#it’s midnight and i came to a peak realization i need you all to see my vision

[x-choutenchan-x]

MORGANA AND GRIM MORGANA AND GRIM MORGANA AND GRIM WE NEED THE GRIMOBILE IN TWST LIKE THE MONA CAR RIGHT NOW

think about it: they both (somewhat) believe they are human and are trying to beat the cat allegations

they both have magical powers to beat up black inky things and believe they are the most powerful, most superior being (look at that superiority complex go)

they’re both my ugly, annoying sons

we need grim and morgana to be in the same room fr

[ryiju-muunie]

Naughty Naughty!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!sub!reader/dom!Yuki Tskumo/sub!Choso Kamo Warnings: mainly Yuki/reader Choso is just there, face riding, threesome, over-the-clothes grinding, fondling, tongue kissing, making out, nipple play, breast fondling, dom/sub, squirting, mommy kink [Yuki is called mommy], pet names [puppy, pup, baby], Tribbing/scissoring, come shot [chest], overstimulation, dumbification Word count:2339 DESC: You didn't realize your roommates were like that until you caught them having sex and they asked you to join

Ok i need to write more yuki GYATTT DAMN

It was late Saturday night when you came home from work. You lazily kicked off your shoes and noted that your roommate, Yuki’s boyfriend was home. Judging from his pair of shoes lying neatly against the wall. He was always nice to you, politely asking how your day was before retreating to his girlfriend's room in the morning or when he’d leave. They were always good about keeping their relationship private, which you adored. It was 50/50. He’d stay over for a day then she’d go to his apartment. You loved the fact they were so aware and able to act maturely. 

But you weren’t stupid. You saw how Yuki would stare at you, or how Choso would bite his lip when you wore those low-cut tops. You were endowed and blessed with breasts. Breasts that you knew they wanted to touch. Choso and Yuki had a healthy sex life, and you knew they loved each other. Yet, you also knew they were looking for a third. If they asked, of course, you’d say yes. It felt weird to propose it yourself, but you wished they would. Both of them… they were hot. Yuki wore those tight-fitted tops that showed off her toned arms and stomach, whereas Choso always lounged around in those sweatpants which didn’t hide a thing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t peak either.

This night though, you weren’t thinking about sex with the two of them. You were thinking about whether they had ordered dinner yet or not. It was broaching midnight and you knew they’d still be up, from the commotion you heard coming from Yuki’s shut door. The TV, you mused, being oh-so oblivious to what they were doing. You strode down the hall and opened the door. You and Yuki were both girls, you’d seen her naked-ish before, so you two didn’t care about knocking. Even when her boyfriend was over. But you didn’t expect to see that scene splayed in front of you. 

Choso was lying back against the bed vertically, legs hanging off of the edge. His shirt was off but his sweatpants weren’t, as it was evident from the way he fondled himself over them, a wet spot appearing in the center of his pants. Yuki was sprawled out on top of him, seated perfectly on his face. Her back was arched as she ground against his nose, running her hands up the sides of her body. It was like a scene from a porno, as she gasped and let her eyes flutter close. Her back was to you, so you watched silently as her ass bounced against his face, with one of her boyfriend's hands squeezing her hip. The other was touching his clothed erection. You didn’t mean to walk in on this scene at all, but it was hard to pry your eyes away from it. You couldn’t deny the fact it made your pussy ache just a bit, dropping traces of wetness into your underwear. 

You went to close the door and pretend you hadn’t just walked in on them when Yuki turned her head around and laughed, breathily, “Aw… we have a guest puppy.” As she spoke, she didn’t stop grinding against her boyfriend's face, rubbing her folds onto his open mouth. She bit her lip and then pressed them together, “Well… what are you waiting for?” You had an in. It was the invitation you had been waiting for, dangling in front of your eyes. Of course, you were going to take it. The door closed behind you and off came your shirt. 

Yuki grinned and moved herself off of Choso, who protested with a whine, “Don’t worry baby,” she cooed, her voice like silk. She sat back on his face but the opposite way, just so she could face you. You weren’t sure if you should have taken off Choso’s pants and started riding him, or if you were supposed to grind on his erection. Honestly, you just wanted to grind on it. You weren’t sure why, but you just needed to. Penetration is fun, right? But something about the teasing touch of cloth against cloth, rubbing to satiate a burning desire, was hot.

Choso moaned as you sat your perfect pussy onto his erection and rolled your hips. It was just slight friction, but enough to make your warm walls clench around nothing. Yuki reached out and took hold of one of your breasts, squeezing the skin to see how you’d react. She wanted to see what you liked without necessarily asking you, but instead trudging through the open waters. Her soft hands made a home on your nipples, rubbing the perked bud before rolling it around between two fingers. You gasped and rocked your hips once, causing Choso to whine loudly. Oh, you tease, you could hear from that whine. He didn’t say it, but his body language told you that enough. His hand that was on Yuki’s hip was trailing to you, squeezing your side. He liked it.

“Mm.. Yuki,” you breathed out, leaning your head back and letting her work her magic. 

She giggled before letting out a soft moan as Choso’s tongue hit her perfect spot. Her hands squeezed and you heard her moans get louder. Oh, he was fucking her just right, you had to watch. Her eyes were crossing and her hands left your breasts to steady herself on her boyfriend's chest. She slammed her hips down onto his face, tongue sticking out and breasts bouncing. Her hips snapped quickly, then rolled slowly, any way to get her high from his face. You bit your lip and started to grind, touching along your side as you watched. She was hot, she was sexy, she was everything. And she knew it too. She knew what her faces were doing to you and she knew what her moans did too. You wanted to feel her warm pussy against yours. You wanted her to rub herself against you, as she did to her boyfriend's face. 

“Mm.. f-f..f.. Fuck.. puppy.. S’.. such a..mm ha.. Such a g-good.. Pup..” She breathed through groans and mewls, getting closer and closer to cumming all over his open mouth. Choso wasn’t being quiet either. With each grind of your clothed pussy against his straining erection you could feel him tremble. He was close to cumming and it was making you throb. Two beautiful beings in front of you, completely unraveling for you.

When Yuki came, it was perfect. Her voice reached another octave, her back arched inwards, and her hair covered her face. Sweat beaded against her forehead and caught on blonde hairs, smearing down her face. You could hear her pussy squelch against her boyfriends mouth, with her juices releasing. She was quiet for a moment, then she groaned loudly. Her eyes squeezed shut and her head fell back. She was gorgeous as she came on him, and it made you desperately want to cum. 

“F-fuck,” you moaned, rolling your hips tighter. Choso’s hands were on your hips rubbing you back and forth, lifting you up and slamming you down to get his high. Yuki let out loud breaths and laughs, moving strands of hair out of her face to watch you. She slid off of her boyfriend and knelt beside him, taking your face in her hands and pulling you into a sloppy kiss. Salvia trailed from her mouth into yours and you couldn’t stifle the whimper from your lips. Her’s were plush and soft, lightly tasting like mint. Her tongue worked beautifully, snaking into your mouth and pulling you in. You wrapped your hands around her shoulders and tried to keep up. Anything to keep up. But it was hard when she was dominating your mouth. 

“M-mommy,” Choso cried, “Mm.. I wanna.. P-puppy.. Mm wants to hah..” he threw his head back against the bed as his hands made your wetness rub against his length harder, “wanna cum.. S-so bad..” He sounded so pathetic, all for your pussy. The pussy that was getting so sensitive. You felt a warmth spread over your clit, down your slit, and into your walls. You knew what was coming and it was hard to avoid as he ground you deeper into him. 

“Aww puppy,” Yuki pulled away and pressed a kiss on your jaw, feverishly peppering down to your neck, “make our baby cum and you can…” she murmured, with a seductive air to her voice. It was just enough, that with the stimulation, it made you cum. But it wasn’t just cumming, you felt yourself release in a way you hadn’t before. You threw your head back and moaned, grinding your hips as your pussy squirted out every last drop of your juices onto Choso’s boner. It was sticky and hot, your underwear and pants sticking to your pussy as you rode your high. That was enough to make him cum, you felt him twitch and then release as you did. He arched his back up against the mattress and flicked his hips sensitively, ropes of cum coating his underwear. 

“Yuki…” You whined as Choso continued to rub your sensitive spots against each other, “..wanna feel you so bad,” your lips pulled into a pout and she smiled sweetly. 

She ran one of her hands over your cheek and then wrapped it down your back, pulling you off of her boyfriend's clothed cock. She laid back against the bed and spread her legs, showing off her pretty pussy. Her fingers dipped into her slicked lips, spreading them apart just for you. You gasped and crawled off, seeing nothing but how beautiful she was. You wanted to feel her clit against you so bad. You wanted to feel her warm wetness seep into yours and create a high you had never experienced before. You sat yourself on her, facing toward her face. Your cunt pressed against her perpendicularly and you smushed them together. Her juices were so warm, mixing with yours, along with the plushness of her pussy. You gasped as they made contact and you moaned when she started to grind into you. You expected to do all the work on top, but it was a group effort with her.

“Yeah, pup.. Touch yourself, baby,” Yuki smiled hazily, looking past you. You turned your head to see Choso sitting up and running his hand up and down his cock, tongue lapping at the air as he stared at you two hungrily. You whimpered and thrust your hips into hers, catching Yuki by surprise. She let out a cry and rested her head back. You turned your attention to her, one hand on her lifted leg to raise it more. She was flexible, you knew she could go lower. You wanted to hit that perfect spot Choso did. You wanted to make her eyes cross and her tongue stick out, with saliva trailing from her bottom lip onto her chin. You wanted her to get so overcome with pleasure she couldn’t help but squirt onto your battered pussy too. 

She was getting close, grabbing her smaller breasts and squeezing them together, “You like that?” She moaned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as she pushed herself up, “Y..you like mm- fu..fuck when I.. mm sh-shit!” Yuki inhaled sharply and her eyes were starting to unfocus. She couldn’t help the expressions she was making from the stimulation your clit gave hers. You rubbed circles on her pussy with yours, plapping back into her wetness with a loud squelching sound. Her mouth hung open and a smile pulled at the corners of her lips, as her eyes turned in. She was so close. You were hitting her pretty spot. The spot that made her lose control and made her stupid.

“Choso,” you grunted out, “Cum .. mm.. Cum on her face..” You looked back at him, as he touched himself with bliss. He bit his lip and nodded, scooting up to kneel beside you two. Spit dripped from her tongue as it hung out, gasping for some kind of air and release as you fucked into her. She didn’t register what you said, but to her, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Yuki had always been one to brag about Choso’s cumshots. 

“Mm.. sh-shit mm-fuck.. Sh..shit,” Yuki began to babble, grinding her hips back into yours. You were close, as was she. But she was so sensitive, aching to squirt all inside you. That’s all you wanted. To feel her wetness fill your senses and take hold of you in an explosive orgasm.

It took Choso a few more seconds and you heard him whimper, before cum splattered from his swollen tip onto his girlfriend's perked breasts. It was so hot, as he cried out and came on her pretty skin, She gasped and came at the sensation. It wasn’t just small, you felt a sudden wetness flooded your own pussy, sending you over the edge. You moaned, harmonizing with Yuki as she squirted on your cunt. She gripped onto the sides of the bed, eyes crossed and mouth hung open into an O-shape. You felt pleasure wash over your cunt before it filled your senses. It was warm and it was sexy, making you lean forward to reach spots you hadn’t felt before. 

You rubbed your hips side to side, making Yuki groan in pleasure. A few more grinds and you could see she was completely dumbified. Somehow, you had kept your head throughout each mind-shattering orgasm. You slid off of her cunt and sat down beside her. A few panting breaths escaped your mouth as you looked down at her. She was a complete mess, body shaking and hands gripping the sheets. Choso yawned and laid down beside her, resting his head against her shoulder. You didn’t want to intrude, but being on top was tiring, so you found yourself laying down beside her too. 

“Goodnight baby,” you heard Yuki smile, looking down at you sweetly. 

“Goodnight, Yuki.”

[b4tboys]

➣ not-so-secret late night rendezvous

pairing: malleus draconia x gn!mc

word count: 3K

summary: while the vdc group stays over at ramshackle, they notice you have a frequent visitor

notes from lee: i’m rusty with long pieces so i hope this is okay ish? takes place during book 5 when the vdc group is staying at the ramshackle dorm but i haven’t read book 5 since it released so it’s not entirely canon compliant… also way more ace-centric than i realized oops i love adeuce

You had abandoned the hope of falling asleep easily once Crowely oh-so graciously allowed the newly formed VDC group to take up temporary residence in Ramshackle. When either or both Ace and Deuce stayed over you could deal with their moderate snores, however, snoring amplified by the seven extra people staying in your dorm was disrupting to say the least.

Despite all the boys being the next room over, the snoring seeps through the rotting wood floors and poorly constructed walls.

In hopes of trying to tire yourself out, you decide on a midnight stroll. Something that has been a recurring event even before your visitors. And maybe you have an inkling of hope that there will be another visitor when you get outside.

You feel the need to be quiet and sneak out, hopeful to not incur the wrath of Vil despite you being the dorm leader of Ramshackle. The window in your room has provided many nights of escapes, but it still takes an effort to push it open enough for you to get out. It only takes a few steps across the patchy roof before reaching the fire ladder. When your feet hit the ground you can already see the green fireflies that swarm the area and it instantly puts a smile on your face.

If the others within the dorm were not up earlier from the scolding Vil had given them, they were more than awake at the footsteps on the roof. Of course, it could have been passed off as the ghosts, but the creak of the rusty ladder gives you away to those inside the house. A quick check into your bedroom proves that it’s you out of the dorm and not one of the VDC members. Vil is largely unconcerned, you are just a manager after all not a performing member, that is until Trappola calls out from the bottom floor.

“Oi! What’s Malleus Draconia doing outside?” Now this peaks Vil and the others upstairs’ interest. Already pressed to the glass window in the seating room are Ace and Deuce, the others join shortly.

“What is this fuss about Draconia being outside?” VIl questions and the redhead shivers at the tone of voice he uses. Instead of answering anything, Ace points outside to where you stand animatedly talking to the prince of Briar Valley. Everyone just now coming to witness the scene outside the window reacts similarly, shock. All inside the house knew of Draconia’s reputation, but there you were chatting away with him like an old friend.

Despite the seemingly friendly conversation between you and the fae, the way Malleus looked fondly down at you did not escape the watchful eyes of the Rook, “Quelle beauté! The love between the Roi des Dragons and the Trickster is blooming right before our eyes!”

The three first-years mashed into the glass pane let out a simultaneous groan. “How come the Prefect didn’t tell us they got into a relationship!” “Bleh who even wants to be in a relationship?” And similar remarks left the boys’ mouth, but soon quieted when they watched as you started back towards the dorm. Their blabbing had cost all of the bystanders to lose track of Malleus who had seemingly left.

“Back to the room. Not a word of this to the Prefect. It is up to them to tell us about their relationship, not your incessant meddling.” Vil sternly ordered and the boys trudged up the creaking stairs before you came back.

Despite what Vil may have told Ace and Deuce about not meddling, you were their friend! If anyone would be allowed to meddle it would be your best friends, no? At least that’s what Ace had convinced himself of and later Deuce despite his reluctance.

They have a momentary break in the grueling practice and that’s when Ace decides to pry. You sit near the sweaty boys and offer up bottles of water, but it feels mostly like moral support. “So Prefect, you’ve been here for quite a while now, so’s there someone you're crushing on?” Ace asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“Is this some roundabout way for me to ask you if there’s someone you like?” You laugh at the red-head when he turns as red as his hair in embarrassment. “I take that as a yes?”

“No!” He waves his hands and you laugh at him again. “What’s wrong with your best friends wanting to know something like that?” Ace nudged Deuce, making him the accomplice to this encounter.

Before Deuce can protest, the two of them are yanked up by their collars. “If the two of you have energy to move your mouths, I’m sure you have the energy to continue practice.”

You laugh at Ace once again and shout a wish of good luck at him and the innocent Deuce.

After the catastrophic failure of the afternoon, Ace decides to take a different route: asking Grim. Once again he makes an assumption that if anyone would know about your relationship it would be your friend (though Ace is unsure if Grim counts as a friend or a pet).

The cat-like creature seems to be asleep at the moment, but Ace’s curiosity is strong enough to be the one killed by the cat. He pokes Grim and he yawns. “Whatcha want that you needed ta wake the Great Grim up?”

“You know the Prefect better than anyone right?” Ace asked tentatively.

Grim rolls over, trying to get comfortable once again before answering, “Just ask my henchman yourself, there’s no need to bother me.”

Ace rolls his eyes but presses on, “Well if it’s your henchman you should know if something in their personal life would affect them serving you, yeah?”

Grim rolls over to face Ace once again, “What could they be doin except being my henchman?”

“Oh well, I heard something about them dating Malleus Draconia, but if it hasn’t been affecting anything then it’s probably not worth talking about.” Ace shrugs, but he knows that Grim is interested in helping him now. At least he thought so, but Grim fails to respond and Ace is met with soft snores.

Ace groans, yet another plan of his: failed.

You crawl into bed, hopeful that maybe tonight you can rest. Grim follows suit and snuggles up next to you. He talks to you about the homework and other classes from the day and it’s not unusual. After a period of silence, “You won’t stop being my henchmen, right?”

You ruffle the fur on Grims head and laugh softly, “What gave you that idea? We’re two halves of a whole, literally.”

Grim exclaims and moves away from the hand that pets him, “I knew you would never leave such a great mage such as myself! Ace told me about some dragon and I didn’t want you to think that you were able to have a new master.” He returns to your side and curls up next to you to fall asleep and says nothing, leaving you confused but you brush it off.

Even though Vil had scolded Ace about staying up not long ago, he still dragged himself and Deuce down to the window where they watched you and Malleus meet. It’s been maybe a week since they last saw your rendezvous with the fae, but Ace is determined to make sure it was really.

Deuce yawns from behind him, “Maybe they aren’t in a relationship? It’s ok for them to just be friends…” Deuce’s head clanks against the window as he tries to go back to sleep.

“But the Prefect always wakes up happier when they’ve seen Draconia the night before! And don’t you remember the first night when Rook was here and he said somethin’ about the two being in love?!”

“It’s not that big of a deal is it? Just let the prefect tell us if or when they want. You’re so obsessed over this like you’re in love with the Prefect or something.” The sleepy boy mutters, but Ace picks up on it.

He laughs haughtily, “Like I would be in love with a pathetic person with no magic.” His tone quickly softens as he voices his real concerns, “I just worry about them ya know? Draconia is a scary dude and I wouldn’t want the Prefect to get hurt. Not because I care about them or anything, but because then I wouldn’t have a place to stay when Riddle kicks me out.”

Ace looks out the window for any signs of you but the field in front of the house is empty. He sighs and drags Deuce up the stairs with him.

Green fireflies fill your gaze and your hairs stand on edge at the powerful magic in the air. Despite the odd feeling you can’t help but smile when Tsunotaro appears.

