#like i brushed it off the first time i read it but now it's really bizarre

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

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this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your��Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it���s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[aureatelys]

hotch being super touchy with bau!reader during a night out with the team and like cannot wait until they’re home or something ? (idk if this helps!!)

citrus

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 1.5k c.w.: fluff!! suggestive content, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, needy touchy hotch <3

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i realize now while typing this that you may have been asking for horny hotch but instead i give you needy hotch with a touch of horny. not my best work but i hope you like it <33

You first start to suspect something’s wrong when Hotch sits next to you on the jet.

Not that Hotch sitting next to you was an abnormal occurrence, however ever since you two came clean about your relationship with the rest of the team, both of you made the effort to maintain as professional as possible. Which meant not sharing hotel rooms even though you’re sure the budget manager wouldn’t complain, no favoritism, and no PDA.

The no PDA rule was particularly difficult for you because, how could you not touch him?

The team had just finished up a kidnapping case in Florida. Nearly two weeks of suffocating in the humidity and dealing with swarms of mosquitos every time you stepped outside of the precinct. The relief from being in a familiar setting and the working AC is tangible when you plop down into a window seat facing the front of the cabin.

When you notice Hotch approaching you and taking the seat next to yours, you barely hide the surprise on your face. Hotch just merely raises an eyebrow at you before he jumps into debriefing.

Afterwards, when everyone has either fallen asleep or victim to playing chess with Spencer, Hotch knocks his knee against yours.

You look up from your book, a question forming on the tip of your tongue, when you notice Hotch hunched over his files and eyebrows creased in concentration.

It must have been an accident, you think. Except he does it again.

“You okay?” you ask, placing your bookmark and setting your book aside. It’s not like you were paying attention anyway, having had read the page at least two times by now.

“Fine,” he mutters, not unkindly, before scribbling something at the bottom of a file and moving onto the next one.

The past two weeks had been difficult for everyone, and the week before wasn’t any easier. You assume that Hotch was just itching to go back to your shared apartment to check on Jack before passing out in your bed.

And then he bumps against your knee again.

You don’t say anything this time, instead picking up your book and hitting your knee back against his. You just barely catch the corners of his mouth quirking up.

-

You could’ve sworn Hotch was going to decline tagging along with you when you decided to go out to O’Keefe’s with the rest of the team as soon as you landed. You were even expecting a glare, silently telling you that everyone needs to go home to get some rest and that he is driving you two back to the apartment whether you like it or not.

You start to think Hotch is really up to something now when he shrugs and agrees to tag along with you, promising just one drink.

And then, Hotch rests his arm on the console while driving, his hand worryingly close to your thigh despite Reid and JJ sitting in the backseat. Then, he’s placing a large hand on the small of your back when you’re walking into the bar, causing a shiver to run up your spine despite the warm evening air. Then, he sidles up next to you in the booth, thighs pressing against each other and his wide shoulder brushing against yours. It’s a lot of touching, which you’re clearly fine with, but touching from Hotch, at work, several times in the span of 30 minutes?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, having to lean in to be heard over the music even with his good ear.

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you over his drink. “I told you, I’m fine.”

And it’s like you’re able to see the idea form in his head, having spent so much time with him on and off the clock that you’ve luckily gotten better at reading him.

You still nearly jump out of your seat when Aaron places his warm hand on your thigh, underneath the table where nobody else was able to see.

You’ve gotten used to how touchy Aaron can be behind closed doors. At home, he’s constantly touching you—an arm around your waist, a finger tracing the curve of your jaw, or a kiss pressed at the crown of your head.

But this? A hand on your thigh at a bar in front of your coworkers?

You can feel the heat of his palm seep through your pants, annoyingly close to where you really want him the most. Is that what this is about?

“You two lovebirds alright over there?” Emily calls from the other side of the table, looking spectacularly sober despite you witnessing her downing shot after shot.

The sudden weight of 7 different pairs of eyes on you has you even more frazzled because Aaron’s hand only squeezes the flesh of your thigh while he glances at you casually, his free hand wrapped around an old-fashioned.

“Just talking about how I need another drink,” you say, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as strained to them as it does to you. And technically it is true as you shake your glass to emphasize the ice cubes clinking around with no fruity drink accompanying it.

When you notice Garcia’s mouth open to volunteer to come with you, you scramble up out of the booth, glad that you chose the outside spot, and weave your way through the crowd to the bar. You try to ignore the way the right side of your body suddenly feels colder without Hotch’s body pressed up against yours.

You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The only thing keeping you from spinning around to maybe unethically flash your badge is the familiar weight of Hotch’s palm pressed against your hip and the citrusy smell of whiskey on his breath against your ear.

A giggle bubbles out of you, instinctively leaning back against his chest. You’re secretly glad that he left his suit jacket in the car, leaving you to ogle the way the crisp white dress shirt stretches over his shoulders. “Seriously, what is with you today?”

His lips ghost over your ear, the low tone of his voice making your knees weak. “I’m not allowed to touch my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that.

You lean even harder into him, one of your hands coming down to grab at his toned forearm as you reach for your finished drink. “Of course you can. I just can’t remember the last time you’ve been this touchy in front of everyone, or ever really.”

“I don’t hear any complaints.”

“I might start if you don’t kiss me.” And it’s mostly to just poke fun at him because Hotch hasn’t even held hands with you in front of the team, much less kiss you in a crowded bar with them undoubtedly watching and whispering amongst themselves.

