#like I’m out here wondering if I should add a read more cut and I don’t think I’ve ever made a post long enough here to have to do that

[capetowncapers]

Part of me really doesn’t know if I’ll ever go back to school after my MA and try for my doctorate, because with undiagnosed bullshit and burnout, I don’t know how realistically I could manage a PhD program, and I know the academic hiring market is kind of shit.

But on the other hand…. Part of that is why I would like to go into academia. I don’t know what the fuck is up with my symptoms, but I do also know that things like ADHD and PMDD have been a struggle for me (especially before I was diagnosed) and I know of so many disabled and chronically ill students who are so bright and creative and intelligent but struggle because they’re in a system that (like so many of our institutions) is not built for disabled people.

I don’t think it would be easy to rework those things or that I as one person could fix higher education as a whole… but if I ever become a professor, I want so badly to work to make my courses and grading system flexible and accessible in a way that lets different students with varying needs thrive. I spent too much of my undergraduate career floundering because I didn’t know how to ask for help, and even as someone who has disability accommodations in my masters program, I know there are plenty of concerns about how available accommodations fall short. Disabled and chronically ill students shouldn’t have to do so much extra work educating others and fighting to be accommodated when it takes so much for them to just get by some days.

I’m just rambling and thinking out loud, but if I get to a place in my life where a phd and/or a position at a university seem like reasonable, concrete goals… I really really hope I can be an advocate for my students and give them an environment that lets them thrive and learn. I think so often of the faculty members who were real allies to me when I was struggling, and I don’t think I would’ve made it through my BA without them. I hope if i ever become a professor, I can be that sort of person for students.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom. 

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class. 

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper. 

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir. 

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use. 

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic. 

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?” 

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment. 

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question. 

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness. 

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking. 

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly. 

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down. 

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode. 

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you. 

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate. 

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer. 

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

[beomcharms]

bound ᥫ᭡

pairings: beomgyu x reader

genre: arranged marriage au! childhood friends to lovers, they’re both idiots

warnings: angstt, beomgyu is mean, kissing, suggestive language, part 2 likely to have smut, mentions of food, exhaustion etc (lmk if i missed anything)

w/c: 5.2k (im so so sorry)

a/n : somebody should lock my hands up because i genuinely cannot stop writing this fic😭. wanted to post this as a full fic but i’m pretty sure it’d be over the word count so here’s part one. hope you guys enjoy!!

taglist: lmk and i’ll add you!

fic below cut

Beomgyu who didn’t think twice when his dad proposed the question to him. He was not one to be bothered by love or finding the right one and out of the options he had you seemed to be the best choice. Your family’s knew each other and he has known you since you were babies and all through high school. You guys weren’t exactly friends but you were always there for all the major events in his life.

You, who were taken by surprise at the news, felt even more puzzled out when you heard that Beomgyu had agreed to marry you. He could have any girl. Handsome and charismatic you wonder why he agreed to marry you. Sure, it made sense in a business sense. With you marrying Beomgyu it’d further cement the relationship between your families and really boost your dads businesses. Maybe Beomgyu had his own reasons like you did.

The wedding is a quiet affair, mostly consisting of family friends and couple of your own. The day passes by in a daze and before you even realise it you’re standing in front of Beomgyu.

He looked dashing in his suit. Beomgyu gives you a small smile before giving his vows. You repeat your vows and he leanes down to give a small peck on your lips.

Your families cheer for you and you watch as your mom cries, tears of your own falling down from your cheeks. Beomgyu quietly hands you his handkerchief and you wipe them away, thanking him.

Something in Beomgyu’s chest hardens at the sight of your tears. The marriage had been nothing but one of convenience for him and he wonders whether that was unfair to you. He didn’t really know you all that well. You were quiet and kept to yourself a lot. But when you were really small you would read out stories to him while he dozed off next to you.

Now, looking at you standing next to him as his wife Beomgyu slowly realises how much time has actually flown by. Feeling his eyes own you, you turn around. Beomgyu is staring at you with an unreadable expression. You give him a quick smile which seems to break him out of his daze. He smiles back at you.

-.-

It’s been a week of your marriage. You are slowly adjusting to his house trying to grow familiar with your new environment. Beomgyu leaves early for work and comes home late at night. You on the other hand do your job at the school. The new academic year has just begun and you were trying not to drown in your hectic schedule.

“Hey, mind if I use your hair dryer? Mine seems to be broken” Beomgyu’s question brings you back to reality.

“Huh- yea- no, go ahead” you tell him. You were folding your laundry. You and Beomgyu shared a room, but that was it. You didn’t know when he came to bed or when he rose. The slightly rumpled sheets the only evidence that he had spend the night with you.

It was rare for you to be together at the same time. Being the weekend, it was your off day and you usually spend it at home passing your time doing one of your many hobbies. Beomgyu usually stayed in the study and you figure that’s where he is probably headed after his shower.

Packing up your stuff in to your closet, you head to the kitchen. The dough you had gotten ready for the cookies would’ve probably cooled by now. Opening up your refrigerator, you take out the dough when you hear footsteps. You look around to see Beomgyu making his way towards you.

“Hungry” he answers to your questioning look and you nod your head.

“Would you like some pancakes ?” You ask him, setting down the dough.

“Uh- that’s cookie dough, sweetheart” he tells you with a smile leaning against the counter.

“Duh- I know, I made it” you tell him rolling your eyes. “I have some batter left, but if you’re going to be a smartass about it, then I guess no” you tell him going back to your business.

“Nooo” Beomgyu drawls out and you raise an eyebrow at him “Please I’d love to have some pancakes, if it’s not a bother for you” he adds.

You try to hide your smile, picking up the batter. You look around and Beomgyu’s still watching you. “Sit”

“Yes Ma’am” he sighs before sitting down on the countertop.

Beomgyu watches you as you work around the kitchen. It’s still new to have you around his house, but he likes it. He likes the little decorations you’ve put up on your bedside table. He likes the soft sound of your breathing when he lies down to sleep. He just wishes he had more time to spend with you. But business has been tough as of late. The new merger was taking up almost all of his time. He feels bad about leaving you alone immediately after your marriage but it is what it is.

“There you go, banana or strawberry? Wait- don’t answer that” you tell him cutting up strawberries for him.

“You remember” Beomgyu says softly and you look up at him.

“Ofcourse, can’t remember the number of times I’ve had to drink banana milk because of you and your obsession with strawberries” you tell him disdainfully.

“Yah- you liked bananas so was it really a sacrifice?” Beomgyu’s huffs at you before taking a bite of his pancake.

“How is it?” You ask him leaning down on your elbows.

“Delicious” he answers with his mouth full and you smile at him before picking up a strawberry from his plate.

“What do you plan on doing today?” Beomgyu asks you.

“Rotting on the couch with my new book” you tell him happily and he rolls his eyes which you ignore.

“What about you- lemme guess, hmm working!” You say tilting your head to the left and Beomgyu considers you for a moment.

“It’s called being productive, sweetheart” he tells you sweetly.

“Reading is productive and I’m not your sweetheart” you tell him mocking his tone.

“You’re literally my wife” he deadpans, “I’m legally obliged to call you sweetheart”

“Okay Honey” you tell him before heading off to the sofa and plopping down picking up your book.

Beomgyu is about to say something when his phone rings. He sighs before he answers. Work calls.

-.-

Blinking away from the brightness of the screen Beomgyu takes note of the time. It’s nearly four in the evening.

He wonders if you have had lunch, he’s been completely focused on his work that he forgot about his surroundings, about you. Guilt grips him again as he makes his way downstairs.

You’re passed out on the couch, the book resting on your chest. He wonders how long you’ve been asleep. Gently pushing away a strand of hair, he is about to wake you up when a message pops up on your phone

Sunghyun 🤍- Cant wait to see you tomorrow!!

Beomgyu scoffs. Who was this man ? Does he know you’re married? Why was he texting you ? WHY DO YOU HAVE A HEART SHAPED EMOJI NEXT TO HIS NAME???

“You know, it’s not nice to snoop through someone else’s stuff” you grumble quietly and Beomgyu nearly jumps.

“Fuck” he says clutching his chest. “I was not snooping, i was just waking you up when the notification popped up” he adds on quickly.

“Uh-huh” you tell him holding out your hand for your phone. Beomgyu gives it to you before sitting down next to you on the couch.

You open your notifications. A couple are from your work friends and one from your mom.

You type out quick replies, before putting your phone back down and turning around to face beomgyu.

“Who’s Sunghyun?” Beomgyu asks you looking down at his nails.

“Huh?” You ask, still disoriented from your nap.

“Sunghyun. Who is he?” Beomgyu asks again impatiently. He feels angry at this Sunghyun. “Does he not know you’re married?”

You take a look at Beomgyu before bursting into laughter.

“What.” Beomgyu asks you surprised at your reaction.

You’re still giggling when you answer him, “Sunghyun’s me friend” you tell him.

“And why is that funny? Does he not know boundaries?” Beomgyu huffs out.

“No silly, Sunghyuns a girl. And I’m unfortunately not into girls, neither is she I believe” you tell him grinning.

Beomgyu wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He clutched the bridge of his nose as if to ward off the reddening of his cheeks.

“Bet, you’re reallllyyy embarrassed right now” you tell him in a playful tone trying to see his face as Beomgyu hides it behind his hands.

“Stopp, I was just asking” he whines out.

“Yeah, yeah” you say smiling. Getting up you head to the kitchen to grab water.

“Does Sunghyun not know you’re married??” You do your best imitation of Beomgyu as you sit back on the couch. Beomgyu looks at you with narrowed eyes.

“Alright I’ll stop” you tell him. “What do you wanna eat ?” You ask him.

“Right now?” Beomgyu asks you wide eyes.

“Yeah- you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” You ask him.

“No.” Beomgyu replies.

“So, let’s eat something. What do you want to have?” You ask him.

“You haven’t had lunch?” He asks you incredulously. His phone starts ringing again and Beomgyu mutes it.

“No, I was waiting for you, guess I fell asleep then” you answer him, moving around your kitchen.

“You don’t have to wait up for me” he tells you sharply and you look at him.

“I know.” You tell him curtly. Anger flares up inside you.

“No, what I meant was- you don’t have to wait like that for me, I eat whenever I get the time-“ Beomgyu tells you in a softer tone.

“I got it” you tell him. “Well, I’m making pasta, would you like to have some?”

“No- I mean- I’d love to- but I have a meeting to attend to right now” Beomgyu tells you getting up. He doesn’t understand why he gets muddled up with his words when he’s next to you.

“You haven’t had anything since those pancakes… you need to eat” you tell him, irritatedly.

“Work calls” he answers you curtly.

“On a weekend? You don’t see me answering mine. You need to set boundaries” you tell him. Beomgyu is going through his phone, not paying attention to you.

“Well, my job demands this. And anyways how hard is it being a teacher” The words are out of his mouth before he thinks through them. He looks up at you and you’re standing there staring at him in disbelief.

An awkward silence settles over the both of you. Beomgyu feels defensive and you feel hurt beyond words.

“Right. Um- guess I’m making dinner for one then. Why don’t you go ahead with your tough job?” You ask him turning away. You hate yourself for being sensitive like this.

“Y/N- that’s not-“ Beomgyu starts and his phone rings again.

“Work calls” you tell him, pointing at his phone before walking into your bedroom and shutting the door.

Left alone, in the hall, Beomgyu sighs in defeat as his phone starts ringing again.

-.-

Beomgyu is sitting on his side of the bed, looking through his phone with his earphones in when you walk in. You barely give him a glance as you tie your hair into its usual bedtime braid.

Beomgyu watches you out of the corner of his eyes. He feels restless and uneasy at the thought of your conversation earlier. He wants to say sorry and fix things with you but he doesn’t know where to start.

You fluff up your pillows before lying down on your side of the bed, completely ignoring Beomgyu’s presence beside you. What he said to you was unacceptable and you still feel angry at the thought of it.

Scrolling through your phone, you respond to texts, giggling at a few from your friends. Beomgyu clears his throat but you turn away from him. You know it’s childish but you can’t help it.

Beomgyu sighs once again before removing his headphones. He looks over at your back. He wants to reach out but he just doesn’t know how.

You finally turn around and lie on your back. You’re smiling at something on your phone and texting back rapidly

Beomgyu feels a spike of jealousy.

“Don’t you have to wake up early tomorrow?” He asks you and you ignore him, which successfully makes him even more irritated.

Beomgyu snatches your phone out of your hand suddenly,

“Hey-“

“I asked you a question” he tells you looking at you. You refuse to look back at him, trying to get your phone back, which he holds high up above you.

You try to grab hold of his arm but he is not even budging and you lie back down in frustration. Beomgyu tries to hide his growing smirk.

“I don’t know Beomgyu- my job is anyways not that important so does it really matter?” You huff out. Staring at the ceiling, still refusing to look into your eyes.

Beomgyu leans over you, trying to catch your eyes and you turn away from him, but he grabs your chin, making you look at him.

“You’re so childish” he tells you. How dare he?

You push his hand away, getting up. You’re about to get off from the bed when Beomgyu grabs hold of your waist, pulling you back in.

“Let me go-“

“No- I don’t care how angry you’re at me, we sleep in the same bed” he tells you trying to hold you down.

“Why” you ask him struggling to free yourself.

“Because it’s on our vows. In sickness and in health…” he starts

“Yes not in anger and in spite” you finally stop struggling, lying still. Stupid strong man.

“Give me back my phone” you tell him.