With the VDC competition just around the corner, Vil had given you tickets but as you would be on the side stage you had no use for them. And the only person, well fae, you could think to give them to was Tsunotaro.

“Child of Man, it is always a delight to see you.” He cups your cheek gently.

Despite feeling a little flustered, you continue with what you wanted to say and fish the tickets out of your pocket, unintentionally breaking his hand off. “Vil gave me tickets for the VDC but I don’t have any use for them so I thought I would give them to you! I won’t be the one on stage but I’d still really appreciate it if you came to watch what I helped put together.” You flash a lopsided grin at the fae and hold out the ticket to him.

His eyes widened in shock. “You wish to invite me to this?” You nod earnestly and he laughs. “Perhaps it is because you are not of this world, but you are certainly naive, little one. Very well, but I will need to find an adequate way to pay you back.”

“Oh! That’s not necessary!” You’re about to ramble but Tsunotaro interrupts you with a kiss on the forehead.

“I will have to teach you the rules of the fae soon, Child of Man. But for now, let us go observe the gargoyle on the south grounds together.” He tucks the ticket into his pocket carefully and holds his hand out to you. You take it and he intertwines your fingers easily.

The night before the VDC it seems no one is able to sleep. Crowded around the window are all seven members of the squad, watching as you converse, yet again, with Malleus.

Watching the two of you has become somewhat of a pastime in the time the group has spent in Ramshackle.

But all of them are growing increasingly frustrated at the way both of you seem to skirt around your feelings. Of course, they have no way of knowing what is actually going on as they can’t hear you, but your body language is enough. Plus all the times you’ve woken up and come into practice with a silly lovesick smile is pretty telling.

“He’s standin’ so close to them! Can he just bend over and kiss ‘em?” “It’s absolutely nauseating seeing Draconia like this, doe-eyed for our Manager.” “Do you think the Prefect invited him to the competition tomorrow?”

The boys quiet at the mention of the competition. The whole reason for coming down to peek into your rendezvous with Malleus was to distract themselves from the impending nerves.

Vil is the one to break the anxiety ridden air and ushers all of them up to the room and in good timing too. The door creaks as you come back inside the dorm. Everyone in the dorm is plagued with emotions, good or bad, that make it seemingly impossible to fall asleep.

The day of the VDC comes and everything goes awry at Vil’s overblot. Though it is not your first overblot, being magic-less during it really takes a toll on you. You hate being useless during these times, there’s nothing you can do besides offer moral support, de-escalating the situation after, and a shoulder to cry on.

The adrenaline fades away and the boys collapse on the broken stage. Their heaving breaths are audible and their body language tells you of their exhaustion. You’re not exactly sure what to do, but the presence of powerful yet familiar magic washes over you.

You whip your head around to see the horned fae and you want to run up to him, but you’re just as tired as everyone else plus a little lightheaded from the poisonous air. Instead you simply call out to him, “Tsunotaro! What’re you doing here so early?”

It’s as if everyone sitting in the rubble has regained energy as they all repeat your pet name for the fae, but much louder. Though it’s not a shock that you know him, they’ve all witnessed your late night trysts, but for you to call him ‘Tsunotaro’ instead of something more respectable is… surprising.

Grim’s eyes light up with recognition at the nickname. “This is the ‘Tsunotaro’ ya were fawnin’ over? The nickname makes sense since he does have those horns growin’ out of his head but…” Grim trails off and you’re thankful he shut up. You didn’t need Tsunotaro to hear about your crush on him.

Thankfully he’s grabbed by Deuce so you don’t have to shut the cat up yourself. “Grim, you need to respect your elders,” Deuce scolds through a forced smile.

“It seems I’ve arrived a bit early. Though I’m unaware of how you all expect to perform on a ruined stage.” His tone is a bit teasing and it’s groundbreaking for all that have regarded Malleus as scary. And for those that have interacted with him, it’s weird to hear him talk so tenderly.

“Oh, well you see… there was kind of an overblot.” You smile at him, as if the overblot was not a traumatic experience you and the others barely survived.

Malleus’s eyes widen, “I did not sense an abnormality of magic, nor did anyone else for that matter. I’m pleased to see that you are all okay though.”

He looks around the stadium to assess the damage. “I suppose this counts as my payback for your invite, little one.” He pats your head gently and smiles down at you. The overwhelming sense of power washes over you and sparks seem to fly out of Malleus’s hand. In an instant the previously damaged stage is restored.

“Woah,” you breathe out softly. You look at him with stars in your eyes. You’re still unaccustomed to such flashy magic or really magic at all. The others behind you, while admiring Draconia’s handiwork, are completely astonished, and maybe a little frightened, by the enormous gap in skill.

“Please, such magic is child’s play for a mage of my caliber.” He responds to your praise. Coming from anyone else it would sound arrogant, but as one of the top mages in all of Twisted Wonderland, it was deserved. “I’ll return when the competition draws closer. I expect to be enthralled by your performance, after all it is due to the effort of Schoenheit you have gotten this far.”

The fae walks over to you where you sit and crouches down. He reaches his hand out towards your face but stops just short, hovering and hesitating. Malleus resigns and ends up dropping his hand back to his side all together. You don’t voice your disappointment, but the others do.

There’s a collective groan that’s quick to catch the attention of both you and Malleus. Ace is a myriad of stupid, hence he is the one to speak up out of all the members, “Great Sevens! Are ya shy? The Prefect clearly wants you to kiss them and everyone can tell you want that too so just do it! We watch the two of you meet up practically every night and every single night you chicken out.” Ace sighs, but quickly realizes. “Uh, I mean this in the most respectful way, Mr. Draconia, sir, highness?”

You’re embarrassed, was it really so easy to read your disappointment? But more importantly, “What do you mean by ‘we’? Are you telling me everyone that’s stayed in the dorm has watched me and Tsunotaro hangout?”

You look at them expectantly and see them nod. Jamil scoffs though, “You call that a hangout? It’s without a doubt a date.”

“I didn’t want to assume…” you trail off. You turn your head to look at anywhere but Malleus, embarrassed and a little flustered. It seems like the universe is intent on letting the prince know exactly how you feel.

The boy in question places a hand on your knee to turn your attention to him. “Were you not aware that I am courting you? I thought I made it fairly obvious.” He seems confused but his words have that teasing lilt that seems to become apparent when talking to you.

“Courting is like dating right?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. You hear another collective groan, but it seems Malleus is as clueless as you are.

“Is that what they call it these days?” The fae mirrors your expression. Perhaps this is why the two of you seem to be perfect for each other.

“Please talk about your relationship status later. We need the Prefect for rehearsals.” Vil tells his classmate impatiently. Though he is quite pleased with the events that have unfolded, nights spent at the window watching you two was not a waste after all.

Malleus kisses you swiftly, having made up his mind due to the words from the others. It takes all you have not to grab him by the lapels and keep his lips glued to your own. But having your first kiss with Malleus in front of your friends is enough to remind you to practice self-restraint.

He smiles at you softly, “I will see you later, darling.” He swipes at his uniform, ridding it of any debris and takes his leave after giving you a quick peck. You stare after Malleus longingly before Vil claps his hands.

“As lovely as that was, we have a championship to win.” 

[egirling]

one direction.

i think i’m still grieving what happened; ever since liam has passed there’s not been a single day where i haven’t thought about the 5 boys that overtook my life when i was 12. i was a diehard fan, still am. if it wasn’t for them; i wouldn’t of met my closest friend. they had such an impact on my life and i genuinely cannot process what happened.

i never thought that i would be this sad at a member passing; but i also think that i never ever thought to fully understand that it’ll happen one day. i handle death well but for some reason this death has struck me.

as a 24 year old, i feel for the 12 year old girl who started liking them. who had her walls covered in posters, wrote fanfiction, ran a 1D fan page on facebook and twitter, the one who cried when zayn left and when they all unfortunately split away from the band. i remember the little girl who would get salty when people typed ‘1d’ instead of of ‘1D’, the girl who stayed up late to watch songs be released, the girl who truly thought these 5 guys were the best thing to happen to her.

i remember listening to up all night and getting sad when stole my heart came on; because i knew the album was ending. but luckily i was fortune enough to own the physical album so i could just rewind it. i did that for years since i never owned another album on cd.

i also feel for that little girl; i remember being sad when i saw people attending 1D concerts knowing i never got the opportunity to as a child. as an adult; sure but… a reunion is unspoken for currently. i get sad when i realize that i’ll never see 5/5 live, but i saw a tiktok comment saying that i at least experienced the fandom at its prime and that i lived during it, and that’s enough for me to feel a connection to them. it makes me feel better.

i know that death is natural and happens to everyone, but i was not expecting to handle the loss of someone i worshiped as a child. i know he’s just a celebrity, would never know i existed and all of that but genuinely this has struck me in a way i never expected. it’s like part of my childhood has been torn away from me; like my younger self is heartbroken by liam and what happened. (maybe this has to do with the trauma ive dealt with in my life? but that’s something i gotta discuss with my psychiatrist.)

1D and all the members will always have a spot in my heart and soul for the chapter of my life that they were in, i’m genuinely so grateful for them in multiple ways. i remember when little things came out and that was in my peak of my self harming, and hearing them sing about things i hated about myself struck me when i was younger. obviously, when i was a child it felt more personal compared to being an adult, but it still helped. i don’t think i self harmed for awhile after that song.

i love the fact that i got to experience them as a band, and the fact that im living in a life with their solo careers as well. i’m ever so proud of them and how they’ve grown.

as for liam, i do miss him as weird as it might be. i never knew him, never would but he was … almost a positive influence on me and my younger self. i didn’t have much direction growing up, but i knew listening to their songs or watching videos of them that i would feel content. an escape maybe.

i don’t know. i can’t sleep and it’s almost midnight and i needed to get this off my chest. i think i just needed to vent and say my peace and words to accept what’s happened.

this blog started as a 1D blog 💀

i know there’s millions of fans who are deeply affected by this as well, and if anyone even reads this i just want you to know your feelings and thoughts are completely valid, grief affects everyone differently. he was a huge part of life for MANY people out there. take care of yourself. listen to some songs and cry; everything will be okay.

(i don’t think i can do this 4 more times)

there’s a day i’ll be older than him and that’s weird… i don’t like that thought. it was never supposed to be that.

i would like to believe that liam is content wherever he is right now.

all the love, sarah / egirling

[selarina]

She’s giving me The Maybes

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Suna isn't entirely sure why he’s driving at the peak of midnight to your place – a place that is almost half an hour away – to kill a fucking cockroach.

Content Warnings: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI), angst, realisation of feelings, suna’s perspective for the most part, cockroaches, unedited work

Word Count: 5.7k words

Author’s Notes: The final part. Beware of graphic description of a cockroach.

Not going to lie I lost motivation to finish this series up but I’m glad I did. This is part 4 of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

You

12:03 am: Suna

Oh? He peers down at his phone, his palm covering the entirety of his phone in an inconspicuous manner. His brows pinch to the middle, as his eyes zero in on his phone. His hand comes to soothe his forehead like it hurt for him to frown. You haven’t spoken to him in a month.

You

12:03 am: come online 12:03 am: emergency

He reaches for his jacket before bending to put his shoes on, the laces sit undone on the foyer as he types.

Rintaro

12:03 am: What happened? 12:03 am: Where are you? I can come rn

He hears a couple of pings as he grabs his car keys and walks into his car. He attaches the car belt from over his shoulder. Then, he checks his phone.

You

12:03 am: *1 Image*

Suna hits download on the image and it slowly loads, a consequence of not upgrading his WiFi plan.

12:03 am: cockroach in my bathroom 12:04 am: and I really need to take a shower

He blinks.

He turns his phone off and his hands come to rest on the steering wheel in front of him, and he blankly stares at nothing in particular.

A beat later — What a fucking idiot, he thinks.

He’s shaking his head and yet, he’s driving in your direction anyway. He’s not entirely sure why he’s driving at the peak of midnight to your place – a place that is almost half an hour away – to kill a fucking cockroach.

He's almost there, and he thinks about how much of a humbling experience it is to drive at night – he seems to always feel rather tiny and insignificant as he sweeps through the empty night streets. There is nothing but the trees and the moon, both of whom only seem to tower over him. But today, he can't bring himself to focus on the trees, the road, or even the gleaming full moon and it seems to be the last part that bothers him the most if he had to emphasize.

He knocks on your door when he gets there. Two quick knocks, and you’re opening the door wide open like you were waiting right behind the door. Like you were waiting for him.

“Hi,” you say with a flushed face. He can see a tinge of sweat over your neck. Your hair’s tied up rather sloppily, and you’re holding a mop. At this moment, he could swear he would give anything to witness what you may have attempted to do with that mop and the cockroach.

But, more worryingly — the persisting, secondary thought that he seems to be having is that if he's being truly honest — he thinks you look properly beautiful. He isn’t sure if it is because he hasn’t seen you in a while, but he finds it odd all the same.

"Hi," he says, and then rubs his neck when you don't say anything in return.

You're just staring at him, rather wide-eyed and he’s sure you're going to ask him if he came all the way here for a cockroach. To which he would most likely respond, "Of course I did." Instead, he decides to ask, "Where is it?"

“Bathroom,” you say, and throw the mop towards him.

He’s startled for a second but he catches it and stares back at you, eyes brows raised questioningly.

“Use that,” you say. “To protect yourself.”

You say that so seriously that it genuinely kills him not to make fun of you. But things have changed, and he realizes it. He also realizes that he can't pretend nothing has changed because he knows you'd probably go along with it, which would probably kill him even more.

“On it, ma’am.” He hands the mop back to you, “I’ll probably just use my hand though, thank you.”

Your face crunches in disgust, and his lips twitch into a small smile before he heads over to the bathroom.

And it’s quick and simple really. One minute, it’s sitting in the middle of your bathtub, and the next minute Suna’s holding it up over your toilet with its antenna.

He decides to amp up the dramatics before he flushes it down though, holding it up and swinging it just a bit, which results in you scolding him and landing soft pats on his shoulders. He eventually flushes it down the toilet because his heart wasn’t in for playing around tonight, not when you looked more annoyed than amused.

He’s been wanting to see you for weeks, but now that he’s here all he wants to do is leave.

He washes his hands with hand soap, twice because you insisted. His hands smell medicinal and woody. You've changed your handwash since he was here last, and he misses the pomegranate one you used. He grew rather fond of it, maybe he’ll look for it in the store.

You’re sitting on your couch, cleaning up a bunch of papers scattered around the table. He presumes it’s from work.

“I’ll get going then,” he says, which makes you stop and turn around.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” You ask, and you look hopeful too. It’s not something you tend to wear lightly on your face.

“Not today,” but he will soon he wants to say. He’ll figure this out but not today. “I have practice.”

“Of course,” he catches the tinge of bitterness to your words but he ignores it immediately because he needs to leave so he nods, and gives you a soft goodbye. He takes one look at your face and swallows any desire that tells him to stay.

As he walks out, the sky is as clear as it can be, and the moon is stunning, he thinks. He walks over to his car, thinking he might be in love with you.

—

You sit there across from him on his clothes-infused drab, olive couch. You haven’t bothered taking your clothes back, and now they take residence on his couch and in his closet. He’s sure the two of you have managed to almost equally exchange your clothes – after all, he does the same. It’s akin to leaving little trinkets in his head. And, he likes your clothes – they’re warm and soft on cold days and somehow also cold and comforting on a hot day.

He realizes he has been staring for a while now. He doesn’t shy away from it, he continues to stare.

You look up but not before closing the book you’re reading. He scarcely hears you mutter a page number to yourself – 140? Just 40? He can’t tell.

"Do you have anything to eat?" You ask him as you finally seem to pay full attention to him.

“Not much. I have to order some groceries soon,” he says since he has mostly been eating at your place, he has gotten into a habit of leaving any food he gets at your place. But lately, the two of you have been staying at his.

It started because you wanted to stay at his since it was closer to your conference, which seemed to be too early in the morning. But somehow, you’ve been here even though that was two weeks ago. He knows you’ll go back once the holidays are over, but he likes this for now.

He likes staying at your place more though if he had to have a preference.

“There’s some fruit,” he adds after quite a bit. You look up from your book again – he didn’t notice you opening your book again.

“Okay,” you say, as you beeline to the kitchen.

A moment later, you return with an apple and a knife. You sit back, wiggling until you’re sitting comfortably. You open your creased book and place it on your lap as you go back to reading.

It’s rare for the sun to show itself during this time of the year but a distant, tapering ray of sun hits your face, and he isn’t blind to it but you look beautiful like this. You cut right into the middle of the apple from one side but you don’t completely cut the apple in half, you stop right in the middle before you repeat the same only a few centimeters apart this time. You cut out an imperfect semi-circle of an apple piece, and then you plop it right into your mouth.

He walks over to you and plops himself right next to you. You barely acknowledge him, too immersed in the book you’re reading before he asks “Can I have some?”

You don’t respond, apart from a soft barely audible hum. You simply continue cutting into the apple again, before you finally look up at him.

He thinks he should hold his hand out so you can place the piece in his palm but he hates eating fruits for this very reason. He doesn’t like getting his hands sticky, it’s a sensory nightmare. He could wash it off, but that’s just an effort on his part, he could just not eat instead. But before he could hold out his hand, you say, “Open up.”

He does.

You lean forward, holding the piece of apple between your thumb and the knife before you put the small piece of apple into his mouth. Your finger brushes barely against the corner of his mouth, but somehow the sensation lingers as he hears the crunches as he chews. The apple tastes sweet, with almost a caramelized taste to it this time.

You feeding him felt like you were carving a mark in his space, but you’re here just reading your book like it’s just another Saturday.

It was supposed to be just another Saturday but it wasn’t — not to him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t remember someone who fed him since after he was 5 years old, or maybe it was because it was the day he started to fall in love with you.

—

Two fingers support the bottom of the kettle, as you tip the kettle over towards your empty cup. Nothing pours out, there is no more tea. You frown as you place it back on the table. Your hands come back up to lift your book, as your eyes flit across the page to find where you've left off, and then you start reading, he presumes because your eyes squint ever so slightly.

He falls back to sleep a few minutes later. The weather was too hospitable to not take a nap, he pulls his blanket closer as he woke. He's no longer surprised at this, you always throw a blanket over him when he falls asleep on the couch. Sometimes, it's too hot for a blanket, he would prefer not to sleep with one but he finds himself still wearing it despite feeling slightly uncomfortable because you took the time to put it on him. It's only slightly uncomfortable after all.

"Hey," your voice comes from behind him. He sits fully upright, as he tries to fix his sleep-doused hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Mm. Better," he responds. The nap did help, his head still throbs a bit but it seems manageable, and only slightly uncomfortable.

"Need some food? Tea?"

"Mm," he tries to make the choice. "I'll have tea. Chamomile. Don't want it too hot though. And, no food. I wouldn't want your burnt food to kill me," he snickers but he's only half-joking.

