gesture the love that binds you. "You are my everything too, Cait," you whisper. "You always have been."

She holds you tightly, as if she’ll never let you go. "Together," she says in a whisper, her voice laden with emotion. "No matter what happens, we’ll face everything together. Because you are my choice, now and always."

Jayce

The air was thick with tension as the words that had been kept bottled up for so long finally exploded. Everything about him was focused on his ambition, on his vision for Piltover, and everything in you was hurt, torn apart by his indifference.

The last time you saw each other, it was a goodbye filled with cruel and cold words, an ending with no way back. You had decided that you could no longer be the shadow of his dreams, an accessory to the side of his grand plans. You didn’t want any more empty promises. You didn’t want to be the sacrifice.

But now, all that seemed about to change.

One day, you find yourself in your laboratory, lost in your thoughts, trying to push away the lingering pain. The door opens with a familiar creak, and your heart skips a beat without warning. It's not someone you expected to see. It’s him. Jayce.

Silence rises between the two of you. The air is heavy, as if time itself had stopped. He’s there, looking at you, but his gaze no longer holds the confidence it once had. In his eyes, there’s something else now: uncertainty, a faint glimmer of regret.

"I thought I understood," he says, his voice deep but hesitant. "I thought that what I was doing, the ambition, the future of Piltover... I thought it all had to be that way. That I had to leave everything behind, even you, if I wanted to get to where I am now."

You remain silent, the pain still fresh in your veins, but something inside you urges you to listen. You know that everything you’ve been through together can’t be left behind without an answer. You can’t help it, but something inside you breaks again at the sound of his voice, the same one that used to calm your fears, now trembling.

"But I haven’t forgotten you," he continues. "I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us, about what we were. About what we could have been... if only I weren’t so blind."

You look at him, his presence so intense that it almost makes you doubt everything you thought you knew. "Then why are you here?" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest. "After everything you said... after everything that happened, why?"

Jayce takes a step towards you, hesitant but determined. "Because in the end, I realized that nothing is worth it if you’re not by my side. No matter how great Piltover becomes, no matter how grand my legacy is, if I don’t share that greatness with the person who truly matters."

His voice breaks at the end, as if he’s finally acknowledging something he had avoided all along.

A lump forms in your throat, and your hands tremble slightly. "Jayce..." you murmur, not knowing whether you want to believe him or if you’re afraid it’s too late for all this.

"I’m sorry," he says, his tone filled with remorse. "I’m sorry for not listening to you. For not realizing what we had until I almost lost it. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try. If you’ll let me... I want to try to make it right. I want you to be part of my life, not just a secondary option, not just something I pushed aside."

He gently takes your hands, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll break in his fingers. "I want to be better for you. And if that means changing, if it means prioritizing you, I’ll do it. Because I need you. Not just as part of my life, but as the center of it."

Jayce’s words envelop you like a warm embrace, but you’re still afraid. Afraid that this promise might be just another lie. However, a part of you wants to believe that all of this can be real.

"Do you really understand?" you ask, looking into his eyes with an intensity that reflects your doubts and hopes. "Because I don’t want to be a shadow anymore. I don’t want to be the sacrifice on your path to something that doesn’t include what we shared."

He nods, the determination in his gaze revealing that he’s not here just to talk but to prove it. "I promise you, I understand now. What we have is the only thing that truly matters."

Your breathing calms, though the uncertainty still lingers. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to stop fighting just for Piltover and start fighting for us?"

Jayce smiles, a vulnerable but sincere smile. "I’m going to fight for what really matters, for what I didn’t want to lose. For you."

A weight lifts from your shoulders, and for a moment, you feel that the pain of everything lost can be healed. Because, in the end, it’s not about power or control. It’s about what the heart chooses, about what people decide to cherish.

You step closer to him, gently touching his face, and at last, after so long, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. "I don’t want to lose you again," you whisper.

"And you won’t," he responds, drawing you even closer, as if there had never been space between you. "Never again."

Ekko

The cold wind of Zaun blew strongly as you entered the house, the echo of your footsteps resonating like a forewarning. You didn’t know what you were going to find, but something told you that Ekko was no longer the same. The house, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now seemed empty, desolate.

Ekko was there, sitting in front of a table, his hands trembling slightly. When he saw you, his eyes widened, but there was no surprise, just a flicker of something else. Regret.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice breaking. In the distance, the image of the battle came to mind. That night when you almost lost him forever. It had been a brutal blow. The fear of never seeing him again consumed you.

"I saw everything, you know?" Ekko began to speak, his voice softer than usual, as if he were searching for the right words. "When I fell… when everything seemed to be ending… the only thing I saw… was you." A long sigh escaped his chest, as if those words had cost him as much as a contained scream. "I saw your face, your pain… and I realized, too late, that the only battle that truly mattered, the one I didn’t want to lose… was ours."

Silence filled the room, your eyes welling up with tears as you processed what he had just said. "Ekko, why...? Why couldn’t we make it work before?"

He looked at you deeply, as if each word was a struggle, as if he were slowly building up what he felt. "I told you that you weren’t enough... but it was me who wasn’t enough. I, who thought I could save everything, who thought I could be everything for everyone, but when I looked at my life… I saw nothing. I saw what I had lost the most. And it was me who pushed away the only thing that truly mattered."

He stood up with effort, his eyes filled with regret and pain, the way he looked at you was so intense it hurt. "I… I fought for Zaun, but the only real fight I should be fighting, the only one that matters, is for you." His words flowed out of his mouth, but it seemed he was seeking his own forgiveness. "I failed you. I failed you because I didn’t understand what it meant to have you by my side. You were always enough, and you always will be."

He approached slowly, his face now close to yours, and though his gaze was tired, there was something new in it: vulnerability. "Would you let me fight for you, even now, even though everything is broken?"

Your voice trembled as you looked into Ekko's eyes. "Why are you asking me now? Why when everything is already broken?"

"Because I saw you leave, I saw how my life dimmed without you. And I realized that despite everything, the only thing that keeps me standing is knowing that I can still fight for what I love the most. And that's you. You are my reason to keep going. My only reason." His eyes glistened, and for a moment, it seemed that time had stopped between the two of you.

The air was heavy with palpable pain, and your tears fell uncontrollably. No matter how much damage had been done, the love between you had never left, it had just been buried under layers of pride and distance.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice broken. "What if I'm no longer what you need?"

"You’ll always be. You always were. And you always will be, baby" he said, his voice cracking as he took your hands with a desperate strength. "I’m so sorry."

Finally, words were no longer enough, and in an impulse, you both leaned in, letting yourselves be carried by the need to heal what was broken. Ekko's tears mixed with yours, the pain transformed into something that needed to be healed, and within the shadows of the house, you both finally understood that although the path to reconciliation would be difficult, there was still a chance to fight for the love that hadn’t completely disappeared.

Silco

The warehouse's dim light wrapped around you like an ominous forewarning, the thick, heavy air clinging to your skin. You had fallen into the trap, and although you knew it, you couldn't stop fighting, trying to free yourself. You had been at the brink of death more times than you cared to count, but this time it was different. The face of the man who held you prisoner was not one you knew well, but you did know that he was under the orders of someone much more dangerous. Silco had never fully explained the world he moved in, but something about the surroundings told you there would be no escape. This wasn't just any kidnapping. This time you wouldn't be saved so easily.

The ropes binding your wrists tightened as your mind spun in search of a way out. Your breathing was uneven, and every attempt to calm yourself only multiplied the fear. The man in front of you, with harsh features and cold eyes, watched your every move with a cruel smile. The sense of threat was palpable, yet you tried to defy him, even though you knew it was a vain attempt.

"Silco?" You called, but your voice trembled, betrayed by panic.

"Do you think he'll come to save you?"

The man let out a mocking laugh, stepping closer, the blade of a knife catching the warehouse's dim light.

"Silco has too many problems to deal with you," he said with a calm that only made the situation more terrifying. "You should already know, in this world, there's no room for weakness. Especially not for a little whore like you; you whores are replaceable. And apparently, he's already replaced you, everyone knows it. But my boss thought it would be a courteous gesture to send him your head as a small gift."

Your thoughts blurred with the sound of the door bursting open, and a chill ran down your spine at the familiar echo of firm, controlled footsteps. It was him. There was no doubt.

The man didn't seem worried, his arrogance had blinded him. "What's the great Silco doing here? Jealous that I have your former little bitch now? Relax, I'll give her back to you once I'm done with her. You can keep a leg or both, but her organs are mine, I'm sure they'll fetch a good price in the market."

There was no response. Silco didn't say a word, but the tension in the air was so thick that the entire room seemed to hold its breath. His eyes, cold as ice, scanned the man before you and then fixed on you, without showing a hint of emotion. Without hesitation, his hand slid to the back of his belt. In the blink of an eye, the sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and the man fell to the ground, his life fading so quickly he didn't even have time to comprehend it.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for you, the world seemed to stop the moment Silco's figure approached. The intensity in his gaze, that palpable energy that used to envelop you in his presence, was now just a reminder of everything you had lost. He freed you from the ropes without a word. The contact of his hand as he touched you sent a shiver down your spine, and though his gesture was practical, you couldn't help but wonder if, in some corner of his being, there was still something of the person he had been before. Something that had loved you.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, his tone cold and distant as always. But this time, it wasn't the tone of the protector, the leader who had cared for you. It was the voice of someone who had forgotten what it meant to feel.

You tried to pull away from his touch, the same touch you had once desired with all your being. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't bear him, his indifference.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep saving me? If you hate me so much, why save me?" Your voice was a broken whisper, but the pain in it was clear.

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that burned. You could see the internal struggle in his gaze, that shadow of doubt that had arisen between him and you. Finally, he took a step towards you, his face implacable, but his hands trembling as he approached.

"You didn't understand anything," he murmured, his tone low, more vulnerable than you had ever heard. "What I told you... it was all a lie. I didn't want to lose you, that's why I pushed you away. I didn't want you close to this world, to this hell... but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go. I thought if I pushed you away, you wouldn't suffer, but..." His voice broke briefly, and silence filled the space between you both.

You looked at his face, puzzled by the contradiction in him. Everything he had said before, everything he had done, seemed to crumble now before your eyes.

"You don't understand, do you?" You whispered, still fighting the lump in your throat. "What did you think? That I didn't know what I was getting into when I decided to stay with you? That I didn't know death would always be at my back? That I would always have to live on the edge because you insisted on being the damn king of a world like this?"

Silco didn't respond immediately, his face softened slightly, and a shadow of regret crossed his gaze.

"I know," he said in a hoarse voice, "I know everything I said was cruel. But what I didn't tell you... is that, even if the whole world collapses, the only thing that matters to me... the only thing I've truly loved... is you."

The impact of his words hit you, and for a second, time stopped. The pain, the rage, the uncertainty, all of it seemed to dissolve into the air. But above all, there was something else, something you never expected to hear from him.

"I chose you," you whispered as you slowly approached him. "Despite everything, I chose you. I chose you, and even knowing what it would mean, I would do it again. Because that's what love really is. Choosing the person despite everything, even knowing death is just around the corner."

A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, something you rarely saw in him, and for a moment, all the hatred, all the anger that had existed between you disappeared, leaving you alone, vulnerable, but finally honest.

"Then, come back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling, his hand seeking yours. "I can't bear a world without you. I can't lose you. I'll keep protecting you, no matter how many times I have to dirty my hands with blood."

You approached, touching his forehead with the softness of a caress that, in that moment, was the only thing that could heal the wounds you both carried.

"I'm here, my love," you whispered to him, as he closed his eyes, letting the pain and hope dissolve between his arms. "I'll never leave you again. No matter what happens. It will always be you and me against the world. Always and forever."

And so, in that moment, the broken words and wounds of the past were left behind. In their place, there was only the certainty that, in the end, the love they shared couldn't be destroyed, even if the whole world was in ruins.

Mel

It's close to three in the morning when you hear a knock on the door. You're half asleep, your head heavy, but something in the air alerts you. With every step you take towards the entrance, you feel your heart racing, as if you know something is about to change, something you can't stop. You open the door, and there she is.

Mel is not the same as before. She isn't wearing the luxuries that always accompany her, the perfectly applied makeup, or the golden jewelry that always shone on her skin. She's a mess, her gaze lost, her face haggard. The strong woman who always seemed in control is now broken, empty. And when she looks at you, her eyes are not the same. They are filled with pain, with a suffering she hasn't been able to hide.

Before you can say a word, Mel throws herself at you. She takes you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around her. Her body is trembling, as if her entire being is collapsing. You feel her tears soaking your shirt, and in the silence of the early morning, she begins to speak through sobs.

"I faced her..." her voice is broken, and every word costs her more than it seems. "My mother... she told me... she told me I would never be enough. That I'm not. You were right." She pauses for a moment, unable to continue, as if the weight of those words is too heavy for her soul to carry.

You hold her tighter, even though the words coming out of her mouth are like daggers in your chest. "Mel, please... don't say that," you murmur, though the anguish in your own voice is as present as hers. "You're not what she says. You're not."

"I'm her puppet," she responds bitterly. "She manipulated me... manipulated me to make all this happen. To put Piltover in her hands. I started a war, and now... I can't stop it. I'm to blame for all of this." Her crying intensifies, and you can feel her pain as if she's tearing herself apart inside. "She called me weak... called me a disgrace to the Medarda clan..."

Those words leave you cold. You feel the air catch in your throat. But you can't let her fall. You can't let her sink further into that darkness. You pull her away slightly, holding her face in your hands, forcing her to look into your eyes.

"No, Mel," you say firmly, even though your heart is shattered. "You're not weak. You're not a disgrace. You are... you're Mel Medarda, an incredible woman, not Ambessa's daughter. And that's what you'll always be to me."

She shakes her head, as if your words are merely an illusion. "You don't see it... you don't understand," she says, her voice broken by the sobs. "I am everything she wants me to be. Everything she told me to be. And now I don't know who I am... I don't know if I'm what you need."

You move closer to her, almost brushing her lips, and you can feel her desperation. "What you need isn't to be what your mother wants, Mel. What you need... what you need is to be yourself. You are enough. You are more than enough. I want you, with everything you are. It doesn't matter what she thinks. I love you just the way you are."

Mel closes her eyes tightly, as if she wants to block out the pain of your words, but even she knows that something in you is true. You feel that, though she doesn't want to admit it, your love for her is a refuge, a sanctuary from the torment she's lived her entire life.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in this," you continue, holding her face in your hands. "We'll figure it out together, Mel. We will. You're not going to lose me. I'm not going to lose you."

Mel finally looks up and meets your gaze, her eyes filled with tears, but there's something different in her expression. It's not the emptiness she gave you before, it's a spark, something of hope that begins to ignite deep within her.

"I don't want to keep fighting alone," she says softly, almost as if it's a lost whisper. "I'm so afraid... so afraid of all this. Of what I've caused. But... I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you reply with a sigh, holding her tightly, as if you could embrace all her fears. "I won't leave you alone. I promise. We'll figure it out. Together."

Time seems to stop at that moment. The world outside keeps turning, but you and Mel, in this instant, have only each other. And although the future is uncertain, you know that as long as you have each other, nothing can tear you apart.

Sevika

The sound of heavy footsteps is the first thing you hear. It’s late, the city is shrouded in darkness, but something in the air tells you this time it’s not a dream, not a nightmare. The knocking on the door startles you, and when you open it, you see her.

Sevika is standing in front of you, slightly swaying, her breathing uneven. The scent of alcohol is strong, mixed with the sensation of sweat and exhaustion emanating from her body. Her eyes, usually so firm, are now dull, almost lost, as if she’s searching for something she doesn’t know how to find.

“Sevika… what are you doing here?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest, confused and worried to see her like this.

She doesn’t respond immediately, just stands there, watching you, as if she wants to say something, but the words seem stuck in her throat. After a long silence, she finally speaks, her voice deep and broken.

“I went to the brothels…” she murmurs, her head hanging low, as if it’s a confession, something weighing heavier than anything else. “To forget you. To stop thinking about you. I was with other people… so many other people. But everything I did reminded me of you. Of you and how… how I lost you.”

Your stomach churns at her words. The betrayal cuts you like a sharp knife. You step back from her, feeling the pain grow in your chest.

“No… why? Why did you do that?” The anger and hurt are clear in your voice, but there’s also a vulnerability you can’t hide. “Is that why you left me? To be with other people?”

Sevika lifts her head, her eyes reflecting a remorse so deep you can almost feel it as your own. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” she says, her words faltering. “I did it because I thought it was what I should do… because I hurt you, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want you to need me, I didn’t want to drag you with me into this damn abyss.”

Your heart beats so fast you feel it might burst out of your chest. Every word from Sevika hurts more, but there’s something in her gaze, in the way she’s opening up to you now, that makes you hesitate.

“But…” she continues, taking another step closer. “None of it worked. None of it. I remember you in every one of those faces. I remember you when I’m alone when I try to forget you. And the worst part, the most painful part, is that I can’t… I can’t stop wanting you.”

The words hang in the heavy air between you. The silence becomes unbearable. Sevika takes another step, closer to you until you can feel her ragged breath. She’s so close you can see every line on her face, the fragility you never thought she had.

“I… I never wanted you to see me this way,” she says, her voice breaking, as if every word costs her a world. “But please… listen to me carefully. There’s nothing I want more in this damn world than to be with you. I don’t want to keep living without you. I can’t. I love you. I can’t keep running from it. I can’t live with the weight of not telling you this sooner.”

The air freezes between you, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The hate, the confusion, the betrayal… it all mixes in your chest, but deep down, you know what she just said is real.

“What?” you manage to whisper, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “Are you serious?”

Sevika closes her eyes, as if fighting against herself. “I love you,” she repeats, her voice softer now, as if she’s giving you everything she had, everything she had kept in her heart. “I love you, and I don’t want to keep living this lie. You… you’re the only thing that matters to me. You’re my only reason for being here. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to keep suffering because of me. Please…”

Those “please” are like a plea, a silent scream that pierces through all the walls you had built around your heart. Sevika, the strong and fierce woman who always showed you her darkest side, is now on her knees before you, vulnerable, open, filled with a desperation you hadn’t seen before.

And in that instant, you feel everything crumble. The pain, the resentment, the confusion… it all disappears. Only love remains, raw and real, so strong it almost chokes you. Without thinking, you throw yourself into her arms, your arms wrapping around her with a desperate intensity, as if you fear that if you let her go, she’ll disappear forever.

“I love you too,” you whisper against her neck, the tears falling uncontrollably. “I love you so much it hurts.”

Sevika holds you with the same strength, her body trembling against yours. “Then let’s make it not hurt,” she murmurs, her words filled with a mix of relief and pain. “Let’s not let it separate us again, please.”

“That won’t happen again,” you reply, your lips seeking hers, not caring about anything else. “I won’t let it happen. What we have is forever.”

When your lips meet, the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion of everything that has built up, of everything that was left unsaid. It’s a kiss filled with desperation, love, and unspoken promises. It’s the beginning of a new chapter, one where the darkness won’t separate you, where love will keep you together, always.

[g4rvez-r3id]

I’m Here, Now

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!Fem Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Spencer gets released from prison and you’re his first stop after dealing with Cat Adams and her schemes. And all he wants to do is see you and love you.

Category: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: 18+ MDNI established relationship, prison arc, spoilers of season 12 of Criminal Minds, it’s a lil sad tbh but it only lasts for a second, reader’s in disbelief, spencer and reader being cutesy, crying, kissing, mentions of bruises, threats, sappy speeches, fluffy ending, lowkey not true to 12x22/13x01 so this could be an au! smut warnings: soft!dom spencer (firm believer here🙋‍♀️), a lil body worship from reader to spencer, oral sex (m receiving & reader receiving), facefucking, cum swallowing, “good girl”, riding, unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, creampie, overstimulation, spencer lowkey being a munch- that should cover it 😃

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, i can’t stop writing smutty oneshots ahhhh i can’t help it, i just love my man 🤭 i hope y’all enjoy this because i’ve had my mind on prison arc reid bc i’m watching s12 rn and oooo he so fine in 12a and in 12b 😩 anyways hope y’all like this <3

You worried that maybe he’d never come back. Upon hearing he was in jail in Mexico, you worried you’d never see Spencer again.

If your past self could tell you that your boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid, who was a nerd at heart, who spent his free time playing chess and reading and watching Doctor Who with you under your fluffy blankets and wore mismatched socks because he believed it was good luck, that he would one day end up being framed and sent to prison, you would’ve laughed in your face.

You never would’ve expected this to happen. But then you heard why. He was framed for murdering a woman named Nadie Ramos, who was helping him get his mother medicine that seemed to calm her from her episodes. If there was anyone he would’ve risked everything for besides you, it was his mother.

And to be honest, you were a little mad at him for lying to you. He told you that he was going to Houston to talk to some of his mom’s doctors. You’d been together four years now and not once did he ever lie to you until now. When he got transferred to the Milburn Correctional Facility, due to overcrowding, he’d requested to see you and only you.

It wasn’t until Spencer wrote you a letter, practically begging you to come and see you. The first time you’d gone to see him, you actually didn’t even recognize him, skipping over him and almost staring at him in confusion when he walked over to the other side of your plexiglass.

And you tried to play it off like you expected him, even while looking like he did, but he knew deep down you didn’t recognize him. He chose not to acknowledge it but you both knew.

And you visited him frequently, until he decided to cut you from the visitor log with no warning. You were hurt, to say the least. And you ended up avoiding everyone after that. You even ignored the many fruit baskets Garcia kept sending over but you kept sending them back.

But then a miracle happened.

They proved his innocence. And he was out.

You would’ve found that out if you’d checked your phone but you spent the entire day in bed, away from society and sobbing at the fact that he was gone and he wasn’t here, comforting you like he did so well.

You hated him, you hated him for putting you in this position, for making you deal with the aftermath, for pushing you away. But you loved him. You would never stop loving him, no matter how much you hated him right now.

You’d been laying in bed, tossing and turning all day as the TV played some random sitcom you watched every now and again. And you’d heard something. A soft knock coming from your front door.

You almost missed it but it was faint. And you heard it. Choosing to finally get out of bed, you opened your room door and walked to the front door. You opened it without checking the peephole, because at this point you’d had enough and just wanted death to get you over with already.

But death may have stopped your heart only for a moment when you open the door.

Because standing there, in the suit he’d gotten arrested in when his bail was denied, his hair outgrown and his stubble framed nicely on his face — was your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, in the flesh.

You gasped softly as you backed away from the door and stared at him, almost as if you were disbelief. You’d had a dream like this before. Where he came back and promised he was here to stay. (But it was another one of God’s cruel jokes and you cried when you woke up the following day).

He walked in and closed the door right behind him, standing tall in front of you. You noticed the bruises on his face, how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and stared at you.

“Hi.” He said softly and all you can do is stare at him. “Am I dreaming?” You find yourself asking out loud and his heart breaks. He can see that you’re scared. Scared that if you go up to him, he’ll disappear like smoke. And he hates that.

“No.” Spencer shakes his head and he waits for you to approach him and you do, walking slowly towards him as the floorboard creaks beneath your socked feet.

He waits as you first grab his hands, and interlock your fingers together. When that seems not to be enough for you, your hands move to his face. You caress the sharp new grown stubble on his face and drag your index finger to his plump lips and stare into his hazel eyes and they’re full of wonder and love.

You don’t even register the tears until you hold him in your arms and you hold onto him for dear life. He holds you tightly in his arms as you find yourself wrapping around him like a koala and all he can do is hold you back. And it grounds him, you ground him.

Your head moves towards his and you kiss his lips, like you’ve longed to do for three months. And part of you still couldn’t believe this, that he was here, holding you like you were going to break.

You kiss him a few more times before you pull back and ask with tears in your eyes, “Are you okay?” Spencer nods toward your forehead, “I’m okay, now that I’m here.”

“You’re here, now.” You look him in the eyes as you say this and he nods at your words, repeating them to himself. “I’m here, now.” It’s as if he’s reminding himself that he’s here with you because he’s worried he’s gonna wake up any minute and he’ll be back in that cell. You weren’t the only one who had a hard time believing this was real.

Spencer’s lips catch yours and he pushes into the kiss and you get back on the ground, your hands (or mouth) not leaving him for a second and making their way up to his hair and pulling. You whine into his lips as he you pull him by his belt and walk backwards to your bedroom with him following you.

With your strength, you twirl the two of you around and straddle him as you continue to kiss him. You rock your hips into his growing bulge and he moans into your mouth and you smirk in the middle of the kiss.

You begin to unbutton his suit and successfully get his blazer off and now next is his dress shirt but he’s quick to grab your hands and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You ask, willing to put a stop to this if he wasn’t ready. “Nothing, I just…” Spencer looks down as he lets go of your hands and seemingly now growing insecure all of a sudden.

He stands up from the bed and you look up at him as he holds his arms over his stomach. “I just… I got hurt pretty bad in there. You’re gonna see some bruises. I just don’t want you to freak out. He admits and your heart breaks, “You don’t have to take your shirt off. Or we can just stop entirely and—”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’re gonna see them eventually.” With that, he begins to unbutton his dress shirt and you give him all the time in the world to do so, not wanting to rush this at all.

When he takes off his dress shirt successfully, you finally see it. He has bruises everywhere on his ribs and some near his belly button and on his stomach. Some are still in the process of healing with yellow and gray hues and some are purple and mucus green.

“Oh, my love…” You whisper to yourself as you stand up and you turns him around and find more on his back and there’s just too many of them. You find yourself tearing up but you know you need to keep it together for him. Who could hurt your sweet boy? Was this why he didn’t want you to see him anymore while he was still in there? How long did this go on for?