“Here you go” he says handing it over to you. “Who are you texting at this hour? Doesn’t Sunghyun sleep?” He asks you, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Who says I’m texting Sunghyun?” You tell him, adjusting the pillows around you. Beomgyu leans over you trying to read your texts and you push him away.

“Get your nosey ass away from me” you say.

“Who are you texting? Does he know you’re my wife?” He starts again.

“Oh my god- why don’t I get that tattoed on my head “Married to Choi Beomgyu” maybe that’d keep away everyone” you tell him tiredly, switching off your phone.

“Would make you infinitely more attractive” Beomgyu tells you lying back down.

You pretend to gag, setting up a pillow between you.

“What’s this for?” Beomgyu asks.

“I don’t want you crossing over to my part” you tell him, pulling the blanket over yourself.

“So childish” he mutters before turning off the bedside lamp.

-.-

Waking up you know something’s immediately wrong. Your body feels sore and a slight movement is enough to set you into a world of pain. You cannot be having a fever right now.

You’re about to get up when you notice a pair of hands and legs thrown over your body. Beomgyu has you in his grasp. Clearly a pillow fortress is not enough to keep this man away. Turning around in his hold, you take note of his sleeping form. He looks angel like when he’s asleep.

Slowly extricating yourself from his arms you get up and your world shifts.

“Whoa-“ you mutter grasping into the bed frame. Your ears ring and black clouds the edges of your vision.

You force yourself to walk upto the bathroom but your body gives up midway.

-.-

A thousand needles pin you. Or atleast that’s how it feels. Your entire body is aching when you wake up. You feel disoriented for a moment looking at the white ceiling.

You jump up in shock when someone pushes you back down.

“Your ass is not getting out of that bed unless I tell you” Beomgyu tells you roughly.

“What-“ you start but it comes out more as a croak. You take note of his appearance. He looks a little rough. There is stubble on his jaw and he looks like he hasn’t slept at all.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me if you were sick” Beomgyu starts again. He is sitting by your side. The curtains are closed around your bed.

“It’s not that serious” you tell him carelessly, noting the flowers on the curtains. Beomgyu follows your eyes.

“I requested for a private room but only the ward was available” he tells you softly and your eyes snap back to him.

“Huh? No, I-“ you start. He was getting this wrong. “I don’t like hospitals” you tell him in a small voice.

“Nobody does” he answers.

“No I know- I just, can we go home?” You ask him voice wobbly and you hate yourself for it. Beomgyu looks at you in concern.

“We’ll go soon, waiting for the doc you know?” He tells you arranging the blankets around you. You take note of how you’re wearing his shirt. Did you vomit on yourself? What happened? You feel too embarrassed to ask.

“Did you miss work because of me?” You ask him looking at him with watery eyes.

“No, no it doesn’t matter right now, please rest Y/N” he tells you pushing you down again.

You cover your eyes with your arm not wanting for him to see you in such a vulnerable position. You don’t miss the way he sighs.

-.-

It’s nearly evening when your doctor visits you, going over a few medications and advising you to rest for the next couple of days he finally gives you the green signal to go home.

Beomgyu’s arm rests around your waist, supporting you into the car. You barely remember the ride back home, crashing into your bed the moment you reach home.

When you wake up, Beomgyu is still beside you. He is sleeping, neck bent at an odd angle and you gently shake him awake.

“What- are you okay? Do you need anything” he asks you bleary eyed and jumping up.

“No-no. Calm down. I’m alright” you tell him and he settles back down. He looks extra bear like in his sleepy state and your heart swells a little.

“Go sleep. I’m alright now and you need to be in Office tomorrow” you tell him.

“Yeah” he tells you smiling sheepishly, starting to climb into your bed.

“No- not here. You shouldn’t be sleeping next to me” you tell him immediately, pushing him away.

“What do you mean??” He asks you confused still hovering over the bed.

“No you’ll catch my fever” you tell him shaking your head.

Beomgyu stares at you for a moment before climbing back into the bed. “If that’s the case, I’d have probably caught it by now” he tells you lying down and pushing you back into the bed.

You get up again, “I don’t want you to get sick on my account” you tell him, stubborn.

“God, just lie down Y/N, I’m more strong than you think” he tells you pulling you down next to him.

You cross your arms over your chest, annoyed. Beomgyu smiles to himself at the sight, before pulling you closer to him.

You look over at him and he is looking at you so softly that you feel shy.

“G’night Sweetheart” he murmurs before falling asleep.

“Goodnight”

-.-

It’s been three days. Three days since you last went to School. Beomgyu is driving you up the wall.

“I’m FINE” you nearly scream when he rushes over to help you as you get up from the couch that evening.

“Alright, alright” he tells you holding his hands up in surrender.

“I will be going to school tomorrow- NO- I’m not asking your permission- I will be going to school tomorrow” you almost stomp your foot in anger but hold yourself back.

“The doctor told you-“ Beomgyu starts and you cut him off immediately-

“To rest for a couple of days. It’s been three. THREE. I have so much of work to catch up on” you huff out. “Ofcourse my job is not a real job in your eyes” Beomgyu winces at that, “but I need to be there tomorrow”

“Okay. Okay. But I’ll drop you and pick you up” Beomgyu tells you. He can already see the arguments forming on your lips. “For my sake Y/N, do it for my sake” he nearly pleades and you take a moment before nodding your agreement.

Atleast you get to go back to work.

“Alright, now, will my precious little wife do me the honour of having her dinner?” He asks you.

“Depends on what my precious little husband has cooked for dinner. If it’s another bowl of oatmeal, you’ll be featured on tomorrow’s headlines” you tell him sweetly.

“Why is my oatmeal that good?” He asks you wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and you hold back your laughter.

“Wife kills husband in an interesting turn of events, wherein he served her oatmeal three times a day for three days” you do your best news anchor voice.

“Ha- ha. Here comes the airplane, open your mouth wooo” Beomgyu answers back, settling down next to you and bringing a spoonful of, surprise, oatmeal.

-.-

“Are you sure about this” Beomgyu asks, yet again, sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Yesssssssss” you drawl out applying your lip gloss. You were wearing your normal white skirt and blue shirt, tying up your hair in a low bun. You glance at Beomgyu through the mirror. He sits ready for work, waiting patiently for you.

“Hmm, which perfume should I wear for today” you ask more to your self that anyone else.

“The one that smells like caramel” Beomgyu immediately answers. You look over at him with an eyebrow raised and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Alright then, I’m done” you tell him. “How do I look ?” You ask him giving him a twirl as he gets up from the bed.

“Hideous” he tells you walking to the door, trying to calm his rising heart rate.

-.-

“Okay, leave. Now.” You tell him tugging off the seatbelt.

“Good day to you too” he mocks.

“Aw, have a nice day my lovely pumpkin” you coo pinching his cheeks before jumping off of your seat and waving him goodbye.

Beomgyu waves back his hand coming to rest on his cheek. He watches you walk towards the school. Your coat bellowing around you in the wind. He wonders if he should’ve forced you to wear the scarf too.

Looking over, Beomgyu notices a kid running as if to catch upto you. The little boy reaches you and you immediately pat his head, giving him a lovely smile. The boy holds up his hand to you, and Beomgyu watches as you smile down widely at the boy before taking the child’s hands in your own.

Without knowing it himself, Beomgyu is smiling too, watching you.

-.-

A few days pass in the same manner. You’ve grown so used to Beomgyu’s presence that it feels weird to go to work without him.

Making him laugh was your favourite thing. To watch his whisker dimples on full display and his eyes form crescent moons, you feel warmth spread through you. Sometimes it scares you. You were bordering on falling for him that it terrified you. You knew this marriage was one of convenience and Beomgyu would never feel the same way but your heart continued to hope.

Also, you were driven mad with need. To have one of the most handsome men you’ve met right next to you, laughing along with you was one thing. To have his hands brush against yours every once in a while, watching those thick veins work their way around a steering wheel was a completely different thing. Waking up next to him with his deep voice right next to yours, having him wrap you in his arms every night, albeit unconsciously was leading you to the edge of insanity.

Unbeknownst to you, Beomgyu was not faring much better. He has grown so attached to you that the thought of being away from you was unthinkable. Every job he did felt like a hurdle to reach you. He loved listening to you talk. You were so animated, hands flying around and having the most comic expressions, he wanted more and more. At the end of the day, Beomgyu was also a man. He knew you slept without a bra on. Your warm body pressed against his and your sweet smelling hair, the way you threw you head back in laughter, exposing your neck to him… Beomgyu felt like he was on a sensory overload.

Yet, he remained a patient man.

-.-

Beomgyu was working away on his laptop when you walked into his study. He looked up and smiled immediately. You were standing at the door, fidgeting, holding a cup and wearing your long camisole.

Beomgyu checks the time. It’s nearly midnight. He just had to figure out this assignment before he slept.

“Well, aren’t you gonna come in?” Beomgyu asks you and you walk upto his table.

“It’s hot cocoa” you tell him before placing down the cup on the table. “Do you have a lot to do?”

“Just this one thing” he tells you pointing to the graph “you go ahead and sleep, I’ll come soon”

You look over at the graph before you, leaning in to get a closer look.

“Ahh, you can’t figure out whether to sell or stay” you tell him looking at the stock market indicators. Beomgyu looks at you in surprise.

“I know my stuff” you tell him, “you neednt look so surprised”

“Is that so? Well would my lovely wife advise me on what i should do then?” He asks you smiling.

You lean down further to see the graph and Beomgyu without warning pulls you down onto his lap.

You turn to look over at him. “Was this your master plan to get me into your lap?” You ask him, dragging the laptop closer to you and adjusting around him.

“Sweetheart you literally came in holding cocoa, that’s code for “i wanna sit on your lap”” he tells you

“Goofy ass” you reply rolling your eyes and Beomgyu drags you closer to him. His breath is so close to your ear that you find it difficult to concentrate on anything but you force yourself to look at the chart before you.

Looking at the rise and fall of the stock you analyse it further to understand it’s behaviour.

“Hmm… I’d advise you to stay” you tell him quietly after a while.

“Why” his voice is close to a whisper and you try not to react to it, pressing your thighs together. An action not missed by Beomgyu.

“Uh…” you feel out of breath. Get a grip! You tell yourself strongly. “See here” you tell him pointing at the graph. Beomgyu rests his chin on your shoulder looking at the place you are pointing.

“The stock has always broken through every time it has hit a barrier and the highs and lows are getting closer and closer, so get ready for the boom” you say the boom looking at his face and Beomgyu grins.

“How do you know all this” voice so loving that you’re taken by surprise. He turns you around on his lap, so that you sit sideways, arms around his shoulder.

“I- uh- I used to do trading for dad” you tell him in a small voice.

“Why did you stop?” He asks you trying to look into your eyes.

“It was not for me. I hate how obsessive I got with it” how obsessive he got with it, you add silently.

Beomgyu rubs a soothing hand over your thigh and you resist the urge to shiver. He smirks at you and you roll your eyes at him, ready to get up, but Beomgyu holds onto your waist.

Beomgyu glances down at your lips and looks back into your eyes. Your doe eyed stare is enough to sent him over the edge, he pulls you closer to him, your body fitting perfectly into his.

“Someone’s eager” you tease him in a whisper, voice full of mirth and Beomgyu cups your cheeks with one hand.

“I’m your husband, sweetheart and husbands have rights” he tells you lowly, face getting closer and closer to yours.

“Hmm… do they?” You ask him, acting like you were thinking about it. Beomgyu nearly growls at you, frustration building up inside him.

“Easy tiger” you laugh, holding his face in your hands and placing a small kiss on his nose. Beomgyu’s grip on your waist tightens and he leans down to your lips, face impossibly close to yours.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks you before capturing your lips with his. The kiss is heated, Beomgyu’s tongue incessantly moving against your own as if to try and get back the last bit of cocoa from your mouth. Your head feels woozy and you try to calm yourself but you feel yourself losing control. You grip onto his shoulders and bite his bottom lip and Beomgyu moans into your mouth, the sound music to your ears.

Beomgyu breaks away first, eyes still closed as if trying to ground himself. You’re not doing much better. You’ve never wanted anyone more in your life. Beomgyu grins at you and you try to kiss his whisker dimples.

“Someone’s eager” he laughs and you shake your head.

“Ofcourse I’m eager” you tell him, “have you seen yourself?” You ask kissing him once more.

“Just - “ Beomgyu’s phone starts ringing and you both look down at it. You see Kai’s caller ID and try not to sigh. Do investment bankers not get the concept of sleep?

“Fuck” Beomgyu mutters. You get up from his lap, but Beomgyu tries to pull you down.

“Baby- just a minute” he tells you eyes apologetic and you feel bad.

“Take your time” you tell him softly before walking out the door.

-.-

Beomgyu is not beside you when you wake up. Slightly disoriented, you get up from your bed. What time was it?

It’s only 7, you make your way down the stairs. Beomgyu stands by the kitchen, already dressed for work.

“Hi” you tell him groggily. “Why are you up so early” you ask him, plopping down on the seat.

“Early meeting. We have a gala to attend tonight” He tells you adjusting his tie.

“What.” You ask him spluttering.

“Be ready by 5” he says turning around and looking at you.

“Beomgyu, I have a parents teachers meet today” you tell him urgently.

“Well, get done with it soon. This is important” he says taking out his phone.

“But- this is my job! I don’t even have an outfit-“ you start panicking.

“I know but this is really important. We need to be there” he says. “I’m sorry”

“Oh, are you really?!” You ask him angrily. You couldn’t understand him. One day he was acting all sweet and loving and the next day, it was like you meant nothing.

“I don’t have the time for this right now” he says walking to the door.