Given the choice, he would like to be the only one cooking. He likes it – the ritual of following a well-written recipe, but he likes it when you cook your comfort dishes since you're so familiar with them. He likes watching your hands move almost on their own like its muscle memory from a dance you've practiced for years. In a way, you have. And, he trusts that you will not burn the kitchen down while cooking those specific dishes.

"I could always poison your tea if it pleases your grace," you squint as you mockingly bow to him, before you come up to cross your arms to your chest, "Now – say 'please' and I'll consider bringing it to you."

He smiles. "Pretty please, make me some tea. I'll eat you out in return." He grins wider.

You squint, but a smile graces your face, ever so slightly, "Fine."

—

He’s resting against his arm that’s desperately holding onto the ceiling strap of the train. It’s not much of a rest if he’s getting bumped into by the same passenger who for some reason is refusing to hold onto anything. He contemplates pushing him off the next time he bumps into him, but he doesn’t want to start a fight. He wants to go home and sleep until tomorrow afternoon.

He feels a soft thump against his back and looks behind him to push him off but it’s you. He raises his eyebrows in questioning.

“Pregnant,” you mouth. Before he gets to nod in understanding, the same passenger that was bumping into him bumps into you, which leaves you squished against another passenger, whose elbow strikes you, and that leaves you hissing as your hand comes to rub the sore elbow.

“Okay. Okay, Sir.” He calls out to the passenger, who turns around with a shocked look and a sweaty face. “Here, take my place, and feel free to hold onto this completely free strap meant only for you.” The passenger switches with him, missing or ignoring his passive aggressiveness.

“Thank you,” he turns around, rolling his eyes. His eyes soften, “Are you okay?”

You nod. His hands rise to your waist as he feels the train sharply make its stop. A slew of people begin to disembark, and he realizes it's only a matter of time before the next swarm of people piles in.

Suna catches you by your arm, and says, “Come here.”

He maneuvers the two of you into a corner near the door, making it easy to make your exit. Your back is now against the glassy window. Suna places one hand on the door, and his other hand wraps around his strap in front of you to create a comfortable distance between you so you can finally breathe.

That doesn’t last long because as much as he wanted to give you enough space he was pushed closer and closer to you. You seem to notice because you move to him, showing him that you can lean against the soft pads against the windows, therefore creating more space for him to move closer.

“It’s hard to breathe in here but at least our stop’s next,” you say, and he feels every word of it against his neck. He agrees except he’s not sure if it’s because there are too many people inside the train. He takes a deep breath and looks up at you.

You're pretty, he silently admires. Even when you appear sweaty and flushed out from your intense walk to the station. And he hated to admit it but he remembers how terrible he was at taking his gaze off you when you dressed yourself up in your room this morning.

After you had sucked him dry, he was lounging in your bed as you got up to get ready first. His gaze remained fixed on you — the way you put on your bra, the way you adjusted the straps of your dress, the lipstick you meticulously applied — the ritual of it all. It was absorbing, but only because it was you.

He must admit he sees you differently from when you first met him in college. He has always seen that you were pretty because he has eyes, but the way he sees you now is different and it can't quite place it. His hands spontaneously rise to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

And you stare at him, clearly surprised. "Could have poked your eyes out," he says.

"OK," you say, your eyes squinting together, but that's all you say openly before reaching out to push back the poking hair on the other side of your face.

“That was fucking horrible. This is why I don’t go use the trains during the weekends,” you say as the two of you make your way out of the train station.

“I want ice cream,” he says all too suddenly. He didn’t even know he wanted it until he said it.

“We need to have some dinner first,” you say.

“I want ice cream,” he repeats as though he hadn’t heard you. You groan and softly chuckle. “Fine, you big baby. There’s ice cream at home.”

He opens his mouth, before you beat him to it, “Yes, there’s black currant.”

He smiles, as the two of you walk home.

His tongue darts out from between his sticky lips, dragging it against the spoon, before he licks his lips clean. “This is so good, you should get these more often.” He says.

You hum, your tongue dragging across your ice cream spoon. Suna always found chocolate ice cream to be far too rich in taste, to the point where it made him a bit sick every time he ate them.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” you motion to your dress adorned in minimal glitter in the light.

“You said the same thing in college, shush.” He chuckles.

You glare back at him, with your eyebrows furrowed and he senses that you genuinely feel bad, so he adds, “You just hate traveling back home, you should let me drive us back next time.”

“You don’t get to drink then,” you say.

He shrugs because he doesn’t drink much anyway. He’s a professional athlete, and given the choice, he would never drink, it lost its appeal since college, and now he mostly does it for formality.

“You don’t really mind because you get car sex out of it,” you say, grinning.

His mind didn’t necessarily go there but now that you mention it, every single time the two of you dress up and take his car, it ends with the two of you in the backseat. He grins back at you, with a shrug once again.

Suna returns his gaze to the ice cream, smacking his lips as he swallows the mouthful. And then he lifts his head to see you staring at him. You slowly reach out to take his ice cream tub in his hand and place it on the kitchen table before pulling him in for a kiss.

You pull back with eyes infused with sleep. “Let’s go back and sleep,” he says. “ ‘M tired,” he yawns.

You hum, leaving a soft peck on his lips again.

—

It's around 5 in the evening, and it's raining pellets, which is normal for this time of the year. He doesn't like it one bit, he thinks as he sits on the couch. His suit is infused with small water droplets from rushing in from his car.

He always hated this time of the year, but he remembers when his father would make them chicken soup whenever he would feel annoyed with the rain and would mess with the TV cable.

He remembers his mother sipping on hot tea, humming a soft tune as she walked into the kitchen placing a kiss on his father's cheek. Later, she would come with the chicken soup his father prepared and she would offer to feed him the soup but 11-year-old Suna would insist that he was old enough to eat by himself.

He would secretly hope that she would ask again — one last time because he knew he would have said "Yes" if she did, but she never did.

He's not sure if what he remembers is a specific day or a combination of all the days it rained and he ate chicken soup, but it was a memory or memories he cherished.

He thinks back to when you fed him, he goes back to that memory a lot, and it's not surprising to him anymore. The first few times, he stopped himself but now he lets it play out. Now, he even smiles to himself knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he tried.

He thinks back to when he told you about the story of how his mom left on a quiet afternoon. No notes this time, no explanation, only her absence. Just empty cupboards empty of her clothes, empty spaces empty of her soothing voice.

He remembers telling you about the blazing sun and its burden on his then throbbing head. You held onto his hand as it was hailing rhythmically outside. You told him she didn't deserve to come back into his life but if he wanted it, you would support him because of course you would.

He smiled then, knowing no one ever cared enough to get mad on his behalf of him, not even himself. But you did, and it made him happy for a second there.

And now, he's here, not having spoken to you in months, and he knows it's all his doing.

He also knows that this creeping feeling, this scared and humiliating feeling is love. It didn't occur to him through any whimsical epiphany, it simply occurred to him one evening after practice.

He went back to his apartment feeling rather empty, and null. He remembers pouring himself a drink, a scotch maybe? He's not sure, could've been a bourbon. He poured himself a drink but didn't take a single sip of it. He just realized he loved you, not in the way he had already confessed. He loved you in the way lovers did, with yearning hands and heavy eyes.

He gets up now, walking to his car keys, not bothering with an umbrella. He rushes into his car. He doesn't avoid much of the rain, it's raining more heavily than when he got into his house.

He starts the car, but it grrs a bit, and shuts down. He tries again, a couple of times more before he realizes it's a lost cause. Clearly, something's wrong with it but his mind's too occupied to think about it.

He gets out of his car and simply runs.

—

You rush out with an umbrella, your heels clicking against the pavement before they splish and splash against the wet mud.

"What the hell, Suna?" Your voice reaches him before you reach his side, holding the umbrella over his head.

He doesn't say anything, he's only staring at you with eyes a bit teary, but he knows you can't tell, it's raining and he's drenched. He hopes his eyes aren't red, he hopes you can't see the desperation in his eyes.

"Are you done with work?" He asks.

You squint your eyes, clearly agitated by his lack of response to your question. He feels the urge to smooth down your creased eyebrows, he feels the urge to yell out wax poetry of confessions. But he knows this isn't the place, it's your place of work. He already created enough of a scene by showing up this way.

You turn your face neutral, clearly making the best of the situation. "Yeah, I was packing up."

"Okay," he says. He gulps and purses his lips before he says, "Ca—” He wipes his face, the water dripping off his chin. “Can we have dinner?"

You say nothing for a bit, he expects it all — some yelling, some pushing, alternatively, you just turn away and walk away from him. That would hurt the most, he thinks but somehow, he knows it's not like you to do that, not with him. You could leave, you could always leave but he knows you would tell him first.

You sigh, "Okay, I'll see you in 10." You shrug yourself out of your coat. It takes him a bit to realize it's for him, he was thinking about how you agreed, he's not sure what comes next but you agreed.

He wants to refuse the coat, but he's cold so he takes it and lets you wrap it around him properly. You then pull his hand, placing the umbrella in his hand before you rush back into the office, avoiding the rain.

He should have walked you to the entrance but maybe it was good of him to not show up like a sad, drenched puppy for your coworkers to see.

After the longest minutes of his life, you walk out, a black bag in your hand and your phone clutched against your chest.

"Let's go," you say as you get under the umbrella. He holds it out and higher for you, he feels his shoulders get wet and heavy once again, but you're completely under the umbrella so it's fine.

"Where's your car?"

"I didn't get it," he says.

"How did you come here?" Your quirky brows up, a bit guarded with your expression, evidently upset with him.

"I walked," he answers.

You cinch your brows once again and look at him with apprehension.

"From?"

"Home."

Your brows cinch harder, and this time he doesn't think when he brings his fingers to smooth them out.

Your face softens. "You can't just do that," you tell him sternly. He sees the edge sleeve of his coat drip a drop of water on your office shirt. He immediately moves his hand away.

"Sorry," he says. He doesn't know what to say next, he knows he should be doing more.

"Where are we eating?" You ask, taking the lead.

He sighs and feels a sudden whiff of confidence. "It's just around the corner."

—

He sits across you, hands shaking partly from the cold, in a dingy restaurant that has its appeals when set against the pouring rain. You haven't said anything since the two of you arrived, and his eyes have been following you almost in a daze as you order soup for the two of you.

He focuses on the restaurant, hoping to zero in on details, hoping it will calm him –  the décor is almost rustic, and there are brick walls and wooden floors that give this place a shabby effect but it seems charming for the very same reason. To add to that, there is soft lighting everywhere, yellow hues from overhead lights that only mildly light the space, and the candles on the tables lighting up each individual table even more.

He looks up and sees that you are done.

“Care to say something?” You say, and your guards are up, he can tell. Rightfully so, he thinks, but this only makes it harder for him.

“I missed you,” he says, not knowing what else to say. I am in love with you is certainly not something he can start with.

“Suna, you can’t j—”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for treating you the way I have been for the past few days. I just— I've missed you so much.”

You don’t say anything for a bit, and it doesn’t scare him surprisingly. He could sit in this silence if he needed to — you have been for weeks after all.

“Me too,” you say defeatedly. “I don’t understand — I don’t understand.”

You’re lying, and he knows.

“I just want things to go back to the way it was, Suna.” You say that with a certain longing, a longing he had never seen on your face, a longing that made it seem like you may have missed him even more than he missed you.

"I don't. I—” But he does, he does want things to go back to the way it was, but he also does not. It's complicated really, but all he wants, he thinks, is to lie limp in your bed, your hair tickling his chest, your body warming him as the cold night air flits through, and he's talking — about you? About the future? He's not sure, but he's relieved knowing that you're listening and knowing that you'll say something after he's done. And then you'll fall asleep, and he'll draw out his consciousness — just to stare at your face before surrendering to the sleepy haze.

And he’s not sure if it’s the way you looked with the yellow hue of the candle flickering ever so slightly against your face, or if it's the soft muted jazz playing in the background, or if it’s even the old couple in the back who are kissing each other – but he tells you, not for the first time, “I love you.”

Your eyes widen, and then you smile — a warm smile and he knows. He knows.

—

You stumble into your apartment, immediately finding the couch to fall into, the exhaustion seeping into your calf muscles. Suna insisted on commemorating your first date as he called it with an ice cream trip. Sadly, the closest ice cream parlor was quite a bit away from the restaurant. Your hands reach down to languidly stroke them to ease the pain.

A few seconds pass before another body stumbles into your house. The sound of keys being hung, shoes being taken off, and the front door being locked before you see him walking towards you.

He shrugs most of his clothes off almost immediately, knowing about your distaste for wet clothing, but to be fair, his clothes seem to be almost dry so it seems rather unnecessary and rude of him to flaunt his beautiful abs.

He plops himself next to you. His hands reach to push the hair that curtains your face – a new ritual he seems to have started ever since you started sleeping together. He does this mostly after sex, in the gloomy haze of the night, in the heated haze of the afternoon but now, it feels different, it feels careful and methodical, and you can’t help but rewrite the past with your new lens.

"Tired?" He asks, it comes out as a mumble.

You nod, too tired to speak. His eyes flit down to your rubbing hands before your hands are replaced by his own, calloused ones. They press into your muscles, a lot harder than your exhausted hands did. You feel nice, and he can tell by the way you're slightly groaning.

"Let me take you to bed, hm?" He reaches for your hand. You take it, the purse on your lap abandoned on the living room couch.

You fall onto your bed, and he's on top of you, his forearms supporting him to be just inches away from your lips. His lips graze against your own, testily, before they press against yours, a bit gentler than usual.

He keeps kissing you as your hand finds purchase in his hair as you carelessly stroke him. His soft and citrus-scented hair. His hands come to lift your top as the chill air hits your skin. You feel the whoosh of the goosebumps erupting on your exposed thigh.

And just as quickly as you fell onto your bed, you're out of your clothes, sitting completely naked beside an equally naked Suna who's kissing up and down your neck. Littering soft, warm kisses, his hands run up and down your body. Pinching your nipple, squeezing your waist and thighs before he moves away from you to move you in front of him.

You sit a bit oddly with your back facing his front before he comes up to your neck again. He starts littering soft, warm kisses, as his hands come to part your legs. He doesn't do anything else but kiss your neck for a bit and it has you whining before he decides to indulge. His one hand rubbing just below your stomach but not quite, his other hand pulling your neck back onto his shoulder to kiss you.

His hand on your neck reaches further up to your mouth and you instinctively suck on his fingers. You can see him watching you from your peripheral vision, you turn a bit to catch his eyes, and then down to his lips — they're parted a bit with anticipation, or something else? You can't tell, but you let your eyes linger back to his eyes and they're intense and fixed and it sends a chill down your spine in anticipation.

You move your hand to his, finally bringing them down between your legs.

—

“Missed you,” Suna murmurs against your neck. You feel the wet sensation of his tongue sitting cold against your skin. “I hated—" He groans, "Don't ever not fuck me for a month."

“A-And whose fault is that?” You say, more or less rhetorically. You manage to wriggle yourself free from his grip, but his hands seem to trail behind you in tandem. His hands stay connected to the dip in your hip, lightly mapping out the curves, deliberating if he should do more, deliberating if he has convinced you enough to forgive him.

“I’m sorry,” he says as if it pains him, or maybe it’s just the effect of your teeth sinking into him.

You stop, your eyes flitting up to meet him. Your lips turn into a soft smile. "It's okay," you say.

"It's okay," you reassure him, as your fingers are coming to stroke the edges of his jaw.

His brows uncinch, his hands coming up to meet the hand that’s on his jaw. He moves it closer to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on it. Your smile widens, a lot more visible now, and at that, he smiles back at you.

The two of you smile at each other like idiots, and you feel a bit embarrassed. And you think, maybe he senses and feels it too, but he doesn't stop smiling back at you, so you don't either.

You understand now what people meant in all those poems about love and vulnerability because you can admit now that you're in love for the very first time — you feel a bit slit open. Like your guts are falling out of you; with only him to hold them, with only him to care for them.

His fingers come up to brush your cheek, barely touching you, but you feel it, and then he presses a chaste kiss against your lips. You don't rush anymore, because this is different from your heated kisses, this feels like it's something more. You want to tell him it's something more, you want to tell everyone it's something more but when he slows down to pull away, with lidded eyes and a goofy smile, you know he already knows.

[beardedmrbean]

Ravioli/raviolo anon here. It occurred to me that I never followed up on my story of how I escaped my roommate's various attempts on my life and I managed to dodge them all like some drunken Mr. Bean. (Is that what I said? I hardly remember, lol. For the record, I don't really drink so much anymore. After I walked home from a birthday celebration a few years back (it wasn't a rager or anything, the bar was just across the road and my birthday is in February so we didn't want to go far) and coldcocked my dome running at top speed into a fence (I was trying to make it into the exit gate before it closed, didn't realize there was a post that came out horizontally across because I don't see very well on account of the fact that I wear colored lenses), I cracked my skull and you can still see where I hit the fence (on my head, I mean, it was a wrought iron fence so I assume I didn't damage it but I never checked), so that's when I realized it was time to slow down).

So it WAS a true story, (I don't really watch television or read much though so if it does resemble a piece of media, I wouldn't know it, lol). Anyway, since I tend to ramble, I will make an effort to keep this in the realm of "less than a novel" but I can't exactly make any promises. I don't know how to add a "read more" or anything fancy like that so in the interest of shortening it I won't be offended if you screenshot only the important parts or even just don't answer it, lol.

There's a little bit of backstory about how I ended up living with the roommate and why he wanted to kill me, long story short he was in the hole about $1600 with me because he bought a motorcycle from me but was "still making payments" on it. He suggested I come room with him in this cheap apartment while we both drove for UPS for peak season. He got fired day two on the job, and so after that he planned to rob me as soon as I finished the season. (In addition to never paying for the bike). I'm a simple guy, though, so I really only had my truck (worthless) and a mattress, and I was just working for the love of the sport so I sent all my checks to my mother and had her send me back a hundred a week. So he can't rob me, so he decides at this point he's mad enough to kill me, and thinks himself pretty clever and that he can do it without getting caught.

About a week into this nonsense, he tells me he's got a job interview in NYC or something, he's gonna be gone tonight, whatever. I'm like, fine, no big deal, hope you get the job, buddy, I'm pretty terrible at this whole UPS thing so I'll be back at midnight or something when I'm done my route. I get home, and I'm about to go to bed, and that's when I decided at about 1AM I sincerely want a grilled cheese sandwich. So I got up, drove across town, and went over to a buddy's house for grilled cheese at 1AM. Come to find out we had a gas leak all night and my roommate is just VERY SHOCKED that we BOTH happened to be out, what are the odds. I'm all "hey, man, God is good, I'll drink to that, get me another beer".