It’s then that you register the bruise near his eye. You thought that it was due to the lack of sleep he’d been getting and assumed it was the bags under his eyes he so often got but it was a bruise. How did you miss that when he walked in?

He almost wants to hide himself, like a turtle under its’ shell and you look down at his body. “Baby…” You start but he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He looks at you as you guide him towards the bed and he lays back and you go back to straddling him, but this time, you’re careful as you hover over him.

You kiss his lips before making your way down to his neck and then to his body and it takes a second for him to register that you’re not just kissing his body, you’re kissing the bruises.

He feels himself getting choked up as you kiss every visible one and his heart swells for you. What did he did to deserve you?

You begin to unbuckle his belt but he rests his elbows on the bed and looks down at you. “You—You don’t have to…” He trails off but you quickly shake your head. “I know. But I want to. It’s your first night back. This is about you tonight, baby.”

Spencer doesn’t interfere, just stares as you unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock through the hole in his underwear and it springs into action, dripping pre-cum from the head. “Oh, my sweet boy. You must be so pent up.”

You kiss the tip of his dick and he shuts his eyes tightly as if he’s trying to hold back from already cumming. You lick up his shaft and fit his cock inside your mouth and he curses to himself as he grips your bedsheets as tight as he can.

You notice this, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers together, as if you’re telling him and giving him permission to touch you as you bob your head up and down.

He takes this opportunity to caress your face as you take him into your mouth. He ties your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he pushes deeper onto his cock and even lifts his hips to ensure that you’re taking all of him until you’re gagging.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer tells you and you nod to the best of your ability until you begins to fuck your throat, using your mouth for his pent up pleasure. “Fuck… God, you’re so good at that. Letting me fuck your throat like the good girl you are.”

His words could make you cum on the spot without him even laying a finger on you. He rarely cursed in your domestic setting but he did it often when you two were in bed.

All you can do is take it as deep as it can go in your mouth. He whines into the ceiling as he says your name until you feel his hot cum dribble down your throat and your nose is buried into his crotch as he holds you there and makes you take all his cum into your mouth.

He pants as he releases your head from his cock and you swallow the rest of his cum. He looks at you with worried eyes, concerned that maybe he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, like he didn’t just cum into your mouth and call you a “good girl”.

You shake your head at him with a small smile. “That was just about the hottest thing you’ve ever done.” (And everything he did was always hot). He blushes and crooks a smile.

“Are you willing to keep going?” You ask him and he nods with an immediate answer, “Absolutely.” He’d never let you go to bed without making you cum at least twice.

You climb on top of him with a smirk and look deeply into his eyes. They’re filled with lust, love and adoration for you and for you only. “You’re so beautiful.” You say to him in a whisper but Spencer chuckles a bit, “I should be saying that to you.”

You look down as your pussy catches the tip of his cock and you sink down into him carefully. He moans at the feeling and you gasp. He fits perfectly.

“God, I missed you. Missed this…” Spencer catches his breath. “Perfect pussy.” You chuckle and looks into his eyes as you rock back and forth. “It was so lonely without you, Spencer.” You whine. “I missed you so much.”

You lean down as you kiss him on the lips. “Did you…” He pauses, not wanting to be crude even while he was inside of you. “While I was away?” It took a second to figure out what he was talking about. And then you realized that he was asking if you’d masturbated while he was away.

“A few times,” You admitted shyly, despite suffocating him with your pussy. “I thought about you every time. It just wasn’t the same. Missed your body.”

Spencer smiles darkly, “Maybe I should punish you for that.” He says, half-joking. You lean forward as you smirk, “I’d like to see you try.”

And without a second thought, it was as if a switch flipped as Spencer was quick to flip your bodies over and he hovers over you, both hands on either side of your head, gripping the pillows. “You really wanna test that theory?”

You bite your lip and smirk once more as you pull him in for another kiss and he glides himself into you and you gasp at the feeling of his dick inside of your pussy. It’d been such a long time since you felt him like this, here, in your arms. God, you love him.

He rocks his hips, thrusting deeply into your body as leans his head in your shoulder, mumbling sweet obscenities and how good your pussy feels and how responsive you were. He dreamt of the day he’d have you like this. And since being in prison, he longed for it more.

He reached down in between your legs as he found your clit without even looking down and staring deeply into your eyes and your moans reverberate through the walls as keeps his eyes on you and you only.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I need to cum— where? Where?” He asks and you shut your eyes tightly as you shout, “Inside! Oh, god, inside!”

He pushes himself hard into you as you finally cum, your legs shaking as you moan his name into the ceiling and he collapses on your body, still sheathed inside of you.

You both lay there, panting and reveling in the feeling of each other. Eventually, Spencer does pull out of you and you feel as he lowers himself, eyeing your pussy up close and you look down at him sleepily. “Baby, you don’t have to. This was about you.” You assure.

“Nonsense,” Spencer tells. “I need to clean up my mess and even the score, might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He jokes, diving face first into your pussy and you whimper at the contact he makes, especially with the way his stubble is rubbing against your thighs, cleaning his own cum out of your pussy and relishing in the way you both taste.

His mouth captures your clit and he twists his tongue around the bud in that delicious way you love and he moans into your pussy. “We taste so good together, baby. Cum again on my tongue, this time.”

You tug at his messy hair as you hold his head to you pussy and you use him, rocking your hips into his mouth. You feel as your legs shake once more and you let go of his head for him to take a breather.

That breather lasts only a second before he dives back in and you whine at the contact. “Spence… baby, I’m sen—sensitive.”

“You can take one more, baby. I know you can. You can cum again.” Spencer says, his pupils are blown as he looks at you and he’s commanding you to cum again. “Just one more, baby.”

You nod at him and Spencer grabs your hands. “Here,” He interlocks your fingers with his and somehow, the pleasure is so much and yet not at all as makes you cum for a third time tonight. If he could spend forever eating your pussy, he would.

You close your eyes for a moment and when you finally open them, he’s right next to you and holding you. (He’d cleaned you up properly with a warm rag and left your favorite snack and water bottle on the desk next to your bed whenever you were ready to wake up). You remembered the loving words he whispered to you as you drifted off into a heavy slumber.

And you’ve finally woken up. You look up at him, still in awe of him being here. You take the chance to check the time. It’s already 5am and the sun is still shy away from rising but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters because you have your boyfriend right next to you, holding you for dear life and loving you the way you deserve to be loved.

You worry that he’s still up, but you figure that after all those months in prison, maybe he has trouble sleeping every now and again. You find yourself holding him tighter as you look down at the bruise near your head. You can’t believe he was hurt. How did he manage to survive in there? You’re still wondering why he’d taken you off the visitor’s log.

“Spencer?” You ask and he looks down at you, your voice surprising him. “Yeah?” You sit up and look at him, face to face, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Why did you take me off the visitor’s list?” You decide to ask.

He’s about to respond and you don’t want to hear another lie. You’d been through plenty of those already. “I mean, I didn’t even want to see you at first and then you begged me to and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t allowed to. I feel like I have the right to know.”

“No, no, you do,” Spencer knows that much. He hates the fact that he’s lied to you and has forced you to deal with this when all you deserved was the best from him. He sits up next to you he knows he’s gonna need to tell you, even though he doesn’t want to.

“The last time after you came to visit me,” Spencer started. “I got cornered in my cell. A lot of the guys there were asking about you. And they said that it’d be a shame if something happened to you when you came to visit again.” You look down as he talks about it. “And I didn’t want to risk that. And I wanted to tell you, really, I did.” He grabs your hand assuringly. “But I didn’t have any way to. And I didn’t want you to get hurt. I would’ve died if something happened to you and I didn’t do everything in my power to stop it. I’m sorry it went down like it did.”

You shake your head. And you finally understand. Because if the roles were reversed, you would’ve taken him off the visitor’s list, too. If it meant protecting him. “You were just trying to protect me, I understand.”

“I just…” Spencer looks at you, holding your face in his hands. “I love you, so much.” He looks deeply into your eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He reveals and your eyes widen. “What?”

Spencer closes his eyes and holds his index finger up. “One second.” He stands up and grabs his blazer from off the floor and digs into one of the inside pockets and pulls out a red velvet box.

Your eyes widen as you cover your body with the sheet and he kneels down on one knee in his boxers and opens the velvet box to reveal a ring. “I didn’t want to do it like this but I’d rather do it now than wait for the right time to.” Your eyes glance down at the box for a mere second and then to the love of your life.

“I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make my days better, hell, you’ve made my life better. And no matter what we’ve gone through, you’ve stayed by my side and you never ran. I love that you sing off-key, I love that your nose twitches when you get mad, I love that you like… pineapple on pizza, oddly enough.” You chuckle at this. “I love everything about you. And I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve you. But… but true love, it fosters a connection that goes beyond the superficial. It's a bond that often involves understanding each other's core values, beliefs, and life goals. And you’ve made me believe in true love.“

You stare at him in disbelief as he continues, “Will you marry me?” You feel tears spring into your eyes as you nod vehemently, “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” You smile widely and he smiles at you, slipping the ring onto your ring finger as you continue to mutter a million yeses.

When you finally get the ring on, you pull him in for another kiss and he holds you to his heart’s content. It wasn’t the way he envisioned it going, but with you, you knew you didn’t want big and bold ways of him saying he loved you and wanted to marry you, you were content with something small and sweet because it was coming from him and that was the biggest gift of all. You were one for grand gestures, you liked it just the way it was. It was perfect. He was perfect. And you’d spend the rest of your life reminding him he was.

So, you laid back in your bed with your fiancé and talked and talked about sweet nothings until the sun came up. And all of the ache you felt the night before, the pain you endured was long gone and now replaced with something beautiful and sweet.

[witherby]

we NEED more mermaid and damian content 😔🙏

(i dont know if ur accepting requests but maybe we could get a glimpse of Jon? its fine if not!! just a silly thought!!🫶🫶)

ANYWAYS I LOVE UR WRITING (and im new to ur blogs 😿)

I haven't read any of the comics... Jon is the kind one and Kon/Con is the bad boy with the attitude, right? I sure hope so, but if he isn't, then it's an AU, take it with a grain of salt! Haha.

Here's your "glimpse" of Jon 😈

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader, part 6!

The Masterlist is here!

You're awoken from your sleep by a familiar disturbance in the water.

Swish, swish, swish. Swish, swish, swish.

You bump harshly into the sides of your castle spire as you practically claw your way out, long tail unfurling as you get free, and you propel yourself eagerly towards the top floor where the opening to your tank is located. You're a blur in the water, stirring up the aquatic fauna and creating ripples from how fast you're going. You barely pay it any mind, too overjoyed by the presence of a person you didn't think you'd get to see again.

Your sense of time is shaky, especially after breaking your own routines in the wake of your separation from Damian, but you'd know that summons from anywhere. You could feel its disturbance from a mile away.

Did he miss you as much as you missed him? You hope so. Oh, you can't wait to be reunited!

You break the surface with a happy trill, arms extended to embrace your favorite caretaker, and flop over the lip of the tank with him in a tangle of limbs. Your arms encircle his shoulders, webbed fingers skittering against the familiar texture of the wetsuit, and you nuzzle into a head of black hair with a coo.

He's here! He's here, he's back, he's finally with you again! You're so happy —

"Ah — whoa! It worked! I can't believe it!"

You stiffen, eyes snapping open as you process that voice.

That's not what Damian sounds like.

When you take in more details, you come to understand the mistake you made faster and faster. The shoulders you're hugging are too broad. The hair you're nuzzling is too long. The wetsuit you're touching is a different color. The caretaker you're holding is too tall.

You draw back, chittering, and stare at soft, blue eyes, instead of your favorite glittering green.

"Hi!" The boy greets cheerfully. "I'm Jon Kent, your new primary — wait, no, waitwaitwaitwait!!"

You push yourself away from him and turn to get back into the water, but a pair of arms around your waist halts your progress. You snap your teeth threateningly, and the land creature at least has the decency to look chagrined. He's lucky you're too hungry and tired to put up much of a fight at the moment.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," he insists. "Look, look — I brought you a bucket of food, and I grabbed you some new puzzles and toys, and I'm in a wetsuit! Bruce told me you know what that word means, because you used to swim with Damian."

You elbow Jon roughly in the stomach. He groans, but continues to hold you. There's not enough of your tail currently in the water to slip away, either. You hiss, annoyed.

"Please," the boy insists, "give me one chance! We don't have to be best friends, but you need care. You're underweight, you're overtired, and my dad says you need those patches on your tail looked at. My job is to help. I just want to help you."

Jon tugs you close, mindful to stay out of swiping range of your claws, and rests his chin on top of your head.

"One swim. I won't touch you anymore, either. Let me at least pop into your tank to clean up the discarded food and straighten up the place, okay? Just one swim together. Deal?"

You squirm and wriggle, snapping your teeth a few more times to try and slip out of his grasp. Unfortunately, Jon is stronger than he looks, and you really are overtired. The fight doesn't last much longer before you're slumped against him and panting slightly.

"Please," he murmurs again, using your name to get your attention. The fins on the sides of your head twitch, and you finally weigh your options.

A long amount of time has passed. When you see Damian walking people through the tunnels under your tank, he no longer looks at you. You are exhausted, and bored, and lonely. You miss him terribly.

You have caretakers. They are not Damian, but there are still people that come to see you and maintain your home. Jon wants to be one of those people.

You do not have to like Jon, but he has offered to play with you and look after you like Damian once did. You don't want a new playmate, but...

Maybe...maybe it will be okay. Your heart yearns for Damian, but you can nurse that particular wound yourself while letting others tend to the physical injuries. You can allow someone else to occupy your time, as long as you don't get too attached lest they, too, get dragged away from you.

Was that the problem? Was Damian taken away because you wanted him to be your life partner? Would you be able to maintain a bond with someone else as long as you remained unmated?

Jon gently calls your name again. His grip has gone slack around your waist.

"Can we be friends? Or at least cordial?" He asks you, very patiently. "Pretty please? With sprinkles on — you're a mer, you can't have sprinkles — uhhh, with fish flakes on top?"

Hmm. This new caretaker is a little bit stupid, but he's got the spirit.

Fine.

Your shoulders slump, and you hum and turn towards the bucket he set a few feet away. Jon perks up immediately.

"Really!? Thank you! Thank you so much, oh, you have no idea what a relief this is!"

He lets you go and you shimmy back into the water, leaving your head above the surface as he grabs the bucket and holds it out to you.

"Here you go. If you want more, I brought two. You can have as much as you want, I promise!"

Your eyes dart towards the doors, where you watched Bruce take your favorite person away, where there is no sign of his return, then they flicker back to Jon, and you take the bucket.

Everything will be fine. It won't be the same, but it will be fine.

--

Damian makes his way stealthily through the halls. The other staff members know he's not supposed to get near your tank, and if they caught him now, the jig would be up.

Luckily for him, the other staff are all idiots, so when he finally makes it to the door and swipes his father's pilfered key, the lock clicks apart and he waltzes inside your enclosure with a grin.

"Princ —" he starts to call, only for the rest of his sentence to get caught in his throat.

He watches Jon Kent, the new caretaker, adjust his wetsuit and put a rebreather on, then jump into the water where you're spinning around in cheerful circles to play with him. He watches Jon carefully spin with you, then get dragged further into the tank with your hand on his wrist. He watches a gentle smile paint your face before you swim too far down for him to see you anymore.

It took months of work for Damian to build that level of trust with you. Months. And this moronic, gap-toothed, clumsy little plebian had come in and done it in two measly weeks? Was he that skilled of a Mer caretaker?

Damian leans against the wall when his knees threaten to buckle, feeling sick.

No. Maybe he wasn't an expert handler. Maybe you just liked Jon more.

Damian was aware of his decidedly "prickly" personality, and for the most part it suited him just fine. You certainly didn't seem to mind, especially after warming up to him. Was there any warm up at all, with Jon? Or did his winning smile and people-pleasing attitude charm you instantly?

Would you eventually give him some of your scales, too?

It doesn't matter, he thinks, quickly stumbling back out of the room with a thundering pulse and burning eyes. He's seen the joy on your face. His misguided sense of importance, of thinking you needed Damian in order to be happy, of thinking he meant just as much to you as you did to him, was clearly wrong.

You'll be just fine.

[ikkyfics]

Consequences

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: Remus had never hated himself more. He leaned against the wall of an empty corridor, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. He wanted to scream, but he felt like it would be pointless. Screaming wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t relieve the fact that he had hurt you in a way that never be fixed.

Warnings: angst

A/N: HEY, did you just stumble upon this? This is a continuation of another fic, so I advise you to read Sweet Lies first <33. And yes, @dearmy-diary, you convinced me to write this, so I hope you can enjoy it! More notes at the end of the post.

Masterlist

"I wish things were different," you finally said, your voice so low that you could barely hear it yourself. "But they’re not. Please, just... go away."

Remus felt the weight of your words like a punch to the stomach, leaving him breathless. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the right. He simply nodded, his legs moving automatically, as if each step away from you was a punishment he deserved.

He walked far enough to be out of your sight, but not far enough to ignore your silhouette in the distance. The way you collapsed onto the bench, hugging your knees as if that could shield you from the pain. He knew it couldn’t. He knew you were broken—and he knew it was his fault.

Remus had never hated himself more.

He leaned against the wall of an empty corridor, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. He wanted to scream, but he felt like it would be pointless. Screaming wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t relieve the fact that he had hurt you in a way that never be fixed.

The days dragged on. Every time he walked down a hallway, every time he saw you from afar, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched, it felt as though he was the cause of every inch of that pain. He wanted to approach, to beg for forgiveness, but the weight of his own shame held him back. He knew he didn’t have the right.

The common room, once a place of comfort, now felt claustrophobic. He avoided James and Sirius’s gaze, and even Peter seemed uncomfortable with the silence that hung between them. Remus knew Lily was aware of everything too. She was always the first to notice when something was wrong, and this time was no different.

She confronted him on a Sunday, late in the afternoon. They were in the library, a place she knew he couldn’t avoid. Remus was hiding between the shelves, pretending to read a book whose title he didn’t even know. When Lily appeared before him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, he felt his stomach churn.

"So this is it?" she said, her voice low but filled with accusation. "You really did this? You went along with this... this ridiculous bet?"

Remus didn’t answer right away. He looked down, unable to meet the disappointment evident on her face.

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this," he murmured, but the apology sounded weak even to him.

Lily let out a bitter laugh. "It wasn’t supposed to end like this? Remus, do you realize what you did? You played with her feelings. You hurt someone who trusted you. And why? Because James wanted a date with me? How could you agree to something so... so cruel?"

"I didn’t think it would..." Remus began, but the words died in his throat when he saw the tears in Lily’s eyes.

"Exactly. You didn’t think," she snapped. "And now she’s hurt. And you think an apology is going to fix that? Because it won’t, Remus. You made a choice, and it cost you. I can’t believe you went along with this!" Her words were like a whip, and he didn’t even try to defend himself.

"Lily, I—"

"No!" she interrupted, her face red with frustration. "You don’t have an excuse!" She paused, her voice shaking. "She trusted you. You know how hard it was for her to open up to someone, and you just... destroyed that! Why? To help James? To be part of some stupid joke?"

"I wish things were different," he whispered, more to himself than to Lily. "I didn’t want to hurt her. I never did."

Lily shook her head, incredulous. "You know that James and I broke up, right?"

Remus looked up, surprised. "What?"

"He thought it would make me happy," she continued, her voice heavy with bitterness. "But how could I be happy knowing he manipulated you all into hurting someone else? How could I look at him and not see that? James has a lot of flaws, but this time, he crossed the line. And you..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You were the last person I expected to agree to this. I’m disappointed in you, Remus."

Her words hit him like a punch. He felt the weight of his own guilt multiply, suffocating him. "Lily, I’m sorry," he said, finally raising his eyes to hers. "I know nothing I say can fix this, but... I really am sorry."

She shook her head, her expression softening just slightly. "You don’t owe me an apology, Remus. And, honestly, an apology wouldn’t be enough for her."

He knew Lily was right. There were no words, no gestures that could erase the damage he had caused. But that didn’t stop him from desperately wishing things were different.

Remus spent the following days wrapped in a fog of regret. His attempts to focus on classes or the obligations of daily life seemed futile. Each hallway he crossed, each room he entered, his eyes stubbornly searched for you, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

You were there, always present, but different. He noticed the way you moved, the way you spoke to others. There was a lighter weight on your shoulders, as if the world had, in some way, decided to ease your burden, even if only momentarily. But there was also something missing: the spark of enthusiasm that once lit up your eyes when you looked at him. Remus knew it was his fault. He had destroyed that.

It was on a quiet afternoon that he heard it. He wasn’t looking for it, but the sound reached him anyway, cutting through the courtyard like a sharp arrow. Your laugh. A light, melodious laugh, so full of life that it made his heart tighten in his chest. He froze in the middle of the path, the sound reverberating in his ears. For a brief moment, he thought about turning around and walking away. Maybe it would be better that way. But something inside him forced him to look for the source of that sound.

His eyes found you easily. You were sitting on one of the stone benches in the courtyard, sunlight playing in your hair. And you weren’t alone.

Next to you, leaning toward you, was Artemis Scamander. He had a serene smile on his face, his eyes glowing with a warmth that was hard to ignore. Remus knew who he was—a talented and kind Hufflepuff, known for his impeccable character. The kind of person who seemed to never make mistakes, the opposite of Remus.

Artemis said something Remus couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, it made you laugh again. A laugh so genuine, so carefree, that it hurt. Remus’s chest seemed to tighten with almost unbearable force. He wanted to turn away, to flee, but his feet were rooted to the ground, forcing him to watch as Artemis tilted his head and gently pushed a lock of hair from your face, with a reverence that almost seemed sacred.

Remus swallowed hard. He didn’t have the right to feel what he was feeling, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. The pain of seeing you like this—happy, but not because of him—was overwhelming. You looked so free, so at peace beside Artemis.

He realized, with cruel clarity, that he had lost his chance. He was no longer the reason behind your smile, nor the cause of your laughter. Someone else was filling the space he had left empty. And you were moving on.

As he watched you and Artemis together, Remus felt something break inside him. It was as if he were watching a window close, locking him out forever. He couldn’t blame you. You deserved this—deserved happiness, affection, someone who wouldn’t hurt you. But knowing that didn’t make the pain any less unbearable.

Finally, he found the strength to move. He turned and left the courtyard, each step heavier than the last. Your laugh continued to echo in his mind, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. And as he walked, alone with his thoughts and regrets, a single truth resonated in his heart: he would never again be the reason for your happiness.

A/N: yeeeeeees, I shamelessly decided to make the first appearance of an OC - I really hope to be able to make a proper fic for him soon. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your precious time reading this <3333

[alsofoundinpeas]

Only Ever You

Summary: Y/N knows her husband can be a bit oblivious when it comes to women flirting with him, but when a local officer oversteps during their latest case, she reaches her breaking point. She’s exhausted from feeling like she’s always second to every other woman. Now, it's up to Spencer to prove that no one will ever come before her.

Requested fic!! : I was hoping you could write an angsty-angry-smutty fic surrounding Spencer exasperatingly telling Reader: “Cat Adams could offer herself up wide open on a bed. In fact she has! JJ could leave Will for me. Maeve could fucking walk back in here right now. And I would still choose you!”

At some point in their love-making Reader tells Spencer “you always choose women who take and take and take from you. Giving nothing of themselves back but you deserve everything. I want to give you my everything”. They essentially worship each other endlessly. In so many ways.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+!! MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. This was written with Season 14 Reid in mind btw :) Intense argument between Reader and Spencer (Reader is hurt and is kind of harsh). Very brief mentions of past infidelity (done by Reader's ex-partners). Jealous reader!! Crying during arguing (very brief by both parties). Oral (both m and f receiving), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation (both m and f receiving), unprotected PinV sex (be safe irl!!), multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), creampie (I wince every time I type that LMAO), slight exhibitionism (a call is made during sex), praise. Angst turned happy ending!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: First and foremost, thank you so very much to the anon who requested this!! I truly hope you enjoy it and that I wrote what you were hoping for :') <3 To everyone reading, welcome to my first fic of the new year!! I hope you guys enjoy it :) As always, please let me know what you guys think! If you like it, please consider dropping a like, reblogging it, or even sharing it with your friends :') I love you all!! <3 K

Something Y/N loathed about herself was her tendency to get overly jealous whenever other women (or even some men) were around Spencer. It wasn’t a matter of trusting him—she trusted Spencer with her life. But no amount of trust could erase the scars left by the betrayal of past partners who had cheated on her.

Y/N tried to hold back her annoyance whenever JJ hung around Spencer for what she considered far too long to be just friendly. She bit her tongue whenever a witness or suspect flirted with him. She had even managed to keep her cool one night when they went out for drinks with the team (a rare occasion) and Y/N returned from the bathroom to find the bartender borderline eye-fucking Spencer, even going so far as to reach for his arm.

Spencer’s obliviousness to women's advances toward him often made her blood boil, and as she had watched him that night, a knot of frustration tightened in her stomach. Her anger simmered, rising bitterly in her throat as she made her way toward them. Y/N knew the bartender had seen his wedding band—it was something Spencer wore like a badge of honor, always proudly visible.

Thankfully, Spencer pulled his arm away before she had to intervene, ranting about how the drink was meant for her, his wife before paying and storming back to their booth, clearly irked. In that moment, Y/N’s anger evaporated, replaced by a rush of relief as she was reminded of Spencer's unwavering love for her, a love he would always prove, with or without her presence. Rather than confronting the bartender, she turned and returned to the booth, curling up against Spencer with a contented smile, enjoying the rest of the night in his arms.