“When do you ever have the time?” You ask following behind him.

“Keep your voice down!” He tells you harshly.

“Oh fuck you-“ you nearly scream.

Beomgyu slams the door on the way out.

🎧this is the end of pt.1, hope you liked it 🥹PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE interact with this fic because it helps me out a ton and it feels less like i’m shouting into a void. xoxo🎧

[igotanidea]

Dress rehearsal: Jason Todd x reader

Summary/request: @ladychibirae and @animegirlfromvietnam decided to not let me function normally requesting Jason being a witness to his fiance triyng on wedding dresses. And then those two just went on, making Jason all flustered, generous and horny at the same time. So - here's that XD

Spicy, but not explicit ;)

****

It was all so … white.

Like a freaking hospital.

And it made him flinch, involuntarily diving back into the stream of bad memories involving injuries, hurt, pain and –

“Look at all those dresses!”

Oh, right, back to reality.

No pain, no fear, just the incoming future.

With Y/N.

His wonderful, beautiful, perfect Y/N.

His future bride. His future wife.

But even the sweetness of her presence and the smile forming on her face couldn’t have bellied the overwhelming feeling of being – well - overwhelmed. He was just supposed to drop off Y/N, Kori and Babs and the boutique and excuse himself under any false pretense he could produce and the rattling and pipsqueak and three girls making a commotion worth six or so people only fueled that resolve.

And then Y/N picked some random dress, putting it to herself and giving him a look, with a silent question what was he thinking and suddenly his plans did a full 180.

Like hell he was going anywhere.

He was going to watch his fiancée change and dress up and give a little show of the whole parade of wedding dresses, enjoying it deeply, though not admitting openly.

“What’s with your face?” Y/N teased, reading right through him. “ thought you were supposed to meet Dick for your boys’ stuff?”

“Really? Was I? Can’t remember. I’d rather stay here. Make sure you don’t get locked up here after hours.”

“Well if that’s your only concern-“

“Y/N, come on, really?” Babs chimed in “He shouldn’t be here, it’s against the tradition for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Well the tradition doesn’t mention anything about seeing each other a few months before the wedding, does it?”

“It’s –“

“Don’t say it.” Jason cut her off, probably harsher than it was necessary. It was Barbara after all, but he was slowly losing patience. No one was going to keep him away from his girl. Not Barbara, not Kori, no silly beliefs and certainly not some outdated tradition.

“I think you should listen to Barbara.” Obviously Kori had to add her three cents. “Though I find your earthly customs amusing.”

“I’m staying.” Jason repeated sternly

“He’s staying.” Y/N echoed at the same time. “I want him here. Luck or not, he’s my fiancé. The rest can go to hell.”

Barbara and Kori looked at her with a little bit of surprise. This definitely was not the standard behavior of their friend, but clearly Jason brought some dominant instincts in her. If her changing was going to be kept in such pace, the second after the wedding she would turn into a full-blown Red hood’s girl. Maybe even running the streets, shooting and beating the shit out of people alongside him without a care in the world.

Jason though had a look of pure admiration on his face. Of course she wanted him here. Of course the rest could go to hell. If anyone had the right to see her picking a dress, it was him.

Conceitedly and ostentatiously he took a spot on the sofa, leaning back on the soft furniture like he owned the place and almost daring Kori and Babs to oppose his presence.

“Shall we begin then?” Y/N grabbed a dress from the hanger, twirling around in the cloud of lace and satin, disappearing in the changing room.

***

Three dresses later, he had to deal not only with Babs and Kori but also with five more people. Somehow (it might have had something to do with Kori sending group messages of photos of Y/N) the rest of the batkids decided to join the fun.

Therefore, instead of being left alone with the love of his life, Jason found himself squeezed on the couch, between Dick and Stephanie, who just happened to be around. Forced to listen to the sighs of delight and exclamations of Cass and nodding of approval of Tim.

Fucking approval!

That freaking bunch though they could just comment on how his Y/N looked. That they were allowed to watch her spin and twirl and watch herself in the mirror, tilting head in that way, see her smile when she liked something or frown when she did not.

Bastards.

He was the only one allowed here and was hanging on the edge of the seat to just tell them all to piss off and throw them on the street.

He did not.

Mostly because every time she walked out, clad in another white outfit all the mean, harsh words intended at his sibling were stuck in the back of his throat and he was turning into a mewling-inside-little-cat-who-just-wanted-to-be-around-its-owner.

Y/N.

Standing in the middle of the boutique clad in the simple yet elegant wedding dress, accentuating all her curves and making her look like a princess. Literally. All she was missing was some sort of crown on her head, but Jason was going to make sure she would wear one during their entire life together. For she was going to be not only a princess, but his queen.

And he was speechless.

So quiet and unable to say any teasing comment or snarky remark it was slowly becoming suspicious.

“Um… Jace?” her voice reached his ears as if through a fog.

“Huh?” he was immediately thrown out from his reverie. “That’s my name, yeah.”

Everyone looked at him like he just grew a third arm (though in this family this probably wouldn’t be that shocking after all.)

“Are you okay?’ Dick asked with a smirk

“I’m fine!”

“You are quiet.” Stephanie slurped on her slushie, loudly and annoyingly.

“What a bright observation” he mocked.

“Aaaaaand he’s back.”

“Piss off!”

“Y/N asked you a question!”

“I know! I heard!”

“She had to call your names three times before you reacted!”

“Maybe I just like her saying my name!”

“You are blushing!”

“I am not blushing!”

“Enough!”

Y/N finally stepped in, deciding to cut off this family bantering and save Jason, thrown at the mercy of the wolves of his siblings. Of course they used the very rare moment of his sensitivity showing to tease him mercilessly and her poor fiancé did not deserve it.

“Oh, saved by the bell.” Damian smirked “if she will have to step up for you during your whole marriage then- OUCH!”

“I said enough. That includes you, Damian.” Perfectly aimed, though not that strong slap on the head made the youngest of the Wayne shut up. “Everyone out.”

“What?!”

“Y/n!”

“Come on, don’t be like that! You still got some dresses to try on!”

“I said: out. All of you. Now.”

With whines and groans of disappointment everyone moved to the exit.

Everyone, including Jason.

Y/N cleared her throat.

He turned around, looking at her questioningly.

“Not you.”

“No?”

“No. Of course not, you idiot. In case you missed something, you are the only person I wanted here from the start.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t be shy with me now. Better tell me how you like this dress.”  She turned towards the mirror, looking at her reflection and playing with the layers of lace on the outfit.

“I think it would look better if-“

“Don’t finish that sentence!”

“You asked for my opinion!”

“Exactly! Opinion! Not your dirty thoughts and sinful desires.”

“Those are very strong words you are using here, sunshine…” he muttered, stepping behind her, wrapping arms on her waist and kissing the back of her neck “but you are not wrong…” one hand slipped to the zipper of her dress.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to buy it either way…”

“What? Why? You look so pretty in it!”

“Got your answer.” She teased, revealing how she played him.

“ha-ha! Very funny princess. Why don’t you want to buy it?” his grip on her hips tightened a little. “Look at us, look how we fit…” his chin rested on her shoulder as they watched themselves in the reflection.

“We do…” her voice was a soft whisper of affection and amusement, eyes flicked with love and hope for the future. “We do…” she snuggled a little further in his embrace, hoping for the love of god that he would not take it as an invitation and get any ideas.”

“Don’t you like the dress?” he asked softly, rubbing her sides affectionately.

“I do. But it’s expensive—”

“Wait. What? That’s your reasoning of let’s-not-buy-it? Really? Here.” He reached into his pocket, handing her his credit card. “Take this one. And that ivory one, I liked how it brought out your eyes. And you can also take something for the wedding reception. And preferably a little something for the wedding night?” he winked.

“I believe we’re in the wrong shop for the last one-“

“Then we’ll go to the right shop.”

“But Jason-“

“Don’t Jason me. Money is not the problem. In fact – keep my card.”

“What?”

“Shut up and take my money.”

“Jason!”

“Hm?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Better get used to it, sunshine. I intend to keep you amused for the rest of our lives.”

“That would indicate you are not planning to leave me at the altar.”

“Leave you? Never. No promises on letting you walk the aisle though. Cause I might just snatch you away from everyone and make sure that pretty dress you are buying ends up on the floor before even exchanging out vows…”

“I’m starting to regret casting your family out. At least you were behaving with them around.”

“But still – you like when I misbehave…”

His hands sneaked under the dress, traveling up her leg, spinning her around so she was now facing him, fingers inching higher and higher on the inside of her thigh-

“Jason…”

“hmmmm…”

“Are you really going to-?”

“I would love nothing more.” He whispered in her ear, getting bolder by a second. Having her in her wedding dress, then and there was doing so many things to him.

“Just so you know, I only got one dress like that! Limited edition! If you ruin it now, there’s no chance for you to wear the same on the wedding day!”

The saleswoman’s voice cut right into their ragged breaths and quickened heartbeats making them jump away from each other immediately.

“Wanna buy this and go home?” he smirked.

‘For what? Dress rehearsal?”

“Mh! You make me fall in love with you all over again.” His smirk grew wider.

It took them literally three minutes to buy the dress and rush home. And for the purposes of that night, there was no need for any clothes shopping.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Saw your birthday post and I’m here to say dad!daryl especially during pregnancy would be act like a caveman. You’re growing his child? He’s hunting for a mounting of food (more specifically animals especially deer) and presenting them to you like he’s at an altar. You want something. He’s already got it. Craving something that’s lots to the old world? Don’t worry he’ll do his best and if not he’ll find a suitable replacement. Dad!daryl would do anything for you already, and now you’re with his child… you really get to see how far he’d go.

Let’s not mention if you were ever in a position where he thinks you’d be in danger because he’s animalistic ensuring that you and his baby are okay.

Thank you for listening to my ted talk

Also happy early birthday!!

No because I think about this on a daily basis. You'd think I'm lying but I'm not. The amount of times I think of Daryl as a dad should be illegal lol. My own thoughts under the cut. (Sorry this isn't a proper fic. I didn't know how to write this in a way that would be in a way you deserve, but I loved this so much and didn't want this to go to waste, so I'm doing this. Hope it's okay!)

Basically everything you said is so freaking true. As far as I'm aware, aka on what I've seen in movies and what my mom has told me, the correct meat is an essential part to a pregnant woman's diet. Oh, boy, once you're pregnant and the doctor says that you need protein? You be rest assured that Daryl is not resting until he finds you the best goddamn venison he can. No rabbit or squirrel meat for the love of his life and his unborn baby. Y'all deserve only the best. He'd even fight tooth and nail if he could only find a small deer and there wouldn't be enough venison for everyone in the community and everyone wanted some. You needed it more than they did, and he'd hold someone at gunpoint if he needed to.

I've also wondered a lot about Daryl finding whatever you're craving. A few nights ago, I was really craving chips (fries) but I couldn't go buy any, so I had to make my own. While making it (at 3am if I may add) I thought about Daryl making you what you're craving during your pregnancy. If he can't find what you're craving outside the walls, he's gonna try his damn best to make it. Fries? He's picking potatoes out of the community's garden to make you that. You want a sandwich? He's gonna make you a sandwich. You want some crisps (chips)? He can't make it, but he's not gonna rest until he finds you some. It may be stale, but he doesn't care. Anything for you.

I've seen a couple of videos where the guy stands behind his pregnant partner and raises their belly to relieve some pressure. Daryl would do that! I read it in my favourite dad!Daryl series (Blood Ties by @celtic-crossbow. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it!) and I was like “yes, he would totally do that!” Anything that would help make you even the slightest bit more comfortable, he'd do it. Also, I feel like it would bring a sense of comfort to him when he does that. It'd make him feel more connected with his baby before they're born, y'know?

Don't even get me started on Daryl being extremely overprotective of you. He doesn't want you to be in any sort of danger in general, but the need to keep you safe when you're carrying his baby increases by a tenfold. Your escapades beyond the walls are put on a hold for the foreseeable future. Anything you need beyond the walls, he'll get it for you. And if you don't want him to leave you, he'll get someone else to do it for him. He wouldn't ever let you willingly put yourself in danger, and if you ever were in danger, the people responsible for it would pay dearly.

I have a lot of thoughts on this but my brain isn't working with me right now. Thank you so much for sending this in! I really loved this so much.

[sylix-royalty]

I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | ix.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The next few weeks trudge along in a dull fog, the efflorescence of spring yielding to the sizzling heat of summer. You cloister yourself in a sedulous bubble, turning your focus to cheerleading and the upcoming midterms.

You miss your friends, each day agonizing as you’re trapped in aching loneliness.

You miss Mindy’s sarcastic jokes, Chad’s warmth, Anika’s laugh.

You miss the lazy afternoons spent in each other’s dorms and horror movie nights. You miss the goofy late night chats about everything and nothing.

You also miss Ethan, his kindness, his patience.

Without him, studying becomes much harder. 

Even more than the help he provided, his friendship meant the world to you. He always listened and knew exactly what to say to cheer you up. Unfortunately he’s just as in danger as everyone else in your presence.

Getting close to you is a death sentence. 

You’ve learnt that some time after Tyler was attacked.

He succumbed to his injuries the very next night.

The news shook the student body and unleashed a ripple of fear throughout campus. 

As for you, it cemented your decision to keep away from everyone you hold dear. 

It’s for the best.

Your heart shatters every time Ghostface’s words bounce in your head. 

If you had stayed away from Tyler, he’d still be alive. The guilt of knowing that weighs upon you everyday.