Not long after that, I finish my route at who friggin' knows how late, I'm the last guy in the lot, even the security guards have gone home, and my truck (which cannot be locked, I don't have a key for the door so I leave it unlocked) is, what the heck, locked. I have no way of calling my roommate (same reason why I drove across town to find my buddy instead of just calling and asking: I didn't have a phone at the time), and it's looking like I might just freeze to death out here because it's -3F and it's after midnight in New England, so there's nobody out and about. Well, nobody, except this old Russian guy who sees me standing next to my truck, asks if I need help, and when I tell him I'm locked out, he tells me he's been in prison a few times for carjacking and will get me into my truck in no time. Which he does. So I bring him home with me and we have a beer (he had a few more than me, I had to work in the morning. You know how it is.) (And for the record I have never driven under the influence. I didn't go to college, my CDL is all I have. I don't dick around with that.)

So at this point, my roommate is pretty pissed. I'm either too hammered or too tired to notice. UPS is really kicking my ass. It's finally Christmas time, time to celebrate the end of peak season with a trip to the bar, oorah. He gives me a bottle of Poland Springs and says to drink the whole thing, it's water and we're gonna be drinking hard tonight, gotta hydrate or die-drate, bitch. I knock it back and wouldn't you know it, that son of a bitch didn't give me water, this is straight Everclear. I get to the bar and I'm already sick, I go straight to the toilet and barf all over the place. Somewhere along the line I went up to the bar and started dozing off, at which point they kicked me out, so roommate says "don't worry, I'm gonna take him home". Not sure what the plan from there was, tbqh. I DO know that I realized about halfway out of the city that we weren't headed back to our apartment, and that we were headed towards either Connecticut or NYC, and I told him I wanted to go back home because I did NOT want to go to NYC because if we were going to NYC, that meant we were probably going to watch Eric Andre with his boring cousin in Queens and I was really not in the mood. I'm pretty sure he planned on dumping me somewhere on the highway where I'd freeze to death, and I was slipping back and forth out of consciousness, but I was SO consumed by how badly I did NOT want to go to Queens and watch Eric Andre, I called the cops and told them I was being kidnapped to watch Eric Andre. They were more concerned about the kidnapping part for some reason, (criminal restraint, I think is actually what they called it), caught up to roommate and I halfway out of Clifton Park (we'd apparently been doing 110MPH on the freeway and he was swerving all over the place) and he got arrested.

The next morning the cops told me I should press charges, but that meant staying in the state (because I'd have to be there when it went to trial) and I had other plans. So, I let karma do its work on the roommate (no idea where he is now or what's become of him, but I do know he lost his license and later blew every cent he had on some raffle scam for a Toyota out in California), packed up my stuff, and moseyed on.

I'm marathoning The Twilight Zone with a friend online today (watching the same eps on the same service) this was wilder than any episode I've seen ever.

[bisluthq]

The whole email breakup thing always sounded ridiculous to me but since it allegedly came from a friend of Pat's, I gave it the benefit of the doubt. But yeah no that's insane, no normal person would end a 6.5 rs/engagement over email. Imo she'd planned months before for the music video to be filmed in the UK so as to be able to spend Easter break with Joe, bc both of them knew that Joe would be working until May and according to what Tree put out at the time, he'd be joining Taylor on tour after that. So I do think the MV was shot in the UK as part of an original plan to spend Easter together there. But imo from the moment she stood on that stage in Glendale on opening night and saw tens of thousands of ppl all but worshipping her, and Joe could not even be arsed to at least care about this massive career milestone, she came to the painful realization that it was time to go, and she planned to do it in person when they would see each other in the UK for Easter. So during those first weeks of tour I imagine that (aside from being extremely happy and excited for tour) she pondered how to go about it and the logistics etc yk, mentally preparing herself for it, probably going back and forth on doing it or not. Clearly she ultimately decided it had to happen this time for real, they'd been unhappy for months and I do think Joe taking another last minute job and not giving a single fuck about Eras was a final straw. So she knew it was Over over during those first weeks of tour and imo that's why she was crying during CP in Glendale N2. Anon mentioned that maybe she was apprehensive about doing it in person bc they could end up fucking and she needed to end it for real, but I don't think that was even an issue for her bc imo late stage Swiftwyn sex was like those scenes in Blue Valentine where the couple clearly has fallen out of love but they still try to have sex to get off and let out frustration but neither of them are really into it and lowkey hate it and yeah idk it's devastating to watch lol it's so fucking sad. At that point imo Swiftwyn were very unhappy and in a "you do you and I'll do me" MO so it tracks that Joe didn't see it coming right, cos they'd sorta gotten familiar/used to the unhappinness. Imo if she hadn't broken it off and instead insisted on getting married, he would've done it and they would've continued to leave unhappily and/or gotten divorced eventually, so Joe must've defs been relieved that she ended it. If they'd had kids before shit started to go down at the end of 2021, I do think they would've married for the bebé and would've probs gotten divorced once the bebé/bebés became adults a la Scott and Andrea.

I 1000% agree that she was involved emotionally with Matty since at least January of this year. Idk if I think it got to the point of actual physical cheating yk I tend to think that maybe not since her and Joe respected each other so much but she does historically cheat when she's desperate to get out of a rs so who knows 🤷🏻‍♀️ she was miserable and Matty was there all head over heels for her and ofc the attention was appealing after she'd felt so rejected/unnapreciated by her partner for months. I am SO so curious about that 1975 collab song that was scrapped from Midnights 👀👀 I wonder if it's telling of how far back (second half of 2022 maybe) the affair with Matty goes, and if she left it out of the album bc she was still trying to save her rs with Joe. I really do think that, in spite of everything, Taylor fought VERY hard to fix their issues and solve their problems, like I really do think she gave it her all trying to save it but ultimately it became clear that it was unsalvageable. When they first became a couple they both thought their lives would be going in completely different directions (she thought her peak as a pop star was gone and she would move to more BTS stuff and live a calmer life in North London with him, he thought his acting career would take off after The Favourite and CWF and he'd become some Nic Hoult/Paul Mescal etc.) than where they both are today, and so they became very incompatible to the point where all the love they had for each other wasn't enough to keep them in love together.

I love u but this is a fucking dissertation dude I’m not gonna read all this but I’m sure ur right because your takes are always on point so I’m posting for people with a longer attention span than me and I’m gonna text just now to check you’re ok lmao because dissertations about Joever are usually a sign one isn’t 😂🙈🤷🏻‍♀️

[strangerficsx]

Prologue 4

Story: Midnight Rain WC: 3.7k Jennifer is finally moved to California, and in with a random roommate, who she didn't fully trust. However, she is unaware of the terror approaching Hawkins as she later returns to Hawkins which she dreaded for the longest time, saving the word.... again.

[a/n: all characters, plot, etc. are not mine. The only thing I own is my original character. credit to gif owner.]

{ November 4, 1984 }

Author's point of view.

With a lifeless Phoebe laying on the ground, the air was filled with silence. A stranger appears, kneeling and examines the body. Without hesitation the male check for a pulse with his two fingers resting against the skin of Phoebe's neck. Her pulse is weak as be begins performing CPR. After a few attempts, her eyes flutter open. She begins a coughing fit, looking around panicked prior to seeing the male above her. Phoebe's chest rises and falls heavily, cursing. Pain seeped into her frail body whilst he helps her up and away towards Hawkins Memorial hospital.

The doctor's wheel her into a surgical room where she will stay for the next few hours before getting transferred to a recovery room. An unconscious phoebe's body settles in the bed beneath her. A heart monitor beats rhythmically beside her, her arms bandaged, her face bruised and scratched. Eventually, Phoebe gains consciousness as she begins panicking, unaware that she is safe and is getting the help she needs. Phoebe tries to speak, but all she can do is gurgle and whimper. She pushes the nurse's button, afraid she might die.

Soon a nurse responds, removing the tube from her mouth as she heaves. "Wh-Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You were attacked,"

"By what?"

"A wolf, maybe? There were unusual bites, but you're safe now. Is there anything you'd like?"

"Yeah, c-can you call The Byers residence, please?"

The nurse nods, stepping out the room as Phoebe lays her head against the pillow behind her. She had no idea that there was no one at home, but that didn't stop the joy from filling her body. The nurse returns with a sad yet soft look. "I couldn't get a hold of anyone."

Those word hurt Phoebe deep down, knowing that they were probably busy fighting those creatures that attacked her. But what if they were in trouble? So many thoughts ran through her tired mind as she eventually dozed off without realizing it.

~~

After a couple weeks in the hospital, Phoebe was discharged, not knowing where to go. She stumbled through the town of Hawkins as people around her stared at her unpleasantly, but she continued and made it to the Henderson residence where she steps up to a bedroom window, peaking through. She watches Jennifer rummage through belongings that were shared with Phoebe as tears streaming down her best friends cheeks, knowing that her "death" hit the brunette hard. Phoebe had hot tears prick at her eyes as she continues on.

Is she gonna be okay knowing that her own best friend is heartbroken?

Phoebe holds her hand against her stomach, feeling the patch that lies against her healing wound. She needed a place to stay as she continued on, walking towards Maple Street. She sees the two story house in the distance as she continues toward the front door. Stepping on the front porch, she rings the doorbell as a brunette answers. Nancy Wheeler.

"Phoebe? I thought... I thought you died. That's what Jennifer told me at the Hawkins Laboratory."

"I did, yes, but was helped and went to the hospital for two months. I hate, uh, to ask this but do you have any extra clothing I could borrow till I have my own?"

"Yes, come on. My mom and I have a bunch of clothes in storage."

"Nancy?" Mrs. Wheeler called. "Who's at the door?"

"Oh, uh, it's just Jennifer. She came by to check up on me cause of what's happening on the news."

"Oh, okay."

Nancy quickly leads Phoebe up the stairs and into her bedroom. She takes off her dirty shoes, and clothing as the blonde gets handed some new clothes. She quickly throws them on before looking Nancy in the eyes.

"Don't tell Jennifer I was here, okay? I don't want her to know--"

"That you're alive?! You should tell her."

"No, no, no, I can't. Not yet...at least. Give me the next year to process my plan, OK? Please, don't say anything about me, not even where I was."

"Okay, I swear not to tell her, jeez."

Phoebe leaves quickly, swiftly stepping down the steps before leaving the Wheeler house entering the dimly lit neighborhood. She heads for her grandfather's hunting cabin, a place she hasn't been for many years as she hopes and prays someone will be there. And sure enough, her father was there stepping out of the wooden refuge, locking up.

"Dad,"

The tall male stiffened up, arms dropping to his sides before turning his head slowly. They made eye contact with each other as he hurriedly runs down the few steps and toward his daughter, scooping her in his arms. Phoebe wraps her arms around his waist, sobbing into his shirt.

"Oh, my girl, my beautiful girl."

"D-Dad, I'm here."

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Lost,"

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. You could've called me for help. The police station would've helped too."

"I-I know, Dad. I didn't want to scare anyone."

"I was scared, thinking you were dead." He sobs.

Phoebe held onto him tightly. Her face buried in his chest, weeping. They stand there for a long while before she pulls away from her father, looking him in his teary eyes. She could tell he was in pain as she was in pain too.

How does she explain that Hopper's little girl died and came back to life?

He brings her into the cabin, sitting at the small table in the kitchen. They sit opposite of each other. Phoebe clears her throat, sniffling.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Well, when I was in the junk yard with Steve Harrington and Jennifer Henderson, and the kids and I got scared, and ran away. Without thinking, I kept running unaware of the creatures -- the demodogs. And, t-they attacked me." She stops, sniffling. Her voice became shaky. "I died, technically. Somehow, someone found me. They brought me back, and took me to Hawkins Memorial. But here I am, Dad. I'm here. And I promise to be here, if you promise to be here with me."

"I promise,"

He brings his daughter into his arms after she stepped onto the wooden planks. It creaked beneath her foot. And they kept those promises until the unthinkable happened later in 1985.

~~

{ the journal of phoebe hopper - 1985}

Phoebe sits, hunched over a table at the food court, writing in her notebook.

'Today is June 30, 1985 and here I sit in Starcourt Mall by myself drowning in the dark thoughts that cloud my mind.

Across sat various shops as one keeps me distracted: Scoops Ahoy. The place where Jennifer Henderson works at. She still doesn't know where I am or what I am doing since the last time she saw me was when I died a year ago.

My father has kept me a secret from everyone we knew. As I hope no one reveals that I had survived being attacked by monstrous creatures in the junkyard, I will keep fighting and one day I will reveal to my best friend where I was and what I did for a year.

I sit here, trying to process the right things to do or say, not wanting to be a stalker when it came to spying on my best friend. But to others it looks like it, as I try to keep low. Most people knew about my death, but many didn't know I came back from the dead and am haunting Hawkins.

To Jennifer, I hope you understand why I am doing this. This is for your own good. Its so I can process what happened, and to try and figure out how to make things right after you find me.

And someday you will just not at the moment. Jennifer Henderson, wait for me in '86. I'll make sure to explain everything.'

She closes her notebook as she rises walking away from the table, leaving the mall and never looking back. Throughout the summer of '85, she felt as if the world was about to end. Phoebe had nothing to go off of, if her friends were okay, if her dad was alright. Unfortunately, her father kept the promise all the way to July 4. The day her father perished under Starcourt Mall.

———

Days turned into weeks...

...Weeks turned into months...

...Months turned into a year...

The current year is 1986, and the blonde had no intention searching for her best friend, and gave up. Things to her were different, she hid from everyone still in her father's cabin in the woods, as Phoebe knew her dad was never coming back, so she is left to attend a damaged cabin herself from the events of last year. She didn't know what broke the ceiling, but thought it was a fallen tree that had been ran into and has been removed since, but she was way off.

The few things she wasn't aware of was that a creature from the another dimension is terrorizing students, a freak being blamed for the murder of a cheerleader, a girl trying to fight off the terror of a horrific event, the byers family moving to another state, her father being captured by russians, and so much more.

Today was March 20 as she read on the news paper she had came across on her trip into downtown Hawkins to retrieve more groceries. Phoebe fell into a dark state of depression, but continued as she was coming to terms with confronting Jennifer.

And that was what she planned on doing, she will do it in the next few days...