Tonight, Y/N struggled to remember that reminder as she cast a fierce glare at the back of Spencer's head from across the room.

The team had been dispatched to a small town in Oregon to investigate a particularly disturbing case where the unsub was leaving his victims strung up in the state forest along popular hiking trails, their stomachs or backs marked with cryptic quotes. Over the week, Spencer had struck up an unexpected connection with Officer Henley, a local who shared his deep knowledge of Edgar Allan Poe—particularly The Raven, from which the unsub was drawing his quotes. As the case dragged on, Y/N couldn’t ignore the growing tension, especially as Officer Henley—or Sarah, who kept insisting Spencer call her by her first name—made her interest in him all too apparent, while both women silently made their distaste for each other clear.

Tonight was testing Y/N’s patience and professionalism like never before. Spencer and Sarah had been assigned to decode the latest quote found on a victim, while Y/N focused on the geographical profile. Normally, she preferred the analysis over fieldwork, but tonight she would have rather been out in the damp forest searching for overlooked clues with the rest of the team than endure Sarah's loud, incessant laughter at some meaningless joke her husband had made.

Spencer, naturally, was just glad someone appreciated his sense of humor and remained blissfully unaware of Sarah’s clear attempts to flirt with him. To be honest, he found her a bit clingy and annoying, but he attributed it to her enthusiasm as a new officer—she had only joined the precinct a few months ago—and the excitement of working on a case far more intense than the usual petty theft or minor civil dispute her town had.

After another round of high-pitched laughter, Y/N reached her breaking point. With an exasperated sigh, she slammed the box of pins onto the table and stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. So consumed by frustration, she didn't even realize one of the pins had punctured the thin plastic until she reached for the doorknob, a muffled curse slipping from her lips as she noticed blood trickling down her finger.

The loud noise startled both Sarah and Spencer, causing them to turn quickly as Y/N stormed out of the room. Spencer’s brow furrowed with concern, and without a second thought, he excused himself, brushing past Sarah’s confused calls. It didn't take long for him to find Y/N in the breakroom, huddled in the corner, carefully applying a band-aid to her finger.

"Honey? Are you okay?" Spencer asked worriedly, making his way toward her.

Y/N looked up, unable to help the disgruntled look on her face as she huffed. “I’m fine. It was just a small poke, really. I don’t know why it bled so much,” she murmured, looking away to take a sip of the coffee she’d poured for herself.

The clock above the break room door ticked on, its hands marking a quarter past nine. Y/N's frustration simmered, a mix of exhaustion from the sleepless nights and irritation at Spencer’s obliviousness to Sarah’s clear interest in him. For someone with such sharp profiling skills, it baffled her that Spencer couldn't seem to read the obvious signs when it came to women.

Where he failed to read other women and their intentions, he had no such trouble with Y/N. He could read her effortlessly, which is why he immediately knew she was lying.

Spencer took a seat beside her, his gaze fixed on her face intently. He sat quietly for a moment before speaking up.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart? Talk to me. Please?”

Spencer knew Y/N tended to bottle things up instead of letting them out, reluctant to share her feelings for fear of burdening him. He detested anyone in her life who had contributed to that insecurity. In his eyes, she would never be a bother for simply expressing how she felt.

Before Y/N could respond, her phone rang, and she silently welcomed the interruption. She wasn’t sure she could explain to Spencer why she was so upset—especially over something as irrational as him making another woman laugh. She knew, logically, that he would never (knowingly) encourage any flirting, yet the feeling still nagged at her. He was her husband. She loved him more than anything, and the idea of another woman encroaching on what they had stung more than she cared to admit.

Y/N held a finger up before answering the call with a brisk “Agent Y/L/N speaking.”

“Yikes, that was cold. You okay?”

When Tara’s voice came through the phone, Y/N immediately felt a twinge of guilt for how she’d answered, but it quickly faded as her shoulders eased and she exhaled softly.

“I’ll explain later. What’s up?”

“We’re not making any progress here, and since it’s so late, Emily thinks we should head to the Inn and get some rest. You definitely sound like you could use it,” Tara said with a soft chuckle.

She wasn’t wrong. The case, combined with Sarah’s behavior, had Y/N feeling stretched thin and irritable. The sleep deprivation certainly wasn’t helping. A small grin tugged at her lips before she replied.

“You know me too well, ma’am. You get some rest too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Y/N hung up the phone and met Spencer’s inquisitive gaze. “That was Tara. Emily gave the go-ahead to wrap up and head to the Inn,” she explained, offering him a small, tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Spencer nodded, his gaze lingering on her with quiet concern as they stood. He said nothing as they walked back to the conference room to pack up for the night, choosing not to press her about whatever was troubling her. He made a mental note to bring it up later, at a better time. They still had an unsub to catch, and adding more stress to an already challenging case wouldn’t help either of them.

After five more long, excruciating days of watching Sarah blatantly flirt with her husband and ignoring the team's questioning glances, Y/N finally got the break she all but begged the universe for.

By some miracle, they had finally tracked down the unsub. A slip-up at his latest crime scene had not only left his DNA behind, but he was also in the system for previous crimes and still lived at the same address. The evidence they found in his home during the arrest was more than damning, so Emily decided the local police captain could take it from there, handling the interrogation and everything else.

The flight back to Quantico was tense, and Y/N chose to sit with Tara instead of Spencer. His defense of Sarah—especially after Y/N confronted her for grabbing his phone and putting her number in it "as a friend"—had been the breaking point. Now, she was actively ignoring him, despite his repeated pleas at the Inn while they packed for her to just tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. She knew it was petty. She knew she should be mature and talk to him about it. But she was hurt. All she wanted was for her husband to recognize when other women were making moves on him before it crossed a line—like with the bartender who thought it was okay to touch him.

The drive home was unbearable. Spencer’s hands were clenched around the wheel, his knuckles pale from the pressure, while Y/N faced the window, staring out into the darkness, her body turned away from him. The silence between them was deafening, with neither of them saying a word the entire ride.

That silence ended the instant Y/N slammed the door behind them after they’d brought in their go-bags.

“Y/N, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” Spencer snapped, his frustration bubbling over. He had tried being patient, asking her again and again to just tell him what was wrong, but now he was done. After the long, grueling case they'd gotten back from, all he wanted was to hold his wife, not fight with her.

“What the fuck is my problem?!” Y/N scoffed incredulously. “What the fuck is your problem Spencer?”

Y/N stormed toward their bedroom, flinging her bag into the corner to deal with later. Spinning on her heels, she brushed past Spencer—who had been trailing her—and made her way to the kitchen. Spencer sighed, setting his bag next to their closet and placing his phone on his nightstand before turning to follow after her.

“Or better yet, why don’t you ask Sarah what my problem is?” she shot at him, her words laced with bitterness. “After all, she was kind enough to give you her number, and you two seem to get along so well!” Y/N stopped abruptly, turning to face him, her expression fierce.

Spencer scoffed, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "Seriously? You’re this upset because a woman was being friendly with me?"

Y/N laughed sharply, the mix of anger and hurt making her delirious. She nodded slowly, lifting her gaze to his, her tongue pressing into her cheek as her eyes narrowed. With a deliberate step forward, she closed the distance between them. “As brilliant as you are, that might just be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say in all the years I’ve known you,” she hissed, her glare fiery as she looked up at him.

Spencer's throat tightened as his pulse quickened, staring at her in disbelief. He had never seen his wife so furious, and a sinking feeling of dread settled deep in his stomach. His lips parted, but before he could speak, she turned on her heel, moving around the counter to put space between them.

“I’m at a loss, Spencer,” Y/N sighed, her head dropping as her fingers drummed against the countertop. “If you honestly think her behavior was just friendly, I don’t even know what to say to you.” She looked up at him, her voice shaking with frustration as she got louder and louder. “And on top of all that, you defended her over me—your wife! Do you know how embarrassing that was? I would never, in a million years, defend another man over you!”

With the case no longer consuming his thoughts, Spencer took a moment to truly reflect on Sarah’s behavior. What he had once brushed off as clingy and overenthusiastic now seemed undeniably inappropriate. He had been so focused on the case that he hadn’t given it the attention it deserved.

Y/N was right, and he knew now that he’d been wrong to defend another woman over her. He had convinced himself that Y/N was overreacting when Sarah put her number in his phone, but now he understood. Y/N was his wife, and the guilt of making her feel hurt and humiliated weighed heavily on him.

“Y/N—“ Spencer hesitated, sighing before he continued. “Sweetheart, I never meant to make you feel like I was putting someone else before you. You know that, right?” Spencer’s voice was soft, his guilt clear in every word.

Y/N’s lip quivered as she stared at him, shaking her head before releasing a strained breath.

“No, Spencer. I don’t know that. Because, no matter what, I always end up on the back burner when it comes to other women in your life. Sometimes, it honestly feels like you’re deliberately oblivious to it—like you don’t care enough to notice or do something about it. Like you’ll always choose another woman over me."

Her words hit Spencer harder than he expected, stirring up a well of emotion he hadn’t realized was there. Anger bubbled up inside him, but it wasn’t aimed at her—not for a second. It was anger directed at himself, for making Y/N feel like she would ever come second to anyone.

Spencer realized now why he had been so oblivious to the other women’s attention. It was because he was so in love with her, so completely devoted, that he couldn’t even entertain the idea of anyone else wanting him. He didn’t care about them in the slightest—how could he when he had the most incredible, most beautiful woman alive as his wife?

“Is that… is that truly how I’ve made you feel?” Spencer whispers, a devastated look on his face as he took a trembling step toward her. “Like I’d choose any other woman over you, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat as a tear slipped down her cheek at the admission.

Spencer slowly made his way around the counter, giving her time to back away if she didn’t want him near her right now. Once he reached her, he gently guided her face up to look at his before swiping the tear from her cheek.

“My darling girl,” he murmured, his voice unwavering as he cradled her face. “Cat Adams could offer herself up to me wide open on a bed a thousand times—it wouldn’t matter. JJ could walk away from Will tonight, tomorrow, whenever, and it wouldn’t change a thing. Even if Maeve herself walked through that door right now…” Spencer paused, his expression softening. “I’d still choose you. Always you. Only you. In this life, and in every life. Without a second of hesitation. Without an ounce of doubt.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, her eyes studying his face for any indication that he was lying. But all she saw was raw honesty and regret, his eyes brimming with tears. Her eyes closed as another tear slipped down her cheek, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, her shoulders finally giving way with a quiet surrender.

"You really mean that?" Y/N asked, her insecurity still overpowering the evidence before her.

Spencer pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he gently cradled the back of her head with one hand and drew her waist against him with the other. “Of course I mean it, my sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m so, truly sorry for not showing you that sooner. But I swear, from now on, I will. No one—no one—could ever mean more to me than you.”

Y/N kept her arms around him, her face pressed against his chest as she let his words sink in. After a beat, she pulled back with a soft exhale, wiping her eyes before meeting his gaze. “I’m still angry with you,” she said, poking a finger into his chest before trailing her hand up to gently tug at his tie. “But that definitely helped your case,” she added, a playful spark lighting her eyes as she slowly untied his knot. “I might even let you sleep in our bed tonight.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Spencer’s chest as he raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on her waist while she worked at his tie. “Any chance I can turn that ‘might’ into a ‘will’?” he murmured, his voice laced with teasing. “Because I can think of a few ways to plead my case.”

As he spoke, his hands slid underneath her blouse to rub maddening circles into her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N tilted her head, humming thoughtfully as she let his loose tie slip from her fingers, falling to the floor. It had been almost two weeks since the last time she and Spencer had done anything remotely sexual, and the idea of make-up sex was more than appealing.

“We’ll see,” Y/N whispered, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she pressed her hand against his chest and rose onto her toes to kiss him.

Spencer melted into the kiss, turning to press her gently against the counter. A low groan escaped his lips before he deepened the kiss, trailing a hand down her side to hike her leg up around his waist while the other settled against the side of her neck. His thumb stroked her jawline as he pressed further into her touch.

"I love how hard you get from just a few kisses," Y/N muttered against his lips. "Maybe you really are sorry after all."

"My angel girl," Spencer cooed between kisses, trailing his lips down her neck to her exposed collarbone. "I'll prove to you—" A soft gasp fell from Y'N's lips as he sucked a mark into her skin. "—just how sorry I am…” Her head tipped back as he began to kneel before her, placing both hands on her waist as he peppered kisses down her clothed body. “And worship you in the way you’ve deserved—“ Her gaze met his as he lifted her foot, resting it on his thigh before undoing the strap of her high heel. “—for so, so long.”

Y/N’s hands gripped the counter as she watched him through hooded eyes, a breath of relief releasing into the air as he slipped her shoe off, letting it hit the ground beside them with a quiet thump. He kept her foot on his thigh, placing a kiss on her knee through her slacks as he began to massage her tense calf muscles under the fabric. Once he was satisfied with the appreciative groans falling from her lips, he did the same with the other side, removing her high heel and massaging her leg.

Spencer sat her foot back down on the ground before reaching for the button of her slacks, popping it open. Her breath hitched as he leaned forward, tugging her zipper down with his teeth. The moment her zipper was completely down, he reached up, startling her from her haze as he yanked the fabric down her legs.

“Spence!” Y/N said, her laugh tinged with amusement as he merely shrugged, a mischievous spark in his eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips.

He helped her step out of the fabric, keeping his hands on her hips to steady her while she kicked her pants to the side. His lips eagerly pressed to her newly exposed skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the waistband of her panties. “You’re not the only one that’s still angry here,” Spencer mumbled against her skin, tracing his fingers up her thighs to drag her soaked panties down her legs.

“Wait… what are you angry about?” Y/N's face contorted, caught between confusion and irritation.

“I’m angry—“ A wet kiss pressed against her hip bone. “At myself—“ Another wet kiss pressed to her outer thigh. “For making you feel—“ Her face relaxed as he eased her left thigh over his shoulder. “Like I’d ever—“ A series of soft kisses to her inner thigh made her tense with anticipation. “Put anyone else above you, sweetheart.”

In one swift movement, his tongue dragged up her arousal, a guttural groan rumbling against her slick skin as he began to devour her. Y/N’s hands shot out to thread through his hair with a sharp gasp, her mouth dropping open as moans started to spill from her lips. His hands found her ass, gripping her tightly and digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there as he all but suffocated himself in her folds.

"Oh my—" Y/N rasped, cutting herself off with a whine as he let out a needy moan in response.

Her grip on his hair tightened, pulling him impossibly closer as she began to rock her hips against his face. Her eyes squeezed shut, bursts of color flickering behind her eyelids as Spencer worked his mouth against her. His movements alternated between fucking his tongue into her and suckling her clit greedily, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm.

Spencer was painfully hard, his erection tenting his slacks as he reveled in the taste of her. One of his favorite things to do after a stressful case (which, frankly, was most of them) was bury his face between her thighs. Her taste was truly addictive, and he'd find himself craving it the longer he went without having her. It was as though the more he could make her legs shake around his head and the harder he could make her cum, the faster the stress evaporated from his body. And now he was working extra hard to make her feel good, eager to redeem himself for his behavior.

A tremulous moan ripped through the air as Y/N hunched over, whimpering his name mindlessly as her first orgasm of the night tore through her. Spencer groaned into her as her nails dug into his scalp, the slight sting sending a pang of longing coursing through him as he ached to feel those nails dragging down his back. His movements slowed, easing her through the aftermath of her climax as she panted above him. Once she was whining and shoving his head away, he gently lowered her leg to the ground, standing with a soft chuckle as she swayed slightly.

“Easy, sweetheart. Come on, hold on to me,” Spencer murmured, his hand soothingly rubbing her back as she clung to him.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, burying her face in his chest as she trembled in his embrace. "God, you're too good at that," she sighed, placing a kiss on his collarbone before pulling back to look up at him. "Take me to our room so I can return the favor?"

The grin on her face was infectious, and Spencer found himself smiling as he nodded. "Yes ma'am," he murmured teasingly.

They stripped their remaining clothes in between giggly kisses, littering the hallway with the fabric before they finally made it into their room. Y/N looped her arms around Spencer's neck, backing him against the closed door as she leaned up to kiss him hungrily. Spencer's hands roamed her body, whimpering into her mouth as her hand trailed down his body to wrap around his cock.

"Honey, you really don't have to—"

Spencer hissed against her lips, his sentence interrupted as she began to pump her hand slowly. "I'm supposed to be making it up to you—"

Y/N shushed him, nipping his lower lip gently before breaking their kiss completely. His cock twitched in her hand from the way she was looking up at him so reverently, and he swallowed hard as he stopped his protesting.

"You always chose women who took and took from you, offering nothing in return. But you deserve everything, my sweet boy. I want to give you all that I am, just like you give me all that you are. Let me make you feel good too, Spence."

There was no room for argument as her words hung in the air, causing his heart to tighten. She was right. He’d always been drawn to selfish partners, always putting their needs before his own. Or, in Cat Adam's case, completely insane women hellbent on draining him of his sanity. That was what made Y/N so surprising to him from the start. Even when they were just colleagues with unspoken crushes, long before they were a couple, she was the one woman who always made a point to put him first.

When he nodded, she grinned in satisfaction, placing one last lingering kiss on his lips before sinking to her knees. Spencer felt like his brain malfunctioned anytime he was lucky enough to see her like this—kiss swollen lips glistening as she wet her lips, or her pupils dilated so much he could barely make out the color in her beautiful irises as she stared up at him. No matter how many times he saw her like this, he would never stop being captivated by how stunning she was.

His head fell back against the door with a solid thunk as his brows pinched together at the feeling of her lips wrapping around the swollen head of his arousal, a sharp exhale leaving his nose as he tried to steady himself. She'd barely touched him and yet he could already feel his stomach tightening simply from the anticipation of what he knew was coming next. A throaty moan filled the air as she swirled her tongue around him before taking his length deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck!" Spencer whined, forcing himself to look down at her instead of squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. "Love it when you take me so deep, sweetheart. Just like that—"

Y/N smirked smugly around her mouthful, beginning to bob her head up and down his aching cock. One of her favorite things about Spencer was how, despite everyone seeing him as soft-spoken and mild-mannered because he rarely cursed in front of others, he had an absolutely filthy mouth when they did anything even remotely sexual. It felt like her own dirty little secret, and she couldn't help but revel in it.

It didn't take long for his hips to begin bucking gently into her mouth, his hands cradling the back of her head as his chest heaved. Helpless moans slipped from his lips between murmured praises, his hooded eyes locked on her so as not to miss a single second of the show she was putting on for him.

"So fucking pretty with my cock between your lips. My pretty girl. God, I'm the luckiest man to ever exist to have you as my wife—" Spencer crooned between labored breaths, his teeth digging harshly into his lower lip as a guttural groan cut off his rambling. "I'm close— I-I'm— fuck!"

Spencer cried out as Y/N swallowed around his cock, her nose pressing into the soft curls at the base of him as saliva dripped down her chin and onto her chest. The feeling of her moaning around him sent him over the edge, a string of whorish moans and whimpers falling from his open mouth as he painted the back of her throat with his essence. His knees almost buckled as she kept sucking through his orgasm, a pitiful whine leaving him as she finally released him with a slick 'pop'.

Despite feeling like he'd quite literally had his soul sucked from his body, Spencer still held his hand out to help her up from the ground. He pulled her into him as she stood, pressing sweet kisses to the top of her head as he caught his breath. Y/N peppered kisses along his warm skin, more than pleased with herself.

"Get on the bed," Spencer mumbled hoarsely into her hair, landing a gentle smack to her ass.

Y/N eagerly obliged, crawling into the middle of their bed and situating herself amongst their pillows. Her gaze fell on him as he slowly made his way over, her breath hitching at the ravenous look in his eyes.

Spencer had always been a generous lover, making sure she came at least twice before their lovemaking ended. Throughout their relationship, he tended to lean more on the submissive side, happily allowing Y/N to guide their intimate moments any way she saw fit. But after prison, it was like something had snapped in him.

Now, he wasn’t afraid to get rough with her (within her limits, of course). Where he’d once been hesitant to grip too hard or move too fast, he’d now easily leave fingerprint-shaped bruises and pound into her until tears leaked from her eyes from how good it felt. There were still days when he’d let Y/N take the reigns, days when the world was so heavy that all he wanted to do was shut his brain off and let her use him to get herself off, but those days were rare.

Y/N welcomed the change with open arms, excited to let Spencer tap into and explore his more dominant side. Truthfully, she was surprised by how much she enjoyed letting go of control. Her job forced her to be tougher than she liked—always having to stand her ground with local officers or unsubs who underestimated her simply because she was a woman. With Spencer, it felt freeing to leave that hard-edged persona behind, letting him dote on her and take control of her pleasure.

Spencer stopped at the foot of their bed, a wicked look on his face as he observed her. Y/N felt her cheeks warm under the scrutiny of his gaze, shifting restlessly as she waited to see what he was going to do. He kneeled onto the mattress, shuffling forward until he hovered above her.

Instead of speaking, he ducked down and left a lingering kiss on her forehead before lying on his side beside her. Y/N shifted to face him, but he stopped her, keeping her in place on her back. "Like this, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing his lips against her temple. He propped up, guiding his right arm underneath her so he could cradle her head while nipping her earlobe gently.

Spencer trailed a hand down her body, chuckling as she squirmed in his hold. He gripped her thigh firmly, bringing her leg up to rest on his waist to allow him better access to her dripping folds. Spencer began kissing down her neck, relishing in the soft sighs Y/N let out as he angled his hips to nudge the head of his hardening cock against her pussy.

"Need you so bad, Spence—" Y/N whimpered as his hand left her thigh to rub teasing circles against her clit. "Please!"

Spencer hummed, dipping his head down to take her nipple into his mouth as he picked up the pace of his fingers. When she whined louder, he dipped a finger down to tease her entrance and swirled his tongue around her pert bud in retaliation.

"Shh, pretty girl. I'll take care of you," Spencer cooed as he pulled away from her breast. "I always do," he murmured, pressing his finger into her while meeting her lips in a tender kiss.

One of Spencer's favorite things about this position was how accessible it made her. He loved having her spread open for him, unable to do much of anything besides take the pleasure he delivered. He also loved how deep it allowed him to get, able to bring her to the brink over and over because of the constant stimulation to her g-spot.

Moans continued to spill from Y/N's lips as he added a second finger, her hips rolling into his touch frantically. Calling their kiss a kiss seemed too generous—it was more a messy, half-hearted press of lips together. She reached up, tugging at his curls hard as her climax rapidly approached. She was so close—

Spencer swiftly removed his fingers, breaking their kiss to stuff the digits into her mouth before she could complain. He thrust his hips forward, pushing into her in one smooth movement. Y/N let out a muffled cry around his fingers, her eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling her.

"God— shit, baby," Spencer groaned loudly, stilling his hips once he bottomed out to let her adjust. "Always so fucking wet and so fucking tight."

She clenched hard around him, still dangerously close to cumming. Spencer pressed his forehead to her temple as he began to move, thrusting into her in slow, hard thrusts. His right hand stroked her hair while his left slipped from her lips to grip her thigh again, keeping her spread open for him as his pace began to increase.

"So good for me, sweetheart. So perfect," Spencer panted, driving into her in sharp, wild thrusts now. He could tell she was close, and he wanted to feel her falling apart around his cock more than anything.

"Feels so good, Spence," Y/N whined, panting as the pleasure began to coil tightly in her stomach. "Always fuck me so good—"

A choked moan ripped its way from her throat as she came around him, the feeling of her clenching around him causing Spencer's hips to falter as he cursed under his breath. Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering as he kept his grip tight on her thigh to keep her from clamping her legs shut.

"You can take another one, can't you pretty girl?" Spencer murmured, moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone as he slowed his hips to help ease her through the overstimulation. "I know you can," he cooed encouragingly. "My precious girl. You always take me so well."

Y/N nodded frantically, the sting of overstimulation beginning to fade back into dizzying pleasure as he fucked into her gently. Spencer pressed a kiss to her shoulder, praising her softly before an idea came to mind. He wanted her to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that no other woman could ever take her place or come before her, right?

What better way to do that than by calling the woman who sparked this argument and showing her exactly what she couldn’t have and who she could never be?

Spencer slowed his thrusts to a halt, chuckling breathlessly as Y/N whined in protest. "On your stomach for me, sweetheart," he coaxed her gently, slipping out of her so she could flip over.

Once she was settled on her front, Spencer slipped a pillow beneath her hips and kissed the back of her head before bending to whisper into her ear.

"How would you feel if I called Sarah right now to show her exactly how much my gorgeous wife means to me—and how insignificant her 'friendship' is in comparison?"

Y/N grinned smugly, shoving her face into the pillow tucked under her head as her face warmed. Was it petty? Absolutely. Had she ever been more turned on than when she heard those words leave her husband's lips? She doubted it. It felt almost primal, staking her claim in such a way. But Sarah more than deserved it for how she'd acted... so fuck it.

"Do it."

Spencer smirked at her muffled words, reaching for his phone and setting it beside them. He lined back up at her entrance, pushing into her with a groan as her warmth enveloped him once more. Once he set a steady rhythm, with Y/N so lost in her pleasure she'd almost forgotten about their plan entirely, he hit dial on Sarah's contact.