It’s no wonder people give you wary looks when you walk across campus. It’s a miracle Alana even let you remain on the team with everything going on. 

You know she has every reason to kick you out and, truthfully, you’d understand if she did. 

It’s like Jeff said at the hospital. You’re cursed.

It’s Friday night and you’re in your room on your own, your roommate away on a trip with her boyfriend.

You don’t mind it since Vanessa started tossing you the same strange looks as everyone else lately.

It’s created a weird atmosphere in your dorm.

You’ve even caught her trying to fill a form to switch roommates, citing medical reasons. She was expeditiously denied as the year’s far too advanced and has been in a mood since.

A break is more than welcome.

Sitting on your bed with your knee against your chest, you carefully apply the second coat of your favorite pink nail polish. You smile at your handiwork once it’s dry, happiness fluttering through you at how pretty your toes look. 

As you remove your toe separator and wiggle them, wondering if you should add a layer of glitter or not, your phone buzzes.

Terror clutches your insides. 

A surprised exhale leaves your lips and you even kick the bottle of nail polish across the fuzzy rug below your bed, staining the pale blue wool with bright dots of pink.

Heart pounding a heavy staccato in your chest, you gingerly pick up your phone from beside your pillow.

You suck in a deep breath, then another one.

Ever since that night, you’ve been on edge every time your phone buzzes.

Needless to say the last few weeks have taken a tremendous toll on your sanity.

Finally, you gather the courage to check the text you just received.

At the sight of the familiar name, a mix of relief and melancholy floods your insides.

(Anika K: 

Hey, just checking on you and wishing you a happy Friday. Hope you’re okay and, if not, that things will look up very soon. 

I know you said you wanted space so I’m not gonna push, but I just wanted to let you know that I miss you so so much and things aren’t as fun when you’re not around.

I don’t know everything but I want you to know that I love and support you no matter what.

Here’s a bear for you cause I know how much you love them! 💖💖💖

Your bestie, Nikki)

A dancing bear shooting little hearts follows her message.

Tears swim in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed. They drip onto the screen, water smudging Anika’s words. You wipe your eyes and sniffle, grabbing the box of tissues on your night table. 

It’s not the first time your friends have tried to reach out.

Nearly everyday you get a message from Mindy, Chad, Anika and even Tara and Quinn sometimes, despite not being as close to them. 

They’re trying to get you to come out and act normal again. Except you can’t. 

No matter how much you crave it, normalcy is beyond your grasp. As soon as you’ll let your guard down, he’ll come back to torture you. Who knows who he’ll pick next just to teach you a lesson.

You can’t bear it. You can’t be the reason people are getting hurt. 

So you close the conversation with Anika as tears stream down your face, once again leaving her on read. 

Your heart sinks to your feet. 

You grab your teddy bear and hug it tightly, shuddering sobs wracking your frame.

The pit of hollowness inside you expands. 

You’ve never been so isolated before. It makes you wish you appreciated everything you used to have more. 

A gentle knock on the door lures you away from your wistful musings.

You gasp as your head jerks up.

You quickly wipe your eyes, lamenting their puffy redness as you get a glimpse of your despondent reflection in your vanity mirror.

You let go of your bear, propping him against the headboard.

Plastering on a smile, you plod to your dorm’s entrance.

Your jaw hangs slack at the sight of the head of brown curls and lopsided, bashful smile you know too well.

“Hey,” he greets, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

“E-Ethan? You shouldn’t be here.”

You attempt to shut the door but Ethan wedges his foot against the door jamb to keep it open.  He slinks inside and closes the door behind him.

Your eyes grow wider.

He drops his backpack on the floor and leans against the door, tilting his head sideways while running his eyes over you. 

“You missed all our tutoring sessions,” he notes.

A feeble apology stumbles out of your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He hums in acknowledgement before adding, “You don’t answer when I text or call.”

You heave out a long sigh.

“You should go.”

You try to shove him out but he doesn’t budge.

“No way,” he says firmly.

Your fingers outstretch toward the handle but Ethan’s faster, snapping the lock into place and placing himself in front of the door so you can’t escape.

You gawk at him.

“Ethan…What are you doing?”

Towering over you, he takes a slow step in your direction.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His hand sneaks under your chin when you lower your head.

“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he mutters, angling your chin upward so his gaze dives into yours. His chestnut orbs soften as they drink you in. “Come on. I’m always here for you, you know that.”

The longer you peer at him, the more the fences you erected around yourself crumble, until nothing is left but ruins.

More tears swell in your eyes.

“Everyone who gets close to me dies, Ethan,” you shakily confess.

Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a tight warm hug. 

“Shh, that’s just not true,” he whispers tenderly, cradling the back of your head as you weep against his chest.

“Yes, it’s true. It’s like everyone’s saying. I’m cursed.”

He collects your trembling fingers from your lap and twines them with his. 

Your tears soak his shirt but Ethan doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your hand and guides you back to your bed as you thoughtlessly trail behind him.

He sits you at the edge of your bed and hunkers down in front of you. Even like this, Ethan’s so tall that you’re still at eye level with him.

“You’re not cursed," he affirms softly. 

Water drips down where your hands are joined with his. 

“Yes, I am," you quaver. 

"But I am."

"No," he fervently retaliates, lifting one hand to swipe your tears with his thumb while the other one roams over your thigh. "It just wasn’t meant to be. These guys weren’t right for you…" You stare at him, numb with shock. Dumbfounded, you don’t move as he cups your cheeks and bends over you.

A confident smile unfurls on his mouth.

Warm lips suddenly collide with yours. You find yourself on your back, confined between Ethan’s large frame and the mattress as he kisses you senseless. 

You whimper and his kiss turns hungrier, his hand roughly gripping under your thigh in a way that’ll surely bruise the next day. He hums, exploring your mouth and sweeping over your curves.

As an unmistakable pressure jutting from between Ethan’s legs presses into your belly, alarm bells ring inside your head.

You bang against his chest to get him to stop. 

"Ethan! What are you-"

He finally allows you to breathe but doesn’t free you, keeping you caged beneath him by putting his hands on each side of you. 

He licks his swollen lips and caresses the side of your face before admitting breathlessly, "I love you."

Your mouth falls open in sheer disbelief. You toss him a contrite look as he scrutinizes you. 

"I…I’m sorry but I don’t feel this way about you, Ethan."

He chuckles, a hopeful smile blooming on his features.

"Maybe not now but…"

"No, I don’t think I ever will,” you cut him off, your voice dwindling. “I only see you as a friend. One of my best friends.” You raise your hand to graze his jaw and he flinches at your touch, his brows squeezing together. “I care about you so much…but not like that. I’m sorry."

Something shifts in Ethan’s eyes, the light in them dimming.

"I see."

The coldness of his deep timbre sends a wave of ice through your veins.

He scoffs meanly, a manic glint waltzing in his brown gaze, "So you’d throw yourself at any random guy but not me?” He corrals your jaw in a bruising grip. You whimper, fingers latching to his wrist to pull him away but he’s much too strong.

A devilish grin curves his lips as he leers down at you. “What are you, some kind of slut?” He leans over you so his lips ghost over your earshell. You quake as he mumbles chilling words into your ear. “Maybe since you’re a slut, I should treat you like one.”

You unleash an audible breath, your lip wobbling.

Suddenly, there’s no more air, no more space. Only Ethan’s large frame pinning you to the bed as his hands wander over you, feeling everywhere at once.

Struggling is for naught, his ardent mouth tracing the column of your neck.

He nips at your skin and you sob.

"No, Ethan, please. This isn’t you,” you plead, fat tears rolling down your face.

His hand creeps inside your shorts and your heart skips a beat. A squeal tears from your throat as he plucks at your folds through your panties. 

Ethan muffles your scream by draping his hand over your mouth. You look up at him with fearful eyes, adrenaline rushing through your blood.

Palming your core, Ethan unleashes a devious chuckle.

"Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he whispers, yanking a broken wail from you when he pinches your bundle of nerves.

~

[oddyseye]

super interesting to read your takes on Epic! was wondering if you ever read Madeline Miller's Circe and if yes, what were your thoughts on it?

Yes, I’ve read Circe. I actually read a PDF online, but I recently found the actual book! Not that it was a smart decision to waste money on a book I’ve already read, but eh...What’s a girl to do... Anyway, it’s fine, I guess, if you’re into that sort of thing. Y’know, the whole “I took a Greek myth and turned it into a sanitized Pinterest board” vibe. Madeline Miller’s writing? Solidly meh. It’s not the revelatory prose the internet insists it is, but sure, it’s readable. Circe is, at its core, an interpretation of myth tailored for modern consumption. It’s accessible, marketable, and easy for readers to feel clever about loving. That’s fine! But it’s not the tour de force some fans seem to think it is.

Miller’s prose is polished, sure, but it’s also overly workshopped. It’s the kind of writing you’d expect from someone who graduated at the top of her MFA class, not from someone channeling the raw energy of myth. Myths are messy, strange, and wild. Miller’s style, in comparison, feels sanitized and controlled, like she’s so afraid of losing her grip on the narrative that she cuts away anything that might add texture or complexity. It’s the literary equivalent of a curated Instagram feed: nice to look at, but lacking depth.

Then there’s Circe herself. Miller does try to give her more agency, and I respect the effort to center her voice in a way the original myths didn’t. But the execution? Kind of frustrating. Circe starts out promising — turning men into pigs is such an iconic power move, and her fury feels righteous. But just when we think she’s found her strength, here comes Odysseus, and suddenly the narrative shifts. She’s no longer the fearsome witch-goddess carving out her own place in the world; she’s softened by the love of a clever man. And let’s be real: Odysseus isn’t just any man. He’s a walking bundle of red flags, even by Greek myth standards. He lies, manipulates, and cheats, and yet somehow, we’re supposed to believe that after Circe has been burned by men over and over again, this is the guy she opens her heart to? It’s not just about him, though — it’s what his arrival represents. The story moves from “Circe standing on her own” to “Circe defined by her relationship with Odysseus.” And for a book marketed as a feminist retelling, that feels like such a cop-out. And then...Telemachus.

I get why Miller paired him with Circe. Symbolically, it works. He’s everything Odysseus never was. Their relationship is clearly meant to be this balm, a quiet resolution after all the stormy chaos of Circe’s life. And I’ll admit, it’s sweet in a way that sneaks up on you. But does it feel entirely earned? Not really. The thing is, their bond develops too neatly, almost like it’s checking off a box labeled “Happy Ending.” Telemachus shows up, all sweet and thoughtful, and we’re supposed to believe Circe would just open her heart to him after everything she’s been through? I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve love, she absolutely does, but where’s the tension? Where’s the hesitation? This is a woman who’s spent centuries in isolation, surviving betrayal after betrayal. Shouldn’t there be a little more conflict in letting someone like Telemachus in, no matter how gentle he is?

That said, I can’t deny the appeal. Telemachus stepping away from his father’s shadow and finding peace with Circe does have a certain poetic justice to it. And the moments between them are undeniably tender — there’s a quiet power in the idea of two scarred people finding solace in each other. It’s just that, for all its cuteness, their relationship feels more like an epilogue than an integral part of the story. It’s nice, and it is sweet, but it doesn’t quite feel alive. Telegonus is...a plot device. Literally I do not care half as much as I should for him, so I honestly have no idea what to even say for him here. He could and should have been better. Sure, Telegonus is the catalyst for some major events, but he himself feels oddly passive in his own story. He’s the one who accidentally kills Odysseus, yet the emotional fallout of that act barely scratches the surface. Instead, the focus shifts back to Circe and Telemachus, leaving Telegonus as this loose end that never quite gets tied up. Not normally, at least. He’s there to serve Circe’s arc, not to have one of his own. And for someone with his parentage, that feels like a waste.

What really irks me, though, is the missed opportunity. The premise of Circe is so good: a witch cast out by the gods, building her life from scratch and dealing with the fallout of her choices. There’s so much room for nuance and exploration there — of power, isolation, anger, and what it means to be both divine and deeply human. But Miller doesn’t lean into those themes as much as she could. Instead, the story often feels like it’s ticking off a checklist of tropes to make Circe “relatable” to a modern audience.

To be clear, I’m not saying Miller needed to write a hyper-accurate mythological treatise. Adaptations are allowed to take liberties! But they should still engage with the source material in a way that feels authentic, not just convenient. Instead of grappling with Circe’s contradictions — her cruelty and compassion, her power and her vulnerability — Miller smooths over those edges to make her more palatable. Circe is fine. It’s a decent book if you’re looking for a cozy entry point into Greek myths, but it’s not the radical, feminist reclamation it’s often made out to be. It takes some of the most interesting elements of Circe’s story and waters them down into something more comfortable, more easily consumed. Which, hey, works for a lot of people! But if you’re looking for a Circe who’s truly complicated, messy, and unyielding, you’ll have to go back to the myths, or write your own. It’s cute, it’s tidy, and it’s easy to love, but myths, in my opinion, should be anything but. Working on my own little retelling of the Odyssey, and I just hope it will not end up like a mess.

[neo-my-geo]

Hey gang, it’s your old pal Neo here. If you know me, it’s probably from one of the several very stupid TF2 comics I’ve posted to Tumblr.

However! I am also an English major (unfortunately). One who has read millions of words worth of fanfiction in their life. I have been part of the Sherlock, BNHA, Disco Elysium, and, of course, TF2 fandoms; I’ve been around the block.

The further I’ve progressed into my English education, the more I’ve noticed which mistakes are the most common in fanfiction. Many of them are easily fixable; writers just need to be pointed in the right direction. 

“Neo! Does this mean you think people shouldn’t be allowed to post their works online without a background in formal English education?”