Her story begins again.

~~~

Somewhere else in hawkins...

{ August 1, 1985 }

Jennifer walks away, forcing her tears back as she steps toward the door, grabbing her coat that laid against the peg of the coat rack. She slides on her jacket before picking her keys from her pocket before walking out the door, shutting it behind her. Hot tears pour from her eyes. Jennifer puts the keys in the ignition as she starts the engine. Driving, she wipes away droplets of salty water, but the tears keep coming, staining the delicate skin of her cheeks.

Jennifer stops beside Steve's house, eyeing his driveway as she pulls herself together and enters the pavement. She puts the car in park, stepping out as she closes the door behind her. Jennifer approached his front door, hesitant to knock before going through with it. She knocks then stood there as she waited, the door opening to reveal Steve. He stood wearing his Family Video attire, concern plastered on his face when he saw Jennifer's tear stained cheeks.

"What brings you here, Jen? I thought you left for UC-Berkeley."

"I'm heading there now, I got my car back and now I'm driving there. But first, I wanted to see you and say goodbye."

Steve's shoulders dropped, a certain expression forms as it's unreadable to Jennifer. He almost avoids eye contact with her, glancing towards the ground then back at her, concerned. Without saying anything, she steps forward, planting her lips on his. After a few seconds, she pulls away. He quickly brings Jennifer's lips back to his, picking her up and closing the door.

Steve brings her into his kitchen, sitting her on the counter top and using his hands to unbutton her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders. He lips then collide with Jennifer's neck, making her lean her head back slightly. She quickly pulls off his vest, throwing it to the floor before moving to the hem of his tucked in shirt. They break apart long enough for Jennifer to slide Steve's shirt over his head, letting go of the fabric. Her hand runs down his bare chest, the hair pricks at her fingertips. He kicks his shoes off, bringing Jennifer to lay on the counter so he can pull her shoes off in one tug. He proceeds, sliding his hands up her covered legs, tugging at the button of her jeans. He basically slips them down with no problem, letting go. She wraps her arms around his waist before feeling her legs move under her, following Steve to his couch.

Jennifer pulls away as she pushes him against the fabric seat. She climbs on top of Steve, straddling his lap as she grinds against him. He lets out a deep groan, resting his hands on her hips. 

“Ah, shit.” Steve curses before grabbing your waist and effortlessly throwing you lightly on the sofa before he hovers over you, looking you up and down.

He leans down and presses his lips against hers, grinding against her center. Steve pulls himself away, sliding his underwear down. His finger hooks the hem of Jennifer's panties, swiftly sliding them off within seconds before entering her. She bites on her lip and grips his back, digging her nails into the flesh of his toned back as he bucks his hips, causing friction. Steve’s lips brush against the curve of Jennifer's neck, pampering her with soft kisses. He pulls away to adjust himself, bringing her closer, leaning forward as his hands rest on both sides of her head. He places a couple kisses on Jennifer's lips and cheek before burying his head in the nape of her neck before looking down then moaning softly.

The pressure inside begins to build as Jennifer begins to whimper under him, moaning his name. He goes deeper as her head leans back, closing her eyes and enjoying the penetration between her legs. Steve groans as he scrunches his nose, biting lip. Jennifer stares at his eyes then lips and begin to sit up and kiss him, but she feels the knot in her stomach loosen rather quickly.

The two of them quickly move positions, him pulling out before sitting bare on the seat. She sits oppositely on his lap, slowly sliding it inside her. Steve grabs her hips and begins grinding them against his. Their moans mix together, creating a symphony as she feels herself getting closer, knowing he likely is too. Steve presses his lips against her bare shoulder, removing one hand and snaking it around. He gropes her breast.

"S-Steve, I think,"

"Me too,"

Within seconds, they come together as her thighs tense up before jerking slightly. Jennifer's head falls back, leaning on Steve's shoulder, panting. His hands rest against her thighs before she moves, basically falling on the couch. She quickly finds her clothes before dressing herself whilst Steve does the same. They walk toward his front door as she opens it, stepping out before Steve stops her.

"Jennifer,"

"What?"

"Are we still together?"

"Yeah, we are. No cheating, okay Harrington?"

"Sure, yeah. Got it. No cheating."

"Steve,"

"I won't cheat, I promise."

Jennifer stops in her tracks, glancing back at Steve. She turns and presses her lips against his.

His hands cup her face, staying there longer than a few seconds. After a while, they lean their faces against each other as Jennifer bites her bottom lip nervously.

"I love you," She whispers.

"I love you too," He murmured.

Jennifer pulls away, and steps toward her vehicle as tears prick at her eyes. She flashes him one last smile. However, it was a sad leer. She opens her door and slides in the driver's seat, shutting it before starting the car before driving off. She makes her way down the road, speeding past the sign that says now leaving Hawkins, Indiana.

Keeping her eyes on the road, she sobs quietly as the song Every Breath You Take by on the radio. It makes her even more sad as she shuts it off, not wanting to hear anything that reminded her of Steve or anyone else she was leaving.

{ January - February 1986 }

Classes were a struggle to Jennifer since she had the urge to leave for spring break since it was approaching quickly. She found the courage to buy a plane ticket since she had enough after saving up from working at nearby movie theater, where she fills buckets of popcorn and cleans up after people when the movies end. In Jennifer's life, there was no fun.

However, she found a support group that was hosting every day in the afternoons, so she decided to go.

Most of her time was either spent in the program for people who lost someone important to them, or college or work. That was her therapy. She also attended because she's been having problems drinking and smoking, afraid her friends and boyfriend may judge.

With worry, she didn't say anything and kept quiet. The only thing she told her mom was that she was working hard and saving money to return for Hawkins during spring break, and to tell people that she's okay. She wanted to explain things to Steve, but was hesitant.

{ Friday, March 20, 1986 - Saturday, March 21, 1986 }

It's been almost two years since Phoebe passed away in 1984, and she has never been better. After seeing a shrink for the last few months (after the violence and terror at Starcourt Mall), Jennifer has been able to cope with her emotions toward the PTSD. Now happy as well, she's hoping this year -- this spring break won't bring anymore surprises from the Upside Down.

Not after the last three years; from Will going missing to battling demodogs, to a spider-like creature at The Starcourt Mall. She is able to put her stress aside.

Today, though, Jennifer returned to her previous life in Hawkins.

She entered the airport with her bags in hand as well as her plane ticket that reads departure to Hawkins, Indiana -- flight time 8:30PM. Arrival 12:30 AM. She wasn't thrilled about the times, but that was the only ticket available since all other flights were sold out.

Four hours after arriving in Hawkins, she stepped out and felt the air. It was tense to her as she looked at her watch. It read 12:47 AM, and here she is, standing in an empty car port, waiting for someone to get her. Suddenly, her mother pulls up . Jennifer tosses her baggage in the backseat as she enters the passenger seat, sliding her seatbelt on.

The following day, Jennifer was bright and early so she can make sure that she looks just right to surprise Steve. She made her way out and toward Family Video, where she stood almost hesitant. Jennifer forces her leg forward, stepping inside the video store.

At the counter, Steve and Robin are too busy to notice as she says hello to them.

"We'll be with you in just a sec," Robin says.

Jennifer steps up to the counter, waiting for someone to notice her. Steve glances at her then what he was doing before making a double take, looking toward her with excitement rise. He hops the counter swiftly, making his way toward her. They bring each other into a hug, holding one another close before pulling away and planting his lips on hers.

A few seconds later, she pulls back, hands resting on his chest as they smile at each other. He stands with his arms crossed and Robin gives the brunette a serious look. Robin notices, hugging Jennifer as well.

"For some reason, something brought me back to Hawkins, and here I am."

"You came here for your super good looking boyfriend."

"What's going on with you? How's school going? Anything new?" Robin cuts in, shifting her stance but this time her arms are folded against her chest.

"Its..." She trails off. "It's good, studied hard and managed to save up enough money to come back to Hawkins."

Jennifer gave them a wide grin.

They all stood there before approaching the counter. She swallows as the corners of her mouth mouth dips into a frown. Her eyes lower to the floor, trying to find the right words to say.

"That's good. Anything else going on?"

"I've been getting help for my problems. I fell into dark depression, and went to an emotional support group, or group therapy." Jennifer fesses up about her issues.

"What?" Robin and Steve ask in unison. Steve was mostly worried, but Robin, she wasn't sure how to respond.

"Yeah,"

"Jesus Christ, Jen. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry anyone and thought no one cared since everyone had their own problems, and I was in California."

"I think we all share each other's problems. Especially last year when we fought the spider creature at Starcourt."

"Yeah, and you and me, especially. We've been through fighting a demogorgon, demodogs, the mind flayer, and your friend dying plus the spider creature."

"Okay, well, you both can get back to work and just forget I told you guys this?"

The two nodded as Robin got to work, but Steve stood there and stared at her. "I am happy you're back, Jennifer. However, please tell me what's going on next time. No more secrets, ok?"

"Yes," She plants her lips on his, stepping back as he turns and walks away.

She stepped through the store, glancing at the various tapes on the shelves. Some of them were recently released films, however, none she was familiar with since most of the movies were new to her.

Jennifer enters the back of the store and pulls out a VHS tape that reads Nightmare on Elm Street Part II: Freddy's Revenge. She was originally supposed to go see it sometime, but never got the chance to since she was swamped with tests and working late night shifts at the movie theater. She carefully sets it back on the shelf, walking toward a nearby shelf, browsing through the tapes carefully, reading the backs of each tape.

She turns her head, glancing at Steve, who talks to a girl as he shows her various VHS tapes. Ever since she moved, things have been awkward between the two. But since she's back, things felt like she was here for the last year.

That night, things began to feel different.

It felt uneasy for Jennifer as she stepped into her house. Shutting the door behind her, the brunette makes her way towards her bedroom where she dresses from her day clothes to pajamas. Jennifer removes her makeup and unpins her hair. She quickly freshens her breath before settling into her bed.

"A new day. I hope."

Unfortunately, the next week will be anything but normal for Jennifer Henderson as something mysterious and more sinister comes back to Hawkins for another scare.

[john-macnamara]

[John knocks on the bright red door hidden in the middle of the drab city of Chicago, waiting with bated breath for a response. It’s a whole minute, and then suddenly there’s something restraining him. He freezes, for a moment, before recognizing the boney arms wrapped around him, the tight curls —now purple, that’s new— brushing against his neck. He sighs, hugging back]

Hello Naomi.

“Hi John.”

[She sounds tired, so does he. Kind souls worn by the world, finding solace in an embrace.

It takes minutes, but they eventually let go of each other, and the two old friends see the other for the first time in years. Naomi has crow’s feet now, they suit her. Her hair’s dyed a bright lavender, complimenting her dark skin and grey eyes. There are flowers woven into her hair, seeming to bloom from the curls as if they were planted there. Maybe they were.

As John’s led inside, he gets a look at his old friend’s new life. There are framed photos of people he doesn’t know, aesthetics he’s never heard of. But there, right over the mantle, is still her Medal of Honor. He remembers watching her be awarded that, right before a discharge for disability. It’s a tragedy, what happened. But she’s alive, and that’s all he can ask for.

They talk and bicker as friends do, catching up and jabbing each other where it won’t hurt. John’s asked about his romantic life, he shuts it down. Naomi’s asked about whether or not she’s still vegan, and of course she is. She’s one with the earth, she feels horrible for eating animals she called friends.

Over dinner, a vegan curry, John builds up courage to ask the question he came here for]

Do you think you can do me a favor?

[He averts his gaze as Naomi responds through a mouthful of rice]

“Of course. What do you need?”

It’s a big ask, I’ll pay you. But… can you still do the shaping of gemstones you used to do? Specifically strengthening them?

[As an answer, she takes her pendant of loose rock and wraps her hand around it. Each stone combines. With another squeeze, they separate once more]

Okay… uhm. I think it’s better if I show you the concept, but do you think you could make a knife out of strengthened diamond?

“You want me to what?”

Just wait, the sketch is worse.

[He slides a paper over, showing it to her. Naomi grins.

They come to an agreement soon after, and return to simple conversation. Washing plates turns to drinking mead, and drinking mead turns into getting hammered. When midnight strikes, John realizes he has to go back to the hotel, he’s been out for longer than intended. He can’t go back like this.]

Fuuuuck…

Wasswrong?

Drink

[Clarity hits Naomi like a truck. Her inebriation always stops at the peak of the moon, and it seems it’s that time. With a sigh, she brushes two fingers over John’s forehead, and he’s returned to the same clear-headedness. John is sent off with a smile and a wave, as long as a promise of something unspoken. As he walks onto the street, she calls out one last time.]

“Hey John?”

Yeah?

“You seem lighter. In your heart.”

I know.

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 18 | IN THIS WORLD

PAIRING: lee felix x reader

GENRE: fluff

WC: 0.96k

CW: nothing

PROMPT: cuddling session

sleepy fluff with lixie coming your way! this is the last one for today bc i do need to actually sleep lol (tho its after midnight rn so first post of today technically?). this is just very soft and fluff, no real plot happening here. enjoy reading <3

title from as it was - harry styles

general masterlist here

<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>

When you came home from work, the only thing on your mind was going to bed. Your shift ran later than expected due to some problems that needed to be fixed, and by the time you were finally allowed to head home, you were completely exhausted. You went through routine tasks such as putting away your keys and hanging your coat almost blindly, not wanting to be bothered to turn on the lights. However, it wasn't really dark in the apartment, as you soon realized. And there was sound coming from the living room.

Carefully, you walked to the source of the light and noise, all your tiredness replaced by caution, because what if that was an intruder? Your anxiety was soon alleviated by the fact that the sound was from your TV. What burglar would watch a movie, right? As you peaked inside the living room, you saw someone you would never expect here at this hour.

Lee Felix was sprawled over your couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn laying next to him, and on the TV was playing a rerun of some comedy show. You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. When you gave him the key, it was so he could come meet you when he had time, because dating an idol was a time management nightmare. But now it seemed Felix used it to run away from the dorm and help himself to whichever snacks and entertainment your apartment provided.

He must have heard you, because he raised his head and waved at you to greet you. It was pointless to hide halfway in the hallway, so you headed to him. Felix immediately scooted over, making room for you on the couch.

As soon as you sat down, his arms enveloped you in a hug, with Felix pressing his nose into your hair and inhaling the familiar scent. You felt the faint touches of his lips soon, as well as the exhaustion creeping its way back into your body. You let yourself melt further into his arms, your body going completely limp against his. He answered with a content hum and a stronger hold on you. Felix adjusted his position slightly, so you would be more comfortable laying down.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have an early schedule tomorrow?” you asked sleepily. Almost immediately after relaxing in the hug, you wanted to sleep. Felix was just a very comfortable and warm pillow that made you feel secure and loved. And paired with how tired you felt, it was the perfect recipe for a quick journey to dreamland. But you didn't want to sleep yet, not with Felix here.

Lately, you haven't seen him much, given how busy his schedule was towards the end of the year. A few times you woke up to Felix lying in bed with you, only to have a rushed breakfast because you both needed to work. But now that he was here, none of you were unconscious, and you were determined to make the most of it.

“I do, but I missed you,” Felix said. His head found its place on your shoulder, and he was now lazily mouthing at a spot on your neck. There wasn't anything sexual behind it; he just liked feeling close to you. It was a way for Felix to show you how much he loved you. “I wanted to come see you. It's been so long since we had time for each other,” he confessed with a sad undertone in his voice. You didn’t say anything, but he knew you felt the same. You missed him too, but it didn't need to be said out loud. Felix knew.

You snuggled further into his chest. "Well, now you're here, and I'm not letting you go anywhere,” you decided. Your gaze fell on the TV. Much to your dismay, you had to untangle yourself from him in order to get the remote. Your action was met with a soft whine from Felix, soon replaced by a happy sigh as you settled yourself back into his arms, now in possession of the remote. You lazily switched through the channels until you found a half-decent movie to watch. It was the most passable compensation for the fact that you both should be in bed and sleeping. Staying on the couch and slowly dozing off when the movie became boring was just another way of resting together, you thought.

When you woke up in the morning, it was to Felix's alarm that was blasting through the apartment at a volume that, in your opinion, not even an emergency siren would. Startled and confused, you opened your eyes to find yourself in the living room, with a certain idol wrapped around like a koala. How you managed not to fall off the couch while you slept was beyond your understanding. Some higher being probably decided to take mercy on you.

“Lix, baby, wake up.” You gently nudged him, but all you got was a groan in response and Felix pressing himself even closer to you. With a laugh, you tried again, and eventually you managed to get him awake enough to function like a normal human being.

While you were in the kitchen preparing breakfast a few minutes later, Felix came to join you, already changed into new clothes and ready for the day. He hugged you from behind, just like last night, still not quite ready to give up the peaceful atmosphere. With a smile on your face, you let Felix hang off of you as you prepared the food. These stolen moments were all you had for now, but a break in his schedule was coming, which meant moments like these were only going to get more frequent.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh @ivaneedssleep @jazziwritesthings @darkypooo

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[2023-records]

Day 6 __ Fri Jan 6

Wellp, got out of bed at 10:30am instead of 9am to walk Mai and feed her, but she tends to enjoy staying in bed in the mornings. So I don't feel as bad. Worked out last night from 9:30pm-12am. Surprisingly, there were still a good amount of people at the gym. I noticed that people in San Leandro tend to hit the gym later during after-work hours. SJ and Fremont 24s' peak hours usually start around 4pm, but San Leandro's peak hours are around 5/6pm.

Today I actually cooked all of my carrots, mushrooms, and bokchoy! Chopped some purple onion and a ton of garlic. I sauteed everything separately and then mixed in oyster sauce, pepper, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Some bomb stuff but I may have put too much sesame oil. A couple hours after eating, my stomach was going crazy. If someone stood next to me, they would hear the rumbling start from my mid-stomach to my butt. I basically had the shits again and pooped in my bathroom. Why do I have to have stomach digestive problems right before a tournament?! Hopefully, I'll be fine by tomorrow since we make our drive at 8am. I'm bringing my Tums everywhere I go now.

Mai and I went on a shorter distance walk this morning since she was spooked by the wind. She couldn't seem to shake the fear so I stopped the walk short and we headed back. As soon as we got back, she fell asleep. That might have been a stress-relieving sleep. While she slept, I turned on a wind video on YouTube so that she can slowly get desensitized. Poor baby, but she'll get over it in no time!

I need to pack LOL It's currently 8:15pm. I should probably shower by 10pm and sleep no later than midnight. That'll still give me enough sleep, but I can always sleep on the ride down to Socal. I'm pretty excited to be playing in a tournament out of town, but I feel slightly concerned about the socializing aspect with my team coordinator. I still can't tell if she likes me or not... Or maybe she doesn't know if I like her? I guess I always felt like I didn't want to get to know her since she never really trusted me to be on the starting lineup against good teams. I would play but against weaker teams and it didn't really make me feel good whenever I made points since they felt too easy. This time around, with 7 players on the team, I will get playing time the entire time. This way, I can showcase my all-around skills and prove that I can be a reliable starter.

A huge part of me wants to drink Saturday just because I haven't seen my teammates since September. However, I already know that that would be an irresponsible idea as it would affect my playing the next morning. I shall hold myself to only 2 beers or seltzers early on in the day. I bought magnesium pills from Costco to see if that would help with my frequent cramping during tournaments. I'll also be pairing this with LiquidIV and carbohydrate + potassium-filled snacks. If magnesium is the key to my cramping, I will be so ecstatic since I had been dreading the cramps days before tournaments.