Sarah groggily sat up, reaching for her phone as it rang. A sly smirk tugged at her lips when she saw who was calling, and she answered with a hint of excitement. "Well, hey there, handsome. Does your wife know you’re calling me at this hour?" she purred, her grin widening as she waited for him to speak. She knew he was into her—

Sarah’s brows furrowed as she was met with rustling on the other end of the line followed by a very clear moan. Her smile dropped, her mouth gaping open in shock as she listened.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Spencer’s muffled grunt came through the speakers before he continued, the bed squeaking with each rough thrust. “I love you so fucking much. My beautiful wife. God, sweetheart—"

Sarah dropped the phone, appalled by what was happening on the other end and embarrassed by how confidently she'd answered the phone. One thing was clear—he definitely wasn't into her. Her face burned as she realized she hadn't actually ended the call, the sound of muffled moans streaming through the phone as she hunted for it in the covers. Once it was back in her hands, Sarah ended the call abruptly, blinking hard as she stared down at the screen while she tried to process what had just happened. Spencer had to have butt-dialed her... right?

Spencer chuckled darkly as he realized Sarah had ended the call, reaching up to shove the phone further up the bed and out of the way before he began pounding even harder into Y/N. She was close again, clenching deliciously around him and hurtling him towards his own orgasm just as quickly. He clasped their hands together, shoving them into the mattress as he buried his head in the crook of her neck with a guttural groan.

"I'm cumming— fuck, Spence, fuck!" Y/N cried out, thrashing underneath him as she came so hard her vision blacked at the edges.

Spencer followed suit, burying himself inside of her with a choked groan as he came. His head rested on her shoulder, his hips rocking gently through the aftershocks of their orgasms until they were both whimpering from the sensitivity. He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her flushed skin before rolling off of her and onto the bed with a deep exhale.

Spencer pulled Y/N into him, stroking a hand down her back as she trembled. "Such a good girl, sweetheart. Always do so good for me. My beautiful girl. I love you so much," he whispered reverently, holding her while she came down from her high.

"I love you, Spence. With everything that I am," Y/N whispered back, lifting herself up enough to kiss him tenderly.

It took a few minutes before either of them could get up to get cleaned up, with Spencer guiding her to the bathroom with a hand wrapped around her waist to steady her. Their shower was spent murmuring apologies and praises to each other, the both of them expressing just how much they loved each other between soapy passes of the loofah and tired giggles as they washed away the remnants of the night. And as he wrapped her into a towel, Spencer couldn't help the grin that broke across his face at her quiet words.

"You can absolutely sleep in the bed tonight—just as long as you change the sheets first."

Continued A/N's: I still have a few requests to fill after this and then I'll be posting some original ideas before I open requests back up! Thank you guys so much for the requests, they've been so much fun to write and I hope you guys are enjoying them as much as I am! :') <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[revelboo]

I just wanted to write in to say that I adore your writing, it's reignited my Transformers fixation in a way I didn't expect! You stories have had me in a chokehold for days and I honestly can't believe the variety you offer both in characters and continuities. Thank you so much for providing so many fantastic stories to read!

Clumsy Heart, your Pharma story, and the Insecticon ones in particular have caught my interest but I honestly love every story you write about the Decepticons. You even made me have sympathy for Starscream after I binged Everything's All Right, I can't wait to see more of your posts!

Thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! 18+ 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 103

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Brushing his mouth against your throat to nudge your head back, Soundwave is aware of the way Megatron is watching the interaction. The hunger in those optics. Almost tempted to trespass in the warlord’s mind, but afraid to risk it. Because if Megatron feels him snooping, he won’t be trusted ever again. Servos sliding to your hips, he rocks against you and your lips part. “Spark bonding isn’t wrong,” he whispers.

• Why does that soft sound you make spill through him? Make him ache for something he shouldn’t want. If nothing else, you’re bound to Starscream. For that he should want nothing to do with you. Shifting uncomfortably, Megatron watches Soundwave urge you to move against him, to ride his spike. “Worth sharing with Starscream?” He sneers, before your head turns. Those eyes staring at him as Soundwave claims you.

• Scowling at Megatron as his optics trail over you, your breath catches when Soundwave lays you back and you’re distracted from trying to defend Starscream. Hips moving in slow drives against you, his spike stroking inside you. And Megatron shifts slightly, almost unconsciously moving to keep you in sight until you close your eyes. Don’t want to see those red optics wandering over you because you feel molten under his attention when you should hate it. “Soundwave,” you whimper, hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

• Watching you arch under him, Soundwave keeps crooning to you. Trying to keep you focused on him and keep you from provoking Megatron. Hears the other mech vent softly as he reaches out a hand. A big servo brushing against your throat as your eyes open. Feels your confusion and the interest you hate to acknowledge. Will you hate him for this? “Perfect way to control Starscream,” he says and your eyes dart to him. Your shock sparking through him and he holds your eyes, hoping you can understand. That you can forgive him as he rolls his hips, thrusting faster.

• Optics narrowing as Soundwave groans and loses himself in you, Megatron watches you grab at Soundwave. A heel sliding as your breath hitches and you cry out, Soundwave thrusting harder as you squirm under him. That scandalous, wet sound of you taking Soundwave’s spike filling his head. But Soundwave’s words linger. Because from what he remembers of the bonds, he’d be trying himself to you. Harm to him, becoming harm to you. Meaning Starscream couldn’t hurt him without indirectly hurting himself. No more plots or schemes. And Soundwave growls, venting raggedly as he releases inside you before slipping free and easing back. Watches Soundwave gather you into his arms as you tremble, Megatron reaches and uses a servo to turn your head his way. Those dark eyes hooded as you raggedly pant.

• Racing through the halls of the base, Starscream shoulders past a couple of Constructicons not caring as they snarl at him. Bracing a hand against the wall and opening the door to let himself in, he stops short to find you in Soundwave’s arm, Megatron looming over both of you, a servo under your chin. Wings flaring, he grits his denta and glares at Soundwave as the other mech just stares at him, completely unrepentant. Letting that monster touch you, see you. “Megatron,” he growls and the warlord glances at him, one corner of his lips twitching slightly. Amused at his anger. Because that’s his mate. His sparked mate.

Previous

[cheemscakecat]

I high-key think the reason Shifty even wanted the journal so bad and tied Fiddleford up is that he overheard talk about freezing him.

Maybe Ford wasn’t there and it was Mcgucket muttering about it to himself, not thinking Shifty was sapient and understood words.

Imagine living in the same room as the cryogenic chambers, not knowing what they are, and then finding out its freezes living things and you’re the lab rat? The scientist that looks at you like you’re gross and doesn’t like being around you very much said so himself.

And you’ve seen that the nice scientist won’t show you his face, or his journal, or let you go outside. The scientists haven’t put anything in the big tubes in your room, there’s no other test subjects. Maybe the mean scientist is right, maybe they are going to put you in the tube and freeze you!

What’s going to happen to you if they do? You don’t know if the freeze would kill you, you don’t know if it’s meant to keep you alive or not. So you panic.

[Like imagine living in here. Depressing.]

Shifty didn’t stuff Mcgucket into a cabinet and mimic him to be evil, he did it so he could get the journal and find out what the scientist’s true intentions were. Maybe he hoped it wasn’t true, because Stanford was so nice to him. He knew the book held the answers, Ford was writing and reading it in front of him. About him.

Fiddleford was obviously traumatized, but Stanford didn’t mention any injuries. Shifty probably did take his big scary form for the first time when catching Mcgucket, but I don’t think he was actually physically attacked.

The shapeshifter probably would have panicked and tried to escape the bunker if he did read the journal pages, not try to hurt Ford and Fiddleford. It sounds like he was more anxious and scared than anything.

“His throat really did sound awful, but I told him to simply use the cough drops in the first aid cabinet. He grew increasingly insistent that only the journal had the answer.”

”The ‘impostor’ F had been waiting impatiently, shaking involuntarily in his chair. I noticed that his ‘hands’ were so strong they had bent the steel in the armrests.”

”He darted off for the journal, and the instant he stepped inside the cryogenics tube, I slammed the red button, trapping him in. HE SCREAMED and took on a form I’d never seen. He pounded on the glass and froze before my eyes.”

I wouldn’t say Ford abused Shifty, but he and Fiddleford saw the poor kid as an animal and not a sapient alien. They didn’t understand that they were traumatizing a child. They had a right not to want the shapeshifter to mimic them, and to be cautious about it.

Shifty wasn’t in the wrong or “nuts”, he was a kid that panicked and did something reckless because he found out he was being used as a test subject. He didn’t understand why Mcgucket was repulsed by him and his powers, he didn’t understand why humans would be so quick to assume the worst about a shapeshifter.

That being said, Stanford went all over the multiverse, meeting aliens and ending up in worlds where humans aren’t the dominant species. His ideas about sapience have changed over 30 years, regardless of whether or not he ever met more of Shifty’s species.

I think he’d come back to the bunker next summer, because between Stan’s memory loss and Bill’s cursed book, there wasn’t time to try and patch things up with Shifty.

As for Fiddleford, I think his trauma would be an obstacle when it comes to the shapeshifter, but it wouldn’t be impossible for him to understand Shifty better. He lived around other anomalies for 30 years, and got more used to them.

Maybe Shifty unthawed a bit during Weirdmaggedon, when Mcgucket was in the bunker. I think unthawing would be a painful and slow process, and that Fiddleford would be able to see that. Perhaps he decided to speed up the unthawing process instead of repairing the freezing mechanisms. Maybe he was also the one to remind Stanford about Shifty the next year.

People who say Ford abused the shapeshifter, what.

I just read those pages. Fiddleford immediately wanted to freeze him, but Ford wrote, “I've grown attached to the creature.” He wasn't like OH ☝️ I must TORTURE this thing POST HASTE! He found a weird creature while digging and hand fed it some beans. The shapeshifter didn't show signs of being dangerous (besides "watch your fingers")

Ford named him Shifty and did experiments, which involved seeing what forms he could take by showing him a book of animals, and he upgraded his kennel when he grew. Ford considered him a pet, but noted that Fiddleford being raised as a farmhand made him unsentimental toward what he saw as “livestock.”

Ford continued to take care of him until Shifty went nuts and tied Fiddleford up to take his place and steal journal 3. Even as Ford froze the shapeshifter for their safety, he wrote that he felt remorseful for having to freeze his former pet, but even worse that he'd been fooled - and that Fiddleford had paid the price

[diorcities]

with you (teaser)

spiderverse chronicles. haechan x reader, mark x reader genre fluff, action, mature content content spiderman au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, selective mutism, sign language, smut (not in the teaser) more tba teaser wc 1.5k full fic est. 20k

an: since i'm making progress on the story (shocking) i'll share a little teaser. the past few days i've consumed a lot of spiderman content, it's not funny anymore. it was a sign of the times. i'm so excited to write this. happy reading ♡

description: after a catastrophic scientific explosion, chaos is unleashed in new york. a deaf girl must face the city that she once knew now submerged in a mayhem, pairing with a daily bugle intern to try to solve the mystery when one of the many affected with extraordinary abilities seems to have a duplicity between good and evil.

he can sense you're there.

just moments ago he had swept the area, now, he looks intently at the boxes loaded into the helicopter.

“planning on stealing the moon tonight?” he's growing bored. “you guys aren't elusive at all, you should practice a little at that.”

the ambiguity of his own reaction puzzles him. there was no hurry in his movements, nor the usual tension. instead, there was a deliberate pause, and this unbearable boredom.

he's quick to deflect a couple of bullets; it comes out spontaneously now. all his senses are enriched. everything vibrates. everything sings. he's sneaky instead of a fighter. and he's also fond to make jokes at inopportune times.

“isn't this labor exploitation?” he inquires. “i hope you get paid overtime,” he says again when in response, a dozen men point their guns at him. he reacts shooting his hands upwards.

“easy, i'm your friendly neighbor.” a man turns to him. the big fish. “oh, my bad, i mistook you for some lookalike with a bunch of small yellow people.” he also doesn't miss the opportunity to make an emphasis on his size.

wilson kingpin snorts, annoyed. “after months, i'd think you'd stop acting like a kid.”

“i am a kid.” he chuckles, removing the mask.

there was no point in hiding his identity when the old crow knew who he was from the very beginning, though it also made him a prospect for his tasteless jokes.

he takes a look at the containers when the man turns his back at him and shout instructions. “nano-technology prototypes...” his voice comes out in an interrogatory tone, sniffing through the large box.

the man in charge sees him snooping around when he speaks. “are you interested?”

“they wouldn't hurt,” he replies, distracted; something stirs inside him when you move closer.

“take a few, see if you put it to good use.” he sneers and he mimics him, nonchalantly.

he's pretty quick and elusive. skills, he guesses, his best traits; but even though, he might need some; he's been doing alchemy lately, so he grabs two and when the man looks away, grabs a few more. he can put good use to that kind of technology. “any other tasks you need me to do?”

he bristles when the man smiles, agreeing; he's been waiting for the moment. doing silly tasks, dirty work. finally he was getting closer to get what he wants. “yes. why don't you take care of that little reporter mouse?”

fisk goes back to his job as if he's bored, and his lips tighten into a grimace that he already knows, making him take care of you.

“was this what you wanted, to steal technology?” you ask to the wind. the men hardly pay attention to you, but he does.

he must acknowledge that you have guts even though fisk is giving you a window because you don't pose a threat. not because of his size, but because of his influence.

“what's in the boxes?”

“as if i were going to tell you.” he mocks, hiding behind the mask. “why don't you cover tonight's weather instead, family of murderers?” he sees you freeze. “why don't you leave these matters to us and you take care of yours? seems like you're in deep shit,” he says, taking one step closer.

when you realize it, he's in front of you and you have nowhere to run. yet your feet recede to the edge. “mmm? don't test your luck and stay out of it.”

he gives you recognition that you don't look even a little intimidated. “who are you?”

his smile almost reach his eyes, “as if i were going to tell you,” he repeats, morbid.

fisk growls behind you, and something dark spreads on his gut, “get done with it, bug.”

he does what he says. first, he steals it from you in one move. and you're not quick to protest when his hands half-push you and your feet stumble. doing silly tasks, dirty work. one more thing and it will end.

nevertheless, getting rid of you is hard for him.

your hands try to hold on but he pulls away, so you fall into nothing.

like a bullet, he watches you fall, waiting. and when a blue boost barely flashes around you, he moves away from the edge. afterward, you just fall into new york.

[shadamyheadcanons]

i love that you don’t put sonic as a jerk in your headcannons but rather supportive! this is so cool, because sonic really wants all of his friends to be happy and with amy wouldn’t be different, specially since they’ve known each other since they were children and sonic himself said that she is a special/dear person to him so i agree he would be happy if amy and shadow got together. as much as i love sonamy, i also love shadamy (sorry for the long ask it’s just that is not that common seeing sonic being portrayed like this in some ffs)

Thanks for the compliment! This one means a lot because I think I’m actually harsher toward Sonic sometimes than a lot of modern shadamy writers are. I say “modern” because new “Amy goes for Shadow because Sonic is a jerk” stories are actually few and far between. It’s easy to think they’re all over the place because there absolutely are a lot of them, but the ones I run into are usually from, like...2012. If you sort by Date Updated on AO3, it tells a different story, pun intended. I believe there are three main reasons for this:

1. Since half of shadamy fans started shipping them in SA2 two and a half decades ago, a ton of us are in our 30s now, writing more mature stories with more fine-tuned characterization. This is one of the advantages of having an ancient ship.

2. It’s a tired trope. We’ve all read a million of them. Most people don’t like how Sonic acts in them for his sake, but my biggest gripe is that they undersell what Shadow has to offer. He’s not just good for Amy because he’s Not Sonic, he’s good for her because of who he is.

3. Sonic treats Amy much better than he used to. The reason “Sonic is a jerk” fics were so common 10-20 years ago is because he was a jerk, almost exclusively to Amy.

These fics exist because no other character works better than Shadow as an arbiter of justice for something that bothered a lot of Amy fans at the time.

More on this under the cut. Lots more. I got kind of carried away.

It’s easy to forget how bad Sonic was when we have games like Frontiers and comics like IDW and Mega Drive now:

Between new fans who aren’t as familiar with older games, longtime fans who haven’t looked at their history in a while, and fans who love Sonic and just don’t want to see him in a bad light, tons of people sweep his old behavior under the rug without even realizing it.

I don’t think any of that is fair to Amy.

A brief reminder of their dynamic in the past:

1. Constant abandonment. He ran from her in Sonic Adventure...

...Sonic Heroes...

And four times in SA2 alone! More on that later.

2. Standing her up on dates. This mostly happened in Sonix X...

[Episode 42, episode 45]

...but there was also Sonic and the Black Knight, where he didn’t show up, didn’t apologize, never made it up to her, and made no attempt to reschedule.

3. Uh...literally hurting her, for some reason...?

At the end of Sonic Riders, when he didn’t feel like properly handling a hostage situation:

Oh, welcome back, episode 42! Didn’t expect to see you again:

The new version of Sonic Generations altered this cutscene, thank god, but back in 2011, players saw this:

4. And the worst part of this, to me, is that he lets her get her hopes up. It’s not just the almost-dates he skips. Knuckles teases Sonic in Heroes, saying, “Are you playing with that girl’s heart again, Sonic?” It’s intended as a joke, but then he does things like this:

Sonic X, episode 52. You know what roses are, Sonic, you know how she’ll interpret this, and you know you won’t follow through.

I know I’m picking on Sonic X a lot, but it was pretty popular at the time, even among fans who didn’t touch the games or comics. This was how they saw these characters growing up, and it made its way into countless fics.

But even after all these years, no matter which continuity you work with...he still won’t give her a solid “no.”

Not liking someone back is fine. Not being interested in a relationship is fine. But letting her believe she’ll win you over if she chases you long enough isn’t, and that’s what he’s doing to this day.

Fans throw around the same tired old “justifications” over and over for why he is/was like this to Amy, but they don’t hold water. People say he’s mean because he doesn’t know what to do with his feelings for her, but he liked Elise, too, and he was nothing but kind to her.

(Putting this here because although fans don’t like to admit it, Elise was indeed intended to be a love interest. She and Amy are presented on par here, so if you think he likes Amy, then he liked Elise, too. You get exactly the same result regardless of who you choose for this trial.)

The other frequent “justification” is that he ran and lashed out because he was afraid of her, often accompanied by awful Amy hate (“stalker,” “psycho,” etc.). This also doesn’t work because Sonic was always harsh to Amy no matter how gentle she was. Classic Amy is the sweetest, most adorable little munchkin in the world...

...and he still ran away.

^ These are from the same exact comic, by the way: IDW Sonic’s 30th anniversary. Five pages apart. How in the world could anyone not want her around?

Amy had more spunk in Adventure and Adventure 2, but she was just as sweet, and he still treated her like a pest to be swatted. The ending of her story in SA1 is this:

But...why should she have to? He treats everyone else with the same baseline of respect, at least until they give him a reason not to. Why is it just Amy? He wasn’t just mean to her, he was uniquely mean to her. She didn’t act out until Heroes in 2003, when she’d already been ignored for years. Standing on the sidelines wasn’t working, so she tried being more “proactive.” Was it the right way to do things? No...but I honestly can’t hold it against her. It makes sense in context. She was a kid, and kids act out when they’re neglected.

And this is where Sonic Adventure 2 comes in.

SA2 was pivotal for Amy. Nearly everyone tossed her aside; Sonic left her behind four separate times in this game alone. First was right after she broke him out of jail on Prison Island. He ran off the second her back was turned:

Second, he and Tails both walked away from her after Eggman blew up the moon. She easily could’ve gotten arrested here.

Third, Sonic and Tails made a plan to stop Eggman right in front of her, blatantly leaving her out of it as if she wasn’t even there:

...which, if you’ll recall, led to Eggman holding her at gunpoint:

...and when Sonic set out to rescue her, this was his recap:

This does not work as a joke given how they treat her. He pretends she doesn’t exist to her face, then says this behind her back.

And immediately after that, when it was time for them to save the world, they left her alone again.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I was furious by that point.

But then...something interesting happened.

A photoset or gifset can’t do this scene justice, but I think most shadamy fans have already seen it plenty of times. For the few who haven’t, you can watch it here.

The contrast between Shadow and Sonic is impossible to ignore. By building up this moment the way they did, the writers primed us to notice it.

Sonic runs from Amy’s hugs, while Shadow would like more of them, please and thank you.

Sonic pretends she doesn’t exist, while Shadow’s moved to tears and changes the course of his life because he values what she has to say.

Anytime they’ve interacted since then, he’s been uniquely respectful and gentle with her. It’s what she deserves, and for a long time, this was all we had. He was all we had.

The other half of the equation is that it is very, very easy to picture Shadow taking Sonic and the others to task for their mistreatment of her. As a blunt person who’s not afraid to confront Sonic, Shadow is the most believable candidate to this day. The only person to fully respect her from the start also happens to clash with the person who hurts her most often? Of course those fics exist. It’s a perfect storm.

And it’s no wonder that this attitude persists somewhat even now, because Sonic is still doing this, even if he’s “nicer” about it. That prison escape from SA2? The one he never thanked her for? He still gives all the credit to Tails for that, even up through Frontiers:

Amy. Amy broke you out of prison. Tails broke in, and then she snuck through a maximum-security prison, somehow stole a card key, and saved your life. We’re in the 2020s, but he’s still disrespecting her. And don’t get me started on the TailsTube Secret Santa episode.

It feels like Sega wants us to forget all of this ever happened, and it has some very confusing results. From that same Sonic 30th anniversary comic from above, the one where he and the others abandoned her:

Like...this? This is lying. He’s just lying to her. I can’t tell if they think we all collectively have amnesia or if it’s some weird, mean-spirited joke at her expense. I genuinely don’t know what they’re trying to say.

It’s not enough to pretend it never happened and move on, not to me. Sonic should be held responsible for what he canonically did. Him supposedly being bad with feelings didn’t make it hurt her any less, and he’s older than Amy, so he should’ve been the mature one.

The longer the writers keep this up, the worse Sonic looks, and I don’t think that’s what they’re aiming for. Ignoring the problem is not a solution. Amy might forgive, but I’ll never forget.

I just want to see a canon apology so I can reason out why she put up with it for so long. I want to at least be able to buy her having a crush on him. I can do that when he’s being selfless and heroic. I can’t do that when he treats her like the plague, and pretending he never did doesn’t match the Sonic I legitimately like. I bet a lot of s0namy fans would like to see a resolution like that, too.

Sorry to turn your thoughtful compliment into a rant. I really do appreciate it, and I’m glad you enjoy the stories!

[befallenstars-archive]

This'll be the first time that I read one of your works, Ze! Hope you don't mind me yapping. It's recently become a small routine/habit of mine🫂

Spoilers and lots of yapping under the cut!

I wanna start off with the tags. My reaction was pretty normal until I read the "(ajax licks) blood and tears". Was I deterred? No, I was invested. Oh, my...all enemies and no lovers??? Tension only??? I just know this'll be good.

Brb, I'll listen to the song first...

Huh, I'd definitely trust your music taste.

The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.

Okay! We're diving straight into this. Love that actually.

Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold. 

I GOT GOOSEBUMPS.

The way you write scratches my brain just right. Even better that your style of writing genuinely matches the overall dark vibe you're going for. I can literally feel it in my bones.

Gently grabbing your shoulders before shaking you bc I fell in love at first work with your writing. I need to read more of your works, Ze! Omg, why did it take so long before my dash gifted me with it? I should've looked for it myself!

Sorry, just not-so casually a sucker for your writing style.

It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter.

I already noticed this with the way you described the horses but there's truly just something about the way you do it. Like I can oh so easily imagine whatever it is you are narrating

I LOVE THE TINY DETAILS

Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar. 

Is it bad to say that I wanna eat your fics? (affectionately(?))

The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.

I think I fell in love—

You have a writing style that gives me fairy tale kind of vibes. Even if it's dark. It would be so fun reading this out loud with theatrics and some drama.

In my head? I'm doing just that. It is so good.

...

All of this is so good that I can't pick one line and yap about.

You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.

GODS

WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE TO HAVE THE ABILITY TO WRITE A SCENE THE WAY YOU DO—

IT'S JUST SO???? I CANT EVEN DO JUSTICE TO DESCRIBE IT. I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE.

You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow. 

I am so deeply immersed in this fic that I physically swallowed when I read this.

He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.

...For the love of— I have thoughts but I shan’t say them out loud for propriety's sake.

He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run.

THAT WAS FOUL

“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”

🙂💢

I dunno, there was something about this that just got on my nerves.

...

It was not in 2025 bingo card to find myself having a tiny crush on this man AGAIN.

What in the sadomasochism...

Nope. No. Bye—

“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”

I just want to be slightly violent. Just a bit.

...and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.

Mnh...yes...I am...slightly dysfunctional.

Sitting in my chair with my back slightly hunched and a hand over my lips as I question myself.

“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.

......................

Zipping my mouth closed.

...the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.

What if I actually lose it?

Mnh? Ze? Will you take accountability?!

He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”

Okay, I am brought by to sanity by the genuine question of what the hell does a lie taste like?

Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?

And I am back to the edge of my sanity. Lovely.

His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.

...slamming my head on the table right now.

What— no, I?? This is...am I really? No...what? Hahaha. That's not...maybe?

Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”

I'm going insane.

Okay, the note was really cute tho??? I'm sorry but I imagine it in a chibi kind of style where Targtaglia's standing by the door while reader collects their stuff. Maybe doggo will betray the reader by being nice to Tartraglia, who absolutely eats it up when the reader glares at both him and the dog.