Of course not! I can explain why if you’d care to venture below the cut with me!

Yes, I will explain how to use commas.

It’s important to note that this is NOT a post about formal writing. You aren’t writing an essay. Please, for the love of god, do not write fiction like you’re writing an essay.

There are no stakes to writing fanfic. No one is going to get hurt if an author doesn’t know what a dangling participle is. One of my favourite things about fanfiction is that it’s one of the only art forms left that’s done exclusively for fun! You should write what you enjoy, and share what you make with like-minded people. 

What I want to do is provide assistance as best I can to writers who want to improve their fundamentals without having to take the same university courses I did. Nobody is going to be getting a formal education to write fanfiction unless they’re ridiculously dedicated, and I’m not expecting that of anyone. 

The point I need to stress is that knowing these grammar fundamentals can instantly improve the flow of your writing. Punctuation is a ridiculously important tool for writers, ESPECIALLY in fiction. Commas, semicolons, and full stops (including periods, exclamation points, and question marks) steer the pacing in the reader’s mind; did you notice how your brain stopped for a second after that semicolon? I can show you how to do that.

You may be wondering why I’m going through so much effort to teach all of this to strangers on the internet. The answer is that I enjoy sharing this knowledge with others and helping them grow. By seeing this, my goal is to help you become more proficient at self-editing. Showing this to people who actually want to learn will, hopefully, benefit the community as a whole, and I think that’s very worth it. 

Also, while this post is obviously themed around TF2, the points I’m making can be applied to any fiction. Grammar is for everyone, and the church of the semicolon always has room for more initiates. 

Also also, as an edit, I should clarify that this is meant to cover the more objective facets of self-editing, which is why I'm mostly covering punctuation. Maybe I'll do another post about using adjectives someday.

With that out of the way, let’s get going!

I’ve teamed up with several English teachers (real ones! One of which may or may not be my mom!) and an editor to gather a list of the most common problems we see in amateur fiction. This post is going to be split into three broad sections: apostrophes, commas/semicolons, and other common problems. 

The apostrophe

This section is short, but it holds weight. Other than commas, apostrophes are the most typoed grammatical tool in any fanfiction I’ve edited. This is because, much like the rest of English, the rules surrounding them can be annoying and inconsistent. 

Apostrophes have two main uses: possessives and conjunctions.

A possessive is a word that denotes the ownership of one thing over another. The vast majority of the time, this is done using an apostrophe and an S.

There is, however, one glaring exception to this rule, and it’s the bane of my existence. 

When denoting possession of an object over something else while using the pronoun ‘it,’ you do NOT add an apostrophe before the S.

A conjunction, on the other hand, is when a writer uses an apostrophe to combine two words. The following are examples of common conjunctions:

What’s (what is)

They’re (they are)

It’s (it is)

Conjunctions are not often used in formal writing. Thankfully, we aren’t dealing in formal writing. Go crazy.

Time for a lightning round of the most commonly mistaken for each other possessives and conjunctions!

Your is possessive. You’re is a conjunction of ‘you’ and ‘are.’ When you can’t decide which one to use, imagine replacing it with ‘you are’ and seeing if it makes sense. If it doesn’t, use your.

Their is possessive. There indicates a location. They’re is a conjunction of ‘they’ and ‘are.’ 

The comma and the semicolon

You knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. It’s time to talk about commas.

Commas and semicolons are far and away the biggest grammatical hole in the toolset of fanfiction writers everywhere. They’re often treated like the rules surrounding them are complicated and difficult to understand, but the exact opposite is true! 

The big issue I’ve heard time and time again is that the rules of commas are often explained through metaphor instead of example; this means that writers everywhere have slightly different ideas of how you’re supposed to use them. The fact of the matter is that, yes, there are correct and incorrect ways to use commas. Knowing when they’re appropriate and when they aren’t is easily the fastest way to bring your writing from looking amateurish to sounding professional and experienced. 

In order to know how to use a comma, you must first understand the difference between a dependent and an independent clause. 

An independent clause is a section of writing that functions perfectly well as its own sentence. It MUST have both a subject and an action/verb.

A sentence without an independent clause is known as a fragment, and they’re the bane of English teachers with highlighters everywhere. 

A dependent clause is a section of writing that does not have both a subject and an action; it does not function as its own sentence.

Now, let’s say you want to combine the two. When joining a dependent clause to an independent clause, the order in which they are placed is crucial to whether you use a comma or not. 

When joining a dependent to an independent with the independent clause first, you do not need to use a comma.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the dependent clause first, you MUST use a comma. 

Keep in mind that, if one strives for total grammatical perfection, all narrative sentences MUST have an independent clause. This, however, does not apply to dialogue. Human beings do not think about whether what they’re saying is a dependent clause, and neither would the vast majority of fictional characters. Don’t be afraid to break the rules of grammar as long as it’s contained within quotation marks. 

Alright, that’s the easy part. Time to learn about joining two independent clauses. It’s semicolon time, baby!

If you join two independent clauses without properly using a comma or a semicolon, it is a run-on sentence. You do not want these in your writing. They’re awkward to read and mess up the flow.

When joining two independent clauses, you can use EITHER a comma or a semicolon. You just need to follow these rules:

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a comma, you MUST use a joining word (and, but, so, etc.) AFTER the comma. 

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a semicolon, you do NOT need to use a joining word.

Did you know that a sentence with a comma counts as its own independent clause? This means that you can make a sentence that includes a mix of both without it being a run-on! Just make sure that, no matter what, the semicolon is between two independent clauses. 

Still, try not to write more than two clauses in a sentence too often. Sentences with a lot of punctuation are very attention-grabbing, but shouldn’t be overused. Full stops aren’t your enemy and variety is the spice of life. 

It’s also important to remember that you should avoid using more than one comma in a clause (with the exception of the rule below). That part loops back to the 'avoiding run-ons' bit.

It’s really that easy! 

Commas are also used in informal writing to inject a separate thought or descriptor mid-sentence without breaking the flow by adding a period. This is often used when describing the perspective of a character experiencing something in a story, but not (usually) when using omniscient perspectives. 

The final issue I frequently see with commas in fanfiction is in regards to dialogue. Sometimes you end it with them, and sometimes you don’t. What gives? 

Well, my friend, the answer is, thankfully, much simpler than the previous section.

When following dialogue with a dialogue tag, use a comma instead of a full stop. If you’re continuing the previous sentence after the tag, use a comma after it as well. 

Note that a dialogue tag is a short phrase that identifies the speaker. It isn’t a complete sentence on its own.

When following dialogue with an action that does not serve as a dialogue tag, use a full stop instead of a comma. 

Other common problems

This section is dedicated to putting specific grammatical errors into words, along with how to solve them. 

Not sticking to the chosen point of view

Always choose your point of view before you start. Is it in the first, second, or third person? Is it omniscient or limited? Does the point of view switch during the story?

First person perspective is told as if the POV character is directly describing their experience to the reader. The character uses I and we to describe their own actions.

Second person perspective is told as if the reader is a character in the story and their actions are being described to them. This is the rarest, and the most difficult to write.

Third person perspective is the most common and the simplest to write. The events of the story are a separate entity from the reader altogether and the narrator uses they/he/she/it pronouns for characters. 

Omniscient perspective means the narrator of the story knows all, including the thoughts and feelings of each character. 

Limited perspective means the narrator of the story only knows what the POV character knows. 

Past and present tense

When you decide between writing a story in past or present tense, it is crucial that you do not switch between them unless it is narratively intentional. Reading a past tense story that mistakenly switches to the present tense is like being pulled out of the room someone is telling a story in and suddenly taking part in it yourself. It’s disorienting and gives the reader unwanted pause.

Overly-long paragraphs

A common adage spread by English teachers is that most paragraphs should be at least eight sentences long. This is great advice for beginner essays. You’re writing fiction. 

If you have a new thought, start a new paragraph! A concise and well-read single-sentence paragraph is infinitely better than one that drags a thought for too long. Aim to have a blend of paragraph lengths when you write, alternating between the descriptive and the punctual. 

Dangling participles

A dangling participle is when a word is used to describe a noun that isn’t actually present in the sentence. Much like how a sentence without an action isn’t grammatically correct, neither is a sentence without a subject. 

Malapropisms

A malapropism is when an author mistakenly uses one word or phrase instead of another similar-sounding one. I’m not about to list every single malapropism ever made, but these are the ones I notice most often:

To comprehend is to understand something, to apprehend is to arrest someone, and to be apprehensive is to be anxious or fearful of something bad happening.

Could care less means you do care. Couldn’t care less means you don’t.

A lot means a large amount of something. Alot isn’t a word and you shouldn’t use it.

The only real solution to using malapropisms is to make sure you fully understand any words you use in your writing. Never guess, and make sure you always google it. Having beta readers also helps.

If you made it this far, congratulations! You now know the most common errors in amateur fiction and how to solve them! Thank you for listening to me complain for two thousand words. 

The most important thing to remember is that it’s okay to make mistakes. First drafts are always gonna be a little bad. The real key to success is knowing what your end goal is, and how you plan on achieving it. Here’s hoping this was a helpful tool for that!

Shoutout to @salmonandsoup for helping me think of the list of issues to address! You're a real one. Also shoutout to my mom, who doesn't have Tumblr. Also the third person. You know who you are.

[bayon-ett]

@keferon Hey I’ve been reading your TexAid and Mecha au and all of the short stories people have been adding. I love it!

@spector-author Ive been reading your chapters too! And I wanted to add a few of my own, you inspired me haha.

So my idea is…Everyone here knows of Eddie and Venom right? I was wondering, what if there was an instance where FirstAid figured out how to ‘download’ Vortex to save both of them? I’m also going for a Mark Spector/Stephen Spector vibe. Both those character dynamics were my inspo for this.

I Listened to TOOL while writing this. I just feel like Vortex is that kinda guy. Also the title of the song is fitting. I linked it if anybody wants to listen while they read :D

Story Under the Cut ⬇️

FirstAid woke blearily. And he was, the world was… sideways? He tried to focus on, anything. The cockpit was dark save for the flashing red light every few seconds.

It was quiet. An alarm should be going off with the lights. He should hear the sparking internals of the console.

Concussion. The vertigo, hearing loss, and splitting headache being anything to go by.

Green letters scrolled across the monitor. FirstAid tried to focus his eyes, his vision swimming.

YOU NEED TO RUN!

YOU NEED TO RUN!

YOU NEED TO RUN!

FirstAid blinked.

I CANT-

CANT CONTROL ANYTHING

GET OUT

THEY’RE COMING

FirstAid fumbled around for his seatbelt until he finally found the release button. He slid out of the chair and hit the side of the cockpit with a groan. He struggled to stand up. A sudden wave of nausea made him abandon the idea, gritting his teeth against the pain behind his eyes. The dull red light above causing a stab of pain in his head whenever he opened them.

“Whats iss goingonn-“ He slurred out, trying to remain upright.

DOESN’T MATTER. YOU NEED TO GO.

FirstAid chuckled weakly, slowly dissolving into somewhat manic laughter. Laughter that turned into a groaning and coughing fit.

“Vortex, I’m not m-making it fivestepsss.”

There was silence.

FirstAid tried to move towards the console. Every time he turned his back a certain way it would send pain shooting from his hip to his shoulders.

He drug himself along the console counter, trying to look at the cameras, the pop up display, anything to give him an idea of what was wrong.

FIRSTAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE

WHEN THEY GET HERE THEY’ll BE ABLE TO SMELL YOU

THEY’LL TEAR ME-THIS-THE COCKPIT APART TO GET TO YOU

“Worried about me are you?” FirstAid swiped his hand accross the control screen weakly, smearing blood across it. Where was he bleeding from?

From what FirstAid’s spotty vision could make out it looked like multiple hydraulic lines had been disconnected. The connection between the main frame and the rest of the relays to Vortex- The mecha’s body were not transmitting. A bright ‘SIGNAL LOST’ on the top of the screen.

“Shit shit shit-“

FIRSTAID I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE I WILL SEND YOU TO JESUS MYSELF

“What about you?” FirstAid asked, more of a muttering to himself. Vortex could read his thoughts so it’s not like he needed to really say anything out loud.

ITS BEEN FUN DOLL BUT OUR TIME TOGETHER HAS COME TO AN END

NOW GO

BEFORE I END YOU IN A LESS PAINFUL WAY THAN THEY WILL

The main frame. The main frame was disconnected from the body. So Vortex was stuck in the main frame. If this were to translate to a human body, it would be equatable to a spinal injury at the neck.

FirstAid scrambled to grab the pilots helmet, putting it on gingerly.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

“Something stupid.”

FirstAid swiped through the control consul quickly, synching his consciousness with the mecha, Vortex’s anger and more surprisingly, anxiety, filled his head.

WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING-

“GIVE ME A MINUTE TO THINK.” FirstAid ground out, “Please.”

FirstAid had never actually fully synched with Vortex. The mecha. Not the way pilots usually did anyway. Vortex controlled it on his own, FirstAid was only along for the ride most of the time. Vortex was in his head regardless.

After fully synching he heard Vortex in his mind clear as a bell, clearer as he’d ever heard him, shouting at him.

His finger hovered over the ‘DISCONNECT FROM MECHA, REURN FULL SYNC TO PILOT’ option on the screen.

FIRSTAID YOU FUCKER I SWEAR-

FirstAid slammed on the button, an electric shock like sensation going through him before everything went dark.

…

FirstAid woke up in the middle of the desert, puking his guts up onto the cold dry dirt. Lovely.