Mikel and I Facetimed again today! Day 2! We've agreed to try to Facetime every day since I had been feeling down on myself lately. Maybe this feeling came from having to watch Shumai misbehave so often during the day, that I need to see something that makes me happy and feel at ease: Mikel. Typing this out now made me realize that when you surround yourself with something negative, your mentality develops that negativity. In this case, it's Shumai's misbehaving that really affects me since I like to see quick changes in action. A few weeks ago I changed my mentality and became more patient with doggo. We were making progress, however, I could feel how every Thursday I resume taking care of Mai (day after Youki watches Shumai), Shumai reverts back to her bad habits. In a way, I've kind of given up trying my hardest to train Mai because in the end, she's not really my dog and I'm just watching over her for Youki. Thinking deeper, I probably won't want to move in with her if she buys a house soon. Hopefully after this next coaching season, she will rethink freeing up her work schedule in order to take care of Shumai more often. Eventually, I will need more time to study.

[nrc-research-club]

oh, the horror!

↬ Summary: Watching a horror movie before sleeping is always, always a bad idea. Good thing you have someone else to suffer with you (or maybe not.)

↬ Tags: fluff

↬ Characters: Ace Trappola, Cater Diamond

↬ Note: i’ve recovered well enough to start writing again, but i’ll still rest a lot and not accept requests yet. and dear lord, cater’s part is longer than ace’s. i’m so sorry ace.

Ace Trappola

↬ Ace does not find horror movies scary. Seriously, you live with ghosts that could sneak up on you any moment, but movies about them are where you draw the line? He teases you before and after accepting your offer to watch a movie with him, asking if you need someone to hide behind when the ghost is on screen.

↬ However, the amount of effort put in the movie starts to pay off in the middle of the movie. Ace’s quips and laughs become shakier as the lighting gets darker and the music shifts into something more haunting. Then he slides closer to you, sharing the pillow with you before the ghost comes out of nowhere. The two of you scream, and one of your voices is suspiciously higher than the other.

��� “Back off, Ace, this is my pillow! I thought you weren’t scared?” you say as you duck behind it to shield your eyes from another jumpscare. He hides at the last minute, his forehead bumping with yours as he seeks refuge from the movie. Someone in the movie screams and distracts you, and he takes it as an opportunity to steal the pillow from you.

↬ “Ha, this is mine now!” he teases before leaning on the opposite end of the couch. The music in the movie starts to get tense, and you’re left to fend for yourself without the pillow. Ace sticks his tongue out at you. “So are you going to hide—gaaah!”

↬ Just as the music reaches its peak, one of the Ramshackle ghosts sneaks up on Ace and passes right through him. A high-pitched scream escapes from him as he quite literally jumps onto you, clambering to your end of the couch with the pillow as a shield. The ghosts laugh as both of you cling to each other, trembling in fear. It takes a few moments before the two of you settle down again. The movie credits are rolling in when you calm down and realize that you don’t even mind the incriminating position you’re in.

↬ “So who’s the scaredy-cat now?” you squint, giggling when he takes a minute to shuffle away from you. Your giggling turns into full-blown laughter, and you wheeze your words out. “You—do you need to sleep with—hah—me tonight? Huh?”

↬ “Shut it!” Ace says before chucking a pillow at you. He’s red in the face, but it doesn’t hinder him from making up a retort. “How about you, huh? Do you need someone to comfort you after screaming like a little kid?”

↬ Right as he yells at you, the door creaks and both of you shriek in surprise. The two of you cling to each other in a tight grip, staring at the unmoving door before glancing towards each other.

↬ Neither of you slept alone that night.

Cater Diamond

↬ Cater doesn't believe in ghosts beyond the normal ones he sees, but he's always up to date with all the new horror movies he can't help but be interested in. He's gotta use all those streaming subscriptions for what they're worth, right? And so, your movie night dates include horror and thriller among other things, even when you watch at midnight.

↬ Now, you, on the other hand, are deathly afraid of ghosts. Never mind the fact that you live with them, but back where you came from, they weren't as tangible as the ones in Twisted Wonderland. You are a scaredy-cat through and through—but that makes watching horror movies with you even way more fun! At least, that's what your boyfriend thinks. You hate him for it, but it's more than worth it when he lets you hide in his arms for 90% of the time.

↬ He loves snapping pictures of you and your cute pout before reassuring you that you won't ever encounter a ghost as scary as the one on screen. The ghosts in Ramshackle may be kind of mean, but at least they won't maim you in the middle of the night. Afterwards, he posts the photos on Magicam with a teasing little remark. Don't worry, he makes sure you're cute in them! (Though he does find you cute in every photo.)

↬ Putting you to sleep isn't so hard, especially when Cater agrees to cuddle with you right after. He’ll tell you about the funny or interesting stuff he saw during that day, or even share some juicy gossip that would definitely distract you. On some days, you don’t even need any talking—just being spooned by him would cause you to fall asleep instantly.

↬ Tonight, though, he’s taking just a little while longer before coming to bed with you. While you’re already in your pajamas, your boyfriend is busy with something about the latest ‘skincare routine’ or something. He did promise he won’t be long, but you can’t help but wonder where he is. Just as you were going to tuck yourself in bed without him, the floorboards creak beneath you and a chill goes down your spine.

↬ “Cater?” you call out for him, your words wobbly as you try your best to not sound scared. There isn’t any response from outside, and the door slightly opens to reveal… nothing. Only pitch black darkness greets you back, and now you’re really, really scared. “Cater, this isn’t funny…”

↬ Silence. Your heart races as you sit up, keeping the blanket wrapped around you like some sort of protection. Seriously, where is Cater? The mirror on the wall is looking a bit too creepy now, and you swear you hear footsteps coming from somewhere you can’t pinpoint. Maybe if you focus on anywhere but the empty void in your doorway, you could just stop worrying…

↬ “Boo.”

↬ A voice whispers in your ear. Your mind doesn’t even decide between fight-or-flight anymore; you grab a pillow and repeatedly whack whoever gave you a heart attack. You only start to hear the small ‘ow!’s and ‘hey!’s when you calm down, yet you still give them one last smack to the face before giving up. As expected, it’s Cater—looking smug yet pained.

↬ “I didn’t know you were that strong!” he teases, but he’s patting his cheeks as though your pillows had done actual damage to him. “So? How did I do? Did Cay-kun’s acting skills amaze you?”

↬ “Go sleep on the couch,” you mutter and roll your eyes when he laughs. The fear that had your heart in a grip before ebbs away as he sidles up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist before he presses a kiss to your forehead. You push him away, albeit weakly, but he doesn’t budge.

↬ “Aww, did I scare you?” he says. You huff and whine, turning away from his affections and wriggling out of his grasp. The farthest side of the bed welcomes you as you settle away from him, bringing the blanket up to your cheek to hide from him. Of course, he follows suit, but you remain steadfast in your endeavor to ignore him.

↬ He makes it up to you with at least fifty kisses, free lunches, and a bunch of pampering afterward. Or maybe even more than that (because earning your forgiveness is never easy.)

[mackenzielovee]

Hi bestie, your writing is just 👩‍🍳💋. If possible to do a y/n with Rafe where they fight and reader sleeps in the guest room. When Rafe realizes y/n is not in their bedroom goes and sleeps in the guest room with them.

a/n: hey baby! thank you so much for requesting this. it was fun to write. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, kissing), mentions of drug use/abuse

Word Count: 2.4k+

my writing

apologies - rafe cameron

You stop pacing Rafe's bedroom to check your phone once again. The time keeps ticking by, and Rafe keeps not calling you back. He was supposed to be home hours ago; the two of you had plans to go out to the dock and eat dinner, hanging out and watching the sky. He had told you to be at his house at eight. It's now nearing midnight, and you haven't heard a peep. You pick up your phone to dial him again just as his door knob turns and Rafe slowly peaks his head in the room.

When he brings his eyes up to yours, he smiles quickly and sweetly, knowing he's in trouble but trying to soften to you up. You throw your phone back down on his bed and turn around, setting your hands on your hips and taking a deep breath. At least he's fine.

"Hey, baby," Rafe speaks, his voice sickeningly sweet.

You turn back around and watch as he carefully enters the room and closes the door, putting his back up against it. It's like he's trying to take up as little room as possible.

"Well, now that I know you're alive, I'm just gonna go home," you sigh, picking up your phone once again from the bed. Rafe takes a step forward, then another, then sets his hands on your arms to try and stop you from moving.

"No, baby, please don't leave," he says. Your eyes flicker up to his, and you instantly notice how bloodshot they are. You take another deep breath and close your eyes, ready to ask him the question you know you don't want the answer to.

"Rafe," you start, your voice calm, "Please tell me you are not high right now."

"I'm not high right now," Rafe says too fast. You look up at him again and can tell instantly that he's lying.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Rafe?" you raise your voice, squirming from his grip, "You're almost four hours late, you come back high, and then you lie about it?"

"Don't fucking yell at me, all right?" Rafe says, even though he raises his voice at you in return.

You roll your eyes and start grabbing your stuff, shoving it into your bag. You just want to go home and not deal with all of this right now.

"Where are you gonna go?" he asks you, his voice thick and accusing.

"Home," you mutter. Rafe scoffs, earning your attention.

"It's midnight and raining out. Just fucking sleep here and we'll work it out in the morning."

You roll your eyes at him and continue stuffing shit into the bag. Rafe comes over and grabs onto your wrists, stopping you from packing.

"Baby," he says, his voice softer, "Just chill for a second so I can explain, okay?"

You shrug and nod, telling him silently to go ahead and try to explain himself. He swallows before he speaks, so you know this will be good.

"Okay, well, I was out, y'know, with Topper and Kelce, right? We were at the Club. And Barry came by and started saying some shit to me and it just turned into a mess, okay? I had to handle shit with my sister and her dumbass friends and Topper's all pissed off because she's with John B now-"

"Rafe," you stop him, "I'm missing the part where you forgot to call for four hours and then got high."

He stares down at you, looking almost blindsided by the fact that you're asking him that, then nods his head.

"Okay, yeah," he says, more to himself than to you, "I uh, I lost my phone for a bit."

"You lost your phone for a bit?" you repeat, "Like, it died?"

Rafe considers that for a moment, then ultimately shakes his head.

"No, I just lost it at the Club."

You laugh and nod your head, finally understanding, "Oh, so you were too coked out to keep track of your shit? Nice, Rafe. I'm really glad you felt the need to get high out of your mind before you spend the night with me. That makes me feel really good."

You side-step him and continue to collect your things while Rafe throws his hands up in the air out of frustration.

"Jesus, that's not what it's about," he groans, "Barry showing up just threw me off and it fucking stressed me out-"

"You don't have to do coke every time you get stressed out, Rafe!" you turn and scream at him. He moves his head back and stares at you, clearly hurt by your outburst.

"Okay, look, I apologized-"

"You didn't, actually," you interrupt him, watching as Rafe replays this whole interaction over in his head and realizes he, in fact, has not actually apologized.

"All right. I am so sorry that I wasn't home on time and that I didn't call. Some shit just came up and I had to handle it but it was shitty of me not to call. If the tables were turned, I'd be mad, too. So, I'm sorry, baby."

Your shoulders fall as you start to melt under his term of endearment for you. Even after being together for so long, him calling you 'baby' still makes butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

"I accept your apology," you say quietly, watching his eyes shoot up to yours and a grin erupt on his face, "But I'm still gonna go home. You wasted my night, Rafe. I just want to be by myself."

His eyes fall to the floor again as he speaks, "It's pouring. Please just stay. I'll drive you home in the morning."

You stare at the boy, the man, you love so much and give in. Him worrying about you is always enough to make your heart melt, no matter how mad you can get at him.

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your bag onto the floor of Rafe's bedroom.

Rafe comes over and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and holding you tightly. He pretends to not get upset when you don't return his hug. You're still mad, annoyed, and frustrated.

"I'm gonna go shower," you tell him as you pull away.

He wants to ask if he can join you, but he knows you're not in the mood for him to be playing around. So, he lets go of you and watches as you walk over to his bathroom door and close the door behind you.

You take a long shower. The warm water feels so good on your stressed muscles and Rafe being in the other room and not with you is comforting as well. Of course, you love him, but you also love your space and need to not be around him sometimes.

When you come out of the bathroom, only wrapped in a towel, you find Rafe fast asleep on his side of the bed. You try not to be upset with him because you know he had a stressful day and hr's exhausted, but you're also mad because of everything plus the fact that he's high and pretty much just passed out on you.

You pick up one of Rafe's shirts from the floor and then slide a pair of his boxers on, then grab your phone and head for the door. There's a guest room down the hall from Rafe's bedroom that you are going to sleep in, because you want to be alone and you really don't want to listen to Rafe snore all night after he's already irritated the shit out of you.

Your bare feet scurry across the hardwood floor and over to the guest room door, quietly pushing it open and slipping inside. You pull the covers back on the bed and crawl inside, relieved to be cuddling into a bed even if it isn't your own. The sleep is already trying to take over your body, so you don't even have time to browse your phone. It's time for sleep.

Almost the second your head hits the pillow, you're out. All of that worrying about where Rafe had been and if he had been okay had really worn you out.

You're waken up from your sleep when you hear the guest bedroom door creak open. Everything in the Cameron house is ancient, so everything creaks and cracks. You turn around in the bed and face the door, seeing your boyfriend's face squished in the doorway. He smiles softly when he sees you, but you can still see the sleep lining his eyes.

"Rafe," you grumble, pulling the sheets over your head.

"Baby," he says back, a playfulness in his voice.

He comes into the room and closes the door softly behind him. You feel him try to pull the sheets up from your grip, so you pull them tighter.

"Scoot over, baby," he whispers, so you sigh but obey.

Rafe breaks the sheets from your grasp and dives into the bed beside you, quick to wrap one of his arms around you and pull you close.

"I was worried when I woke up and you were gone," he admits to you, staring at the ceiling, "Why are you sleeping in here?"

You sigh, not really wanting to talk. You just want your sleep. Clearly, Rafe has other plans.

"You were already asleep when I got out of the shower," you say, attitude present in your voice.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he says quickly, "I just crashed."

You want to make a comment about how, of course he crashed, because he was high when he got home. Instead, you move your head down to his chest, making him relax.

"It's okay," you barely whisper.

Rafe sighs, knowing it's not, "I'm going to do better."

You don't respond. You can feel yourself starting to get emotional at his promises, because he's made them before.

"I mean it, baby," he tells you when you don't answer, "I really fucked up tonight. I know that. I never, ever meant to skip out on a date with you or make you angry with me. I made a really bad judgment call and it will never happen again."

You bury your face into his chest, finally allowing yourself to completely breathe him in for the first time tonight. Although Rafe screws up a lot, one thing he does well is apologize. He's said absolutely everything that you have wanted to hear since he ran late tonight.

"Promise me," you say against him, feeling your tears start to come up again.

"I promise you."

You look up at him in the darkness, then crawl up against his body to leave a kiss on his lips. It's gentle and sweet, leaving Rafe wanting more when you pull away.

"I forgive you," you tell him, bringing a hand up to play with his hair. He closes his eyes under your touch, grateful to have such an amazing woman by his side.

"I love you so much, baby," he whispers.

"I love you, too," you reply, then sit up in the bed.

You crawl on top of your boyfriend, feeling him sit up so you can have a better seat on his lap. You straddle him and bring your lips down his cheeks and to his neck, knowing you're getting to him when he moves his head to the side to give you more space to work with.

"Mmm," he hums, his hands falling all the way back to shamelessly grab your ass.

"Just because we missed our date doesn't mean we have to skip out on the best part," you whisper in his ear, purposely trying to drive him crazy. It works, because he lets out a moan at your words.

"Holy shit, that's right, baby," he nods, leaning forward and kissing you. He bites your bottom lip and pulls it back before he let's go, knowing you love when he does that.

"You're gonna take care of me, right?" you ask him, keeping your voice low.

He brings one hand around from your ass and starts to rub you through his own boxers you have on, smirking when he realizes why the fabric feels so familiar.

"Don't I always?" he asks, "You were so mad at me earlier, and still put my fucking boxers on, huh?"

You grin but bury your head in his neck so he can't tell. Rafe's smirk just widens when you don't respond, so he slowly and carefully brings his hands up to the top of the boxers, then bringing his hands down to your core. You know he's going slow on purpose to tease you, and it's working. He always drives you crazy.

"Rafe," you finally whine, wanting him to do something other than graze your center.

"Hmm, baby? You want more?"

He smirks when he can feel you get even wetter as he speaks. He knows exactly what turns you on.

"Yes, please," you nod, doing your best to not sound impatient.

"So polite, baby," he grins, bringing his lips to your cheek and down to your neck as he pushes his fingers in you.

You moan as two fingers enter you, feeling Rafe start to move them in and out immediately. His grin only widens as he watches you, even being able to see you with your mouth open through the darkness.

"Keep going," you tell him, moaning once again at how good he feels.

He starts to go faster, then brings his other hand up to your mouth and sticks two of those fingers in your mouth.

"I want to hear you," he says quietly, "I know how loud you can get. But I don't want to get us in trouble. Okay, princess?"

You nod, sucking on his fingers in your mouth. He moans and moves his fingers in and out of you even faster. He feels you clench around him, so he knows you're ready. He looks up into your eyes and then pushes his fingers back further into your mouth.

"Come for me, baby, I've got you."

You nod and clench again, then come only a minute later. He smirks as he removes two separate sets of his fingers from your body, bringing the ones that been buried inside your core up to his lips.

"Jesus," you groan, watching him as he licks his fingers clean through the darkness.

"You better not be exhausted, I'm not done with you yet," he warns you.

You smile and lean forward, kissing him roughly and moving your hips against his. He moans in your mouth, not being able to contain himself.

"Shit," he swears when you pull away, "I'm gonna fuck up more often."

[fruitcoops]

hi eve! i was wondering if you would be interested in writing a coops shower fic, nothing smutty, just really soft and sensual and maybe comforting. i’m going through a tough time right now and your writing always cheers me up. thanks <3

Yes! This was combined with an ask for Coops' first day/ night living together--I hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for showering together (nothing smutty, just fluff)

They tumbled through the front door in a mess of laughter and rainwater—Remus’ soaked sneakers slipped on the floor and he skidded into Sirius, who was still blinded by the damp hair hanging in his eyes. “Shit!” Remus spluttered around his breathless grin as they struggled to keep their balance. “Baby, baby, grab the door—”

The front door slammed shut and steadied them just as another bolt of lightning cracked overhead; they stood in the entrance, panting and drenched, before Sirius’ chest began to shake beneath Remus’ cheek once more. “Mon dieu,” he snickered, leaning his head back against the heavy wood. “Which god did we piss off?”

“I’m taking this as a good sign.” Remus shivered as he shook his raincoat out on the welcome mat. “A fresh start, and all that symbolism.”

“Okay, college boy.”

He peeled one wet sock off and snapped it at Sirius’ hip, but the extra water weight made him miss by a mile and Sirius just shot him a teasing grin while he wriggled out of his tshirt. “I told you to bring a jacket,” Remus said wryly as his head got stuck. “But oh no, sweetheart, it’s totally not going to rain today. The weatherman is always wrong, it’s been sunny all week—”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled from the depths of wet fabric, waving one hand in his general direction. “You’re very smart.”

“Do you want first shower?”

Sirius’ cheeks were pink when he finally freed himself, both from his efforts and their mad five-block dash home. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Aren’t we showering together?”

Remus shrugged. “Hey, it’s your house.”

“Our house,” he corrected, taking the hem of Remus’ shirt and helping him pull it over his head.

A little flurry of joy ran through Remus’ gut at his words; goosebumps broke out over his freezing skin, and he could feel a dopey smile spread over his face. Ours. Most of his stuff had been living at Sirius’ for a couple days, but he had only brought the last of it over and dropped his key off with his landlord that morning. The last six hours had been filled with delirious happiness every time he remembered. “Then lead the way, captain.”

Sirius kissed his chilly nose and took him by the hand—both their palms were clammy and half-numb from the rain, and Remus didn’t care one bit. Stripping down was significantly more difficult when every article of clothing seemed dead-set on becoming a second skin, but after a handful of minor mishaps and more than one muffled curse, they were finally standing under warm water.

Remus closed his eyes with a sigh, letting the steam wrap around every inch of him. His apartment may have been comfortable, but it was severely lacking in water pressure and heat compared to Sirius’ house.

Our house.