You’re expecting Hotch to huff a laugh against your ear, letting go and stepping away from you. Maybe even him holding your hand while he leads you through the dance floor and back to your booth to humor you.

You don’t expect Hotch’s free hand to come up and cradle your chin, tilting your face towards his almost uncomfortably to press his lips against yours. It’s soft, chaste even, but the fact that he’s kissing you in front of your colleagues and strangers, in a crowded bar with the loud music nearly thrumming through your veins, makes you feel hot all over.

His arm tightens around you, spinning you around until you’re facing him, and he swallows the gasp you unintentionally let out as he deepens the kiss, your mouth instinctively parting. You’ve been dating for months but kissing him still feels like that very first time in his office, the hard edge of his desk digging into your hip and the glow of the sunset highlighting the clear affection in his eyes.

When you pull back, you notice a pink tinge high on his cheeks and the way his tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as if chasing the taste of your fruity cocktail. “What was that for?”

“Just letting you know that I can’t wait to take you home,” he says, pulling you until the entire line of your body is pressed against his. Your hand unconsciously comes to rest on his chest and you’re not sure if you can feel the bass line for the song playing or the thudding of his heart.

His hands start trailing down to your ass and you seriously wonder how touchier he can get.

But, like you realized earlier, it’s been weeks since you’ve had alone time with Hotch. So, you untangle yourself from him despite his protests and slip your hand in his pocket to retrieve the car keys. You grin when it’s Hotch’s turn to jump.

“I’ll meet you at the car?”

“I already said bye to them for us, let’s go.”

And then he’s pulling you towards the exit with his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist. You barely have the chance to peer over the moving crowd to see the rest of your team waving at you, wearing shit-eating grins.

[sanni276]

Joker Jr. AU but a bit different

I have recently seen and read several Tim Drake AU's where he is Joker Jr. They were all really interesting but I noticed how Tim was (obviously since that's like the main trait of the Joker) always insane in these fics, which has given me the following idea: Tim is Joker Jr. but he is not insane and actually purposefully became him to at as a spy.

Hear me out: Little 11/12-year old Timothy was out at night doing some nighttime photography (*cough* batstalking *cough*) when he witnessed the Joker doing something so brutally sick and wrong (Barbara being shot maybe?) that Tim decided that Joker needed to be stopped and it had to happen soon. Somewhere in that thought process it somehow got into his head that he had to do something.

I am sadly not actually smart enough to explain to you how he did it, but Tim tricks the Joker into making him his "son" and into thinking that he is insane. However instead of bringing chaos and harm upon the people of Gotham, Tim is using JJ as a cover to infiltrate the world of Gotham's rogues and send warnings to the police and citizens before attacks so they can be stopped or at least as many people saved as possible.

Another use of Tim pretending to be JJ is, that he can slowly convince Harley to leave the Joker over time and even better: Joker might take him to Ethiopia where Tim saves Jason. Through Jason's vague memories of being rescued in the last second by a child that was with the Joker? the Bat's finally become aware of the fact that Joker has a child (i imagine that they only heard rumours about it before and they kind of brushed it off since the story didn't really add up or some other excuse like that). They are obviously very concerned but when they finally find Tim and expect to meet a traumaticzed child that has become close to insanity, this happens instead:

*Batman and co. dramatically landing on the roof JJ is standing on*

*Tim turning around and starting to wave exitedly when he sees them*: Hi :)! Omg I can't believe I'm meeting you guys, i am a big fan do you need something from me? Information maybe? That would be no problem although you might have to wait a bit if you need like specific info on a rogue because i would have to investigate first and-

Nightwing: Wtf B?! You told me to come from Blud tonight since I am the best of us with children but I wouldn't touch whatever this is with a ten-foot-pole.

Batman (ignoring his son): Hello Timothy (yeah they figured out his identity), we are here to rescue you from the Joker and bring you home to your family.

Tim: Rescue me? Why would you have to rescue me? *whispering to himself* and my parents have found out i'm not at drake manor? I am going to have to check they're travel plans again.

*Bat's sharing a concerned glance*

Jason: I know this is hard to understand for you and you must be so scared, but Joker is very dangerous. We can help you. You are safe now and you don't need to defend him.

*Tim looking at them with a confused Pikachu face*: Ewwww, I would rather drop my camera off a roof than defend the Joker. I think we are having a little misunderstanding right now.

Tim, completly convinced from his Hero's greatness, just assumed that the Bat's knew about his existence, who he was and that he was only pretending to be a rogue. Why wouldn't they? There the best detectives in the world after all!

He then procedes to explain to them how he is literally the perfect spy, since his parents wouldn't even really miss him if he died and he already made contingencies that would assure all the data and evidence he has on people would be automatically deleted.

The Bat's leave that rooftop not only without Tim, but also somehow even more concerned than before.

In conclusion: Give me an AU that is just Tim my sweet-summer child doing the most reckless shit that is somehow atually very helpful for everyone while the Batfam is just desperatly trying and failing to convince Tim that he has no obligation for what he is doing and that his sacrifice would not be worth it (during the many encounters they have, Tim slowly turns out to be the perfect adoption bait and I think we all already know how this is going to end.)

This is literally my first ever tumblr post or post about the batfam so I hope I did this the right way and this was somewhat possible to enjoy. Please tell me if i made any mistakes since english isn't my first language and feel free to write fic's using my idea!

[grudgecollector]

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part two Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: canon divergence, Thanos lives, fluff, these people are down BAD. Slightly proof read

A/N: Can you tell that I have a hand kink based on how many times I mention his?