After dry heaving for what felt like forever he sat back on his heels, catching his breath.

He stood slowly, every twist or bend past a certain point making his back smart. He stood stiffly, slowly moving around to try and get a feel of his range of motion. Which was not very much at all.

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. After a few moments of spinning in circles he could say confidently that he had absolutely no clue where he was. No sign of beasts anywhere though. Small mercy that. The mecha, Vortex, was also nowhere to be seen. He sighed, picked a direction, and started walking.

It felt like First Aid simply blinked, and he was… on top of the mecha, elbow deep in the internals of the machine. He had enough time to turn away before retching again, his vision going spotty. He held his head gingerly, his hands smearing grease on his face and in his hair.

He blinked again, and he was sitting in the mecha, strapped in. His hands were on the controls! He abruptly let go of them, the machine stopping in its tracks as he did so. That never happened.

Did Vortex… did he die? For real this time? Did FirstAid accidentally delete his consciousness from the mecha or something? Did he-

He blinked again and was climbing out of the mecha onto the scaffolding. At the base. He was back at base. He almost tripped and fell onto the platform before catching himself.

He blinked again and Ratchet was standing in front of him looking, kind of freaked out. Ratchet never looked freaked out.

“Ratchet?” FirstAid questioned.

Ratchet blinked at him. FirstAid just noticed he was holding onto a wrench. Standing in the corner. FirstAid was crowding him into a corner.

“Who am I talking to right now?” Ratchet asked, searching FirstAid’s eyes.

FirstAid made a face. “Ratchet its me…”

The room spun, and the world went dark again.

…

Thats all I got for now. I’m going to keep adding to this cuz Keferon’s idea is so good! I want to add Ratchet and Vortex’s POV to this little snippet so… that will come soon.

I love everyone’s little snippets/chapters they’re adding to this au and I think its so cool :) This is not proofread so please point out any mistakes in the comments.

[jinxsleftmiddlefinger]

timebomb highschool au

(part 5)

(pt1) (pt2) (pt3) (pt4) (read on ao3)

description: timebomb highschool au pretty much sums it up lol. there’s also canon storylines (vander death, vi conflict etc.) but translated into a modern context

note: I’m really sorry if there’s any mistakes im so tired rn 😭😭 also speed of chapter updates might slow down a bit now but I will try to keep it steady!!!

It was just too easy.

It’s like this whole school fell into her traps, let her do what she wanted. The universe was basically telling her to prank the poor souls of Zaun High.

Jinx went to vandalize the locker thinking that there was no way she’d get through with it. Someone had to walk down the hallway, someone had to catch her, and yet…

No one was anywhere near. She finished writing ‘Dickhead’ in big blue letters on locker 27 without a single eye catching sight of her. She even managed to add some extra decorating touches.

Jinx skipped back to math class, her spirits high. No one even noticed the paint now staining her fingers after coming back from the ‘bathroom’.

She glanced quickly at Ekko sitting beside her, absorbed in his notes. Her lips lifted up slightly when she thought if their text conversation the other day. 

Do I make you nervous, Ekko?

She was pretty good at this flirting thing. Not that she was flirting, of course. It was a joke. A hobby, a way to pass time, that’s all.

Ekko wouldn’t like her anyway. Maybe he’d like her face or her body or the pretty words she could make up, but he wouldn’t like the real her. That’s what sent them all running for the hills.

Jinx’s phone started buzzing in her back pocket, and she regretted not putting it back on Do Not Disturb. Even though it was on silent, it still buzzed against her chair, making a noticeable noise in the silent classroom.

The teacher turned around from the board.

“Does someone have their phone?”

The class stared blankly. Jinx didn’t show one bit of a reaction, and the teacher turned back to writing on the board, writing sounds and breathing the only noise in the room.

Jinx slowly removed her phone from her back pocket, looking around to make sure no one was staring. She shifted forward in her seat, putting it under the table, and made a conscious effort to make sure it didn’t look too much like she was staring at her crotch.

Vi: I’m really sorry. Please, can we give it another try? 

Vi: I won’t bring her this time. 

Jinx’s lips pressed together, staring at the messages. She almost had to wonder where her sister got the audacity from. Before her fingers could start typing out an offensive and colourful message, Vi sent another text.

Vi: do you want me to come to your house? 

Vi: I just want to talk.

Vi: I just want my sister back.

She fought off the urge to laugh. Vi’s sister was long gone, killed the night Vander died, the moment Vi yelled and hit her and left her. Powder was dead. That’s almost what she typed, what she told Vi, but her fingers were somehow compelled to say something different; like an ouija board.

Jinx: ok.

Jinx: this saturday.

Jinx: no girlfriend.

Jinx rested her phone on her thigh, momentarily tuning back into class. The teacher drawled on and on, things she already knew and everyone else should know too. Her eyes were already blurring the numbers and equations on the board, turning the teachers voice into a buzzing like an air conditioner in her ears, when she was woken up by her phone vibrating on her leg.

Vi: thank you for giving me another chance

Vi: I’ll be there (: 

Vi: (No girlfriend!)

Jinx almost smiled. The messages had so much of her sisters energy in them, she could practically hear Vi’s voice in her ear. Well, the Vi from before’s voice. She didn’t know if the Vi from the here and now was the same. Maybe she was more serious, mature. Maybe she acted older. Jinx hadn’t really figured that out from their brief interaction at the mall.

The thought of the mall made her look at Ekko again, just out of the corner of her eye. He looked kind of cute, all focused on the class and the paper in front of him.

Jinx quickly shifted her eyes back to her own desk and banished that thought from her mind. She did not have time for boys right now. Not even cute ones.

Class ended with just a few more minutes of zoning out. Lunch was next, and that was the easy part of the day. She never really went to the cafeteria, usually just wandering the halls or going outside if the weather was nice.

Today, her plans were interrupted in a very violent way. 

Jinx jumped, her reflexes not fast enough as her shoulders were grabbed and she was shoved against the locker behind her. A gasp escaped her chest, the impact winding her.

“Get off me!” Her body thrashed widely in an attempt to free herself from the grasp of whoever had attacked her.

“You bitch!” Her attacker roared, holding her upper body tighter, and that’s when she recognized him.

Messy light hair, dark brown eyes glowing with rage, teeth bared. Yes, this was the owner of the locker she had so lovingly decorated this morning.

Jinx laughed breathlessly. “What, you didn’t like my decorations? That’s a shame, your locker was so plain before. Really, you should be thanking me.”

He pulled her forward, only to slam her back against the locker again, even harder this time. She breathed heavily.

“Don’t fucking play with me.” His breath smelled like old cigarette smoke and gatorade. “You think that’s funny? You think you’re gonna get revenge for her?”

Jinx knew what her meant. His ex-girlfriend. Although she had of course heard the rumours of him cheating, of him just being a general asshole, she didn’t write ‘Dickhead’ on his locker for her. She just really couldn’t stand this guy’s attitude.

This guy whose name she couldn’t even remember. This guy who was holding her up against a locker.

“Fuck. You. You think you own this school? You think you’re so great, so clever, Jinx?” He huffed, clearly pissed.

Dickhead was seeming like a more and more fitting nickname by the second.

His hands dug into her harder, and she knew what was going to happen. He was going to slam her into the lockers again, or swing at her, or do something to hurt her. And she was so helpless without her tricks, her smoke or glitter bombs, her gadgets. She was too weak to even defend herself against this asshole.

Just as she braced to take a hit of some kind, the dickhead was suddenly off her just as fast as he’d been on her.

She pulled herself off the locker, dazed and blinking at the scene before her; Ekko, dragging the dickhead away from her and throwing a punch. Him, throwing a punch back. A fight. 

She wasn’t registering it fully, and then she was registering it completely.

“Hey! Stop it you two!” Jinx stepped closer to the two boys. “Cut it out!”

She would not let Ekko get hurt just because she couldn’t defend herself. That was stupid. She could already see his bleeding nose, though it wasn’t for nothing. Dickhead had a nasty black eye, another mark blooming on his cheek.

The whole ordeal stopped when Sevika appeared around the corner, stepping in between the brawlers and raising an eyebrow at a Jinx who was still breathing way too heavily.

Both boys stared up at the buff school receptionist, holding them back easily. 

“Okay, you three.” She said bluntly. “Time to go to the office.”

Jinx sighed.

As they followed Sevika silently down the hall, a walk of shame almost, Jinx looked up at Ekko wiping the blood from his face.

“The boy saviour,” She muttered to him, making him look at her quizzically. “My big, fat hero.”

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Final Chapter - The Loyal Companion - Now Complete!

Lily Evans endures a series of disastrous first dates at her new favourite bar, The Loyal Companion. Still, at least the whiskey is good. And the bartender is cute. Not her type though. Nope, definitely not.

Chapter 6 - Nothing

An unexpected pep-talk and a new message on her dating app lead Lily back to The Loyal Companion once more. But is all as it seems?

Read it on AO3: From the Beginning // Latest Chapter

Here we are! The final chapter!

Thanks so much to everyone who has come along for the ride, but most especially @ginnyw-potter, who has been my beta reader, my chief cheerleader and this story's biggest champion since the beginning. Thank you for everything!

The Loyal Companion was my first foray into writing Jily, and I was both stunned and thrilled when it was recently nominated for a 2024 Jily Award, in the AU Long category. What an honour! It's been an absolute joy to become part of this wonderful, welcoming community.

Anyway - I've had a blast writing The Loyal Companion, I hope you've enjoyed reading it just as much. 

Snippet below the cut.

At about half past seven on Tuesday evening, Lily answered the door to find Sirius Black, of all people, standing in the corridor, carrying a bouquet of pale pink roses. 

Just like every other time she’d seen him, he was dressed entirely in black, though this ensemble was much smarter than any that Lily had seen him wear before. Gone were the ripped jeans and band t-shirts; in their place were polished boots, dress trousers, an open necked shirt and an impeccably cut wool coat. He honestly looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a high-end lifestyle magazine.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she blurted, gaping at him. 

Sirius’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m fine, Lily, thanks for asking,” he told her. “How are you?”

Wincing at her own poor manners, Lily stood to the side and beckoned him into the hall. “I’m fine. Sorry. I was just surprised to see you.”

“No worries,” he shrugged. “I’m here to pick up Marlene. Is she ready to go?”

So that explained the sharp outfit and the flowers. “Right. She’s still in the shower, I’m afraid. What time did she say to be here?”

Sirius checked his watch. “Seven thirty.”

Lily nodded sagely. “Ah. In that case I have some advice for you: The first rule of Marlene is that you should always add thirty minutes onto any time she gives you. Come and sit down while you wait for her.”

She led him down the hall and into the living room. Sirius shrugged out of his coat and flopped down onto the green velvet sofa, looking immediately at home.

“Nice,” he commented, looking around. “Very you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lily told him, smiling. “But thanks—I really like it. I was actually about to put the kettle on. Can I get you anything to drink?”

He grinned. “That’s usually my line. But yeah, tea would be nice.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black with four sugars, please.” Lily’s horror must have registered on her face, because he sighed deeply. “Yes, you heard me right, and yes, I have been told on more than one occasion that it indicates deep-seated psychological issues, but frankly, that will be no surprise to anyone who’s ever met my mother.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like she’d get on well with my sister.”

His lip curled sardonically. “In which case you have my most sincere sympathies.”

Continue reading on AO3

[superficialdomina]

Unwrapped

A secret Santa gift for @glitchquake ❤️❤️

Summary: An Avenger/Time Lord!Loki x fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, fluffy/smutty one-shot.

My masterlist

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI! Explicit smut, PIV, oral sex (f receiving). A smidgen of angst.

Author's Note: Darling @glitchquake, merry Christmas!! 🎄🎄🎁🎁I had so much fun with this prompt and with weaving in some little Easter eggs (or should they be candy canes!?!!) just for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

And another thank you to the wonderful @fictive-sl0th for arranging this terrific Secret Santa. I was so glad to be a part of it!! (Readers, you can find the Secret Santa 2023 Master List here).

Prompt: Walking in and seeing Loki wrapped in nothing but red ribbon under the Christmas tree and then you two do the do.

It had turned into a perfect Christmas decorating party. The smell of baking gingerbread filled the Tower common room, Mariah Carey was belting out the chorus to All I want for Christmas, and Nat was at this very moment balanced precariously on the top of a high-backed chair to add a glittery star to the apex of Stark's 12-foot Christmas tree. The rest of you had been happily adorning the tree - and the common room - for several hours, with all manner of baubles, candy canes, lights, and tinsel. Someone had made an early batch of eggnog, and a holiday buzz hung excitedly in the room.

You were humming along to Wham’s Last Christmas, when you caught Loki’s figure entering the room. He looked as disdainful as ever, although on this occasion, an air of skepticism coloured his general standoffishness.

“What,” he asked, distastefully running his fingers over the pink and green lights, “is this about?”

“It’s December 1st, Loki!” you beamed at him, ignoring his curmudgeonly attitude and generously wrapping a spare length of sparkly tinsel around his shoulders. “It’s a Christmas decorating party!”

Loki frowned, but a smirk lingered at the edges of his mouth; your enthusiasm was difficult to curb at the worst of times, and often proved infectious. He began to say something – probably characteristically barbed – before he spotted the small pile of gifts under the tree. “And tell me, darling - what are those?”

“Christmas gifts from Little Miss Festive over here,” Tony cut in, gesturing towards you with the glass of eggnog in his hand before thrusting it upon Loki. “There’s even one for you, Horns.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and turned to you, looking mildly suspicious. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you, Loki!” You purse your lips in mock admonishment. “You can wait until Christmas eve like everyone else!”