He hummed to himself and stepped back until his shoulder blades were pressed to Sirius’ chest; there was a low laugh, then callused fingers running through his hair. “What are you thinking about?”

“Our house,” he answered, turning to stand on his toes and place a kiss to Sirius’ lips. It was chaste and unhurried; there was no time constraint on how long they could spend there. Remus didn’t have to worry about getting home too late, or whether he had brought enough stuff to stay the night. Everything he wanted was within reach.

Sirius smiled against his lips and draped his arms over Remus’ shoulders, tugging playfully on the wet curls at the base of his neck. “Good thoughts?”

“Always,” he said immediately. “This is…it’s so good, Sirius. So good. I am so happy.”

Their next kiss was deeper, but there was no real heat behind it, even as Remus curled his hands around the sharp peaks of Sirius’ hips. “I love you,” Sirius murmured when they pulled back for air. He bumped their noses together. “And I can’t wait to have you here all the time.”

“You don’t have to wait at all.”

His grin widened and he kissed Remus again. “I know.”

Remus nuzzled into the side of his neck and relaxed into the soapy slide of Sirius’ hand down his spine. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until the hot water started pouring over him, and sudden sleepiness trickled into the edges of his thoughts like rain through a gutter. The steam turned minty fresh as Sirius washed the expanse of his shoulders, then his neck, then all the way down each arm; he dropped a teasing pinch to Remus’ ass, but moved right back up to rub his thumb in the crook of one elbow.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked quietly against Remus’ temple.

“Mmm, please,” was all Remus could muster in response.

He had never really understood the hype about physical affection before he met Sirius. Sure, hugs from his parents and Jules were amazing, and fist bumps from the guys always made him feel included, but the gravitational pull Sirius had was like nothing he had ever felt. It was impossible to be uncomfortable if Remus was within five feet of him—impossible to feel unsafe when he fit so neatly in the dip of one shoulder.

“Love you,” he said around a slow exhale as Sirius began combing the conditioner through his hair. It was almost long enough to flop into his eyes, something that seemed to delight Sirius any time he saw it.

Warm lips brushed the shell of his ear for a moment. “You smell like la lavande.”

“Lavender?” Sirius hummed his approval and Remus raised his head just enough to kiss the water off his collarbone. “Do you like it?”

“Love it.” Sirius glanced down at him with a sideways smile, making one dimple pop. “Love you. Where did you get this?”

“Walgreens.”

That startled a laugh from him, which set Remus off as well. “Walgreens? Really?”

“I ran out one day at, like, midnight and it was the closest place. It smelled nice, so I just kept on buying it.”

Sirius shook his head with the same awed look on his face. “The secret to illegally soft hair is Walgreens conditioner. Amazing. My hair would riot.”

Remus frowned. “Your hair looks incredible even after you swim in salt water all day.”

“And then it tangles, and frizzes, and—” He paused. “Comment dit-on une colère? Like a toddler?”

“A tantrum?”

“Ouais.” Remus tilted his chin back obediently to let him wash the conditioner out. “It throws a tantrum. See, this is why I need you around all the time.”

“I have never seen your hair throw a tantrum before.” Sirius’ cheeks flushed and he bit his lip around a smile; Remus poked him lightly in the chest. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s an awfully big smile for nothing.”

His silver eyes shone as he placed yet another gentle kiss to Remus’ lips through the water running down both their faces. “You get to see it all the time now. No more going back to your apartment after we go places.”

“You’ll be subjected to my bedhead every morning,” Remus teased, resting their foreheads together as he reached for the soap.

“I love your bedhead.”

“I’m counting on it.” He took the bar of soap and ran it along the planes of Sirius’ chest, then around his back to trace every muscle. He could feel Sirius’ gaze on him with each movement and warmed from the inside out at the attention. Every bit of rainy cold that had snuck under his skin vanished in the minutes of comfortable quiet.

Thunder rolled through the sky when they finally turned the shower off and wrapped up in Sirius’ fluffiest towels—Remus’ own were significantly less fancy, but they remained in the linen closet on equal standing. It was silent things like that that made him love Sirius just a little bit more.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” he said as Sirius started pulling his sweatpants on.

“Hey!” Sirius protested when Remus took both the pants and his soft tshirt right out of his hands, winding the towel back around his waist with an awkward hop. “I’m going to get cold!”

“Five minutes!” Remus called over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs with their clothes. “I promise it’s worth it!”

It would be a drizzly night; grand plans of takeout and a movie ran through his head and he did a small happy dance in the laundry room as he tossed their clothes in the dryer. His dryer. Their dryer. “Mine,” he murmured, running a hand over the top of the machine. It was a wild thought, and one he would have to get used to. He still instinctively checked the clock from time to time before remembering that he would be staying for—

Forever.

The thought came before Remus could really process it and he leaned against the dryer with an unsteady breath. It was only his first real day in the house, and already he was thinking about…that. About staying forever. It wasn’t as scary as he had imagined.

“Mon loup?” Sirius peeked around the doorjamb in confusion, still fiddling with the tucked side of his towel. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a trick that I learned from my mom,” Remus said rather than getting into the specific train of thought that probably left him looking like he had been whacked with a frying pan. “Do you want to do takeout for dinner?”

“I…kind of wanted to get dressed.”

Remus patted his hip as he passed. “Five minutes, baby. Where should we eat?”

“You pick.”

--

Forty minutes later, Remus found himself tucked under the blanket his mother had given him when he went away for college with his boyfriend and a box of takeout Thai food. Their clothes were still warm from the dryer—he would never forget the pure bliss on Sirius’ face when he got dressed and was instantly cocooned in heat—and Sirius’ hair was still half-damp from their shower, curling in little wings over his ears. It felt like worlds colliding. Somehow, Remus was just fine with that.

“Hey,” he said quietly as the exposition continued on screen. Sirius glanced over with his fork halfway to his mouth. “This is perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looked around the living room—their living room—that had seemed so empty the first time he saw it. They could put pictures on the wall by the back door, and one box of his books still laid unopened by the shelves. He could bring out his grandmother’s quilt in the winter. A month from then, two months, ten months. “I’m happy here.”

Sirius’ breath caught for a moment before a hoodie-clad arm slid between Remus’ back and the couch and guided him over to rest his head on Sirius’ chest. His lips were slightly spicy from the curry when he kissed him. “I’m happy when you’re here,” Sirius said, hardly above a whisper. “I miss you when you’re not.”

Remus breathed in the smell of his—their—laundry detergent and felt his heart give a hard thump. “You don’t have to miss me anymore.”

“C’mere.” There was a shuffle as Sirius set both their food boxes on the coffee table and paused the movie, then shifted around so Remus was laying on his chest. He pulled the blanket all the way up to their shoulders and slipped one warm hand up Remus’ shirt to rest on the small of his back; his eyes were bright in the semi-darkness. “Stay with me.”

Remus didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

[queenoftheworldisdead]

I have a request with dark prompts and tropes/ kinks from the list.

The Dialogues:

“Please, I have to get home.”

“Don’t move a muscle.”

Tropes:

Stalking/obsession

Kidnapping

(With the character Andy Barber)

Thank you in advance.

Hard day's night

Warning: 18 + Only, dark theme, kidnapping, choking, bondage, non-consent, dubious consent, forced fingering, cream-pie

Note: hope you enjoy

Dark Andy x Reader

The parking garage was partially empty compared to when you first arrived to work. Your heels echoed off the cement garage walls as you searched for where you parked. Some days you were lucky to park on L3 the prized spot closest to the ground, but today you were late and in your hurry you couldn't remember if you were on L5 or L8.

With the car fob in hand you press the unlock button. The familiar beep signaled that you were further away than you anticipated.

*Honk

The loud car horn from behind had you jumping out of your skin and screeching at the top of your lungs. With your heart hammering in your chest you turned only to be immediately blinded by the car behind you.

Blocking the light with your hand, you realized you were wondering in the middle of the driving path. "Sorry" you shouted back, moving over to allow them to pass you.

The black sedan creeped up and idled beside you. You clutched your purse and moved over closer to the side as the window rolled down. You didn't have mace, but you were sure your purse was heavy enough to wheeled as a weapon.

"Sorry I scared you" Andy leaned over, smiling as he looked up at you. It was slightly jarring seeing him like that. He had been extremely combative towards your boss during the deposition, each session ending in a screaming match.

Mr. Thomas, the defense attorney you paralegal for, had always been mild tempered. The objections during Mr. Thomas's cross drew an ire that you had never witnessed before. It was as if he sought to provoke him on purpose. Tempers were so high that Judge Peters threatened both sides with contempt, forcing several recesses to cool them off.

A process that normally lasted a few hours somehow turned into three grueling days of high tensions and long nights going over transcripts.

"Sorry I was in the way. I forgot where I parked." You jiggled your keys, almost embarrassed.

"Get in I'll help you find it. It's really late and you shouldn't be walking alone in the garage like this."

The offer was nice, but getting into the car of opposing console would surely be frowned apron at your firm.

You were about to protest when he unlocked the passenger door. With a sigh of defeat you got inside. Thankfully Mr. Thomas parked in reserved parking on the lower levels. Far from the general parking on the upper floors that you used.

"I assume your late because of me" he laughed lightly as he slowly drove on.

"Yeah its safe to say you are correct" you dryly chuckled as you hid low in the seat. The garage was slightly empty, but you didn't want to take the chance of being seen as doing something inappropriate. Idiot why did you get in the car?

Aside from him being apposing console Mr.Barber made you feel uneasy. During the hours long deposition you would feel a weird tingle, that made you look up from your notepad only to look up and lock eyes with the DA. You shrugged it off as an intimidation tactic used to get under the skin of the opposition.

---

Clicking your fob again you listened for your car, but somehow you were now further than you were originally. "Oh gosh can we turn back? I think I' m further up."

Andy nodded as he continued down the path. The signs above indicating 'More parking turn left' and 'Exit turn right'.

"Why are you still here?" You questioned him as you searched. The deposition ran long, but it ended hours ago.

"Oh.." He said caught off guard as he made a right turn toward the exit. "I spotted an old colleague John Wilson. We chatted for a bit, didn't and realize how late it was until the old ball and chain called."

Your office had a few former district attorneys. Most left the DA's office for the more lucrative life of defense.

"Um Mr.Barber.. you needed to make the left to go back into the garage." You pointed back when Andy made the right turn toward the garage exit.

"You know I'm impressed by your professionalism." Andy ignored and continued down the wrong path. "Thomas is lucky to have you on his team" he explained as he rolled to a stop behind a car inline to exit.

"Um thank you." You shifted in your seat at the impromptued complement. You hadn't done anything special or out of the ordinary. You just took notes like any other paralegal would.

Was he head hunting you? You heard about big firms doing stuff like that, but not for paralegals that were a dime a dozen.

Andy made no effort to change course and you felt increasingly uncomfortable as he inched closer to the exit.

"Um...you know I will just get security to escort me to my car from here." You pointed at the man in the glass box guarding the exit. "Thank you" you reached over to touch the door handle and heard an immediate click of the lock snapping shut.

"Don't move a muscle." You froze at his command.

"I wouldn't get out if I were you." He warned glancing at the rear-view. "Your boss might frown at you getting out of the apposing consoles car."

Stiffly you turned to peak over your seat, a cold chill fell over your body at the sight of Mr. Thomas car waiting in line behind Andy's in the queue. If you got out now you would be in deep shit. You slunk down low in the seat, in a veiled effort to hide. You shouldn't have gotten in this car. What the hell were you thinking?

"Come work for me" Andy casually grabbed his ticket to feed to the machine as he rolled to a stop. So this was just a job offer? If that was the case you were sure there were better ways to go about it. You had a nice chemistry with the old defense attorney and you were not interested in the stress of the DA's office or the pay cut you were sure to get.

"Um I'm not looking for a new job." You rejected him nervously. Hoping he would turn around and let you out.

"At least here my offer."

It seemed as you had no choice in the matter as he proceeded to pull out onto the road.

Your lips pressed into a frown. If you placate him, maybe he would let you go. He was a DA after all he wasn't going to hurt you tried to convince yourself.

"Fine, what is it?"

---

"Come work for me and I don't charge you with witness tempering"

Your eyes went wild at the allegation. "What!"

A lot of firms were dirty, but yours was not one of them. The cases you handled with Mr. Thomas didn't even rise to that level. At most he handled cases of over zealous brokers, financial fraud cases or embezzlement. The only time you ever came in contact with a witness Mr.Thomas was there with you. And even if it did you would never take penitentiary chances to get a leg up on the competition.

"Don't worry it's not true. I know your a good girl" he glanced over at you with a smirk. The praise graded you as you sat still stunned. "But that won't stop me from charging you. I'm willing to bet that until you get yourself untangled from the mess I am going to make of your life, your boss and his associates wouldn't think twice about letting you go."

You stared at him in disbelief. You barely said two words to this man, yet he was ready to blow up your life. And for what? For you to work for him? "And from what I know of paralegal salaries I would bet you could afford a public defender at best."

"Mr. Thomas would defend me" you scoffed.

"I wouldn't count on it. Because I would take him down too if he tried." He was serious.

You fell back on the seat as your head swam with the madness. You tried to think what you could've done to bring this on.

--

You had been to the DA's office a handful of times so when you saw the familiar building in the horizon you shrunk further in the leather seat.

Andy pulled into a reserved parking spot as the clock crept closer to midnight.

You didn't belong here. Maybe if you got out you could run for it. Make a mad dash somewhere and call the cops. But what would you say? The DA threatened you with a job, kidnapped you and took you to his office? They would think you were insane.

"Let's start your interview." He announced as he killed the engine. You pursed your lips and frowned deeply.

You were being made to interview for a job you didn't want nor ask for.

“Please, I have to get home.”

Andy paid you no mind, slamming the door in the face of your plea. Your eyes followed him as he headed toward the stone steps to the building.

What did he expect for you to do? Show up tomorrow at your office and sit on prosecutions side? You doubted the judge nor your boss would allow that to fly.

You watched him as you stayed paralyzed in the car. This had to be a joke or a dream. Had you slipped in the parking garage earlier and bumped your head. You tried pinching yourself to snap out of it only to be disheartened by the gravity of this situation.

---

Andy led you down the empty hallways, until he stopped at a door that bared his name.

You stood back while he unlocked it and motioned you to go inside. You couldn't move, dread cemented you in place. It was a miracle he had got you to come this far.

Andy tsked and shook his head in disappointment as he walked inside.

You tried to play back every encounter, every word you could've uttered that could've spearheaded this, but there was nothing.

You would've been surprised if he even knew your name, you couldn't even recall it being mentioned during the depositions.

While you drowned in despair Andy shimmed out of his blazer, tossing it on a chair off to the side.

"You're wasting your potential with Thomas" Andy declared, perching himself on the edge of his desk.

"I can tell your very focused and career driven." He continued on. It was surreal, watching him unbutton and roll up his sleeves. Like a disappointed father ready to reprimand their child.

"I noticed it from the start." The anticipation of what was to come became too much under the weight of his stare. You hugged yourself defensively while warm Tears streamed down your cheek.

It was as if he were a wolf ready to swallow you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut unable to hold his stare.

"Eyes on me" he said firmly. You sniffed uncontrollably as you forced them back open. "Good girl" Andy praised, adjusting his cock. He delighted in this, wetting his bottom lip, reveling in your discomfort.

"With a little more discipline and guidance you will reach your full potential. And I want to help you do that" Andy grunted as he loosened then knot of his tie.

Andy stayed sat before you unmoved by your tears as he slipped the fabric from around his neck, pulling it taunt with one hand while wrapping it around the other.

"You just need a firm hand to mold you. Or you can stay out there and watch as I turn your world upside down."

What could you say? He had you where he wanted you. You held your head low, sobbing to yourself as you approached him. You were no match for the power of the DA's office.

Andy rose from his perch and circled you like a shark with blood in the water. "Hands behind your back." He whispered into the shell of your ear. You looked back at him eyes wet with tears pleading. He sighed disappointed again taking matters into his own hands. You whimpered as he pried your hands from their hold, forcing them behind your back.

"Please Mr. Barber " you chanted as he encompassed your wrist with the tie. Knotting it so tight you feared for the circulation of your hands.

---

Andy's firm body pressed against you, his arms wrapped around you, roaming your body freely. The fabric of the tie burned as you struggled to free yourself. He ripped open your cheap blouse with ease, groping your breast over your bra. You withered in his embrace, unable to fight back.

"You made it hard to concentrate" he hummed into your neck while he played with your hard nipples over the fabric. The heat of his breath and the kneading of your breast electrified the coil that tightened in your core.

You tried to crouch into your shoulders, but Andy cupped your chin harshly. Forcing you to expose your neck to him and endure his assault. You went rigid when his other hand started to trail down your abdomen, tunneling past your waistline in desperate pursuit of your mound.

"Sitting so quiet, taking notes."

Your tears glazed Andy's hand as he forced you to look at him as he plunged beneath the elastic of your panties. His eyes clouded with lust at the sight of your facial contortions. Your clit buzzed as his fingers moved over it. You clamped your thighs tightly around his palm in an effort to stop further intrusion, but he pressed on. Rubbing firmly against your mound repeatedly, sparking an unwanted warmth. You felt shame and guilt as heat pooled in his hand.

"Hmmm so ready to be my perfect little helper." Andy purred.

"Are you ready to be molded by me" he teased. Andy pushed his fingers inside of you, releasing a gasp you could not contain.

"Fuck you're so tight" Andy cursed in your ear while he fingered you.

You bit down on your lip to stop the moan trapped in your throat. The embarrassing wetness, the involuntary moans, it was as if your body no longer belonged to you. Andy manipulated you like a puppet on a string.

You exhaled deeply when he pulled his fingers from you and released your neck. You panted from the over stimulation.

He built up a need and left you cradling on the edge. Without warning Andy spun you by the shoulder to face him.

"Look at you my needy little helper. Ready to learn." He smirked at you.

Your eyes went wide when he began unfastening his belt. You didn't want to find out what he would use that for. Your flight response started to kick into high gear as he closed the space between you.

Reflexively you took a step backwards, almost stumbling to the floor when you tripped on the leg of the chair behind you.

There was no way out of the room without going past him. You doubted you would get far even if you tried. The back of your legs hit his desk, halting your movements.

"Gonna be my perfect little helper?"

You opened your mouth to finally scream, but Andy swiftly rushed you. The grip on your neck felt deadly as you croaked. He leaned his weight on you, tipping you over until you slammed hard on his desk.

Whatever trinkets he had on his desk dug into your back and arms painfully. Andy wedged himself between your thighs, and haphazardly fumbled with his pants. Pushing them down with one hand as he kept you pinned with the other. You bucked and squirmed when you felt his need pressed on your pelvis.

Your skirt had rode up past your waist leaving your thin panties the last line of defense.

"Don't do this please Mr. Barber please I'll work for you please." Choked out incoherently.

You bucked more feverishly when he yanked your panties to the side. The tip of his cock lined up against your entrance.

"That's it. That's my good little helper. So wet for me." Andy praised as his sunk into you as he kept a firm hold on your neck. Your pussy pulsed around him as you strained to adjust. He made you painfully full.

Andy lifted up your left thigh, allowing himself to sink deeper. The added weight of him on top of you married with the pain from your arms.

His focused grip on your neck helped muffle your mewls, but not the sloppy sounds of your cunt. You turned away from his face as he rolled his hips into you. Only to be met with the smiling faces of his family. The facade of his wholesome life seemingly entrained by your predicament.

"Perfect little cunt fits me so well."

Your pussy clenched with every praise to your shame. There was no way to bite back the need he fed deep within you. Your stomach tensed as a staggered moan fell from your mouth.

Your feet curled in the air as your thighs squeezed around him. You felt of mix of shame and disappointment as you came around his cock.

Loosening his grip on your neck Andy could no longer hold himself back. He filled you to the brim, his seed seeped out of you as you milked him dry.