I want him CARNALLY . Like step back... let me take a bite.

PART ONE | PART THREE | MASTERLIST

“Come on…” Su-bong groaned through the phone, “Why can’t you get groceries? You literally work at a grocery store.” 

Nam-gyu rolled his eyes as he made his way towards the sliding doors, already fishing for his vape in his pocket. He’s had that craving feeling deep in his stomach for the past hour, steadily awaiting his break. 

He bit the inside of his lip, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear “Because I’ll be working until five, and I don’t feel like being in this store longer than I have to be.” 

Su-bong sighed dramatically, and Nam-gyu could hear the thrashing of his bed sheets making the man chuckle quietly. 

He found a place to sit against the wall outside, plopping himself down on the ground and putting his phone on speaker. He closed his eyes for just a second as he listened to Su-bong’s string of complaints filter through the speaker, excuses as to why he couldn’t do it tonight. 

“I have plans though…” He practically whined to his friend. 

If it had been after the games Nam-gyu would have caved so much faster, listening to the great Thanos’ no matter the cost. But after actually getting to know the former rapper, Nam-gyu came to realize that they were much more similar than he previously assumed. Both lost in their own pathetic lives, unable to move from the places they’ve got themselves wedged into. 

Su-bong no longer had a pedestal to put himself on, especially not in America where he was practically unknown. 

“Don’t be such a lazy bastard.” Nam-gyu said to him finally, exhaling the smoke from his lungs. “I’ll do the shopping next time, I just don’t feel like it today.” 

Whatever reply Su-bong gave him was drowned out the second Nam-gyu opened his eyes, that girl… The one he ran into a few days ago. He had noticed her quite a bit since their first interaction, his eyes occasionally lingering on her when he was near her department.

To the point where he would even come by to get food, hoping that she would be the one handing it to him. 

“Oh shit, dude.” Nam-gyu talked over his friend suddenly, talking quietly in Korean “That girl just walked out here.” 

“The cute one you’ve been talking about?” Su-bong replied in a teasing whisper, releasing a faux giggle, “Oh man I bet you’re blushing, aren’t you?” 

“Shut the fuck up!” He hissed back in response, “You are so annoying.” Nam-gyu’s hands went up to his cheeks, feeling that they were a little warmer than usual. 

Su-bong laughed loudly, “Oh shiiiit dude, this is so cute! Little Nam-gyu has a crush!” 

“Yeah you’re getting groceries today, dick. Goodbye.” Nam-gyu hung up on Su-bong before he could think of replying. 

~~~

You sat just a few feet away from him… That guy… 

He seemed so stone cold and serious most of the time. Especially when he’s walking around the store. His expression is unmoving, almost bored. He almost reminded you of one of those mysterious kinds of people that draw you in. 

It took you off guard when he came up to the hot bar one day, there was a small smile playing on his lips as he asked about the different things you had to offer. He swayed back and forth a little, his hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he tried to make up his mind. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him a little, admiring the way he pursed his lips for a second before simply asking for two chicken tenders. The way he looked back up at you made your heart stutter in your chest a little, he was actually really cute.

Every now and then you would see him around. Either coming up to your counter asking for the items your coworker had cut for the personal shoppers. Or coming to get food, asking your opinions on certain things before ordering the same thing he always got. 

“Has it been busy out there?” You asked him yesterday, looking out towards the shopping floor full of customers. It was getting closer to the Super Bowl.

“Yeah, I almost accidentally ran over someone’s kid earlier.” Nam-gyu, as you had learned by glancing down at his name tag, replied with a chuckle. 

You laughed along with him, “Holy shit, I don’t doubt it, man. These people just let their kids run around like crazy. I don’t understand it.” 

Now you sat just a few feet away from him, nervous. You always found it so much easier to talk to people when you were behind the counter, as that was your job.

But strangers, especially attractive ones, were always so hard to talk to when that shield was taken from you.

God having a crush at this age is so embarrassing… 

“Busy today?” Nam-gyu asked suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts, making you feel a little more flustered. 

“Hm?” You hum, looking up from your phone to him. He had turned his whole body towards you, legs crossed and a vape lazily grasped in his fingers as he took a hit from it. 

“Has it been busy today?” He asked again, exhaling through the side of his mouth, “In your area?” 

“Oh! Yeah, it’s been busy as fuck.” You try to respond as casually as possible, with his eyes boring into you like that. 

~~~

Oh god was he staring? 

Nam-gyu blinked a few times before looking back down on his phone, five more minutes left on his break. He skimmed over the text Su-bong had sent him, making him roll his eyes before glancing back up at you.

Your pretty eyes met his, making his heart flutter in his chest just a little. 

God he felt like a kid with a crush, what was wrong with him? 

He had no idea what to even do to strike up a conversation anymore, he used to be decently okay at talking to people he didn't know, but now words evaded him. His brain almost felt like it was shutting down on itself, any sentence he could think of quickly going blank. 

“So do you like it over here? In this store?” You finally ask, breaking the awkward battle going on inside Nam-gyu. 

“It’s been okay so far, boring... But it’s money.” He replied simply, leaning his shoulder against the brick wall. “What about you? How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here too long. Two years." You let out a sigh, "it wouldn’t be so bad if there wasn’t so much drama.” you shook your head a little bit at the mere thought. 

That word sparked some intrigue. Nam-gyu was always one for drama, finding it absolutely fascinating and hilarious. It was probably why he was so hooked on the reality shows Su-bong showed him, the drama never failed to entertain him. 