“Why?” Loki asked.

“Tradition,” you said, with an air of finality that put an end to any further argument.

The tower’s Christmas eve party was in full swing. Tony’s fancy stakeholder party, full of elegant hors d’oeuvres and flowing champagne, had happened a few days earlier; to your relief, tonight’s event included only the live-in members of the Tower, with a few bonus loved ones here and there. It was delightfully warm and friendly. Thor was beaming widely at everyone around him, and he had not taken off the chunky red pompom beanie you had made him since he’d unwrapped it several hours earlier. Even Loki seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Congratulations on acing your finals, darling,” he had murmured to you when he first arrived. You’d looked at him in confusion; you’d finished your end-of-term exams only a few days ago, and you didn’t expect to know the results for several weeks.

“How do you- Loki, I haven’t even heard-“

“Oh, just something I picked up around the Timelines,” he added with a wink, as understanding finally dawned on you. If only my future-self had also been brave enough to tell him I’m madly in love with h-

But you wouldn’t think about that tonight. You’d been having such a wonderful time; for your first Christmas with the Avengers, you couldn’t have felt more at home. Yes, you were a little blue about your unrequited-love situation, but you were determined to focus on how lucky you were to be here. What wonderful friendships you had built this year! How magical it felt to be included, to belong! No, it wouldn’t do to dwell on the one thing, that one little thing…

Making gifts for your new chosen family had been so much fun. In addition to Thor’s beanie (which was now looking somewhat askew on his blonde head), you’d made long, checkered scarfs for Steve and Tony, a pretty maroon shawl for Wanda, and a pair of cute boot-cuffs for Nat. They’d all made very kind ooh-ing noises as they’d each unwrapped their little hand-made gifts from under the tree.

But the project that you were the most proud of was the gift you’d made for Loki: a pair of unbelievably soft, dark-green, fingerless gloves. You had worked incredibly hard on them. It had been slow and painstaking; the soft merino wool was so fine, and the needles so small, they made your hands cramp. The intricate cable-knit pattern you had learned specifically for this project was complicated, and you had pulled out your stitches on multiple occasions in the name of perfection. You only hoped that he would enjoy them. Speaking of which…

“Loki!” Thor boomed suddenly, grabbing the attention of most of the room. “Brother, there is a still a gift under the tree for you!”

Loki’s eyes darted to you, and he gave you a charming smile as he knelt down to pick up the small package. He unwrapped it gently, tentatively peeling back the brightly patterned paper until he held the gloves in his hands. You realized you were holding your breath as you waited for his response.

Loki didn’t look up; he traced the detailed curves of cable knit with one finger. “How – you made these? They’re… How are they so soft?”

You felt your face warming. “Made with love!” you joked, loosely patting his shoulder and laughing. But your laugh was cut short as you saw a look pass over Loki’s face. Oh no.

“Oh, haha – I don’t mean Love love,” you continued quickly. “You know, you’re my friend – friends. All of you. And I- you know, I love you - all.” The end of your sentence was lost in Thor’s smothering embrace, with generous hear-hears from the rest of the team as they chinked glasses and went back to their holiday chatter.

Loki had stood, but he continued to stare down at the open package in his hand. Did he not want them? What was wrong with them? Damn it, you cursed yourself, you should have just gotten him something simple! You didn’t mean the gloves to be any sort of grand gesture… You would never! Stupid. Why didn’t you just get him a cool iPhone case? Because he wouldn’t use it, you admitted to yourself, and anyway, what was wrong with giving your friends nice things and telling them that they were important to you? Nothing, you thought defiantly, and if Loki’s going to be all suspicious and grouchy about it then he can go –

But before you could open your mouth to give Loki the small lecture you were working up to, he had taken three long strides to the common room door and disappeared out into the hallway.

You were astonished. He just left?! Goddamn him and his shitty communication skills! If he’s that upset, he could at least talk to you about it. You talk to him about everything! Maybe that’s the problem, a cold voice muttered inside your head. You’d finally crossed over into “too much”. As usual.

No. No way. This wasn’t fair - he couldn’t just be mad at you and not even give you the chance to explain. Fuck it, you were going to fix this.

You followed Loki into the hall, but by the time you got through the crowded common room, he was well and truly in the lift. You furiously pressed the call button, repeatedly, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference to the speed of the damn thing. You watched the digital numbers slowly tick up to the 26th floor.

Finally, after an achingly slow ascent, you made it to Loki’s rooms and banged hard on his door.

“Loki!” you shouted through it. “Open up! You have to talk to me! You have to –"

The door was apparently unlocked; it swung open at your aggressive knocking, and you tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment.

“Loki?” you called, as you walked through the quiet rooms. You were sure he was here – you’d seen the elevator stop on this floor. And besides, where else would he go? “Loki! Loki, please, you have to talk to me. Please don’t be mad. You don’t have to wear them. You don’t even have to keep them. Goddammit Loki, where are you?” you almost shouted the last, as you pushed open his bedroom door.

You were immediately silenced by the sight in front of you.

Loki’s enormous, indulgent bed was decorated extravagantly in Christmas décor. Fairy lights tangled with fresh boughs of fir tree were entwined through the posts, dotted here and there with tiny silver baubles and bright red holly berries. Like a Christmas tree, you thought, mesmerized.

Loki sat underneath the elegantly twisted branches, leaning back against the ornate headboard, his head resting cheekily on one fist as he waited casually for you to spot him. One of his eternally long legs was crossed over the other at the knee.

He was wearing nothing but his trademark smirk and a modestly positioned bright red bow.

“Hello, darling,” he said softly. “Merry Christmas. I hope you like the gift I got you?”

“Loki, I- what? What is going on? How did you – you were barely minutes in front of me! How did you get into this getup so fast?”

Loki’s fingertips gave a little green crackle. Oh. Of course.

“Aren’t you going to unwrap it?” he asked darkly, his cocky smirk even wider.

“I…” Don’t analyse this too much, you told yourself, as you woodenly moved towards him. You reached out an arm to try to pull at the bow, but of course, with him perched in the centre of his enormous bed, you couldn’t quite reach; you lifted one knee onto the mattress, arm still outstretched for the bow… then the other…

Before you realized what was happening, Loki had taken your hands in his and pulled you towards him. He was sitting upright, and he gazed intently into your face, his eyes darting between yours as he quietly murmured to you. “Is this alright?”

You nodded dumbly. Alright? It was everything you had ever wanted – Loki, naked and stretched out before you like a banquet, with a comically large red bow hiding his –

Your eyes widened as you abruptly spotted exactly what the ribbon had been concealing; beneath it, Loki was rock hard. You caught yourself involuntarily wetting your lips with your tongue.   

The low, flickering glimmer cast by the Christmas lights was beautifully romantic, and you felt yourself melt into him as he gently pushed your hair behind your ear, cradling your head in his large hands and firmly pulling your face towards him. His mouth found yours, and your heart beat madly in your chest as he kissed you for the first time.

In all your wildest imaginings, it could never have been like this. His kiss was firm, but his lips were as soft as dew; the tongue gently exploring your mouth was skilled, but tender. Your hands reached for his hips, at last meeting the loose end of the red ribbon and pulling the bow free. Without breaking his kiss, he carefully laid you back on his bed.

Loki’s long, muscled body was now kneeling before you, his lean, strong thighs holding him steady above you as he used his hands to caress your body. It was more sensual that you had even been touched… had ever even dreamt of being touched. As rushes of hot, vivid lust reached every part of your skin, every drop of your blood, you realized you had also never felt so… so safe.

Loki pulled away from you, his perfect torso towering above you as he knelt between your legs. He gazed at you longingly as he slid a hand under each of your thighs. “May I?” he asked throatily.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice a bare whisper.

Loki didn’t hesitate, almost falling into you as he dipped his head to place his strong, clever tongue upon you. The bliss was immediate and exquisite. You felt yourself writhe under him, heard yourself whimper and moan as he deftly played his fingers over you, in you; every place he found to touch or kiss you came as the perfect note in the perfect order. In the few moments you allowed yourself to open your eyes, you were met with the beautiful scene of Christmas romance he had created above you… Created for you…

His fingers curled gently, knowing the speed and rhythm you needed, and you let him lead you on towards the sweet release he promised you. Your fingers found his raven hair and twisted their way into it, not meaning to pull, but inevitably losing control as he pushed you closer. He moaned wantonly as you tugged.

That was all he needed to pull you over the edge into orgasmic oblivion. You came hard, crying out, pulling his hair again in time with the unconscious pulsing of your pelvic floors. He didn’t stop, pulling you onwards, sucking and licking and pumping as your body continued to convulse, until you cried out again, pulling him away from you as the sensation became too much.

When you opened your eyes to see him above you, he was gazing at you hungrily.

“Loki…” you almost sobbed.

He brought his perfect, sculpted body close to yours; he expertly guided himself to you, the wetness generated by the magnificent orgasm he had given you allowing him to glide into you with ease, despite his generous girth. And when he was settled in you, fit so perfectly inside you, he finally gave in. With a deep growl, he began to move.

“Faster,” you moaned, begging him, needing him to give you more. The stretch you felt as your body accommodated him was magnificent.

His hands still roamed your body; his impressively sensitive touch finding pleasure in your pleasure. His beautiful dark curls hung sluttishly about his sharp face, loose and wild. With eyes closed, his thrusts messy, he chased release above you, until with a sharp groan, he came.

He took a few moments to compose himself, drawing in deep breaths, before opening his eyes to meet yours. In a single movement, he rolled to his side, slipping out of you and easily enfolding you in his long, strong arms, your back to his broad torso. Your chest began to rise and fall in time with his.

With a difficulty that was only partially due to the weight of his arm across you, you pulled yourself away from his chest and turned to face him.

“Loki - what happened? I followed you up here because I thought you were furious with me. Why did you leave in such a rush after you opened my gift? You didn’t like the gloves?”

“My darling,” Loki purred, pulling you tightly back into him. “I adore them. They are utterly perfect.” He gave a dramatic little sigh, and his fingertips traced invisible patterns on your back. “When I opened them, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and wonder. That you would give me something so beautiful… So me… The hours you must have spent meticulously crafting them. And then, that you did it for love…”

“Actually, I said with love,” you laughed.

His fingertips froze their pretty movements on your skin, and you looked up to see his face ashen. “Oh no! No, Loki, don’t be sad. I did… I mean, I do…”

You took a deep breath, and decided, finally, that honesty was the best policy.

“Loki, I do love you. I cherish you. I want to gift you a pair of green knit mittens every Christmas for as long as you’ll accept them.” You paused nervously. “But if you don’t- I mean, if you want to stay friends, I’ll… I’ll be OK… with that-“

“Dear heart,” he murmured into your hair, idly picking at the shreds of red ribbon strewn about you both. “I think we are a bit beyond that. Don’t you?”

“Well…” You chuckled again. “I guess so, yeah.”

Loki gently tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him so that he could lightly kiss you mouth. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

“Merry Christmas, Loki.”

Secret Santa taglist

@joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence, death, talking about feelings, finally being honest and getting shit out there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previously On...: Tony filled you in on what's happened since your showdown with Carthage.

A/N: Send in the Barnes!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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“Doll.” Your eyes shot open at the sound of Bucky’s husky whisper. He stood in the doorway, staring at you like he was seeing a ghost. He was still wearing the same clothes he wore when he’d rescued you– covered in dried blood, both yours and the Hydra agents he’d taken down. His right eye was a riot of black and blue bruises, nearly swollen shut, his lip cut.

“Hey, soldier,” you said softly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m surprised you wanted to see me at all, doll,” he said forlornly. “After everything I put you through, I’d be done with me if I were you.”

You offered him a soft half-smile. “Come here,” you said, using your good arm to pat the space on the bed next to you.

Bucky looked between you and the spot you indicated with confusion, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard your offer correctly. But he walked over to you like a man condemned, and you wondered briefly if he expected you to tell him you were well and truly done with him now. As if you could ever be. You were pretty positive by now that, in spite of everything, you truly couldn’t live without him.

Gently, so as not to jostle you, Bucky sat down on the bed, though making sure not to touch you. You weren’t going to have any of that, though, so you reached across with your good arm and tugged him toward you until he was snug against your left shoulder. It hurt a little bit, but it was worth it to have him close.

Bucky looked down at where your left arm should have been, tucked underneath your hospital gown and hidden from view, as it was, in its sling. “I see you’ve come unarmed, doll.” He offered a weak smile.

You threw your head back and laughed, and it felt so good to feel good in his presence again. “You got jokes, Barnes,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Speaking of jokes, what the fuck happened to your face?”

Bucky raised a hand to his face, gently poking at the swollen tissue. “Little gift from Stark,” he said. “For everything I put you through. Can’t say I didn’t earn it.”

You frowned, moving your hand up to gently caress his cheek. “He shouldn’t have done that,” you told him softly. Bucky looked down at you. “I deserved it, doll. I deserved that and so much worse, for everything I did to you. You almost died– fuck, you did die, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Carthage think there could be something between us, if I hadn’t led her on, none of this would have happened. You never would have gotten hurt, never had your heart broken. We’d be getting ready for our baby, and I wouldn’t have betrayed you over and over again–”

“Baby,” you said, putting your hand gently to his lips so as not to disturb the cut, “Stop. I’m not saying you’re blameless, but it’s not all entirely your fault, either. Carthage… Carthage had a mission, same as Soldat had missions. Maybe she wasn’t wiped the way you were, still had some control over her own mind, but she was programmed to want to get you just as surely as Soldat was programmed to kill. She would have come for me, no matter what, because I was an obstacle to that mission. It wouldn’t have mattered, I don’t think, if you had never spoken to her. I was always going to be in her way.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you, though. In so many horrible ways.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your own thoughts.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked eventually, gently petting your hair. “And I mean mentally, not physically.”