He laid on you briefly, panting heavily before pulling off. Carefully adjusting himself as he watched his cum drizzle down your raw cunt. "Get yourself cleaned up. We have cross in a few hours."

[eideticmemory]

DOWN THE HALL | SPENCER REID

Spencer lives down the hall, and likes to spend more time dicking you down than telling you the important things.

Word Count: 4k.

Warning: Sex w/ S2 Spencer.

207.

Not very far from 210, where not two months ago, you settled down in the heart of DC. You first met him when he was coming up the steps, and like an awkward television moment. Your eyes met, you went still, stunned from any movement, your key stuck in the lock of your door.

And although he felt it too, the connection, the attraction, the momentary pause in time. He didn’t react. He stopped, he saw, he kept walking. All the way to unit 207, where he’d lived for over a year.

In your wildest dreams, he would give you just a second of his time. He was like a blur. Never there. Gone in an instant, constantly moving. He often came home late at night, sometimes two, three in the morning.

Tonight, he came home at midnight. He pounded on your door exactly thirty-seven minutes after the hour. You weren’t asleep by any means, but you were comfortable in your bed. Completely surrounded by bliss and safety, suddenly pulled to fear by the sudden knock.

You answered the door in your pajamas, a lamp in the grasp of your hand, prepared to defend yourself in the most ridiculous way possible. You dropped it to the ground when you saw him.

“Hi.”

“Hi . . . [y/n], right?” he greeted, too tired to put on the facade of a bubbly appearance. His sweater vest was clenched in his fist at his side, his tie loosened around his neck, only just revealing his chest underneath.

You, dressed in gray long sleeve and green shorts, tried desperately to hide yourself behind the door. “Yeah,” you murmured.

“Hi, uh, I’m Spencer — Reid. I live in 207,” he told you. A formal introduction.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve seen you, too,” he sighed. “Which is why I’m here, listen, [y/n], would you like to come over?”

“I — “ you stuttered, visibly taken aback. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now? Now? I — for all you know, you could be a serial killer or something.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head, “No, no, I’m not a serial killer . . . the opposite, actually.”

The way you saw it: you could be stupid, and not go with this gorgeous man. Or be stupid, and go with this gorgeous man. There was really one answer. “Okay . . . okay, let me change — “

“What you have on is fine,” he nodded to you, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked down the hall.

Your jaw dropped just slightly, “Okay.” And you followed him, your socks pressing to the hardwood of the hallway floor.

He closed the door behind you, and it felt final. Locked in. You turned to him, after being distracted by the allure of his apartment, and he was suddenly two feet away from you. You gasped, “Really making me believe you’re a serial killer, dude.”

“Sorry . . . sorry,” he whispered, taking a step back. “I just — didn’t think you’d actually come. Didn’t have a plan.”

“Oh, now you’re shy?”

Spencer cracked a smile.

Finally.

“Bad day?” you asked.

“Bad.”

“Well . . . I don’t know what you’re, usual coping skills are, but um, if this is your very deranged version of a booty call, I accept.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, “Booty call?” he repeated, not understanding the term in the slightest.

You let out a dry chuckle, “Okay . . . okay, um . . .” You moved in with your hands ready to hold his face in your palms. His skin was warm, red, soft. Just like his lips. His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, in a desperate attempt to keep you close.

You pulled away, his temples between your hands, whispered, “Is that what you wanted?”

And instead of saying a simple ‘yes,’ he pushed his body against yours, pulled you in by your waist and stuck his tongue in your mouth.

It was a heavy mix of attempts to breathe between kisses, you tripping over your feet as Spencer began to kiss your neck, feverishly pushing you to his bedroom. You fell back onto his bed, completely spread open for his to see. To touch. To kiss. To climb on top of.

By sheer luck of his, you weren’t wearing underwear, and it drove him crazy how wet you already were. He pushed your shorts to the side and you melted against his fingers as they pressed to your clit, slid inside of you. He hummed a soft moan against your cheek, using his hips and wrist to push his fingers further inside of you. God, you don’t know how he did it, but your legs were already shaking. You gripped onto the soft material of his shirt, your jaw dropping to release a gasp.

You couldn’t comprehend how his fingers made you feel so full. How they struck in just the right spot, so deep, so much pressure. “Fuck,” you slipped.

“I’m not even doing anything,” Spencer said. Not cocky, not arrogant. Just clueless. It was cute.

“So do something,” you wanted it to be an order. But it came out as a beg.

Either way, he delivered. He curled his fingers inside of you, and you could feel your entire body tense up. He was fast, and aggressive, more than you anticipated. His hands pushed your shirt up over your chest. He took his time, teasing your nipples with his fingertips, blowing on them just to keep them hard before he put his mouth on them. It was all tongue, slimy and sticky and topped off with tight suction.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you release frail whimpers into the air. Your hips moved desperately against his hand, chasing an orgasm that was so close, it was just mean. You called out Spencer’s name, and he responded by railing his fingers into you so hard, your toes curled on impact.

“Oh, God,” you whined.

His mind pieced together the clues like fragments of glass. The heat between your legs, the shuffling of your thighs, your increased in volume, the way you pulled at his clothes, his hair, his skin. You were so close. And he was going to get you there, no need to worry.

His mouth left a wet trail from your breasts to your navel. The palm of his hand pushed your thighs apart, just making enough room for his head. “God, fuck,” his mouth was red hot, and slick. His tongue pressed into just the right spot on your clit, and swiped up with a hard and fast motion. Over, and over, and over.

It was so good. The combination of his long fingers, and quick tongue, and the warmth of his hand holding your tummy down. You pulled and scratched at him in some weak effort to ease the intensity, but he was so good. Where you needed it, he gave it to you. Until the tension in your body became too much to bear, and you came in a tantrums of moans and gasps. Both of his hands grabbed your thighs as they tightened around his face, and his tongue worked on you until every last drop was squeezed out of you.

You went to catch your breath, but his mouth was back on yours. His face was red, and turned a dark crimson when you undid his pants. Your head was heavy, and your vision was still a bit blurry, so you let your hands lead the way. You only looked down when his cock was caught in your hand, hard and big and pulsing for you, aching for you. You kissed Spencer’s neck, your tongue tracing a line down his throat as he reached over to grab a condom. His body was trembling, struggling to hold back from the pleasure.

The condom rolled over him pornographically, contrasting against the fabric of his pants. His belt rang as he pushed himself into you, and it was cold on your stomach. Just beneath the surface, Spencer was filling you up to the brink, and God, did you feel full. His hands were positioned beside your head, each other gripping onto the pillow with all his strength.

Even in the dark, you could see his pupils were dilated to the size of Jupiter, and his teeth dug into his lip as his hips dug into yours. His movements were slow at first, unsure. But as he moved in and out of you, made you squeak and moan, he realized that you liked it. That he was doing a good job, and he better keep it up. So he picked up the pace, a lot. You were taking as much of a beating as the headboard, but your moaning was loud enough to mask the noise. Spencer only gave you primal grunts in your ear, until you hooked your legs around his waist. Then his jaw dropped, and the gates were open.

It was almost musical, the sounds you guys made together. Growing louder when one of you would claw at the other, or bite onto the other’s shoulder just to stay grounded. And Spencer seemed to get more determined with time, placing your ankles on his shoulders, bending you in half just to get as deep inside of you as possible.

He had you in tears almost. So little time, but still so, so close. The pressure was deep, making you whimper with each thrust Spencer delivered without mercy. You held your fingers to the back at his neck, holding him in place with his forehead against yours. You pleaded, with your eyes, your voice, “Keep going, ke--keep going.”

He paused to hold his cock deep inside of you, just long enough to make you cry out, then his fingers found their way to your clit. They were fast, and his hips struggled to keep up. But either way, the pleasure was blinding and weakening. When you came, you gave him all you had. Absolutely all you had. He watched it happen. Watched your face, to make sure he remembered it. And he will remember it.

He’ll remember it as the face that laid there, underneath him, and watched him come undone. Your grunts and groans lined up perfectly with each of his final thrusts, reaching their peak as Spencer breathed out a long and life-sucking orgasm, shaking helplessly against you while he rode it out.

Dazed doesn’t begin to describe it -- the feeling of laying there afterwards. You just laid there, looking at him, thinking:

207.

I’m going to fall in love with the guy in 207 if he keeps fucking me like this.

“Oh . . .” Spencer said, noticing you crawling out of his bed. “You’re welcome to sleep in here, I can . . . I can take the couch.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, that’s not quite how the whole booty call thing works. But, um, if you want to see me again . . . you know where I live.”

That, he did.

And he was a frequent visitor. For months. You never did pinpoint where he worked, or what he did. His hours were never consistent. Weekends, late nights, even later nights. The poor thing would be so tired. He’d use the very last bit of all of his strength to fuck you, suck you, make you come until you were too worn out to move. Then, he’d just pass out. He once fell asleep in your arms at one in the morning. You touched the bridge of his nose, ran your finger over his swollen lips, felt the sweat on his jaw.

207, you thought.

God, the guy in 207 is beautiful.

The absolute latest -- or, earliest -- encounter you had was at six in the morning. He woke you out of a deep sleep with a phone call. His contact flashed on the screen, only noted with the initials SR, and it was accompanied by his voice, telling you he was at your door. The sun was rising, shining softly on you two through the window. It was the first time Spencer ever fully undressed for you. He was even more beautiful than you’d initially thought, and you were free to touch every inch of him. Feel the way his skin heated up, and watch how it turned red under your touch.

He pinned your hands over your head while you came, kept whispering to you. “It’s okay, [y/n], let it out. Let it go.”

You did. It was the first night you two received a noise complaint. The first time you saw Spencer hunched over in laughter. After your next door neighbor had returned to her apartment.

“This is funny to you?” You asked, but you couldn’t contain your own laughter.

Spencer responded with a cackle. He was bent over, hands on his knees, dying of laughter. Another noise complaint had to be on it’s way. “God,” he laughed. “I’m so tired. I’m so — I’m —“ he was cut off by another fit of giggles. And all you could do was watch, wait.

He choked out his last few chuckles, and stood up straight, breathing in a deep gust of air. “Can I make you breakfast?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, grinning, “You think you should be allow around an open flame right now? Seriously?”

“Come on.”

The sun was in full bloom, bright and illuminating the space in Spencer’s apartment. You sat at his kitchen table, observing him in a trance. His sweatpants were hanging off of his hips, topped with a loose red t-shirt that stuck out against his pale skin. His hair was still disheveled, and covering his face. Standing over two pans of eggs and bacon, the heat caused sweat to bead on his forehead. Every once in a while, he’d turn his head to look at you. Like he knew you weren’t taking your eyes off him. He’d smile, you’d smile back, and watch him as he continued back to his cooking.

207, you thought.

Fuck, I’m falling for the guy in 207.

But that was the last time you saw him.

The last time he called, the last time he came over, the last time you went to his place. It was the last late night booty call Spencer Reid had to offer.

And it made you feel like shit. Shitty, and angry, and so confused. Shitty, because, well, you were no longer getting the dick you were accustomed to. Angry, because what the fuck? And confused, because . . . because you don’t know what you did. Don’t know how he went from looking at you with that soft glimmer in his eyes, to barely looking at you at all.

From fucking you, every night that he could, to having his number deleted from your phone. That didn’t stop you from sleeping beside it every night, hoping, wishing, that it would just ring. That it was just work keeping him from you.

But after three weeks, you finally came to terms with the fact that it probably wasn’t work. Your mind went into overload, imaging all the things it could be, and the one thing that would not leave your brain: It’s another girl. It had to be. It had to be. Because, as much it hurt, it hurt less than thinking he had just forgotten about you.

The night he finally spoke to you again, was the first night you slept properly in weeks. It was a deep sleep, and for once — for once, in a fucking blue moon — you didn’t dream of Spencer.

So, of course he showed up at your door at midnight.

You awoke like you’d been waiting for the sound. In a lot of ways, you had been, but in no way were you prepared for it. You hopped out of bed, rushed to the door so fast that you were sliding in your socks.

“Wow,” Spencer breathed. “So you . . . always look this beautiful when you wake up . . .”

You went to slam the door in his face, but he stopped it with his palm, “[y/n], wait, please —“

You sighed, and pulled the door open, hand on your hip, avoiding eye contact. From the quick glimpse you caught of him, he looked like he hadn’t sleep in almost a month. His eyes lost their light, his skin lost it’s color, his shoulders were slouched in exhaustion. The wrinkled shirt he had one was buttoned unevenly, and his feet were bare.

“I just . . .” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know who else to go to, I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms at him, “What’s wrong?” you asked, reluctantly.

“Can you . . . can you just come over?”

“Are you kidding? You ghost me, and expect me to come over and fuck? Are you seri —“

“[y/n].” He interrupted you, his voice stern. It shut you up immediately. “Can you just come over, please.”

The look on his face was full of stress. Aching, longing, tiredness. One month. One month of radio silence, and he thinks you’ll roll out of bed and fuck him?

He’s absolutely right.

The door to his apartment was cracked open, and from the threshold, you could hear the faintest sound. Almost a whine. You stepped in slowly, while Spencer rushed passed you after closing the door. He crossed the apartment, over to his bedroom where he disappeared almost instantly.

And here you thought he was really learning the ropes of the whole booty call thing. You entered the room, with your head hung low, ready to slide into his bed.

“How are you? Does your head still hurt?” he whispered.

Confused, thinking he was talking to you, you lifted your head up, stopped in your tracks. The little girl laying in Spencer’s bed was curled up into a ball, looking at him with a face of pure pain. Their faces mirrored one another’s, in an eerie way. The sadness, the exhaustion, they portrayed their emotions the exact same way.

She gave him a nod, and like she’d been waiting for Spencer to return, she broke into tears. Tears, and loud wails, and writhing around as she coddled her forehead. Spencer held her against his chest, rocking her in an attempt to soothe her. He turned to you, his eyes saying one word: Help.

You were frozen, yet somehow able to move your feet. You took a seat beside the little girl, looked at her, then Spencer, her, then Spencer. Her.

“Cassie, this is my friend, [y/n],” he told her. But Cassie only cried louder.

Her cries were unbearable, sad. You sighed to yourself, looked at Spencer until he gave you a nod.You reached in slowly to pressed your palm to Cassie’s forehead.

“Oh, goodness, honey, you’re burning up,” you said. Giving Spencer one last look, you asked, “May I?”

Spencer said a quiet “yes,” before handing Cassie over you. The little one rested her head on your shoulder, as you cradled her in your arms.

You rose to your feet, and carried her to Spencer’s bathroom, where you immediately cut on the shower. The rush of water was barely loud enough to drown out her cries. You began to undress her, removing her pajamas.

“Do you have any children’s tylenol?” you asked Spencer as you sat Cassie in the tub.

“I—i—it’s cooold!” she wailed.

“I know, I know, give me a second,” you told her. “Spencer. Do you have any children’s tylenol?”

“N—no,” he stuttered, struggling to speak while you removed your shorts.

“Get some,” you ordered. You stepped into the tub, and pulled Cassie into your arms. The coldwater soaked your clothes, and coaxed her shaking body.You rested your back against the wall, and allowed her to sob against your chest. Sobbing. But quieter now.

Spencer looked at Cassie, hesistant. “Go,” you nodded to him. “We’ll be okay.”

He exhaled, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Cassie stayed in your arms for the rest of the night. By the time Spencer returned, she’d let you dress her, brush her hair. And it was you who took her temperature, which had thankfully dropped dramatically since the shower. You gave her a small amount of tylenol, and you both fell asleep with her laying on your chest.

Spencer came to wake you at seven in the morning. He hovered over you, and gently called your name so as to not wake Cassie. You groggily looked down at her, and slid from under her carefully. You made sure she was tucked in before you left the room.

Spencer had a cup of coffee waiting for you. The two of you sipped on mugs, awkwardly standing in the kitchen, in silence. “So . . .” you spoke. “Is she . . .”

“Mine?” he nodded slowly, avoiding your gaze. “Yes.”

You scoffed, set your mug down. “She’s cute.”

“[y/n]—“

“And Cassie. Cute name . . . short for Cassandra?”

He sighed, “Cassiopeia, actually . . . she was, uh, queen in greek mythology. Known for her beauty.”

You almost cracked a smile. “Your doing, I suppose.”

“I may have had a say in it,” he grinned.

“Don’t do that,” you commanded.

“Do what?”

“Look at me, and be all cute, and think that’s going to get you out this. Because it’s not.”

“I’m . . .” he stuttered. “Not trying to get out of anything . . .”

“Well, you should be. All those times you’ve been inside me, and you couldn’t tell me once that you have a kid?”

“It’s complicated . . .”

“No, no! It’s not complicated. It’s four words. A little bit more if you bother to give me an adequate explanation.”

“I don’t owe you an explaination, [y/n].”

You took a step back, “Oh, really? You don’t?”

“No.”

You drew in a deep breath, crossed your arms, and exhaled as you stared at the floor. “Bye, Spencer.”

You turned around, and headed for the front door, the sound of his voice drawing you back in. “What do you want from me?” He shouted. You’d never so much as heard him curse, let alone raise his voice. You turned to him, your jaw dropped.

“What do you want, [y/n]?” he continued, now taking small steps towards you as he spoke. “Hm? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine. I was 20 when River and I had Cassie. 20. I had just gotten my doctorate, I wasn’t ready to have a . . . kid. But I love my daughter. Then it . . . came down to moving for work . . . River wouldn’t come with me, so I left.”

“You left?” You repeated.

He nodded, “I did. Not without a . . . nasty, non-legal custody battle first. Because of my job, I — I couldn’t get Cassie. I couldn’t give her what she needed. Which is why when my . . . crazy, ex-girlfriend showed up a month ago and dropped her off, said she was my responsibility now, I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t . . . even take care of her when she had a migraine.”

Your face had visibly softened at his change of tone. The hint of sadness that carried in his voice. “I’m sorry,” you said. “That you went through that, I’m sorry . . . but that doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve gotten this information a bit sooner—“

“Why?” he snapped. “Why, [y/n]? Because we were having sex? I owed you my entire life story because we were having sex?”

The gust of air that exhaled from your lips was quick and unstoppable. You could hear the hurt. So could Spencer. You nodded, “Guess not.”

You continued to head for the exit, not looking back, not stopping. But when you opened the door, two people were waiting, about to knock on the wood.

“Hi,” the woman said. “Hi . . . oh, we must have the wrong apartment. I’m sorry.”

“Garcia, Garcia, wait,” the man told her, then turned to you. “We’re looking for Spencer Reid, is he here?”

“Yeah, he is. I’m leaving.” You grumbled, pushing past the two of them to rush to your apartment.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” you heard the woman mumbled behind your back.

“Yo, kid,” the man’s voice called. “Where ya’ been? Did you think you could miss two weeks of work and we wouldn’t check on you?”

Oh, good, you thought.

So we’re all finding this out at the same time.

You didn’t leave your place for the rest of the day. The first thing you did was try to watch tv. Then, journaling. Then, yoga. Then, a little online shopping. But when the guy who you began to trust and love has a kid that he’s been hiding for months, brings you into his home to care for her, and then writes you off as a fling, there’s not much that can take your mind off of it.

The only thing that worked was a knock at the door. His knock. You huffed, slammed your hands into the couch cushions, and stood. Marching up to the door, you swung it open with an attitude. “What?” You snapped, enraged. Until you looked down.

“Hi, Miss [y/n]!” Cassie pipped. God, she looked so much like her father.

“Oh, Cassie,” you smiled, bending down to ignore Spencer. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Great! I made you something,” she presented you with a piece of paper, graced with a wonderful portrait of a bunny. You smiled as she placed it in your hands.

“Our way of saying thank you, for last night,” Spencer added.

You looked up at him, and gave him a faux smile while you rose to your feet. “Of course. I’m happy to help,” you nodded.

“Would you . . . possibly like to come to the park with us?” his voice cracked. “M—Maybe . . . grab dinner afterwards?”

Now your smile was real.

“Pleeeeease, Miss [y/n], please?” Cassie begged. She leaned in, whispered, “I think daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

You laughed, and the sound mixed in with Spencer’s own laughter. You looked up at him, and there it was: that momentary pause in time. “Sure,” you said to him. Only him. “I’d like that very much.”

Based on this request from @crystalclearwater162: heyy queen! do u mind writing single dad Spencer? But like Spencer from season 1 or 2 and the team doesn’t know he has a kid bc they’ve nvr rly seen him beside work. they only find out bc they show up to his apartment one day after work and see a little girl calling him daddy 🥺🥺.