EASY ON THE EYES, EASIER TO HATE. tartaglia x reader ✧ 2.7k words

when the fae raid your village to take humans into their realm, you think you’ll be safe in the woods. but you run into a fae who introduces himself as tartaglia and realize it might have been safer for you to stay at home.

tags and warnings ✧  fae!tartaglia, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), reader sews and tailors clothes for a living, the fae are pretty brutal, mentions of violence, (ajax licks) blood and tears, chasing (predator prey dynamic), manhandling, all enemies and no lovers (only tension oops). note ✧ this is a darker fic compared to most of my writing; please let me know if I need to tag anything else! title inspired by the song "psycho" by taylor acorn. a gift for @cruel-hiraeth for teahouse's secret santa! happy new year, kae! i hope this fic helps you start off the year right by loving hating tartaglia >u< this was lots of fun to write hehe and got a little long because the au ran away from me... i hope you enjoy! love you lots <3

The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.

The fae are here.

They pull people out of their beds, pushing them into the streets. Turn their faces toward the light of a burning house—looking for the beautiful humans, still young and nimble. Or searching for evidence of skill in the arts; a pretty face matters little if one can produce beautiful things in ways that the fae cannot. Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold. 

The humans the fae deem acceptable meet a much worse fate. They are picked up and thrown in the back of carts, drawn by horses with ears too long and manes too wild, their coats unusually glossy and vibrant. The chosen who try to escape are bound with rope that cruelly digs into skin. Those who try to fight are taken down brutally, then laughed at as they writhe on the ground—though the fae make sure no permanent damage is done, for that would defeat the purpose of the raid.

A fae bearing a torch of blue flames brings it up to the walls of each house of those who have been chosen. The blue catches on the wood unnaturally quickly, spreading with a voracious hunger despite the wind and snow. Within the hour, nothing will remain besides a pile of ash. 

But by then, the fae and the chosen villagers will be long gone.

You are lucky that sleep is so elusive tonight.

Earlier, after tossing and turning in bed for ages, you give up on trying to fall asleep. It is hard to leave your dog who has curled up beside you in a ball of white fluff, but you press a kiss between her ears before changing into some warmer layers. You sweep a thick winter cloak over your shoulders. It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter. Putting on boots that have long since been molded to the shape of your feet, you leave your house to catch some fresh air and possibly tire yourself out along the way.

The blanket of pure white is beautiful. The full moon makes everything glitter as snow stretches from the outskirts of the village into the forests beyond. Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar. 

It is so quiet out here. The whistling of the wind and the thoughts in your head are the only sounds you hear. You are used to this, though. Every day you sew and tailor clothes in the back of the village’s clothing store, often alone for hours on end with nothing but your thoughts for company.

A strong gust of wind rocks you on your feet. Clutching your cloak tighter and tossing the fur-lined hood up over your head, you turn your back on the forest to face the trail of footsteps you’ve made through the snow. You should head home.

Still, you take your time approaching the village. The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.

Then the first scream rips through the night.

You freeze. Scanning the houses on the outskirts of the village reveals no dangers.

Another cry follows the first and you know something must be terribly wrong. 

You start running toward the village, kicking up snow as your mind races. Perhaps someone is getting robbed—but no one in town would dare. Or based on the growing amount of cries and shouts, maybe something happened that has injured a lot of people. A fire?

As you make it to the buildings, you see that you are right. Fire engulfs one of the homes on the far side of town, the flames reaching for the sky. A shudder runs through you at the sight, for the flames are unnaturally blue, and though this is the first time you’ve seen such a thing, you have heard of the stories and warnings about the cyan fire and those that accompany it.

You will not let the fae take you.

Whirling around, you sprint for the woods. The screams of the other villagers ring in your ears, but you know it is impossible for you to take on a single fae, let alone an army of them. They are here to steal humans away. For what, you’re not sure, but it can’t be for anything good. Though you doubt they would choose to take you, the best way to make sure you can see the sunrise tomorrow is to hide in the woods and avoid them all.

Reaching the treeline seems to take ages. You keep looking over your shoulder as you run, half expecting to have been spotted, but you only see more and more flames of blue burning houses to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of your home being set ablaze—your dog!—but then you remember the fae only burn the houses of the humans they take and relief washes over you.

With your thoughts consumed by the safety of your dog, you don’t notice that you have slowed, trying to catch your breath in the midst of the trees. Nor do you notice that you aren’t alone anymore, until the newcomer starts speaking.

“My, my. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Dread sinks like a stone in your stomach. You spin, eyes wide as they land on the source of those playful and teasing words, leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed.

You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.

He hums and tilts his head. It is then that you remember he asked a question, and your throat works to find your voice to answer him. “I was out for a stroll,” you manage to say, words somehow steady despite your fluttering pulse.

It’s a half-truth, but half-truths are half-lies, and there’s the slightest hint of bitterness in the back of Ajax’s throat that always accompanies humans’ lies. “Oh, really? And was that before or after we made our presence known?”

“Before, actually,” you tell him honestly. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. The snow is beautiful and the moon is bright—it’s pretty, is it not?” If you talk enough, maybe he’ll lose interest so you can make a run for it. You don’t know much about fae, but with the way he’s dressed in nicer clothing than what most men in your village wear, surely he won’t care for running through the snowy forest.

He smiles. “It is pretty.” His eyes refuse to leave your frame, and a shiver runs through you. You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow. 

Pushing off the tree, he takes a few steps forward, nearly silent despite the boots he wears. He stops when you stiffen, clutching your cloak tighter in your hands. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tartaglia,” he says, picking one of his many names to give you. “And you are?”

You press your lips together and force a smile. Even you know not to give the fae your name, no matter how much of a gentleman he is pretending to be. Your stomach rolls, unease making your heart rate pick up again. “I’m-” You see the way he perks up in interest, expecting a name. “I’m leaving,” you spit out, turn on your heels, and run.

Ajax watches you leave, the green of your cloak billowing out behind you like a rabbit’s tail inviting him to chase. He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.

He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run. And he wouldn’t dare to let all your hard work go to waste—so he’ll participate in the delightful hunt you’ve set up for him.

The ground is uneven beneath your feet. It is hard to tell where the tree roots are under the thick layer of snow and each breath of air feels like tiny needles stabbing your lungs. But you push on, feet pounding as quickly as you can force yourself to go.

You want to be as far away from that fae as you can get. He had not looked like he was going to chase you when you last saw him, laughing as you ran away, but there was a look in his eyes that pushed you to keep running.

When you toss a quick glance over your shoulder, your breath hitches and terror rushes through you.

He’s there. In the distance, but you can see him, weaving through the trees at an inhuman pace, his long legs carrying him far. He is gaining on you and you fear what he will do when he catches you.

You push yourself to run even harder, but your legs burn and your throat feels tight. In your haste, you fail to see the lower hanging branches of a nearby tree. A cry tears from your lips as a thin branch slices through the skin of your cheek, but you barely feel the pain with your face nearly frozen from the cold.

“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”

Through your huffs for air, you manage to shout back at him. “Piss off! Leave me alone!”

Ajax grins, closing the distance. “I don’t think I will,” he says.

He lunges forward and grabs a fistful of your cloak. You stumble from the pull, tripping over your feet. He uses the momentum to spin you around, pushing you backward until you hit a tree, forcing the air from your lungs. His body presses against yours right after, caging you in with one leg wedged between your own.

“Let go of me!” you shout, slamming your fists into his chest. You try shoving all of your weight into him but he simply presses back harder until his chest is flush against yours. 

He laughs—laughs!—as you struggle against him, kicking and yelling and throwing your weight from side to side. He does not budge at all under the onslaught. You do everything you can, but only wear yourself out, leaning back against the tree to catch your breath.

“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”

His reaction makes your blood boil, most of your fear buried beneath anger. You glare down past his arm that still grips your cloak and catch sight of a sliver of pale skin peeking through the folds of his clothes. Moving your gaze back up to his face, you spit out, “I hope you die.”

And then you dig your nails into the exposed skin of his stomach, sink your teeth into the arm holding onto your cloak, and shove with all your might.

Ajax stumbles backward. 

You rip yourself out of his hold, twist your body to the side, taking one step forward, free-

Arms wrap around your waist and throw you back toward the tree. Your feet catch on his boot, making you lose your balance, perfect for Ajax to maneuver your body as he wills. This time, he pins your hands above your head, one large hand grasping your wrists, while his other arm presses as an immovable bar across your collarbones. One leg forces its way between your own, and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.

You look down. You don’t want to see the anger on his face before he retaliates for your actions.

The arm across your chest shifts and you flinch as gloved fingers grab your chin, firm but not painful as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. You’re taken aback by the grin on his face, canines bared and bloodthirsty, but his eyes are amused.

“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.

Your eyes grow wide. This kind of a creature is not one you will be able to escape, at least not now—unarmed except for your teeth and nails.

Ajax lets go of your chin, pulling back slightly. He’s delighted by the fire within you. When he first saw you, running toward the woods, he simply thought you a pretty coward. But oh you dared to fight back, using what little defenses humans naturally have, and you even broke skin. Though his fae blood allows him to rapidly heal, the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.

As he looks away from your face to take you all in, now that you’re not struggling to escape, his gaze catches on your cloak. His eyes light up, tracing over the exquisitely stitched leaves and plants of various green threads, mixed occasionally with lively bunnies of soft browns. There’s a rabbit still unfinished, just a cute head and perked ears, awaiting its body to bring it to life. 

“Did you make this?” Ajax asks, thumb brushing over the embroidery.

“No,” you gasp, heart sinking.

He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”

It’s over. Now that he knows you are skilled at sewing, he has all the reasons he needs to bring you into his realm. Despair is a heavy weight, mixed with frustration and anger. Tears well in your eyes and slide down the curves of your face. A few droplets spread into the cut on your left cheek, mixing with the beading blood that stains your skin.

Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?

He can’t stop himself from leaning in even closer until his nose nearly presses against your ear. There’s a moment where you hear him inhale. Then his tongue swipes up your cheek, lapping up tears and blood. His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.

His fingers grip your chin again and he turns your head to the other side. Warmth travels up your cheek as he licks your tears, before pulling away with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

As you gasp for breath, he takes in the sight of more tears streaming down your face, shed in mourning for the loss of your life in the human world. Shudders run through you until your tears slow, giving time for your heart to harden. Slowly, you open your eyes to meet his gaze, yours now blazing with fury and hatred.

Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”

note ✧ ajax makes you point out your home and he gets to dig through your stuff as you collect a few things to take with you. don't worry, doggo gets to come with and is treated very well (fae like animals more than humans, usually).

this is not quite the type of thing i usually write, but i hope it was still an enjoyable read! i'd love to hear what you think c:

[farfromstrange]

Pink Eye | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: You start the new year with a bad case of conjunctivitis and a cold. As annoyed as you are about it, fortunately for you, you have a very doting boyfriend to take care of you.

Warnings: Cursing, sickness, fluff.

WC: 1.2k

A/n: This is totally self-indulgent, and my first fic after a month (or so)! Don't worry, you're still getting those other Fictober prompts, this is just something that came to my mind yesterday and I had to write it. I wish I had a Matt Murdock to take care of me, so I wrote this. I hope I'm not too rusty.

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The cold compress seeps into the swollen skin of your eyelids, though it offers only a small reprieve from the ache and itchiness that make you want to claw your eyes out like a feral cat under attack.

Tissues lay strewn around the coffee table, each one soaked in tears and whatever else came out when you wiped them dry. The apartment reminds you more of the set of a bad chick-flick rather than a home. Most of the time it resembles a crime scene or a poorly supplied hospital when your risk-friendly boyfriend decides he just has to get himself into another fight for the greater good, but this New Year’s, the only casualty that came out of the holidays is you—defeated by your own immune system. 

You haven’t been properly sick in a year. For 366 days, you’ve been free of any viral or bacterial infections, and the one time you decide to have dinner with your family you end up with a nasty infection: conjunctivitis. Yes, you started the new year with fucking pink eye and a cold, and now you’re stuck at home for your last few days off work, feeling miserably sorry for yourself.

“Here,” Matt appears in your one functioning line of sight with a bowl of soup in hand, “You need to eat something.”

“Thank you,” you say through a congested nose, and he can’t help but smile at how adorable that sounds.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I want to put a finger into my eye and scratch it out.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So, not good?”

You shake your head. “I’m annoyed. And in pain. And I can’t fucking breathe!” As if to underline your frustration, your lungs constrict and you cough up a not-so-delicious ball of phlegm. 

Matt’s hand instantly moves to your back, rubbing gentle circles until the oxygen returns to where it needs to be. Your breathing becomes rapid before it slows down again, and you swallow.

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

“When you’re feeling better,” he retorts almost cheekily, but the joke doesn’t get much of a response. He knows how miserable you are. He can hear it in the way you breathe, your elevated heartbeat, and the pulsing of the skin around the infected eye. You wear your discomfort on your very sleeves. He doesn’t want to imagine what it feels like for you.

Instead of joking any more, Matt gently removes the compress from your eye. “Let me get you a new one,” he offers. Your first instinct is to cover up. It baffles him; you haven’t hidden from him in a very long time.

Matt takes your hand and places it back down in your lap, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Don’t do that.” 

“I look like I got into a fight,” you say.

At that, he reaches out, fingers gently brushing just above your brow, down your temple, and over the apple of your cheek. He can feel the heat radiating from your skin, the inflammation that’s causing your eye to swell, but the picture his fingertips paint is a stark contrast to your own description. 

“No, you don’t,” he says. And Matt knows better than anyone what one might look like after a fight.

His touch is so gentle, far away from where you’re hurting but close enough to feel his need to fix you. To heal you. To take your pain away and make it his own just so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Your heart flutters like a newborn butterfly. You look into his hazel eyes, how soft they are, and it makes you melt. If you could only see yourself the way he sees you... The way he loves you seems like a gift from God himself. 

His touch disappears, and you bite back a pathetic whimper. “Be right back,” he says.

You watch as he rises to his feet and heads back to the kitchen, grabbing another cool compress from the fridge before returning to your side.

“There you go.” He places it against your eye and holds it there. “So you can eat.”

You want to say, ‘You’re doing too much’, but then you realize that you’re with the kind of man who would shoulder the world for you even when he’s already drowning to make sure life is just a little easier for you. And while that feels like entirely too much, more than you deserve, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. Not that he would do so, anyway. 

Every bone in your body aches, but the pain blurs in comparison to what he makes you feel. 

You take the bowl of soup he prepared and dig in. It’s your favorite, yet scarcely seasoned to not irritate your throat any further. When your stomach is finally full and he’s satisfied, he reaches for the bottle of eyedrops standing tall amongst the graveyard of tissues. He knows to think about everything when you can’t. 

“Lean back,” he instructs softly. 

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you protest. 

“I won’t. I know you hate doing this yourself. Now lean back.”

He’s even more stubborn when you’re sick, but only because you’re stubborn, too. You don’t protest further, simply leaning your head back to give him better access. 

Matt gently searches for your lower lid with his fingers, pulling it back ever so gently before squeezing the first drop in. Then, he moves on to the second eye. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut at the sudden intrusion. It burns. Will it ever stop, you wonder? 

“I’m sorry,” he wipes away any excess tears threatening to escape, “it’ll get better in a second.” 

You huff a breath of disapproval, but not at his words. “I’m never visiting my family again unless they give me a detailed list of who’s sick,” you say. 

Matt stutters for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“I’m serious! Small children are little Petri dishes, carrying viruses and bacteria that continue to mutate into God knows what. Petri dishes, Matthew!” 

You sound so beside yourself, he can’t help himself. He adds the used tissue to the coffee table pile and pulls you into his arms, his laugh rumbling against the top of your head as he presses his lips against your heated scalp. “This is New York, sweetheart,” he says, “the entire city is a Petri dish.”

“And I will avoid it like the plague if I have to.”

He chuckles. “Okay.” A pause, and then, “You’re so much moodier when you’re sick.”

If you had the strength you would smack his pretty face for that statement alone, but you really, really don’t. You can barely sit up on your own. So, you nudge him with your elbow and grumble, “Shut up.”

With a bright smile on his face, he gives you another squeeze. “I love you too,” he says.

You squeeze his bicep three times to assure him that yes, you do love him, and you can’t help but think that perhaps being coddled in Matt Murdock’s arms while recovering from a little infection isn’t so bad, after all. It certainly could be worse. 

fluff tag list: @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler @mochie-is-a-librarian

[pomefioredove]

May I have a sugar cookie, #14, with sprinkles and marshmallows? Thank you (^×^)

read an actual book today so I feel less constipated with my writing. thank you everyone for patience!!

order #14, sugar with sprinkles and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ it's my honor

tropes: roommate AU, hurt/comfort characters: silver additional info: romantic or platonic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was pity, perhaps it was kindness.

You can never be too sure at Night Raven College. But after months of living and studying and working here, you've taught yourself not to question good things.

It's January, and it's cold.

The warning of a blizzard is tacked to your door after there's already snow up to your knees, late in usual Crowley fashion.

When Lilia offers you a room in Diasomnia for the week, you say yes.

You had just thought he meant a room in Diasomnia. As in, your own.

Not Silver's.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks, for the thousandth time.

Despite his demeanor, calm and quiet as ever, you can sense the restless anxiety in his room tonight.

He's been like this since you and Grim were left at his door.

There's no doubt in your mind that Lilia hadn't asked nor warned him of the coming visitors. "I'm alright,"

"Not too cold?" he crosses his arms, and looks rather uncomfortable. It makes your stomach twist with guilt.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for having us,"

Grim is already snoring at the end of the bed, somehow hogging all of the blankets, despite his small size.

Silver sits beside him, stiff and awkward and uncomfortable.

"Not hungry?" he asks. Is he trying to get rid of you? Already?

"No, um... the feast that Malleus and Lilia put on was... plenty. Too much, even," you smile and sit, too.

There's something, almost like a smile, that plays on Silver's lips, but then his arms are tight across his chest and his expression has gone calm again.

"I'm pleased. We're all... very glad to have you,"

You snort at that, and, again, his calm, stoic expression ripples like the waters of a pond.

"Did I say something humorous?"

"Oh, uh... no, sorry. I just... um... you don't seem super excited to have me here," you smile awkwardly. "Which is fine! I guess I should've expected... Lilia didn't tell either of us, huh?"

Silver doesn't respond. You were hoping to see that faint smile again, or at least hear that hum of agreement from his lips, but there's nothing.

You look at him again, and he avoids your eyes.

"...It was I who sent for you,"

Your heart sinks. Oh... Oh?

"Oh,"

There's a quiver in his voice that he fails to drown. "H-have I been burdening you?"

"No!" you exclaim, quite loudly and abruptly (perhaps you've spent too much time with Sebek?) and Silver's eyes go wide.

"I-I thought I was burdening you..."

He stares, taken aback by your volume and then your words, and then there's that smile, again.

"Burdening me..." he repeats, as if you had said something terribly silly.

"You could never do such a thing. It was I who suggested you stay in Diasomnia, after all. I-I apologize for making you feel unwelcome. My... chivalry can come off as coldness sometimes."

You take a breath to calm yourself, and then you smile, too. Silver's eyes soften at the sight.

"Ah... I see," you mutter. "Thank you, then."

Even his smile softens. He tugs a blanket away from Grim and delicately wraps it around your shoulders, shielding you from the cold.

"It's my honor."

[hotchs-bitch]

Cold December Night- Part 1

AN: Here it is, folks! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it <3 In true T fashion, it's named after a Michael Buble song (yes, a Michael Buble Christmas song. I'm done defending him). Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut!

Happy reading <3

Stockings are hung with care The children sleep with one eye open Well, now there's more than toys at stake 'Cause I'm older now but not done hoping

“No, Marcus! Fuck you!”

Hotch’s gaze darts towards the clock on the wall opposite his desk. 7:28pm. He’s usually the only person in the office at this hour, but he’s certain that he just heard an exclamation from the bullpen.

He straightens up in his seat to go investigate the noise; the motion-sensor lights of his office flicker on, and the bright LED is harsh compared to the warm orange lamplight he’s been working under. How long has it been since he last moved around?

Instead of thinking about that, he stands up with a stifled groan. He isn’t as young as he used to be, and these long nights of doing paperwork hunched over sitting on office chairs is certainly starting to catch up with him.

What else is he supposed to do? Go home and be alone during the holidays? Jack is old enough to have some say in the custody agreement, and he made it clear that he wanted to spend the next few weeks with Haley.

It had hurt, especially when Jack refused to tell his dad why he made the choice. It was like a knife through the heart, but it didn’t compare to the feeling in Aaron’s chest when he spoke to Haley about it.

“He’s afraid you’ll have to work. He doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas,” she had told him, as warm and empathetic as she had ever been, but it didn’t stop Aaron from feeling the knife in his heart as it twisted around.

He didn’t want to think about that, so he worked. He stayed late, worked long hours and took on extra consults, doing whatever he could to avoid his empty apartment that didn’t even have a Christmas tree or any decorations up.

And apparently, he isn’t the only one staying late tonight.

“You’re a piece of shit, do you know that?”

The voice rings out again, and Hotch approaches his office window. His door is wide open, but he can’t see anyone in the bullpen below. When he steps out of his office, he starts following the voice as the tirade continues. Down the steps into the bullpen, towards a cluster of desks tucked out of view of his office.

“We were supposed to go tomorrow. Tomorrow, you asshole. What the hell am I supposed to tell my family? What should I say to my mother?” There’s a brief pause, followed by a scornful laugh. “You wish. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Just as Hotch turns the corner and sees you drop your phone on the desk, he hears a sob. A weak sound, like you aren’t sure you want to make the noise but have to let it out anyway.

Oh, great.

Hotch prided himself on the interpersonal relationships of the BAU, between the other agents and with himself. Maybe he wasn’t exactly friends with the agents on his team, but that was fine. There was still a mutual respect and trust, one that he relied on in the field and did his best to maintain.

Except with you.

He didn’t really know why, truth be told. You had been warm and receptive upon first starting at the BAU, and it had been a nice few weeks. But overnight, for a reason Hotch didn’t understand, a switch had flipped. You started brushing off his greetings, ignoring his offers of coffee when he made a fresh pot, and generally leaving him feeling disrespected.

The exception, and the reason he hadn’t filed any kind of complaint about your behaviour, was fieldwork. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, and you never disregarded his theories the way you brushed off his opinions on things as simple as the weather. 

In the field, you could read each other’s minds. But the second your bulletproof vest came off, Hotch felt like he transformed back into someone you couldn’t care less about. Like the unit existed in Cinderella, and he turned into a pumpkin at midnight.

Despite it all, Hotch still tried to respect you and even to get along in the office. He didn’t treat you any differently in or out of the field, but with time and your repeated rebuffs of his attempts at friendliness, the attempts faded away and were replaced with a quiet acceptance that you just didn’t like him. As long as you didn’t disrespect him in the field, he knew it would be fine.

So when he comes across you in the bullpen, tucked away and sobbing into your hands, he has no idea what to do. Should he try to comfort you? Sneak back to his office and pretend he never heard a thing?

The decision is made for him when he shifts slightly and his knee pops audibly, a result of sitting the way he has been for hours.

The sound gets your attention, and you barely turn your head. It isn’t the confrontation he was expecting from you finding him eavesdropping, but your reaction makes more sense when he hears your voice.

It’s ragged, and tired. You sound defeated. “How much did you hear?”

Hotch keeps his voice low, quiet, hoping that his tone can calm you a little. “Not much. Cursing aside, just that you have to go somewhere tomorrow and don’t know what to tell your mother.”

He must be right, because you heave out the sigh of the century. “She’s always right. Do you have any clue how annoying that is? She hates every guy I date, and we fight about it, and then he turns out to be an even bigger douchebag than the guy before him. I was an idiot for thinking she’d be wrong about Marcus.”

That’s one family annoyance Hotch has never had to worry about; his father wasn’t right about a single thing in his life. “Marcus… is that your boyfriend?”

“He was. And then he got arrested for having sex in public.” It takes a half-second for Hotch to put together the pieces, but you fill him in just to be safe. “And it was with someone else. Obviously. He just called me to bail him out, and I told him to go to hell.”

Aaron can’t hold back his wince. “I’m sorry. Are you going to be alright?”

The scornful laugh he heard earlier punches out of you again, and you shake your head. You’re still turned away, but it’s easy to see when you rub your eyes. “We were supposed to visit my family for the holidays. They always make such a big deal out of it, too. I didn’t bring someone two years in a row, and you would have thought the world was ending. They were so happy I was bringing Marcus. They’ve never met him, only heard stories, and they were excited to actually get to know him. Now I have to go there alone, tell my mother she was right about him, and get silently judged by my extended family for a week. I’m in hell.”

If there’s something Aaron can relate to, it’s family judgement. Later, when he thinks back on this moment, he might blame his next sentence on that. He might blame it on the late hour and his recent lack of sleep, or he might blame it on something more subconscious, like how he doesn’t need to be home for Jack this year. No, not that. He doesn’t want to think about that.

Well, it doesn’t matter what he’s going to blame it on, because he still says it. “You could bring someone else.”

“Right, totally. I’ll just finish up this report and head over to Boyfriends-R-Us.” The sarcasm is dripping off of you, a thin layer to shield the vulnerability and hurt in your voice.

Aaron definitely isn’t going to think about this moment later, when he starts playing the blame game with his past self. But if he were to think about it at all, he would recognize the way his stomach clenches when he hears your voice crack, exposing the raw hurt under it. The way he sympathizes with that hurt, and wants to make it go away.

“I could help you out.”