You sighed. “Everything happened so quickly, you know?” Bucky hummed in agreement. “It was like: Boom! Chloe died! Boom! Lost a baby, almost died! Boom! Kidnapped, beaten up! Boom! Shot, almost died! It all still feels like it happened to someone else, and I haven’t really had a chance to let myself feel it, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I get it. But when it does hit, it’s going to hit hard, I think.”

“Probably,” you agreed. “I think I need to find a new therapist that’s not an A.I.” you told him. “Not that Tony’s program isn’t great– I just… Did you know Carthage hacked into my session feeds?”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Fuck. Doll, that’s an awful violation of your privacy. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s… she… she took what she learned about me from my sessions, and she used them to manipulate you, to hurt us,” you told him.

Bucky tensed beside you. “What do you mean?”

“Her ‘advice’ to you?” you said. “About what she liked in bed, to spice up our relationship?” Bucky nodded slowly, and you could tell he was ashamed with himself at the memory. “Well, she tailored it specifically with what she knew would be most upsetting to me, what would hurt me the most, so I would be angry at you, be the most hurt by you.”

Bucky swallowed, and you noticed his fists clenching next to you. “And I played right into it,” he said, shaking his head. He was furious; at both Carthage and himself, you could see that. “I was so fucking stupid; I didn’t see what she truly was until it was too late, and I let her play me like a fiddle.”

“You wanted a friend who understood you,” you said. Yes, you were still hurt by everything that he’d done, and you probably would be for a long, long time, but the truth of it was, now that you’d seen what Carthage truly was, had witnessed the depths of her manipulation of him, your anger toward him had significantly abated. Maybe you were being foolish. Stupid, naive. Maybe you were making all the wrong decisions, but your heart was always going to pull you back to Bucky Barnes. He was a gravitational force you just couldn’t escape. 

“I had friends,” Bucky argued softly. “I have you, and Steve, and fucking Big Bird. I didn’t need her. Why did I think I needed her, Pocket?”

You shrugged, taking his hand in yours. “Hydra had you for 70 years,” you told him, “and during that entire time, you were alone. Surrounded by people, but you were all alone. It makes sense that you would seek out someone who, based on what we all thought we knew about her, had been through something similar. I mean, how could any of us understand, really, what sort of horrors you’d gone through, when you don’t even understand all of them, yourself?

“She came packaged as this perfect counterpoint to you. And we know she was trained– educated, basically, in how to get to you. She basically had a Master’s degree in Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s still not an excuse for my actions, doll,” he said.

“No,” you began carefully, “it’s not. But it’s a mitigating factor that will be used in determining your sentence,” you said with a small smile.

“Have to say, sweets, I’d been fully expecting a life sentence of you never speaking to me again.”

“Yeah, that was what the jury was initially thinking, but upon further review of the evidence, they may be willing to bring it down to time served and supervised probation going forward.”

He looked at you, eyes blazing with hope, but almost instantly, his face fell. “Doll, how can you say that? I fucking slept with her! How can you still want to be with me after that?”

You sat up a little straighter, slowly this time, so as not to disturb your injuries. “Did you know Jade recorded the two of you?” you asked him carefully. “In the Russian safehouse?”

Bucky went pale and moved away from you. “No,” he whispered. “No, I didn’t know that. Oh God, Pocket– did she… did she make you watch it?”

You nodded, and Bucky put his head in his hands. “Oh, fuck. Doll. I am so sorry. I never wanted you to see that. It was bad enough that it happened, but for you to have had to witness it–”

“Buck,” you pulled his hands away from his face. “Buck, it’s okay. I’m glad I saw it, actually.”

Bucky looked at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “What?!” he asked. “How… how can you be glad?! I cheated on you, I broke your trust– again! How can that make you anything but disgusted with me?”

“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” you said, repositioning your hands so you could interlock your fingers with his. “First of all, it wasn’t cheating. We technically weren’t together, so you could have slept with whomever you wanted to. I don’t love that it was her, but we weren’t committed.”

“It felt like cheating,” Bucky bemoaned. “I hated myself the entire time.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. “But you need to know that, while I did hate that you slept with her, I would have gotten over that, eventually. That wasn’t what I was upset about, after.” 

“It was the lying and not telling you what happened after I got back,” Bucky offered, and you nodded. “I didn’t get your messages about the articles until after I’d done it,” he said. “And I felt like the biggest fucking idiot. Of course you never would have done that to me. You’ve always been too good for me. I think I was projecting my own guilt onto you, and that was so fucked up of me. I was so scared of losing you when you were willing to give me another chance, I just ended up pushing you further away.”

“It doesn’t help that you had a snake whispering in your ear,” you said. When he looked at you, confused, you continued: “I’m not absolving you of all guilt, because you still had autonomy; you still made your own decisions, but I saw how she fed into your insecurities, in the video. How she played up your fears, and used them to manipulate you. How she took your anger and disappointment and used it to her advantage. I also saw how you had to think about me in order to get it up for her,” you added with a smirk.

Bucky blushed. “Caught that, did you? I don’t think Carthage did; though I wasn’t trying to be subtle about it, to be honest.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “She didn’t catch it, and she most certainly wasn’t happy when I pointed it out to her. Was quite pissed when I laughed about it to her face.”

“Oh God,” said Bucky. “That must have infuriated her.”

“How’d you think I got the broken arm?” you asked cheekily. 

“That fucking bitch,” Bucky hissed between clenched teeth. 

“It was worth it,” you assured him. “She took your pain at what you thought I’d done, and she twisted it, made you a victim. I’d break all my bones if it meant she paid for what she did to you.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving about all of this,” he said.

You snorted. “Would you rather I just cut you out of my life forever?”

“No!” Bucky looked up at you, alarmed. “Never– I just… I just don’t understand how you can be so… okay about it, after everything.”

You shrugged. “Well, I did die; certain things seem trivial, now. Maybe I’ve got, like, ancient death wisdom or something.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not funny,” he said, tugging you gently to him. “I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was when I thought I lost you.”

“I know,” you hummed. “You snapped Carthage’s neck.”

Bucky flinched. “I wish I could say I’m sorry I did that, but I’m not. I know I swore off killing a long time ago… but when it was you in danger? I don’t have any regrets. I’d do it again, even if it makes me the fucking monster everyone says I am.” 

“Thank you,” you said to him. 

“For what?” he asked. “Killing her?”

“For choosing me over her. When it really mattered.”

“Figured it was about time I started showin’ you I meant it, doll,” he said with a sad smile.

“And for what it’s worth,” you added, “I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you slayed one, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes you my hero.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[sflow-er]

For YR Faves Fest organised by @youngroyals-events Prompts: 2. favourite teen side character (Henry), 7. favourite (not-quite) friendship, 9. favourite season (S1)

To accompany my Henry & Simon analysis post, I thought it could be fun to post a selection of scenes from my S1 longfic Other people's secrets as Sunday snippets!

These three scenes consist of 1) Henry observing Wilmon on the night of the Society party, 2) him trying to small talk with them the next day, and 3) him apologising to Simon after rowing practice some days later. They should be easy to follow and enjoy even if you haven't read the entire fic.

The first scene is under the cut, and I will reblog this twice (later today) to add the others!

1: The night of the Society party

When a cold breeze touched Henry’s ankle, he realised he had failed to close the window after climbing in. As if on cue, there was a noise from outside – it sounded like someone falling down, followed by muffled voices arguing.

“Fuck, not again. Get up, Wille!”

“Sorry, sorry! Just need to catch my breath.”

“On your feet now, come on!”

“It’s nice here, sit with me for a bit.” Sounds of a scuffle again. “I want to sit with you, come on!”

“No, you’re going to get up and point me in the right direction. Unless you want me to just leave you here.”

“No, don’t leave me! Everything’s spinning and I just, uh. I need a minute to – ungh…”

As more struggling followed, Henry gradually unfroze to look over at his roommate, who seemed to be fast asleep still. He wondered if he should wake Walter up for this but decided not to waste time. This sounded like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type of situation. He curiously approached the window and peered out through the corner pane, hiding behind the curtain to avoid being seen from the outside.

It was dark, but Henry could make out two figures on the lawn. One was pulling the other to his feet, but the one reluctantly getting up – Wilhelm, obviously it had to be Wilhelm – threw his arms tightly around whoever was helping him and slumped against them.

“Damn it, Wille, get a hold of yourself! We’re almost there.”

“Don’t be mad,” Wilhelm slurred, still hanging on for dear life, even though the object of the hug tried to pry him off. He sounded desolate saying, “Don’t leave me, Simon, please don’t leave me.”

Henry’s eyes widened as he mouthed the name: Simon? His thoughts were a whirlwind in his still slightly inebriated brain. Why was Simon bringing Wilhelm home from a party he had not even attended, and more importantly, were they really this close?

This was best-friend territory. Not something any two classmates would do for each other. Henry for one couldn’t imagine other than Walter dragging him home like that. Simon didn’t even live here, so he was really going out of his way to do this.

Henry squinted his eyes to see better as Simon let out a stifled grunt and heaved his clingy friend off. It was too dark to see their faces, but luckily there was enough moonlight to catch their silhouette.

“Of course not, I just said that to get you moving again.” Simon held Wilhelm by the elbow as the prince almost lost his balance from the push. His other hand was gesturing towards the windows. “Now, focus: which one is your room? How do we get in?”

“That one over there. I left it open. I’m clever like that.”

“Just not clever enough to say no to whatever junk they put in front of you,” Simon muttered, lifting Wilhelm’s arm on his shoulders and starting in the indicated direction.

Wilhelm groaned and signalled his reluctance to move. He grabbed a handful of Simon’s jacket and whatever he was wearing under it, most likely a hoodie knowing how Simon dressed. Then, he actually nuzzled his face into the crook of Simon’s neck.

Simon, who was quite clearly at the end of his wit, tried to push him off again.

“I don’t need this from you, okay? I know you’re hurting, but this is not the way to fix that. I can’t be dragging your ass home high in the middle of the night, it’s not fair. Okay?”

“Please don’t be mad,” Wilhelm whined again. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“We can talk about this when you’ve sobered up,” Simon said, obviously mad.

Henry was holding his breath, transfixed. This was a much more private conversation than he had expected. He tried to get a better look, but all he could see was Wilhelm’s frame slumped against Simon while the shorter boy insistently dragged him along.

“Will you stay until then? Please stay.”

“Well, somebody has to make sure you don’t choke to death in your sleep.”

Henry stifled a giggle at the similarity with the sentiment Walter had expressed earlier about him potentially dying in the woods. Yes, definitely best-friend territory, although he couldn’t really imagine himself being quite that physical, even with Walter. Hugging, sure, but the nuzzling was a bit much. But then, Wilhelm was obviously high out of his mind, so it was no wonder he was acting strangely.

“Thank you, Simon. Thanks for coming. I can’t believe you came.”

“Of course I came.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Wilhelm sounded sincere, his voice small and broken.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Simon replied a bit more bitterly than Henry expected.

“I didn’t really want what I wanted.” It was getting harder to hear Wilhelm’s slurred words now as they were getting further away. Henry silently pushed the window slightly further ajar to catch the rest. He couldn’t risk looking out anymore for fear of being spotted, but at least he could hear better. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. Now, is this your window?” Wilhelm did not say anything in response, but he must have made a gesture to that effect, because the next thing Henry heard was the window creaking open. “Get in, and don’t make any noise unless you want your bodyguards to rush in.”

“Quiet as a mouse,” Wilhelm proclaimed at a volume that was anything but. He proceeded to knock something over on his way in, then cursed as that something clanked against the floor. His bodyguards must have heard, but they probably had enough tact to avoid catching the crown prince in the act.

Simon laughed quietly despite himself, and Henry could imagine him shaking his head in exasperation. Wilhelm muttered an ’oops’ and shushed himself, still extremely loud in the absence of any other noise.

When Simon spoke again, his voice sounded less angry. Instead, it was laced with affection. “Real smooth. Now get out of the way.”

Henry heard Simon climb in and close the window. It was quiet again, and he turned back towards his sleeping roommate in disbelief. He really should have woken Walter up for this, because he had no idea what to make of it on his own.

“Well, I guess that’s what happened to Wille,” he whispered to himself. Rubbing his wrist on his cheek, he realised he had blushed vigorously at the awkward excitement of watching and eavesdropping on something he so clearly wasn’t supposed to witness.

He shook his head to snap out of it, then he shut the window and curtains. He lay down to contemplate the discussion he had just witnessed, hands behind his pillow.

Obviously, Simon and Wilhelm had to be very close friends based on everything they had just said and the touchy-feely nature of it all. But if that was the case, why were they hiding?

[---]

He lay awake for about an hour, listening to Walter’s steady breathing from the other bed and feeling low as conflicting thoughts swirled around his slowly sharpening mind. Witnessing that interaction had made it abundantly clear how different Wilhelm was with a true friend than he was with Henry and the others – and if Simon had been able to get through Wilhelm’s seemingly impenetrable walls, there had to be something special about him.

The more Henry thought about how wrong his approach to them both had been, the larger and heavier the ball of guilt inside him grew, until he had to clear his throat in an effort to move it. Thankfully – or unfortunately, he wasn’t sure which – Walter didn’t seem to stir.

And so, he whispered quietly into the dark, “Maybe we should try to be nicer to Simon.”