“Drama, huh?” He raised a brow.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, “Oh yeah, it’s ridiculous. Sometimes it’s really childish, but other times it’s crazy shit like cheating scandals, managers dating their employees, all that kind of stuff.” You started to stand up from where you were sitting, checking your phone, “You’ll see what I mean eventually.” 

Nam-gyu watched you walk away, his eyes not leaving your form until you disappeared around the corner. God he was honestly pathetic. 

~~~

Over the next few weeks you were able to get to know Nam-gyu a little more, his breaks syncing up with yours most of the time. You both exchanged stories about your childhood, school life, your time in your home countries. He seemed to skip around some topics sometimes, but you didn’t pry, knowing it was none of your business. 

Each day that passed he seemed to sit closer to you, his gaze getting a little bit softer each day. He almost seemed more relaxed in your presence, which you chalked up to overthinking. But eventually it got to the point where he was sitting right in front of you, your knees almost brushing together as you shared his vape. 

You could feel your face heat up just from sitting so closely to him. Listening to the videos play off your phone as you scrolled through tiktok, finding it hard to pay attention after you felt his hand brush against your leg briefly. 

Has he always smelled this good? Or did he just start wearing cologne?

“Do you want to go sit in my car? It’s a little cold out here.” He asked suddenly, noticing the way you shivered each time the wind blew. 

“Sure.” You nod. 

You didn’t even fully register what he had said, not with him looking at you like that. His ringed fingers toying with his smiling lips so softly. 

The walk to his car wasn’t long, he parked near the trees where most of the employees usually parked. A nicely shaded area during the summer, but much colder during the winter. You just hoped his heating worked better than yours did. 

Nam-gyu opened the drivers side and slid inside quickly, pressing the button to start the car the second his door was closed. You got in after him, closing your door and tucking your hands inside the sleeves of your jacket, and you noticed he had done the same. 

The tips of his fingers barely poked out the top as he scrolled through spotify. Clicking on a playlist and pressing play, the music was quiet enough and even quieter under the blast of air coming from the air vents as Nam-gyu turned it on and over to heat. 

Almost as if instinctively, he grabbed your hands, rubbing both of his against yours in an attempt to warm the both of you up a little quicker. 

You could feel your face getting hot again. 

“Better?” Nam-gyu asked, not taking his hands off yours just yet. 

“Yeah, thank you.” You smile, staring into his eyes for a second longer than you should. 

~~~

Nam-gyu couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he felt stuck in place. A warmth spreading across his face, his lips parting and before he could even register it- 

“You’re so pretty.” He could feel your hands tighten a little in his grasp. A cold chill rushed through him, oh god why did I say that…

Your eyes narrowed a little before looking down, a small shy smile playing at the corner of your lips. Nam-gyu felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, he was so nervous, he could feel his hands begin to sweat inside the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“You don’t mean that.” You let out a small laugh, glancing over at him for just a second. 

Nam-gyu smiled a little wider, his hands shaking just a little bit from anxiety as he readied himself to speak again. “I think you’re really pretty.” 

“Holy shit.” You giggle a little in disbelief, looking back up at him, “I- uh I think you’re really cute too.” 

His hands were shaking so badly now, he could feel the tremble spread through his arms, a shock of excitement shooting through him right along with his anxiety. This felt too good to be true, he almost worried that this was some sick joke, and he would wake up from this dream… back there. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” Your voice suddenly breaks Nam-gyu out of his thoughts, he blinked, realizing he was staring down at your joined hands. “You’re shaking really bad.” 

“Oh… Um, yeah I have pretty bad anxiety.” He expressed with a small laugh, “And it’s been a while since I’ve felt this kind of way.” 

Your eyes softened a little bit, a small smile finding its way to your lips. “It’s been a while for me too.” 