It’s the first time in all the conversation that he sees your entire face; you turn around in your desk chair, giving him an incredulous look. You look vulnerable, upset, and he thinks he can detect a flash of hope in your eyes before you blink.

“What?”

“I can come with you. I’ll pretend to be Marcus–you said no one has met him yet—and you don’t have to tell anybody what happened for a few months, if you like. It’s a win-win.”

If you’re curious about how it’s a win for Aaron too, you don’t question it just yet. Later, when you think back on this moment, you might blame it on that. On your own curiousity, wanting to know why he’s willing to be out of the state on Christmas and why he looks so vulnerable while he waits for you to answer.

It doesn’t really matter what you can blame it on, though; not when you stick out your hand to shake his, think ‘consequences be damned’, and say, “Deal.”

Next part >

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[palmerzy]

wait it’s funny you say that bc i’ve been in need for some fluff too!! i wrote a spencer fluff post on my side blog a couple months ago abt how he’d act and comfort you on bad days and i just need some fluffiness bc my period is acting up again :(

a little tmi but i’ve been bleeding for 3-4 months straight and the pain never goes away, so i’d like to imagine spencer being so prepared and so sweet when it’s time for your period, because he’d understand when you’re moody, get your pads and your heating pad and your comfort blanket, agh

love love love! spencer is soooo attentive for sure. also, anon, that sounds AWFUL and i hope it clears up at some point 😭

spencer would just be the sweetest when you’re on your period. he’s definitely memorised your cycle, purely because he wants to be prepared and make sure he has everything at his apartment for you.

he 100% has a drawer in his bathroom full of sanity products just for you, and they’re there month-round for whenever you may need them. he remembers what foods you like, the genre of movie you prefer during your period, even what smells throw you off, and he’s sure to only put out candles he knows you don’t mind.

the first time you’d forgotten your favourite blanket and a hot water bottle when at his place, spencer made the journey back to your apartment to collect them - and he was sure to buy exact replicas to keep at his home in case of another emergency like that.

nothing to do with your body could disgust him, and he’s very familiar with blood given his line of duty, so any laundry he has to do when you’re there isn’t a bother to him at all. he allows you your free time, letting you bathe in his bathroom for hours at a time, and he’s also happy to sit with you whenever you want it.

usually when you’re lying in bed, he’ll put your heat pad over your tummy, and then lay his head atop it, hoping to give you some comfort with his presence. it’s definitely soothing, getting to run your hands through his long hair whilst the pressure of his body soothes your cramps.

he alternates between talking a lot to keep your mind distracted and saying nothing at all, letting gentle touches convey his care and concern for you. when he’s talking, it’s mostly just him reading to you, or rambling about something he knows you enjoy, because he’s aware that the sound of his voice is soothing enough to you.

he’ll watch movies with you that he usually wouldn’t enjoy, or read a cheesy romance novel so the two of you can giggle together. when he’s reading to you, you’re both laying on your sides, pressed together with your face nuzzled in his neck as he peers over you to recite the words. his free hand gently caresses your waist and your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles until you’re falling asleep in his arms, pain forgotten.

if spencer’s on a case, he’s checking in with you pretty often, calling during any free time. he calls you a lot normally, so it’s doubled when he’s concerned over how you’re doing. usually just short conversations, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “hey, baby, just wanted to let you know i’m thinking about you,” “have you drunk enough water? if you’re dehydrated, your cramps will hurt more, take care of yourself,” and “i’m buying you takeout, it’ll be there in 30 minutes,” even when he’s on the other side of the country.

when you get snappy with him, he remains entirely patient. he doesn’t really try to mediate you, because he knows it’s probably best to just let you get it all out - and you’ll apologise anyways. you’re never actually mean to him, just irritable over simple things. by now, he’s learned what ticks you off, and he ensures his place is free of any annoyance whenever you’re due on.

no matter what, though, he’s there. one way or another, on the phone or in person, he wants to check in on you, especially during that week.

oh lord i definitely need to brush up on my fluff writing skills HAHA

[0mg-bird]

How Did It End?

Post Prison! Spencer x Fem!Fiancee Reader

Summary: Almost four months since Spencer came home and the fairytale that once was your life has come crashing down around you.

Warnings: ☹️ ouch. Angst. PTSD. Taylor Swift ‘How did it end?’ coded. hurt/comfort. this hurt to write, don’t hate me. Reid my poor baby has some stuff to work out.

W.H. Auden once wrote,

‘Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky and feel its total dark sublime, though this might take a little time.’

Poetry was something you were no stranger to, given the fact you taught an advanced creative writing class at the local high school.

You once enjoyed poetry.

But now, when the words feel like knives aimed at you, you can’t bear to indulge in the afternoon readings like you used to.

Instead, afternoons are spent in an apartment that somehow lost its warmth. Before, you’d claim it’s because Spencer was gone, that things would be brighter when you brought him home. He’s been home for three months, a little longer, the weather has begun to change, warping into a melancholy winter. You sit at your desk, staring at your computer screen, spinning your engagement ring around your finger.

You’ve been trying to get back into writing, trying to revisit your archived story. Though, it’s hard to revisit a fictional romance mystery when there’s nothing to inspire it.

Groaning, you delete half of the last paragraph you’ve written and try to type something that isn’t cliche. Pushing through the urge to stop, you write until the words flow thoroughly and there’s a key turning in the door.

There he was, the love of your life.

Spencer trudges into the apartment and drops his bag by the door, his shoes find a home beside it. The circles under his eyes are darker than they were this morning when he left, he runs a hand through his hair and glances over at you when you stand with a grin.

“Hi.” You do your best to beam, conveying just how much it excites you to see him.

“Hi.” He mumbles, tossing you a tight lipped smile as he walks towards the bedroom.

Trying to push away the sick feeling in your gut, you turn back to your blind optimism and take your glasses off.

It takes eight steps from the bedroom door to the closet, it takes him three steps to pace and grab casual clothes. In about a minute, he takes off his day clothes and pulls on something that doesn’t feel constricting. You memorized every foot step he makes in this home, it’s easy to focus on when you spent some time not hearing it.

By the time he comes back out to retrieve his bag and sit on the couch, you grab up your laptop and sit on the other end of the sofa.

Paperwork and files soon lay on the coffee table and you watch him organize and complete end of the day tasks. Patiently waiting your turn, when Spencer finally relaxes back into the cushions, you slide closer.

“How was your day?” You ask.

He grunts. “Nothing worth talking about. Oh, I’m going to Connecticut next week to do a seminar, I’ll be gone two days.”

You nod. “That’s exciting, right?”

He shrugs, then there’s silence.

You scoot closer. “I was working on some things, I think I’m finally getting back into the groove of it. You want to read the last chapter I made?”

He motions to the coffee table. “Yeah, just leave it there and I’ll take a glance later. I’m debating on if I want to shower before dinner or after.”

“I was thinking we could go out for dinner, we haven’t in a while.” You offer with a hopeful smile.

Spencer frowns. “I’m not really feeling a social scene right now.”

“Oh, yeah, no, of course.” You quickly say. “We could do take out then, Italian maybe?”

He shakes his head. “We shouldn’t do take out anymore, it’s basically inviting a serial killer into our home, giving him some place to come back later when I’m not around.”

Right. The paranoia.

You knew things were going to be different when Spencer came home, and you did your best to adjust with an open mind. Sleepless nights consoling him, countless days spent trying to pull him from his own mind. Through tears and breaking points and a few instances where he utterly scares you, you know he’s still your same Spence, but just a little hardened now. He’s still the man who spent too much on a ring, still the dorky guy you fell for those years ago.

Things are just…a little rough.

“Okay.” You say to his statement. “I’ll whip something up then.”

At the sight of your willingness to give something up, he feels immensely bad.

“No.” He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I’m being stupid. Italian sounds fine.”

The bad habit of being too harsh on himself has been hard to kick, but it’s getting better… you think.

So you order Italian and eat in front of the television while Spencer fact checks what the characters are saying, criticizing the antics of these fictional people. It feels so normal, the whole situation, it makes you momentarily have amnesia, as if the two of you are exactly like before. You lean into his side and laugh at the sitcom, thinking that this Spencer hasn’t experienced what he has, that everyone around the two of you still feel the happy affects of your love, that you test wedding cakes and look for a bigger place. A place the two of you can buy together and start a family.

“I’m gonna shower.” He says, rubbing your shoulder.

Looking up at him, you smile playfully. “Want company?”

There it was, that reminder that things weren’t like before.

He kind of just shakes his head with a smile and leaves without anything else.

You know he doesn’t mean to, but sometimes he makes you feel about an inch tall. He used to look at you with this heavy gaze, something needy, something that never failed to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. His hands would find a home on your skin, he used to kiss for fun.

You don’t remember exactly when he last gripped you in a way that wasn’t just polite.

You know he has fears, he has it in his head that he is a danger to himself and you, that his hands are murderous, but it doesn’t feel the best when you’re constantly rejected by the man you’re going to marry.

Rubbing your eyes, you clean up the dinner mess and then go to the bedroom to slip into pajamas. The floor length mirror shines your reflection, you stop to stare.

Maybe you weren’t the first pick, maybe you hated what you saw sometimes, but the thing about Spencer was he was so sure that no one could ever do it like you. A slew of compliments he’d give you, the fever of his love was scorching.

You give the girl in the mirror a smile, then comb her hair with your fingers and smooth your tank top.

Silly enough, you turn to the side, wrapping your arms around an invisible bump, and you smile fondly at the thought. Two kids. A boy and a girl. Little geniuses. That’s what he and you would talk about. The next thing after he marries you, the next thing he’d do was give you a baby. He swore up and down at night when you laid with your head on his beating heart, he’d give you the family you craved and your face would hurt from smiling so much.

All plans are at a stand still now.

And that’s okay, wasn’t it? This was a rough patch and you’re helping Spencer get through it because you’d help him with anything-

The bedroom door opens, Spencer walks in and you step away from the looking glass.

“I’m going to get ready for bed.” You mumble, walking past him, cheeks burning red.

To say the least, Spencer feels horrible. Here you were, giving him your undying loyalty, holding his hand through all of it, and he’s the reason life has stopped. You’re so brave about it, always patient and understanding.

He hates it.

You should be angry, you should be arguing. He knows his bad moods kill you, he knows you’re waiting for things to be normal again and they won’t. You get up in the middle of the night when he’s asleep and put on your wedding dress, just to smile at yourself and promise that soon, it’ll be better. You think he doesn’t realize, that he’s passed out, but from the bed he watches you turn in front of the mirror and bite your lip, the way you always do when you’re too pleased with something. Then he sees you cry, softly, hand pressed to lips so you don’t make any noise and inconvenience him. You only let the break happen for a fee minutes, then you wipe your tears, take off the dress and tell yourself that it’s all alright.

Things will be okay.

What if they won’t?

What if it all just crumbles, every wall of the castles built?

It’s not a matter of ‘what if’s’ anymore, is it? Not when the two of you argue into the morning about things. You’re trying so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt but when he isn’t giving you anything at all, it makes for situations like this one.

Head in your hands, you pause for a brief moment and breathe before looking back up at Spencer. The two of you have been at this for about an hour and a half, all because you mentioned how unfair he’s being. Here you were, taking the scraps he throws to you like you’re a dog, and he’s saying it’s you who is unfair.

“I know you want things to go back to the way they were, but it’s not gonna happen.” He says in that bitter tone you hate, looking down at you, sitting on the mattress.

“I know things are different, Spencer.” You claim. “But I didn’t think I had to be okay with you hardly looking at me, or-or not baring to ask me a simple question like how my day was.”

He scoffs at you, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m sorry if my attention isn’t devoted to you now.”

You stand to match his position. “Don’t make me seem selfish.” You shout.

“I’m- you’re not selfish, I just…what do you want from me?” He questions, throwing his arms out and staring at you with absolutely no love in his eyes.

“What do I want?” You reword. “What I want is some progress. Every day I wake up, and I do my best to convince you that you’re not something evil, that these unforeseen circumstances don’t define you, and it’s like I’m stuck in a loop. I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself.”

A lump forms in your throat, your eyes burn but you can’t find it in yourself to let those tears fall.

“That’s the problem!” Spencer shouts. “You’re looking at me like I’m some sort of sick animal and I can’t stand it!”

“You’re looking at me like I’m not the love of your life anymore, so I suppose some things change.”

Silence.

Spencer’s at a loss for words.

Your tears start falling now. You wipe at them with fever.

“I’m trying to give you time, Spence.”

“Angel-” He tries to interrupt, only to be stopped with the movement of your hand in the air, halting him.

“Don’t. Don’t be like this. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but I have felt so alone.” You say with a squeak. “And you just… don’t care.”

He shakes his head, demeanor changing. “Of course I care!”

“Really? Because it feels like you gave up on me when you gave up on yourself.” You gasp lightly, trying to calm your shaking hands. “And that’s mean, baby. I know you have been through so much and you lost the game of chance, and I’m sorry- I am so sorry, but you can’t toss me aside like I haven’t formed my whole life around you!”

It’s strange, standing in a room that once knew laughter and the warmth of your escapades. Only now, it’s ghostly and tired and blue. Spencer wants to defend it, wants to shout that you’re just not understanding him but it’s wrong. You understand him better than anyone ever has, and you’re immensely right, he’s abusing the situation. He knows all of this and can’t help but back peddle like his life depends on it.

“I’m not trying to toss you aside, I’m sorry.” He says, reaching out to grab you, deciding his touch can’t be your downfall.

But you side step him. “But you are, do you not understand? Use that smart head of yours to realize the instance here.” You plead. “If you’re done trying, then I am to because I have no more to give. I’m empty, you took it all from me, Spence. What do I get in return? Nothing, not even a fucking marriage.”

There’s a certain level of hurt that mixes with the anger and creates something crazy in your brain, makes it malfunction and all your repressed thoughts come out.

As you go to leave the bedroom, Spencer follows after. “What does that mean?” He asks.

You need to get out, these walls are whispering with your promises of a future, they’re getting louder.

“You aren’t going to marry me.” You state, searching for some place to hide and sink away.

“Of course I am.” He claims, calling your name to stop you.

“You can’t even pretend like you love me, Spencer, you aren’t going to marry me.”

A hand catches your arm and spins you to face him. His eyes are confused and reeling.

“I do love you, I always have.”

There’s a waver in his voice, is there?

I swallow. “Say it again. With feeling.”

“I love you!”

As the air leaves your lungs in a death rattle sort of way, you just can’t feel the warmth. It makes sense, ghosts have no heat, no matter how beloved they are. You know he expects you to give a different statement than what you do, and it hurts when you tell him the truth.

“I don’t think that’s enough now.”

“Don’t say that.” His tone comes out angrier than intended.

“I just did.”

One might describe him as a scared dog, one who lashes out now like he never used to.

“It’s not enough? Then why don’t you just spare yourself?” He spits, resembling a man you’ve never known, tossing your arm aside, probably too harshly.

The knife twists in your chest, you’re convinced you’re bleeding. Slowly, you nod. The ring seems to hold on for dear life, but you still pull it from your finger and offer it forward.

Everything inside of him feels sick as he reaches out his hand, watching as you drop the diamond into his palm.

With your heartbeat in your ears, you go to the door, sliding into your shoes and grabbing your heavy coat to brave into the weather. With Spencer calling your name, you shut the door on his impending questions of where you’re going.

Spencer stares at the door, and for a moment he can’t believe it all happened like it did. But he said the words and you followed his lead like the faithful partner you are and now you’re gone.

It takes him twenty two minutes before he begins to really panic. What if you’re gone forever? What if some force is going to take you now? Where did you go? Are you cold?

And if you left, that meant he’s alone for good, alone like he’s always been. How could he do this to you? He’s horrible, he’s a monster, all of those things he’s thought about are true.

He sets the ring on the counter, then throws the dirty coffee mug into the sink with such force, it breaks.

He paces the apartment while you stand at Penelope’s door, your dearest friend you only know because of Spencer, trying to hold it together until she comes to find you.

“What happened?” She asks, taking in your appearance.

“I don’t– know.” You sob out.

Two weeks later…

…

…

…It’s a weird feeling, having your spine split in half from carrying so much weight uphill for so long. You know a lot about weird feelings now, that empty space in your chest, Spencer sized, that’s your new lover.

Penelope sets a duffel bag by the pullout couch where you hardly move from, she’s been making trips to the apartment over the days to retrieve what you need.

“Hey, lovebug.” She coos softly, sitting by your knees, petting your mess of hair. “How was work?”

You open your mouth to tell her it was fine, that today was actually a good day, all the way up until Spencer texted you and asked if you wanted to move all of your things out.

A strangled sigh leaves your cracked lips.

This sums up how the last two weeks have been, and you wonder if Pen is a little embarrassed for you yet, the way you can hardly get out of bed.

“Emily and JJ and I are going out…why don’t you take a shower and come with us? It’ll make you feel better.” She says in such a gentle tone, one she’s learned that can get you to do anything.

It drags you to the shower, where you sag against the wall and do your daily crying. Then you get dressed and tame your hair and somehow make it to the bar.

Emily and JJ look at you with pity and you have no energy to be upset.

“Reid’s not enjoying it either.” Emily offers in a corner booth, because the conversation has turned to discussing the loss of your life.

Pen and JJ nod in agreement.

The BAU feels like they’re going through this break up at the way Spencer’s moods affect all of them. They’ve never known his anger like they do now, how he’s quick to snap, how the littlest thing sets him off. They’ll spare you, they won’t tell you how he swiped the picture frames off his desk, the ones of you and him. They won’t mention the fact that he hasn’t smiled once, that he looks like he doesn’t sleep.

They won’t tell you any of this but they’ll offer words of condolence or comfort, neither work.

“It’s going to be alright.” Emily encourages, squeezing your hand from across the table. “Heartache doesn’t stay forever.”

JJ nods like it’s going to fix the way you’re as empty as a drum.

“We all know how you’re feeling, don’t worry.” She says, her perfect, Barbie doll smile.

It makes you sick. You really shouldn’t take the anger out on anyone, but you do because there’s so much of it and you can’t stop it from flowing.

“You know what I’m going through?” You question her.

“Yes, I’ve had heartaches too.”

You suddenly can’t stand being here, you need to leave.

“You can go home to a husband, Jennifer, you don’t know how I feel.”

With those as your parting words, you flee, you tell Penelope you need air and you’ll see her at her apartment.

While you brave the cold city, the three women ask themselves how it could have possibly ended like this, with the greatest love of all in shambles. JJ calls Reid, of course she does.

“You need to fix this.” She tells him.

“…How is she?” He asks, sitting on the sofa, eyeing the framed pictures on the wall.

“She’s…lost. She’s ghostly, she-…Spencer, she loves you and she can’t stop. Fix it.”

“I don’t know how.” He says, monotone.

“How did it end, anyway?” She asks, seeing Emily and Penelope return with more drinks.

Spencer sort of sighs, though it’s sad and broken.

“I don’t know.”

- - - -

The air bites, it’s as cold as you feel, makes your bones ache. You wander in hopes of getting lost permanently, but to no avail, you know your city. Your city that feels so harsh and cruel, it’s one big reminder that you used to not walk the sidewalks alone, that you once stole kisses under streetlights. And as you’re walking down fifth avenue and memory lane, your feet drag you to the place you really want to go. In the time you left the bar and got frostbite from the early stages of falling snow, you’ve worked yourself up enough to believe you could stand your ground. Your anger has made a platform to stand on, you’re at the top of the fucking podium by the time you knock on the apartment door.

Why are you knocking?

Your name is on the fucking lease.

You shove the key in the lock and barge in, mouth agape, ready to fire.

And then you see it.

The bedroom door is only halfway shut, but you see movement. In the room that is gray and sullen, Spencer stands with his back to the door, staring at the cascade of white that he has laid on the bed like a memorial, like it was an open casket viewing.

Your podium shrinks.

“I was going to wear my hair up.” You say, causing him to turn and face you.

He’s tired, hair messy, unshaven, and those round brown eyes are the saddest things you’ve ever seen.

“I like your hair up.” He says, the words echo off exposed brick walls.

Heart beats pass, ba-bum ba-bum in your ears and you quickly huff and bush melted snow through your hair.

“I’ll get my things out now, if you want.” You say, choosing words carefully, eyes watching the way his avoid you.

“I don’t have any boxes.” He says, fingers brushing satin and lace before he picks the dress back up, puts it in the dust bag and death marches it to you. “You would’ve looked beautiful…you always look beautiful.”

How is it he can be so blissfully unaware? The smartest man you’ve ever known and he’s saying things to break your heart, with no clue that he’s doing it. You take that dress- that beautiful, vintage gown with the hundred fabric buttons running down the back, and lay it over your arm, then rock back on your heels.

“I can grab what I can and come by when you’re at work to get the rest.” You offer, wishing he’d say all the things you want him to say, like stay and I’m an idiot and I love you.

Spencer only nods. “Yeah. That works.”

“Okay…” You whisper, then drape the dress over the reading chair in the corner, the one too small for the both of you. You used to curl as small as possible on his lap with your legs over the arm and your head on his shoulder.

Every corner of this place is haunted.

In the closet, you pull the string and the lightbulb burns orange. You grab the two handheld suitcases, the ones you came home to find on the bed one day with Spencer telling you he was taking you to London while your school was on Spring Break.

When you come back out, Spencer’s left the room. There was no way he could watch you pull open the drawers where your things sat beside his.

With a knot in your throat, you fold and place things neatly and keep your cool like the mature adult you are.

That is until you grab the MIT t-shirt you’ve worn in. It’s a light gray color now, the neckline stretched so it only hangs right on you and not Spencer. Holding the ratty shirt you refuse to let him toss, that’s when you decide you don’t want to be a mature adult.

You’re a teenager with a broken heart is what it feels like, the world is ending and your soul has been split in half.

One tear comes, and then another, and one more until your face is soaked with your desperation and mourning. You ball that silly t shirt up at toss it away, and decide those suitcases are insufferable and onto the floor they go.

You stare at them, the clatter they made did nothing for comfort. With a raspy sigh, you sink to your knees to put everything back inside, and your blurry eyes drift to Spencer’s socks that appear in front of you after he hears the bang.

Wordlessly and gentle, he lowers his tall frame to crouch in front of you. The look in his eye is fools gold, it makes you think he’s the Spencer he was before everything.

You look at him, sure you look like a mess but you don’t care. Your chapped lips part and he’s prepared for the scolding, for your temper.

It doesn’t come.

“We were supposed to grow old together.” You sob out. “It was gonna be you and me, Spence, wearing matching outfits when we’re eighty, going to senior discount days at the theater.”

Those are the words that bring him back to reality, and the fall is harsh and he’s mortified that he’s done this to you.

You hiccup for air, pushing his hand away that tries to grab the suitcase. “I was going to walk down the aisle to an instrumental version of Heartbeat by The Fray, it’s unconventional but it’s my favorite song.”

“I know.” He whispers sadly.

“We didn’t make a deposit on that little venue with the pond, they gave our spot away but that’s okay, we were going to figure it out because we always do. We always do, Spencer.”

You’re not even sure you’re making sense but he understands, you could go mute completely and he’d understand because you’re his person, who he’s ruined.

“I know. I know, baby, I know.” He keeps repeating, adjusting to pull you away from the mess and into him.

With no strength left, you have no fuel for the fight. You fall into him, face in his chest as he sits against the bed and hugs you like he’s not seen you in years. It’s what it feels like, he hasn’t had you this close in too long. His fingers press into your skin, the warmth is almost groundbreaking in feeling, makes him unsure of where to hold you because he wants to touch everywhere, all at once. A lifeless frame full of hunger, you can’t move as you feel his caring grip in your hair, his lips to your crown as you can’t seem to get a solid breath in.

“Don’t make me leave you.” You plead, curling into him like a whimpering dog, clutching his chest to make sure there’s still a heart in there that beats for you.

Spencer’s crying now, the familiar feeling of fear in his lungs that don’t want to expand if you’re not around. He drags hair out of your face and presses his forehead to yours.

“I don’t want you to leave. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me.” He says with the emotion of the man before.

And just like that, you waltz right back into each other, you know the steps. Sitting in your fairytale, on the cold hardwood floor, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you both determine this isn’t the end of the greatest love affair they’ve ever seen.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this, in his lap, face red and salty as you stare at your bare left hand, but eventually the tears stop for the both of you. Spencer is the first to speak, he gently shifts, his hand sliding up your arm and shoulder to rest on the side of your neck, as if he’s checking your pulse.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps. “I’m sorry for everything, all of it, every single thing I did and said and ruined. I’m an idiot, angel, and you don’t know how lovely you are.”

Like water to a flame, those words are cooling. The grief and remorse in his tone makes you grab that hand checking your lifeline, and hold it.

“I’m sorry too.” You say. “For everything that went wrong and the fact I couldn’t do anything about it.”

His chest shudders, he leans down and kisses your forehead. “It doesn’t matter, it’s over now.”

You tilt your gaze up to meet his eye. “Is it?”

Bless you and the ground you walk on that he should worship better. Spencer gently runs his finger down your cheek and across your jawline. He nods then. “Yeah, baby, it is.”