Nam-gyu’s hand found its way out of his sleeve, slowly raising up to cup your cheek softly, “Can I kiss you?” He muttered softly, already moving a little closer. 

~~~

You didn’t answer him. Your hand came up to rest on his jaw, fingers softly threading through his hair as you brought him closer to you, lips connecting in a kiss. He let out a soft breath as your lips slotted together perfectly, a soft but passionate kiss, filled with weeks of tiptoeing around each other. 

Both of his hands now cradled your head, one hand slipping down a little to hold your neck, his rings cold against your neck. You could feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Your tongues brushed against each other in a soft battle, forcing a small moan from his lips. 

Your face immediately flushed at the sound, warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your neck. 

“You gotta calm down with all that.” You muttered when you pulled back a little. A small laugh coming from you. 

Nam-gyu blinked a little before laughing, “Sorry… I got a little carried away.”

[nthspecialll]

Blind Man Cassidy and his fortunes

If you play red dead two, which I assume you do if you come across this post, you will without a doubt have come across Blind Man Cassidy, the blind fortune teller standing on the side of the road in the middle of shit-fuck nowhere (srs how does he get all the way out to Tumbleweed?) all acorss the map, willing to tell you a fortune for a mere dollar.

At first glance these fortunes seem pretty useless, even the protagonists brushes them off without thinking more about them, however when you know the full story they actually make quite a good amount of sense, so here are my enterpretions of them

Arthur's fortunes

"Make your final moments your best moments, sir. Know glory and forget about shame."

Living life how you wish to live. Arthur stands with a choice, on one hand he wants to rip loose from Dutch and help the Marstons but on the other hand he is scared of what Dutch thinks because that is still his father. I feel this is "know the glory of helping and forget the same your father will cast on you."

"You must decide between your past and others' future, friend. Decide, for soon it will be too late."

Arthur's past is that of crime and of loyalty, one he would likely have continued if it wasn't for the events of rdr2, however following that life of crime would have gone in the way of something else, helping John. He has to decide if he wants to continue to live the life he has always lived by Dutch's side but leaving John to his own or if he wishes to stand by John and leave Dutch.

"That which is killing you will help you, finally, to see. And see clearly, friend. See and hear."

Tuberculousis. The TB is quite literally killing him but it is also helping him realise everything that is wrong around him.

"Your father is seduced by the one with the forked tongue... it's no use hoping."

The one with the forked tongue means the snake, which in this fortune is a reference to Micah who is the liar and manipulator seducting Dutch... And it seems Cassidy knew that Dutch was lost even before Arthur did.

"Your whole life, sir, you have followed the wrong star."

Dutch has quite literally been Arthur's guiding star his entire life, he has followed his footsteps, done everything he asked, stood by his side, so on and so forth, but in the end it wasn't Dutch that Arthur should be following, he gave him nothing but hurt.

"Your whole life is one of regret... but it can end better than it began."

Arthur has regretted a lot in life, we can read that in his journal. Wishing he stood by Mary, wishing he was a better rather to Isaac, wishing he saw Dutch for who he was earlier, but as Charles said, he is lucky to know he is dying because now he can change what kind of man he is.

"You are not who you think you are, sir... which is lucky."

Arthur often says he is a bad man, that he is no good and a mere killer, but he isn't. A terrible man would never do the things he did, would never help like he did, which is good because a lot of the gang relied on Arthur to be good.

"Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise..."

Bad news would in this fortune be TB, it is coming for him and there is nothing he can do, but beyond those news of terror comes something else, truth, clarity, the knowledge of what he must do and what really happened. Another interpreation of "paradise" could be death, while it would seem like bad news Arthur does mention that he has longed for death for a long time which isn't surprising considering he has been working his ass of his entire life and might just need a break, even an eternal one.

"Run from the seeker, sir. Run and keep running, or help others to run."

Dutch always sees himself as a seeker, he even says so, a seeker of truth, the seeker Arthur must run from, so either he must run (likely to Mary) or he must stay and help others, help the gang when the time comes.

"You didn’t run when last we spoke, sir. You didn’t run far enough."

- He didn't leave, he didn't go with Mary so now the choice is made for him, he must help the others.

"Keep moving, sir. Keep moving... but don’t move too fast."

I think this is a fortune everyone needs to hear, outlaw or not, 1899 or not. We all we need move forwards, we all need to keep moving, but often times while we keep moving with a certian goal in mind we forget to live. We keep running and running and at some point we forget to live in the moment, we disappear from the present, shut down until we reach a future we will disappear from when we reach. For Arthur it is even more important that he doesn't disappear from the present because he doesn't have a future.

"You keep hidden all that matters, sir. Maybe even from yourself..."

Arthur is a fairly private person, he doesn't share that much, however what matter is him, is his emotions, yet he doesn't tell them to anyone, he doesn't show himself or his feelings to anyone, particuarlly in the end he is closed off, also to himself.

"I sense great confusion in you, sir. Great confusion. Not... because you... do not know, but because you are afraid of what you know."

The great confusion comes from the fact that he knows Dutch is gone far before he is actually ready to accept it. Him and Hosea discuss it as early as chapter one, he knows Dutch is gone, but he doesn't quite accept it.

"I see the morrows and see them clearly, sir. Even when all reason is lost, and all truth has become lie, you will stand firm. For loyalty is both your saving and your curse."

Throughout the game everything Arthur believes in will be turned upside down, Marston will be good, Dutch will be bad, Hosea is gone and Micah is still there, but he doesn't waver. Arthur will stand tall, loyality has always been his thing and it will help him save others and help him keep his head clear in the end, but it will physically kill him.

"Be warned, sir, be warned. Surrounded by fields of burning fire and flesh, the devil will make his sacrifice."