[simp-ly-writes]

In Sickness and in Health

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.11)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You and Jayce buy a house together, settle into your new lives in Piltover, and discuss having kids all the while planning a wedding only for Jayce to become sick... you both hope he'll be well in time enough for the ceremony but then again, nothing is going to stop Jayce from marrying you, nothing.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, partial sickfic, teasing, pet names, sickly sweet fluff (no but seriously), some emotional hurt/comfort (more like reassurances), kissing, suggestive themes, Evren (OC) , a very sad Jayce, marriage worries, wedding scene, HIGHLY suggestive themes, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 11,698

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: first post of 2025!- thank you all for sticking with me 🥹💞 I tried to keep wedding details as vague as possible and I may of have may not cried as much as Jayce did while writing the ceremony... ANYWAYS enjoy~

─────── · ·

─ · · From the brief that Jayce gave you before the train stopped in Piltover never would have prepared you for this... looking outside the window you saw a sea of people barley being held in by the barricades that Enforcers were struggling to hold up against the crowd.

Screams and shouts were muffled for now as you smoothed out your matching green dress to Jayce's shirt, the public relations team stated that your first sighting back in the city should show you two as a unit. You both would be the last to leave and as the minutes ticked by your anxiety grew tenfold as you paced up and down the carriage, heels clacking against the wood listening to Jayce who was nearly shouting to communicate with the head enforcer for your plan to exit.

"I have a meeting with the council in half and hour, at most we can stand for pictures for ten minutes before I need to head to city hall, my wife and mother go to Talis house, am I understood?" Jayce's tone is stern, stress eating at his tight features.

"Sir yes sir," the enforcer shouts, stomping their foot to the ground and dropping the salute before swiftly exiting, cheers sounding at the brief sight of the hammer emblem on Jayce's sleeve as the door closes.

You don't even notice Jayce's slip up of your title in your stress as your nails dig into your palms. Ximena suddenly grabs your arm, you flinch before letting out a breath seeing her worried face. Bending down you allow her to hold your face, "We'll be here the whole time, I promise. Nothings going to happen to you," she tries to comfort you. You nod, squeezing your eyes shut in a silent prayer before standing to full height.

You hear Jayce's boots echoing down the hall, looking up to see him fix his hair before planting a kiss against your temple, "I'll exit first and lead you both out. Caitlyn is waiting to take you both home." You nod while fixing the collar to his shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles across his chest.

Jayce places his hands atop yours, "We don't have to say anything yet, they're not a part of this relationship," he reassures you. "Okay," you whisper feeling as he slowly lets go, your hands falling back to your side as you slip on the gloves Ximena presented to you.

You hear as the door opens watching as he waves to the crowd listening to their deafening cheers before turning around and looking at you, extending his hand and helping you down the steps before helping his mother.

An enforcer rushes over to Ximena's side, presenting an arm as she is first to leave. You watch until seeing familiar blue hair lead her into a carriage sending you a nod as you turn to look up at Jayce finding him already looking down at you with a smile.

You wrap your hand around his right arm on instinct, holding on with a near deathly grip, concealing your ring. You slowly turn to face forwards holding a small smile. You are shocked that after such a cataclysmic event Piltover seemed to be doing better than ever and that a few members of Zaun were also waving at you excitedly as you hesitantly waved back receiving a waterfall of cheers before hiding your face in Jayce's side feeling overwhelmed.

"They seem to love you as much as I do," Jayce teases.

You scoff at the comment before you both start to walking over to Caitlyn who was now joined by Vi. You smile at both women as they mirror your expression, "Good to see you back, Mrs. Talis," Caitlyn jokes as Vi wraps an arm around her shoulder.

Shaking your head you tap Jayce's chest, "not just yet but soon," you say. Jayce grumbles underneath his breath before squeezing your hand in goodbye and walking off with an entourage of staff and guards alike.

You all step into the carriage where Ximena waits, patting the seat beside her for you to sit. You lean back, letting your shoulders drop with a sigh listening to Caitlyn chuckle at you, "It'll get easier," she taps your knee before leaning against Vi's side.

"I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life," you look towards the red haired woman with large watery eyes. "Gosh don't give me that look, you're as worse as Jayce," she scoffs before shaking your hand, "I should thank you too."

"Whatever for?" you ask, confusion evident across your features and tilted head. You watch as the couple before you laughs, "you don't know?" You shake your head, turning to Ximena who is busy looking out the window mindlessly.

"For being the reason this city could rebuild; giving the people hope. Jayce did a whole speech for the local media awhile back petitioning for a spot back on the council- wanting to rebuild Piltover and he addressed you and your love as the sole reason the city still stands today." You open and close your mouth, eyebrows furrowing before crossing your legs and thinking quietly to yourself before remembering Viktor's words...

"Was a bit too sweet of a speech for my likings but it did wonders for his approval ratings," Vi jokes.

─────── · ·

─ · · A few weeks after settling back in, you and Jayce planned to move north in Piltover into a new house together within Bluewind Court a few doors down from the Kiramman household.

─ · · You and Jayce were both not huge fans of marble facades common in the area, instead taking to one of the oldest homes that had been sitting on the market for awhile and in dire need of repair.

─ · · You remember your first time viewing the outside of the house- built from brick holding large stone-framed windows. The roof was a partially black shingles yet newer additions were done with copper plates, some oxidized to a green others still sprouting orange. A large sunroom wrapped around the side and towards the back of the home and you equally fell in love with the stained glass dormers that invited light into the attic space.

─ · · Jayce watched as you walked around the house, letting go of his hand as you adventured into each room, observing the original hardwood floors and mosaic bathroom floors- gasping at all the intricate details in the brass handles of the kitchen and the large willow tree in the backyard.

─ · · The real estate agent smiled at the councillor adoring look as you found the secret entrance to the office and basement through a bookshelf, looking back at Jayce, biting your lip trying to conceal your giggles of excitement, practically jumping on the spot before darting off again. "Your wife is very cute, Councillor Talis," they say to Jayce, "she is, isn't she?" he hums before walking after you.

"You like the place, sweetheart?" he asks watching as you take a seat in a bay window within the study space, already picturing looking over from his desk seeing you reading. You nod, leaning back against the wall and looking out the window to look over Piltover. "I really like this place, Jayce. Feels like we can make it into something for just the two of us," you speak softly, thinking for a moment before standing and leading him out, "come, I want to show you something."

Jayce follows you upstairs as you push a door open to a room that faces the backyard. A mural is on the ceiling depicting the night sky that you move to stand in the middle of, "its a nursery, Jayce! Isn't the ceiling just outstanding," you point up, eyes becoming lost in the stars that reflect in your eyes and in Jayce's as he stares at you, heart racing, breath hitching, a nursery.

He feels stunned to his spot, unsure of weather or not to take your words on face value as images of that little girl sitting in your arms flickers across his mind. He would never want to pressure you into anything- no matter how much his heart longed to be a father. To raise someone with you to be curious of the world, to provide unconditional love and protection, to watch their interests develop and see the person they become.

Jayce clasps his shaking hands together, suddenly nervous as you turn your head towards him, smile slowly sliding off our face once seeing Jayce's still frame. You walk over slightly, opening his hands to hold in your own, "everything alright, my love?" you ask, looking up to your fiancee with worry.

Jayce smile wavers as he blinks a few times, letting out a deep breath, "yeah... I just... I would like... never mind." He removes one of his hand from your hand to cup your cheek as you lean into his palm. "take your time," you whisper, waiting patiently in his hold, watching his eyes stare over the room before looking down at you.

"I know we talked about this briefly before but... I would really like to have a family one day but I am perfectly happy with just having you," Jayce explains- words rushing out near the end as he stops breathing in wait. You stand up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips, "I want one too, Jayce. Just not yet," you reply watching as Jayce lets out a long breath, placing his forehead against your own, closing his eyes and holding you for a moment.

"Girl or boy?" you whisper with a smile to your words, "girl," Jayce responds almost instantly as you pull away laughing, "but I would love a boy just the same."

"Why a girl?" you ask, spinning around the room absent-mindedly.

"I would like to play dress-up with them," you laugh, heart overfilling with want for the imagine within your head to come to life, "princess Jayce," you announce to Jayce's nod, "I think I would look good in some nail polish, no?"

You nod your head, "I think it would suit you actually," you pick up his hand- considering colours, "I could see you in blue oh! or maybe red to match your house-"

"Our house and our home," Jayce squeezes your hand, "yeah?" you ask, looking up into his eyes and around the space again, "yeah," he confirms hearing you cheer and run down the stairs back towards the agent.

─────── · ·

─ · · From selling your apartments, temporarily moving into the Talis residence and planning a wedding. You hated how correct Evren's words were as you didn't have time to find a job between helping Jayce with his work and attending the various events at his side, checking in on the house renovations and crew all the while editing your personal studies since Jayce had reopened the lab for you... life was chaos spreading yours and Jayce's time together thin.

─ · · Jayce always made sure to send you flowers to the lab as you made sure to stick messages within his notebooks on scrap pieces of papers or on the back of a letter to find later. You always made sure to include a picture of how the house was progressing.

─ · · Jayce had a picture of you in a hardhat posing on the front steps of the house framed in his office that he would often look at between meetings. He also received many letters of thanks from the workers for providing refreshments and lunch that on the books he thought was for the wedding. When asking you about it later you just smiled and kissed him, assuring that the house would be done two weeks before the wedding.

─ · · On his breaks, you would come into Jayce's office to eat with him when your schedules alined and discussed wedding details. Surprisingly Jayce had many opinions that you throughly enjoyed hearing and agreed with. One being having your wedding partially indoors in case the weather didn't align with the ceremony. You both also wanted a relatively small wedding with close friends and family... the members of the Council invited themselves no matter how many times Jayce politely denied.

─ · · "I would want pictures of my family and Viktor in the front row... want to feel like they're there, you know?" you tell Jayce, taking a sip from your tea. Jayce nods, "I would also like one for Professor Heimerdinger."

"Of course," you jot the names down, circling the word photo about the list. "Do you have your dress picked out?" Jayce asks, eyes twinkling with excitement as he tries to picture what you chose. You play with the tea leaves at the bottom of your cup, "I'm torn between two and Evren and Ximena are also at split opinions."

"Why not just get both?" Jayce fills your cup back up before offering his hand for you to hold on top of the table, "you can wear one for the ceremony and the other for the reception," he explains. You stare at him for a moment, contemplating his suggestion, "but its two dresses, Jayce. Seems a bit excessive- no?"

Jayce leans forwards on the table looking at you, "sweetheart, its our wedding-"

"I know, Jayce, I know but we already put so much towards the house and I don't want to seem like we're showing off," you cut Jayce off, squeezing his hand in a silent apology.

"(name), compared to all of our neighbours and for topside society; Our wedding is already small in comparison. I don't think anyone is going to be upset that you wore two dresses while others invite over 500 people," Jayce explains, "I just want the day to be something that celebrates us, everything we've been through, and our future and if you want to get married in two dresses or a bathrobe and bare foot- I just care about signing that certificate and carrying you home."

"Carry me home?" you question, writing down in your notebook to get both dresses fitted at the tailors later this week. Jayce smiles brightly, "a Talis and lower houses special," he winks, "once the party's over, I can't let your feet touch the floor until we're home or... until we're in bed." You look up from your notes quickly, cheeks slowly warming, "you never told me of that tradition."

Jayce merely shrugs, taking a sip from his cup, "we're not an original high society clan. Not exactly an appropriate thing to bring up," he teases watching as you refuse to make eye-contact, cursing yourself internally for the images popping into your head of Jayce flipping up your skirt, feeling him breath hot against your inner thighs that you currently clench together- fuck.

You both hadn't had time to be intimate recently but then again, you both knew that the wait would make your wedding night feel that much more amplified. Your eyes flicker open once feeling Jayce's hands rub up and down your shaking thighs as he crouches before you- eyes filled with longing and a hint of guilt.

"I know, sweetheart. I want it too but we have to be patient. Just a couple more weeks, right? Then we have a full two all to ourselves." You lean forwards, embarrassed by how emotional you feel over such a thing as you nod into his shoulder, "just miss you, Jay. Even just spending time with you and hearing your voice."

Jayce kisses the side of your head, "miss you too, darling. So much so it hurts at times." You both stay there for a moment before a knock sounds at the door, slowly pulling away to the muffled voice, 'Councillor Talis, the senator from Demacia is here to speak with you.'

"Duty calls?" you tease, Jayce groans standing and walking you to the door, opening it before pressing you against the oak for a kiss. You smile into his lips before pulling away, "see you at home, Mr. Talis."

Jayce shakes his head, stealing another kiss, "see you then, Mrs. Talis-to-be."

─────── · ·

─ · · It was one week before the wedding, you both had fully moved into the new completed house with what furniture you both had - not having time to properly decorate just yet. Your dresses were currently being housed in Evren's hotel room who swore he would protect them both 'with his life' as you were nervous for Jayce accidentally seeing anything.

─ · · You and Jayce went to choose cake flavours last weekend deciding to have tiers of your favourite flavours, collected the dried flower petals to be thrown at the end of the ceremony, and finalized the menu with recipes from both of your families heritages.

─ · · Your home and entryway was starting to look like a factory by the dozens of boxes and supplies you both had ordered lined the halls and dining room. Candles, new silverware and glassware that you would use later in your new house, all of the gifts for the guests and thankfully Jayce's suit had arrived on time yet you couldn't find your shoes anywhere.

─ · · Pacing around the house, Ximena was helping to rip open boxes searching for the shoes for both you and Jayce. "I know we still have time but I want our outfits to be all together in one place so we're not stressing about it on the day," you explain, placing your head inside one of the boxes as you reach down and can only feel more cards and napkins. You huff, standing up and walking back into a warm chest as arms wrap around your waist, something hits your hip lightly that has you looking down to see your shoes dangling from Jayce's fingers and you can see him already wearing his dress shoes checking that they fit right.

"Looking for these ones?" he asks quietly, feeling as his beard rubs against your cheek. "Yes, thank you, my love," you say, wiggling out of his arms and racing over to a chair to try them on. Jayce helps you to stand before watching you walk up and down the hall testing before nodding and slipping them off again, placing them by the front door.

"Off work early?" you call out to Jayce. "Have a meeting tonight so I can't come for dinner but I wanted to see you both today," Jayce explains as you re-enter the room with a small frown, "5 more days and then I'm all yours," Jayce reassures you again before coughing and clearing his throat.

You raise your brow in concern, starting to walk over as Jayce taps his chest, "I'm fine, just working through a little something." You shake your head, "Jayce, I told you to take more breaks ahead of the wedding you can't- we can't be getting sick with everyone already taking time off for the ceremony," you grumble, standing up on your toes to feel his warm head- eyes softening from your original upset to one of concern.

"I'll be better for the wedding, I assure you just-" Jayce coughs again, waving his hand for you to stand back a little but you just rub his back, leading him to sit as Ximena comes over with a pot of tea and jar of honey. "I don't want you sick, sweetheart," Jayce's voice is beginning to sound horse before taking a sip of the hot liquid, resting his head back against the chair as you interlace your fingers, placing a kiss on the back of his hand.

"Then we'll be sick during our wedding together Jayce," you retort. "Now I'm going to write to whomever you have that meeting with and send someone else from the council to it- alright? They shouldn't have you working like this so close to your own wedding, its distasteful," you state, walking over to his briefcase and sorting through the various pages before clicking on a pen with a huff.

Jayce opens and closes his mouth, beginning to protest before his mother shoes another tea cup in front of his face with a glare, "you are not marrying that woman sick, Jayce. I will not allow it- she deserves a healthy husband that does not faint on her while walking down the aisle."

You smile listening to Ximena tell Jayce off for you while signing your signature at the bottom of the page, possibly the last official uses of your original signature before changing to the Talis seal. You ring the Kiramman household requesting for Caitlyn's father as Jayce watches you work with utter determination in your eyes and tone as you grip the sealed letter, smiling with success when he reports a staff member will be over shortly to collect the papers.

Turning back around you and Ximena share a nod before looking towards Jayce, "I don't want to see you off the property until its either the wedding or you're healthy," you state, leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest.

Jayce stares at you for a moment a smile spreading across his face as you tilt yourself upstairs. "I made a room for you upstairs in the guest wing, Ximena," you explain as Jayce stand moving towards you excited to cuddle. Ximena looks at you both smiling, "I'll have breakfast ready in the morning with some fresh juice for him."

You shake your head, "Ximena- I can do that you-" Its her turn to be exchanging a glare, "no. Give this old lady something to do, I am bored out of my mind back at home with everyone doing everything for me all the time, let me do this for you."

"Alright," you nod your head as she waves you both up, cleaning up the dish ware and heading to the kitchen, humming to her victory.

─────── · ·

─ · · In the following days you and Jayce read side by side in the study, took naps in the afternoon and Ximena had even taught you the family soup recipe that you had perfected by the second day.

─ · · You had gone to the local pharmacist for medication that Jayce had to take with food and you were always making sure he took them on the minute you timed in between doses and packing and wrapping gifts for your guests. Jayce was looking better with proper rest as the days counted down.

─ · · After awhile Jayce started to become restless wallowing around inside as you both took walks around the backyard and when that got repetitive you turned to through the neighbourhood. You couldn't keep the smile off your face while walking arm and arm down the cobbled streets listening to Jayce hum quietly on your way to the farmers market to choose the flowers for your bouquet.

Jayce pointed out to various flowers that matched with your original picks and you were delighted to see a handful of flowers from Evren's homeland that you quickly added to your order. By the end you had a mix-up of flowers that represented different regions and times of your life. You held the batch for flowers close to your face being sneezing, Jayce laughed until he coughed, "at this rate we'll have the guests seven feet away from us," and you can't help but join in the laughter even when you both are getting stares.

─ · · Laying in bed later that day you traced patterns across Jayce's chest as you both leaned against the headboard, a record played in the background as rain pattered against the glass panes outside. "It's good that it's raining now," you comment softly, pressing your head to Jayce shoulder, putting his touch to memory knowing that tomorrow you wouldn't see him ahead of the wedding.

"You seem extra snuggly tonight, sweetheart," Jayce teases feeling as you shuffle underneath his arm, pulling it closer to your chest, "Well we're not going to see each other in the morning, my love," you mumble now sitting yourself into his lap being mindful of his weak leg. Jayce chuckles at your actions before freezing once his brain registers your words.

"Jay?" you call out quietly, tipping your head up to kiss his chin. Jayce does not say a word, confusion evident on his features as he sags forwards resting his head atop of yours with a pout, "Well at least I'll see you in the evening right?" Your heart drops at his saddened tone as you play with his fingers, interlacing them with your own.

"Its bad luck for us to see one another, we also shouldn't be here now like this," you chuckle feeling as Jayce squeezes you for a moment and lets out a grunt, "we don't need luck. Never helped us before and we are well beyond traditional," Jayce sasses back.

"I think fucking your assistant is traditional, I have no idea what you mean, Councillor Talis," you joke, smiling at Jayce's deep chuckle before you pick up your hands, planting a kiss to the connection, "you can last a night Jay. You said it yourself, patience. We have the rest of our lives to sit like this in bed until we turn grey and old. Enjoy your last night being unmarried. Evren and my university friends already have our day planned out at a winery," you say, closing your eyes as you lean your head back on his chest.

Jayce rolls his eyes, "I never wanted to be single in the over ten years of knowing you and I enjoy being with you more than anything else," Jayce murmurs into your hair, "I would pause time in this moment and be perfectly happy for eternity." You squeeze your eyes shut, heart hammering in your chest at his words as you feel his beat against your back in tune.

"See what Caitlyn and Vi are up to, I'm sure they would be more than willing to come over or go out for some drinks with you," you mumble, quickly falling asleep in Jayce's warmth.

Jayce stays awake, watching you sleep before looking out the window- frowning. He feels as you shuffle and stir within his hold, hugging his arm tightly, genuinely and utterly devastated that there would be one last night in his life where the bed would be cold and empty when he awoke.

Leaning down Jayce presses a kiss to your head before gently pulling your hold off of him so that you both can lay down properly. You quickly search the covers for him before wrapping your arm over his waist. Jayce squeezes his eyes shut at your touch but is restless to sleep, taking to holding you and playing with the ends of your hair absent-mindedly, praying that the night feels longer than the morning.

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce didn't know when he fell asleep in the early morning hours but was startled awake at the sound of Caitlyn and Vi bursting into the main bedroom. Jayce started blankly at the two women that smiled and waved at him before Jayce fell back into bed with a huff. Vi stepped into your combined walk-in-closet letting out a low whistle, "Cait look at these two- prepared for every occasion underneath the sun and below the surface."

Caitlyn steps him, nodding and observing the space, picking up random articles to feel the material as Vi takes notes of what she takes interest in before stepping back out throwing a t-shirt Jayce's way, "Put this on and get off your mopey-ass outta bed, we're going out!"

Jayce grips the fabric in a fist, bringing his other hand up to his face pinching his nose. "Were her friends there to meet her?" Jayce asks while staring up at the ceiling. Caitlyn continues to snoop around the space before feeling Jayce's glare when she picks up one of your perfumes that he gifted you for your anniversary that she slowly puts back down.

"Yes everyone was there," Caitlyn explains, "enforcers are in the area and she said she'll sleep at your mothers house and get ready in Evren's hotel room thats close to the venue while he'll come here." Jayce nods before picking himself up and stretching, walking over to the bathroom and shutting the door.

Vi and Caitlyn share a look between one another once hearing the shower turn on, "shouldn't he be more... I don't know... excited?" Vi mumbles to Caitlyn's shrug, "beats me, maybe they fought last night-who knows?- lets just make sure he feels a bit better before tomorrow."

Vi wraps an arm around Caitlyn's waist before turning them both down the hall to explore the rest of the house. "You ever imagine Jayce getting married one day?" Vi asks, opening a door and peaking into the nursery, raising a brow in shock to Caitlyn who smiles at the space.

"Jayce? He was ready to get married at twelve, played wedding in the school yard," Caitlyn laughs, shaking her head at the images Ximena showed her floating through her mind. Vi raises her brows, blinking her eyes wide, "Gods you topside kids played the weirdest things, cupcake."

"Mhmm, sure our things were 'weird,'" Caitlyn teases, pressing a kiss to Vi's cheek before shutting the door and peaking into the next room to see another bedroom, your study, and bathroom. Jayce clears his throat watching as both women freeze.

"You did well, Jayce," Caitlyn says, looking at all the original fixtures and hardwood floors, "feels very... homely and welcoming."

"My wife, fiancee, oversaw most of the houses renovations," Jayce explains before tipping his head back downstairs as they follow after and into the kitchen watching as Jayce pours two coffee's into your respective mugs you've had since your lab days.

Caitlyn smiles awkwardly as Jayce takes his mug clinks it against your own, sipping his quietly while looking over the backyard and checking his watch occasionally. "Gods this is hard to watch," Vi groans, pouring herself a cup of coffee and slapping Jayce's back, "get it together man. She's not going to leave you for any of her friends, not after the shit you've pulled over the years, Mr. 'where's-my-girl?'" Vi flexes listening to Cait's laugh echo the space as she steals a sip from her girlfriends mug before forcing it down.

"You drink this, black?" her nose crinkle's up in disgust. "Theres creamer, milk, and milk alternative, in the fridge and honey in the pantry room," Jayce explains while looking over his shoulder as the couple shares small smiles at one another, disregarding Vi's earlier teasing- he just misses your quiet morning together too much to care.

He stares at the countertop he stands in front of. You spent every morning sitting there soaking up the rising suns rays with an adorable smile on your face as your feet swung back in fort before wrapping around the back of his thighs, pulling him closer to you.

Jayce would kiss every feature of your face slowly before kissing across your jaw to your lips. Your giggles in his ear as his beard would tickle your skin. "Jayce," Caitlyn calls out softly, seeing as his stare hardens against the countertop, "did something happen last night?"

He shakes his head, "no... I just miss her. Really want to see her... just to know she's doing good..." Caitlyn's smile falls seeing as Jayce wallows around the kitchen. "I'm sure she misses you too, Jayce. You'll both see each other tomorrow."

Jayce shakes his head, "what if she realizes she can find someone better than me? She reassures me but... I mean... you said it yourself back then..."

"Don't say that shit, Jayce. I swear sometimes your genius has an expiration date," Caitlyn stops her foot, gripping Jayce's arm so that he looks at her sharpened look- eyes welling with concern and care, "she chose you for some reason or another that I'm sure she's told you at some point and was even crazy enough to say yes to your proposal. I don't know how much more certain you can get."

"What Cait said!" Vi yells tearing up the pantry as Jayce holds the blue-haired woman's stare for a long moment before letting out a long sigh. "Just need to see her, hear her say yes, but thanks for trying to comfort me," Jayce says turning back down the hall and turning into the study.

Vi points over in shock to the secret door, "we have to get one of those in our own place." Caitlyn nods, staring sadly at the bookshelves, "mind getting a bottle or two? I think we're staying in tonight." Vi obliges.

─────── · ·

─ · · Before Evren had arrived for you to introduce him to all of your prior peers and mentors you were wallowing on a picnic blanket in the middle of rows upon rows of grapes. A large sun-umbrella protected your skin from behind you as you picked at the selection of food while listening to everyone chat away and catch-up.

Your heart hurt not knowing how Jayce was doing today after how last night went. You felt overwhelmingly guilty the longer you sat outside without him, wondering if Caitlyn and Vi managed to get to him... "Is that a frown I see, miss?" Evren shouts as you stand, a smile starting to form on your features as he kisses your cheeks swiftly before shaking all of your friends hands.

"Everyone, Evren- Evren, Everyone," raising a glass and everyone takes a sip. "Now I want to know, has she been frowning this whole time?" A chorus of 'yes's' sound from the group that has you glaring at everyones laughs.

"No frowning!" Evren flicks your forehead, "You should not be frowning when you are about to get married-"

"You're divorced, Evren," you deadpan.