I hear many say this is about Eagle Flies, however I would like to think that this is more about Dutch leaving Arthur in the middle of the chaos they have created. Everything is strange, things are off, no one trusts one another and then Dutch leaves Arthur, both emotionally and physically.

"Be warned, sir, do not slumber too deeply... for the man with no nose is coming for you."

The man with no nose is death and if Arthur relaxes too much he will die, his body will give out on him.

"Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may beget good."

Arthur has done a lot of evil throughout his life and that evil came back to him, evil causes evil. However in the end when he did good, he will also get good back, it will set off a chain of good.

Marston's fortunes

"You have learned the most important lesson of all. That only one thing matters and all else is lies."

Family is the most important thing. John has gone through hell and back but the one thing it taught him was that his family was worth it.

"Embrace those who love you, not the memory of those who pretended to."

Once again this is family related, John should stop chasing and obsessing over Dutch who did nothing for him, but rather focus on those who do love him, his family.

"You remember the past at the expense of the future."

While I do think that even if he hadn't gone for Micah that he would have been found at some point, John going after Micah, remembering the future, did speed up the process that ended up killing his family.

"You’re a fool, fiend. But not so much a fool as you think, nor such a fiend. The past is done, the future is yet to come."

The past is done, 1899 is done, the future has yet to come, 1911.

"They will come for you, friend. When they do, you will not have a choice. But you have lived better than most."

When the Pinkertons come to take John's life he will have no choice, he will be trapped and he will die, but he can comfort himself on the fact that he had a loving family, a good home and people who liked him.

"Two strangers seek thee. One from this world... perhaps one from another... One brings hatred... I'm not so sure what the other brings"

One from this world, one who is human, Edgar Ross, and one who is not, The Strange Man. They know what Edgar wants, but they don't quite know what The Strange Man wants.

[j0kers-light]

Hello light!

Could you cook us a submissive Joker oneshot???

His Lighthouse: Attention (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Attention- Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

I love being called Light omg! ☺️☺️ a total of 8 people have asked for sub!Joker. Eight!!! I did this but I need to do it again because the gurls are getting desperate.

I don’t want a rock through my window anon lol. I remember that. 🥴

Disclaimer: I suck at sub!Joker (dodges the tomatoes thrown at me) I am team dom!Joker but it’s not about me. It’s about us. Chef Chaos in the kitchen! Dinner is served. 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏽‍💻 please keep in mind I edited this while being sick so if there's mistakes.. no there isn't.

As always, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

Any minute now and Joker was gonna lose what little sanity he had left. You were torturing him. You had to be! Why else would you deny him this long?

You were always doing something. Cooking, writing, reading, too sleepy, whatever! Joker really tried to be reasonable regarding your excuses. The first night he came home in a mood, he kissed up on you and earned a faint gasp— only to hear your sweet voice say, “J, it’s too early.”

You did have an early zoom meeting but that had nothing to do with him. It was four am and he was horny. You didn’t have to do a thing but lie there and feel good, but your whines convinced him otherwise.

“Yeah.. late. Early? Blah blah, time is a uhhh funny thing no?”

Joker reluctantly let you sleep, knowing he’d have all afternoon to have you. He kissed your hair and settled for holding you close as you fell back asleep. He was a patient man; he could wait for what he wanted.

But then your morning call dragged on well into the afternoon. By the time you logged off, you were mentally exhausted and only had the energy to fix something to eat and recharge for the next day. You crashed in bed, completely forgetting about Joker and missing his disappointed pout.

He brooded the entire night and yes, he killed innocent people because he was denied sex.

Again: Not. His. Problem.

Joker could wait until you were free to have your full undivided attention. Because he needed all of it for the things he wanted to do to you. Tomorrow was a new day—that is, until it became a trend for you to be too busy to spare J any time.

If you did have a spare moment, Joker always caught you at the wrong time like right before you were due for a meeting, or when you were nose deep writing a crucial scene. If he didn’t know any better, Joker would have thought you were brushing him off on purpose but your apologizes were genuine.

He made do calming his erections down or distracting himself to avoid arousal altogether but there was only so much a man could do. It was right there!

Sure, he could jerk off but where was the fun in that? His hand was nothing compared to yours or the warm vice that your pussy created. Man, he missed her. When was the last time he slid home or tasted all you had to offer? He couldn’t remember when.

Joker was not above begging (he’d done it once or twice since knowing you) but still. He wasn’t that hopeless.

Honestly, Joker didn’t know why he was lying to himself. He was that hopeless. Enough was enough.

Joker went an entire week and a half patiently waiting for you. It was torture to have you so close every day yet being unable to touch you. And the worst part? You were blissfully unaware that Joker was suffering.

He had to endure seeing your beautiful body walking around in the clothes you dare call loungewear. They were weapons of mass destruction in his eyes, no doubt about it.

Your plushy thighs barely contained by your shorts—what he’d do to have them in his hands; no. He wanted to leave bite marks on every inch and soothe them with his tongue. Thighs like yours were made to be worshipped. Squeezed. Devoured. Claimed. And he wanted to die being suffocated by them.

Joker was literally going through withdrawals he was so desperate!

Every time he closed his eyes; he saw you in his favorite position. Whenever his fingers brushed against something soft; he was reminded of your supple skin slick with sweat. He heard your innocent hums or sighs, and the sound shot to his dick, reminding him of times you made the same sounds in the throes of passion. He wanted your voice hoarse with tears streaming down your cheeks as he plowed..

Easy there. Down boy.. Down. Joker thought to himself.

You even haunted his random thoughts! You turned him to an addict waiting for the next high and as each day passed, he became more and more desperate to reach it. He was more than needy. Joker was deprived of his Light and feral. He would do anything for a sliver of your attention.

Two weeks going on three proved to be his breaking point. If you didn’t attend to his needs then he would take matters into his own hands and force you to.

Thankfully you gave him the perfect opportunity to plead his case. Joker came home and for once, you weren’t seated in front of your laptop.

You weren’t holding up a finger for him to be quiet. No headset on or handwritten notes scattered across your desk. No. You were in the kitchen chopping up some vegetables with music playing softly in the background.

It was neutral ground. Joker took hesitant steps until you acknowledged his presence with a smile. Okay... you didn’t look busy, nor did you tell him to leave. Was this his chance? You seemed to be in a good enough mood.

Just to be sure, Joker came up behind you and kissed your shoulder. It was bare due to the tank top you wore and f__k... you weren’t wearing a bra. This was torture indeed.

J buried his nose in the crook of your neck to block out the pungent smell of onions and instead soaked up the rich smell of you. You smelled divine as always. The strands of his hair tickled your skin the more he nuzzled in closer.

“Hm, that tickles.” Yet you didn’t stop your meal prep.

He was right there, why couldn’t you give him your attention?! He huffed and planted more kisses on the expanse of your neck and shoulders. You didn’t push him away so he took things to the next level by groping your breasts through the thin material of your top.

Now that got you to pause your music. “Joker. I’m cooking."

A rare whine escaped his throat, “’n I’m hungry.” He bit the spot where your neck met your jaw; your favorite erogenous zone.

“T-then let me cook. J.. quit it.” You shivered when his hands slipped under your shirt and finally touched you skin to skin. The initial contact sucked the air from your lungs, but you pressed forward. “This is my first time making this dish and I.. oh right there.. I don’t w-want to ruin it!”

Joker’s lips left your neck with a wet pop. Did he really had to beg for what he wanted? So be it then.

“But what about meeee, Bun? You’re ruining me. I.. I..” He groaned as he pinched your nipples into stiff peaks. Your body was responding to his needs, why couldn’t that pretty head of yours follow suit?

He whined again and started grinding his dick into your back, all but pining you to the kitchen counter. You weren't escaping this. Joker would not let you. “I... oh sweetheart, I um..”

You heard Joker stumbling over his words (and not his usual theatrical stumbles). Something was wrong. You turnt your head and barely caught J biting his lips. “Joker, are you okay?”

His green hair concealed his eyes from your view. He was a mess with his freckled face all rosy red with want but that’s not how you saw it. J looked in pain.

You dropped the chef knife and focused your attention on Joker. Finally. It’s all he wanted these past few weeks. Your attention. Undivided. Squarely on him.

He let you turn in his arms and he hummed when your hands cupped his scarred face. His cheeks were flushed and there was a glassy look in his eye that had you worried. “J? Are you catching a cold?”

What did he do to deserve this? Joker groaned and dropped his head to your chest. So soft. “Nuh uh. I just, mmm.” Why was it suddenly so hard to ask?

Maybe because you starved him for so long and now that he had your attention, it was just too much to take in. Your thumbs moved on autopilot and rubbed Joker’s scars, but you gasped when he caught one in his mouth and sucked.

Oh. Oh no.

You were speechless as Joker looked up through his long lashes. You knew that look. Granted you only seen it once, it was a state you could never forget. You thought it would be a one-time occurrence but as you took in the turbulent emerald waters in Joker’s eyes, you already knew what mindset he had slipped into.

“Can I have ya M-Mommy? I been verrrrry patient, so patient but I.. I need p-please? I need ya.”

Joker didn’t give you time to respond, he growled lowly and swept an arm across the countertop—sending food and other ingredients flying. You had a mind to scold him, but J already lifted you onto the counter before you could string a sentence together.

Your shrieked at the cold surface hitting your thighs but Joker’s hands parted them like a hot knife to butter. His lips were everywhere, telling you exactly what was on his mind.

You you you you you you you. Finally, he had you.

His hands were eager, pawing at your clothes—he needed them gone, he wanted access to your skin, your body, your warmth. There was so much to do, so little time. What if you denied him again before he had his way? No! Joker needed this. He needed you.

He latched onto your nipples over the cotton fabric and suckled. Your hands flew into his hair as a result. “Joker!”

He hummed, sending vibrations on your skin even as he grew inpatient and clawed at your waist hidden by your pesky shorts. The stupid thing could double as underwear it was so scandalous. Perhaps you underestimated just how desperate Joker truly was.

The fabric was like tissue paper in his hands although he didn’t dwell much on the loss nor on your startled gasp. He was one step closer to his goal.

His mind was flooded with the concept of you. The sounds you made, the way you responded to his touch. He was going insane(r).

You yelped feeling his hand snake in between your thighs and rub at your entrance. Joker groaned against your chest feeling the wetness coating his fingers. “Mm, soooo wet Mommy. Already? Are ya wet for meee? I knew it, you need this too.”

His words hit hard and caused more slick to pool into his palm. “Shhh, I know, I know.” J shushed your cries when he plunged his fingers inside your pussy and began to pump them nice and hard.

The stretch was unexpected; you forgotten the last time you and Joker were intimate. Work took a lot out of you these past few weeks. Sex was the last thing on your mind but Joker was so kind to reintroduce you to the concept.

The wet slick sound of your pussy was loud in your ears and Joker amplified it by moving his fingers faster. He truly was a man possessed.

He watched each emotion alter your face with every stroke of his fingers. Knuckles deep made your eyelashes flutter like wings.

Letting his thumb rub your clit with every retreat had your back arching beautifully. When he rubbed against your favorite spot thus earning a high-pitched yelp, he grinned and kissed anywhere he could. You’d have hickies all over, he didn’t care.

Gods, you were stunning. This is what he missed all those nights.

You in the throes of passion under him. Over him. It did not matter. His cock twitched in his pants the louder you moaned out your pleasure. You were close and he couldn’t wait to see you unravel.

Would you notice him grinding into the counter? Probably not with how your thighs were shaking.