"Well that is true but I was happy when it happened, not what came afterwards," you roll your eyes, giving him a shove watching as he stumbles back slightly before taking a seat and conversation resumes. Evren makes it his personal job to make sure you are smiling or well too embarrassed while reconnecting with your friends to think as they all tell him stories about seeing you and Jayce in the halls together and the small moments you shared throughout the years before getting together.

"When she told he they were not dating the entire time I nearly had a fit," Jayce's old secretary laughs, gripping your arm as you groan and shake your head, a smile catching onto your features before your cheeks flare up at the next comment, "and the longing in their eyes was so pathetic. Everyone knew, or well, everyone in our department knew that they were going to fuck one day or another."

Your past dorm mate while studying at the academy pipes up, raising their hand to speak next as everyone looks anxious to hear, you as well, "poor thing didn't speak for weeks after watching Jayce for the first time in the forge!"

"Really now?" Evren asks, adjusting his glasses as he stares you down with a teasing grin. "I was incredibly shy then," you hide your face in your hands, before leaning forwards into your lap groaning at your next friends story, "The amount of times I would see her practically in his lap or those dangerously close cheek kisses I would catch them giving was hilarious and equally pathetic. Sometimes I just wanted to shove them both into a closet and shout 'figure it out' for god-sakes!"

"That bad?" you wince, your friend stares at you blankly, "he allowed you- constantly reminded actually, to drop titles even at corporate events. I mean you didn't catch him calling me sweetheart and rubbing my waist with reassurance." You look at Evren for support who just downs the rest of his drink, "You never told me of these things!" he comments to your glare before laughing at everyones impressions as they stand and preform.

"Oh Jayce! I'm so nervous let me hide my face into you bicep-"

"Can you do my tie while I stare at your lips?"

"I'm going to practically wag my tail every time someone brings up you in conversation and then ramble about how much I adore you."

"Sweetheart, come here, Sweetheart, what do you think? Sweetheart, don't look at Viktor- look at me! Sweetheart?- Wait thats not your name?"

"Let me just swing around a big hammer while having the biggest glow up- kissing you senseless and then carry you home," your laughter soon turns to a face of horror, "you guys know about that," you whine feeling a few shoulder pats- accepting your fate before reaching over to grab some more grapes to snack on- nearly choking as you hear your past neighbour whisper, "good girl," before turning away giggling as you squirm in your spot silently screaming.

"How do you know that?!" Feeling the curious eyes at your sudden outburst watching as they smile, "you and Jayce are not exactly... quiet."

"This stays between us," you glare watching as they nod, "I promise." They reassure you, "I just had to say it at least once," they giggle as you roll your eyes understanding with a sigh.

"What did they say?" Evren asks, holding up your glass in a silent ask if you wanted a refill which you nod to. "Nothing just an inside joke," you say. Evren shrugs, clicking your glasses together before leaning back and talking with Jayce's old secretary.

You raise a brow at the connection they seem to be forming before casting Evren a wink in which he flips you off.

─────── · ·

─ · · The day of the wedding had arrived and you woke up bright and early taking some hang-over relief composite before kicking Evren out of his room and sending him to your house to help Jayce get ready.

─ · · A team had already come in to do your hair and make up after you had bathed and ate. Ximena joined you later that morning after checking on Jayce. She smiled watching you spin around in your final look before the ceremony; fighting off tears.

"He's really nervous, Vi and Caitlyn couldn't calm him down much yesterday," Jayce's mom explains taking your hand gently- making sure to not ruin your look in anyway, "he was beside himself again this morning just asking to see you. I watched as he poured your coffee and sat there in his suit playing with the wedding band-I almost agreed to let him come," she shakes her head at the idea as you smile softly, eyes starting to well up as she curses slightly underneath her breath, quickly standing and grabbing you tissues.

"Oh, I'm sorry for making you cry, dear. I'll stop talking-" you shake your head, "No, no. It feels relieving that he feels the same way I do, us suffering together like usual," you joke through a sob before telling yourself to get it together, I'll see him in 3 hours, I can last... right?

─ · · Ximena leaves to get herself ready as you look through the rather scandalous photos you took of yourself that your bridesmaids would be handing to Jayce throughout the night in an effort to cheer yourself up. You remember telling Evren of your wicked plan as he cackled and clapped his hands excited to witness you enact your revenge on your husband-to-be for all of his teasing.

─ · · Your bridesmaids all stumbled into the room as you smiled and waved to them all, spinning as they whistled. "Thank you all for staying with me and dealing with my life," you address the group before being forced into a group hug. "But I do need your help with one thing..." Everyone looks between each other with a smirk wanting to see Jayce loose his mind.

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce was already loosing his mind, his hands shaking as he readjusted his tie and cuffs a thousands times as he walked back and forth at the top of the isle seeing all the guests that had already arrived concerned stares at him.

He was blinking away tears in partial disbelief that he was actually going to marry you like he dreamed of doing all those years ago... and the other half in a stress-induced panic that you might never show... he knew you wouldn't do that to him yet his brain could not convince his heart.

─ · · Evren stands from his seat, clapping a hand on Jayce's back, forcing him to stand still, "you're scaring everyone, Jayce. Your bride looks great, she's on her way, now stand up straight like the man of progress they all know you to be and don't drop the ring," he winks before sitting back down. Jayce takes a deep breath in and long exhale out before closing his eyes and facing forwards, hands clasped together to hide the shakes.

─────── · ·

─ · · Readjusting your undergarments and hiding a picture on your person you step out of the bathroom before being lead to the lobby and make your way to the venue. Your knee bounces as you bite your lip, you desperately want to see Jayce now and feels like you can't get there quick enough as you get stopped at seemingly every intersection and crossroads.

─ · · You and Jayce separately hear as the music starts to play and all your bridesmaids take off ahead of you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you grip the bouquet between your hands, the door men await your nod before opening the first set of doors. You feel your heartbeat with every step you take, letting out a shaky breath once you are one turn away from seeing everyone... from seeing Jayce.

─ · · A cold touch of an indoor breeze as you chocking back a sob, 'Viktor,' you hiss to yourself, 'can't you see I'm already emotional?' And if wind could laugh it would by the way it whistled into ear and down the aisle as Jayce snapped his head up to see you. Tears. They streamed down both of your cheeks as Jayce blinked rapidly, not wanting to miss a moment.

─ · · Jayce grit is teeth together, smile wavering to conceal a sob, he was beyond words to capture how beautiful he thought you looked walking towards him as the dresses details came into view. For a moment he looked over to the spokesperson wondering how long it would be before he could feel your lipstick coating his lips.

And suddenly you were in front of him, handing your bouquet off and taking his hands. His eyes widened seeing the hexcore stitched into the lace of your dress. His heart raced, seeing your smile, palms sweating hearing your little giggle in his ear as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face letting out a small breath in disbelief.

"Hello, sweetheart," he whisper for you, "hello, my love," you greeted back, shuffling on your feet with excitement, gripping his hands as he refused to look away from you not even for a moment as the spokesperson clears their throat and begins to speak.

─ · · "Friends, family, and those who could not join us today but are lovingly remembered. We are gathered here today to witness a love that has transcended language, body, time, and space to come to this moment where Councillor Jayce Talis and Miss. (name) (last/name), wish to be wed.

Having met at the academy, these two brilliant minds clashed and connected for the first time in what would be a tale of sacrifice and longing but also one of perseverance and dedication. A tale of which many have seen, looked up to, or connected with.

Both individuals stand before us today have given their lives to building a better world, a better city, and a better future for others, and now they devote themselves wholly to one another. A decision not made lightly but has been taken with great consideration and respect for both the other person and oneself. And today we are to celebrate this commitment and witness the start of their new future as husband and wife.

Marriage is a bond like no other, it is promising yourself to someone and accepting that person for all their entirety- for all time; through the good days and the bad, through loss and the peaks of life, you chose one another as equally lovers and friends and understand that by marrying one another you are willing to sacrifice for the other and never take bond for granted yet strengthen it to the woes of time.

You both will develop the capacity to forgive and forget in order to perform your duties as husband and wife; to protect, love, and support the other for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. For a good marriage is not something magically created or a thing of perfection but something that is maintained and that grows.

For one of the greatest things a person can do is find the capacity to love another, and this couple has shown that greatness countless times. Love creates the meaning within our lives and a love like this is to be recognized permanently through vows." The spokesperson waves for the rings as you smile brightly at Jayce, scrunching your nose playfully as he winks at you.

─ · · "Jayce," he nods, "do you take Miss. (name) (last/name) to be your lawfully wedded wife?" You stop breathing in wait, looking deeply into Jayce's eyes for any moment of reluctance but can only find overwhelming warmth and love in his hazel eyes, "I do."

"Will you love her, honour her, cherish and keep her, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, and keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," you gasp feeling the cold band be pushed onto your finger before seeing Jayce anxiously look at you, eyes practically begging for you to say yes, as he blinks back tears.

"And do you take Councillor Jayce Talis to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Jayce squeezes your hands, swallowing deeply, you can feel as he shakes in your hold, "I do." You smile, unable to contain your smile as a few of your tears drip down onto your wedding bands.

"Will you love him, honour him, cherish and keep him, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, and keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," you nod your head rapidly seeing as Jayce's eyes dilate onto your lips knowing what comes next. You both sound out the rest of the speech and the crowd that laughs as you both are practically shaking in your spot with restraint.

"You may now kiss-" Jayce cups your cheeks, tilting your head as he presses his lips against your own. Your eyes close as you smile from the familiar pressure, placing your hands atop of his before pulling away breathless and placing your foreheads against one another in a second kiss while catching your breaths.

Jayce's eyes are a dark honey as he searches your own, a teasing glint to his stare has you raising a brow before feeling him tip your body back and kiss you again, muffling your sounds of shock with his lips as you hear Evren cheer teasingly at you both.

You stand upright, leaning on Jayce's arm heavily as your sense of gravity is temporarily askew, following his lead back down the aisle and towards a private hall ahead of the reception for your portrait to be taken.

─────── · ·

─ · · A chair waits in front of a window facing the gardens of the venue. The photographer positions Jayce standing behind the chair, a hand on your shoulder like many of the pictures you had witnessed in the halls of the Academy. You frowned once seeing the picture appear before you- feeling distanced from your new husband in the image.

Seeing your displeasure with the image Jayce motions for you to stand before he takes the chair, patting the arm of the chair, "like old times-hm?" he speaks softly, looking up at you- watching intently as your eyes light up in memory to those long days and nights in the lab. A flash has you both quickly looking over watching as the photographer stands, smiling at you both, "I think we got the perfect shot there."

─ · · More photos are taken in various other locations and you and Jayce make sure to have individual pictures of one another for your offices. Your favourite of which is Jayce casting a wink just past the camera towards you, tie askew, a few strands of his hair dipping over his forehead as he smiles brightly, leaning back against a wall. Theres something so raw about the shot that you adore, a Jayce only for your eyes that few get to see the reality of.

"Always the pictures of me dishevelled for you, huh?" he questions with an eye roll, arm above your head as he leans closer to your body pressed against a wall. You feel as his finger drags across your bottom lip, hazel eyes bore into your own, another flash has you blinking rapidly remembering that you both were in fact getting your photos taken.

You glare at Jayce, swatting his chest watching as he pulls away with false hurt before turning around and sending the photographer off for a proper chance to kiss you. In a split second decision you decide to run away giggling as Jayce signs something off, patting the photographer on the shoulder before turning around and shaking his head- watching as you stop to turn around and wave before darting around a corner.

You speed up once hearing Jayce run after you, your heart is racing as your giggles turn into full laughs that have you struggling to breathe and before you know large hands grip your waist and pull you flush against a warm chest. You squirm and laugh feeling as Jayce's beard tickles you with every kiss up your shoulder towards your neck before biting your earlobe.

"A little bit late to be running away from me now, sweetheart," Jayce teases, breath hot and heavy in your ear as you lean your head back, looking up at him with large pleading eyes, "dance with me?" You hear as Jayce curses, closing his eyes, "fuck you're going to be the death of me." You laugh again, pulling fully away and taking his hand, dragging him down the hall.

─────── · ·

─ · · You walk up to the record player, smiling as all the vinyls you had requested were waiting in a crate for you to bend down and flip through. Pulling one gently from the sleeve, you sway side to side, wrapping your arms around yourself as the song starts.

Jayce watches you for a moment while slipping off his suit jacket and placing it on a door handle before pulling up his sleeves to his elbows. You close your eyes hearing as Jayce takes long strides to grab your waist, swaying alongside you as the song picks up. His hand feels down your arm, extending it out to the side so that your fingers can intertwine and he begins to take a few steps back, fully extending his arm out.

You look to the side, eyes connecting with a shared smile before Jayce starts to pull you back towards him and into a spin before you face one another, "my darling wife..." he murmurs to himself as you both rotate around the empty room, "my perfect husband," you say back, watching as Jayce blinks away tears at your words, you both listen to the way your skirt glides against the floor like soft waves in rhythm to his dress shoes that you're still guilty of stepping on.

Jayce keeps you close to him, hand dragging up and down you back, caressing your waist as you take another turn of the room, "...I love you so much," he says, kissing your cheek before you caress his own, pulling his head down for you to kiss his lips, "I love you too."

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─ · · When you both arrive at the reception you are unsurprised to see Evren already on a buzz as he points and yells loudly at you before darting over and pulling you away from Jayce who gets congratulated by all the Councillors you both don't remember inviting... Ximena shoves Evren aside with a huff, pulling at your cheeks, "It was a beautiful ceremony, I don't know if I've ever seen Jayce as happy as he was then. Thank you for making my son so happy," you nod your head along to her words, "I promise to continue making him happy."

She pulls you into a hug, "gosh I am so thankful you are my daughter now." You squeeze her back before making your rounds with a fresh glass of champagne in your hands.

─ · · Jayce maintained a smile as the Councillors spoke to him yet his jaw was clenched, irritated that they even showed up in the first place. After excusing himself for a refreshment, Jayce sat at the bar keeping his eye on your smile and the way that his mother almost refused to let you go from a hug.

But before he could stand to rejoin you, his past secretary stumbled forward, tapping him on the shoulder, sliding something into his hand without a word. Before Jayce even looked down to see what it was, he opened his mouth to ask yet she just pointed to his hand expectantly.

Hesitantly Jayce raised his hand taking a look at the image of you. The top of the image appeared normal picture of you in your second dress yet as his eyes trailed down you were fixing one of your stocking and Jayce pressed the image to his chest, glaring at the woman in front of him that just laughed and ran away. Shaking his head he look towards you, questioning why someone would give him something like this.

─ · · Feeling Jayce's stare on your back as you glide around the room from table to table greeting all of your close friends and shaking hands with Jayce's peers again.

You falter once seeing Mel step in front of you before hesitantly extending your hand surprised by how quickly she takes it and the way in which she smiles at you, "you both look stunning today."

"Thank you, Mel," you speak earnestly remembering all those days you looked up to her, her confidence and style only for her to be complimenting you, "just promise me that you'll love him as much as he loves you," she adds, gripping your hand a bit tighter as you hold her stare, "I promise."

She pulls away, hands flattening out her skirt before chiming her glass against your own once looking past your shoulder, "have fun tonight," she winks at you before downing the rest of her glass and walking away. You shake your head at the comment, turning to start a new conversation.

─ · · Jayce had received another two images in the time you had been speaking with Mel and he debated weather or not to say they got better or worse for himself as he became annoyed by everyones curious stares, you are not looking at my wife, as he buried the photos within his suit jacket.

─ · · A shadowy form clouds over your form as you pause your conversation once hearing Jayce's voice, a noticeable strain to his voice has you smiling knowingly, "You all are taking too much of my wife's attention from me, c'mon now we're about to have speeches and dinner," Jayce kisses your hand, pulling you towards you table as you smile apologetically hearing as they all laugh.

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─ · · Evren practically runs up to the stand as you sink down into your seat, covering your face before he can even mutter his first sentence. You hear as he clears his throat, addressing the crowd, "good evening everyone and hello to our most stunning couple- your kids are going to be the most spoiled little brats I just know it!" a chorus of laugher sounds. Jayce shakes his head and takes a sip from his glass before offering you a taste. Jayce smiled once seeing you stick out your tongue and glare at the disgusting liquid before shoving the glass back in his hands.

"Anyways! To the new wife of tonight, my best friend. Congratulations on getting yourself married to the hottest guy you could find but still questioned if you really liked him or not... multiple times. I mean GIRL, when he- Ximena, cover your ears my love, fucked you good enough to see lit-er-al stars after laying down his. life. for you- how did you NOT KNOW HE WAS THE ONE?- you know what, it all worked out in the end maybe I should be the one taking notes for once."

"Damn right Evren!" you shout watching as he flips you off. Jayce stares at you, smirking to himself as you refuse to look at him and feed his ego anymore.

"And Jayce, Jayce, Jayce my man. I'll say what everyone else thinks, if you were a little bit stupider and a bit more ugly... you would probably have gotten a restraining order but luckily enough you're not! you're married! and it fucking frustrates me that after being clinically dead you still managed to look better than I ever will in a year of trying," you don't know weather to laugh or comfort Evren, instead you look at Jayce who palms his face and sighs heavily.

"See he even looks good then and look at her- gods you both are so hot together its truly upsetting, anyways, have a good marriage and, Ximena, your ears again, know that everyone knows that the sex is amazing- the marks only confirmed everyones imagination. Okay! bye and love you both!" You stand and clap to Evrens bow as he struts back to his seat waving at everyone as he walks by.

Caitlyn is next to the stage, a small paper in her hand as she grabs the microphone and stares at Jayce until he looks back. Her speech is short as she blinks away glossy eyes, Jayce walks over to give her a hug, thanking her for the both of you before returning to your side as you rub his shoulder and present him a napkin for his eyes.

Ximena's speech surprises you in the way she speaks more about you than her own son, listing every time she asked Jayce when he would bring you back home again, if you were seeing anyone (with the intentions of that someone being him), and how grateful she was to have spent time living with you and getting to know you on a deeper level- confirming that if you both didn't get married by yourselves, "I would have pulled the dying wish card and told them to get together for my own happiness."

You scoff at the comment, "I was surprised that everyone else would be ripping into us tonight but your mom?" you whisper to Jayce, his arm wrapped around the back of your chair as he leans over, looking at the line of people waiting to speak, "remind me to tell you of all those nights she pelted me with apples for not being smart enough to ask you out."

"She did not," you voice drops, humour evident in your tone- smiling as Jayce does not answer, simply tracing random patterns on your shoulder.

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─ · · Jayce nods his head along to the rest of the speeches, his real focus is on you though before shock rattles his bones watching you stand and be presented a microphone as you take his hand and look deeply into his eyes as he sits and watches you- half interested in what you are about to say... the other half worried based upon the mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Jayce," he nods, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss against your hand, you stutter before finding your words again, "W-When I first met you... I was beyond intimidated by you; so outspoken and confident, pressing a kiss against my hand while holding eye-contact when I first went to shake your hand. I was not ready for you," you laugh, "after working for Viktor who often would just wave me away and tell me to take longer breaks and then to turn to you always willing to give me your undivided attention when I had a question scared me beyond belief especially when I felt myself falling for you. Looking more for your eyes, to share another brief touch... but I didn't want to mess anything up, wanted to work just as hard as I watched you work and how we didn't die from lack of sleep deserves its own lab study.

You were always the perfect gentleman, always knew how to make me laugh, sometimes I felt like I was a bad assistant for having you carry me to bed when I couldn't keep up with your math into the early morning hours or how you would be more than willing to leave events early when I was not feeling overly social... I told myself for years that you deserved someone..." you look away from Jayce, refusing to move as he pulls your hand lightly with a frown as you blink away tears, "...someone better than me, more willing to put themselves out there and not hold you back from the future you worked so hard towards for yourself, for this city.

No matter how much I desired to feel your touch, to hear your voice first thing in the morning or last of my day when we fell asleep on top of each other... I was so willing to let you go but of course, being Jayce Talis, you didn't allow that. Gosh I was so mad that you were not seeing what I was saying back then, that I only wanted what was best for you and for once in your life, you didn't listen to me- more stubborn than I.

And what frustrated me even more was how patient you were, just knowing that you could make me fold and you did, again and again no matter how much I was upset at you, no matter what happened, I just can't help myself but to love you," you conclude your speech with, sentence being cut off in the way Jayce pulls you to his lap, kissing your deeply before taking the microphone.

"My wife who fulfilled my greatest wish, to be your husband one day. To be the one who got to make you smile, to make you laugh and make your every wish happen for my own selfish happiness to be the reciprocant of your thanks.

I remember reading your's and Viktor's works and once getting admitted into the academy, I was making it a mission to not make a fool of myself when meeting you and when Heimerdinger told me that we would be working together, I nearly cried I was so excited and thankful for the opportunity that would become a lifetime study of love, happiness, and fulfilment.

Now I know that there is not a single thing I wouldn't do for you if you asked it of me. I struggle to put it into words to describe the ways in which you have changed me for the better and moulded me to being incomplete without having some part of you in my life. Know that there is not a single day that goes by since meeting you that I haven't thought about you in some way. Know that I need not know want when having you in reach and in mind. I love you, sweetheart."

You burry your face into Jayce's shoulder, kissing his neck repeatedly as he chuckles into the mic, a hand rubbing your thigh as he passes the microphone away and brushes the hair away from your ear, whispering, "how many more things are left to do before I can have you for myself?"

You shift on his thigh, "Jayce," you whine as his touch halts, his eyes warning, "be mindful of that voice, baby. I would be more than willing to fuck you right here."

You gasp at his words, "Jayce," you whisper shout, shaking your head to Jayce's shrug before remembering the card or rather picture up your sleeve.

Your husband raises a brow watching as you fiddle around in your dress before pressing the small square into his hand and standing up, "I'm going to go ask for the cake." You watch for a moment as Jayce see's bare skin, his eyes dart up hand extending in a silent demand for you to come back but you are rushing off to a staff server without another word leaving Jayce to squirm in his seat.

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─ · · Cutting the cake and serving everyone with Jayce's hand lingering on your lower back, dangerously close from slipping as he takes long even breaths watching as you lick your clips clear of icing before presenting him a spoonful, "this one has real strawberries inside!"

Jayce bends down allowing you to feet him, a wisp of icing stuck on his lowers lip as he looks at you expectantly, rolling his eyes when you grab a napkin much to the pleasure of the crowd that laughs towards the pouting groom.

You both then are pulled to the centre of the hall for a game, Jayce looks ready to just about murder Evren for proposing the idea, so close to leaving... he thinks to himself before helping you to your seat.

─ · · Sitting down you reach down and take off one of your shoes, exchanging it with one of Jayce's answering by raising the respective shoe to who the question fits more.

"Who's more likely to set the house on fire?" You instantly raise Jayce's shoe, listening to the crowd laugh as Jayce drags his head down, admitting defeat.

"Who's the boss of the relationship?" You both laugh at the question as Jayce explains, "Well depends on the time but recently," he throws up your shoe.

"Who's needier? First to Say 'I'm sorry?' Most likely to cry during a sad movie? More Romantic? Wants kids first? Pays more often? More outspoken?" Jayce mumbles to himself about the questions being unfair as you giggle, reaching around to grab his hand briefly before having to answer the next question.

"Who will be the stricter parent?" you raise your shoe knowing damn well that wouldn't be able to stick to his word at the sight of tears. "I could be strict!" Jayce states, "I'm sure you can be, my love," you reply in a teasing tone.

"Who is better at keeping surprises?" your win again.

"Who's the better kisser?" you raise Jayce's shoe with warming cheeks yet are surprised that Jayce has raised your shoe, "can't kiss myself now can I?" you laugh, swatting his shoulder playfully.

"Who loves the other more?" You raise your shoe before turning around in your seat as Jayce raises his shoe turning around as well with a smile.

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─ · · Taking to the rest room to freshen yourself up and change after the game, Jayce receives a handful more images as he begins to constantly fix his clothes, undoing his tie before turning into the hall and leaning against a wall waiting for you. He groans, closing his eyes, images of you flashing through his imagination making his skin feel hot, clothes too heavy- skin aching for your touch. He was done being patient and ready to drag you home, the guests be damned, he needed you soon.

─ · · Mel opens the door just as you are drying your hands, a wave of deja vu washes over you as she stands beside you, smirking while observing you both in the mirror. "Having fun tonight?- Jayce is falling apart at the seams out there, he glared at Evren suggesting that you all do shots later," she laughs knowingly while reapplying her lipstick as you blink up at her, surprised by her forwardness.

Mel knows her shoulder into your own, "or you can hide in the bathroom and I grab the rest of the girls and we continue in here... but Jayce might just combust. He was flinching at even the slightest contact by others." You nod and begin wiping off your make up knowing that you wouldn't have time to later. "What did you do to work him up so much?"

"Just gave a few pictures," you explain, drying off your face, casting her a smile as she laughs harder, "never knew you to be a little menace," she jokes, the bathroom door opens as you both look to see Evren enter, covering his eyes and shouting, "ladies I am sorry but if the bride is in here? Jayce just threatened me and I'm really scared this time!"

You laugh, "just me and Mel, Ev. You're good." Evren sighs, blinking to adjust to the light before whistling when seeing you in your new dress. "Looking hot, you seriously expect to walk back into the dining hall?" You shrug, "wanna bring the drinks in here?" Evren smiles at you before shaking his head, "I don't have a death wish."

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─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: *clears throat and fixes glasses while checking notes* you and Jayce proceed to quote, "rail each other for the following two weeks..." huh... welp... *slaps knees and stands* see you all soon!

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420