You were clinging onto Joker’s shoulders, crying out for him and he heard every single word spill from your lips.

Your eyes found Joker’s the moment the white-hot coil in your belly snapped. He was right there to watch you come undone. And what a sight you were.

His moans echoed yours as you rode out your high. J didn’t stop the fast thrusts of his fingers in your cunt not even when you whimpered ‘too much,’ he just shook his head.

No, you deserved all his love, why run from it? If he could go weeks bottling up his desire then you could handle the tsunami wave of it crashing down on you. It only seemed fair in his twisted mind.

You did not know when Joker stopped fingering you. One minute your cunt was teetering on the edge of another orgasm, the next Joker was kissing you senseless.

Attempts at your name mixed in with his subby whines caught you off guard but nothing compared to hearing Joker’s still wet hand stroking his cock.

Your eyes shot open at the lewd sound. He had no shame. Joker stood before you jerking himself off with precum splattering on the tile kitchen floor.

Why did he look thicker, heavier, and you bit your lip catching a fleeing glimpse of his angry red head before it disappeared in his fist.

Yeah, J looked in pain alright. If he didn’t have you soon, he just might combust. His entire frame shook with the restraint he held. It sent a tingle of fear down your spine. You might not walk after this..

How long had it been since you and J had sex again? Your mind drew a blank.

And not like it mattered; Joker was tired of waiting. He rested his forehead against yours with a choppy sigh. “Mm, I need it. I need you. I’m sorry Mommy, I ahhh…”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as Joker bottomed out inside your pussy with one powerful thrust. Home at last. Why did he ever leave? Why did he wait so long?

He let out a guttural groan as he set his hands on the counter near your hips. “Yessss f-finally f__k yes! Oh, thank you Mommy. Thank you. Fuuu—”

Joker proceeded to pound into you and all logical thought was lost to time. Only his babbles of thank yous and sloppy kisses to your skin were deemed relevant.

Pieces of chopped vegetables and other ingredients clung to your back but none of that clicked inside your scrambled brain.

Your current thoughts were surrounded on breathing and not blacking out. Was Joker always this feral or did it have to do with the time apart? He was a completely different person plowing into your cunt, spaced out, and drooling onto your skin. If you got the chance, you would wager his eyes blown out by lust with no green therein.

It was hot to be desired to such a degree. To be thanked for spreading your legs while at the same time, being reduced to mere a fleshlight.

Nothing else mattered except the hard wet slap of Joker’s hips meeting your own.

He had a bruising grip on your waist to help guide you forward onto his invading length. You could feel every vein on Joker’s dick dragging against your walls, over and over without remorse, until another orgasm bubbled up to the surface. He had no plans of stopping but black dots were filling your vision.

“J....” you said with a shaky breath.

Your hands sought him out, requesting anything to help ground you to earth. You found hope clinging to Joker’s wrists although that triggered something in him.

Perhaps it was already there lying dormant, nevertheless, he yanked you up from the counter and into his arms. Once J knew you secure, he kissed your cheek and began bouncing you on his cock.

The new angle was deeper with the same brutal pace as before. It snatched a wanton moan right from your throat that Joker responded to with a sweet coo.

“Ooh, you like that Mommy? This big.. fat d-dick deep n’ hard in my pretty girl’s guts? Yea? Well it’s allllll for you, no one else. I always wanna be in ya Mommy.” He grunted when he slammed you down a bit harder than expected. “F__k, you’re sooo tight!!”

You clawed at his arms the same time J grimaced from your pussy squeezing him to death. He happened to be a certified masochist but this was the best pain he ever experienced.

That and the longest blue balls you subjected him to. He could not wait to empty inside you.

Which reminded him; that this was all your fault.

“Whydda make me wait huh? Ya g-got me.. ngh, goin’ crazy for this pussy. H-Hallucinating and s__t! Ya makin’ me crazier n’ I love ittttt!”

He bounced you harder on his cock during his mindless babbles and you almost missed what he said.

Make him wait? What nonsense was Joker on about? You lifted your head from J’s neck and eyed him sideways. Not once did he come to you this past month!

You thought he was too busy with all his crime and whatever he did at night to be bothered.

His accusations made you mad and before you knew it, your hands were wrapping around Joker’s throat.

You wanted him to just shut up and keep f__king you, however you weren’t expecting a dazed smile to bloom across J’s face nor hear the feminine moan that escaped him. He was ruined beyond measure.

Oh. Now that was unexpected.

“H-Harder.” He begged. Joker. Begged. The idea was unheard of. You blinked in shock but did as you were asked albeit hesitantly.

You used both hands to squeeze his airway. Joker made noises you’ve never heard before (all them sending liquid fire to your clit) as he picked back up his erratic thrusts into your cunt. He liked this?

His hazy smile confirmed it.

Without warning, J fell back onto the fridge, taking you with him. It was jarring at first, but his grip on you never faltered. In fact, he never missed a beat ramming into your sopping wet hole.

Apparently, J wasn’t the only one enjoying the newly discovered choking kink.

“Harder, baby. I-I can t-take it!” You were wary, Joker could tell, so he snapped his hips up to hit your g spot with a disturbing accuracy. It only took a few hits for you to crumble.

You cried out as your orgasm took you by surprise. Joker didn’t know which was tighter. Your hand around his neck or your pussy on his dick; either way, what bliss.

He just closed his eyes and flooded your cunt.

He felt each spurt of cum with the lack of oxygen making him hypersensitive. He had so much to give, he could feel it spilling out of you and down to his balls.

He didn’t want to leave your warmth; it felt too good. A perfect finale for weeks of denial.

Despite the room spinning, Joker was ever mindful of you in his arms as he slid further down the fridge and ultimately to the floor. The cold tiles were a shock to his sweaty skin and he rightfully shielded you from it with his body.

The two of you breathed in the hot, balmy air as time caught up to reality.

You were still seated on J’s cock, playing with the ends of his hair. You couldn’t get up even if your life depended on it.

You didn’t want to be the first to speak but J wasn’t planning on it. He was still on cloud nine, only allowing his thumb to rub mindlessly on your lower back.

Last time Joker did not want to acknowledge his unusual behavior so you had to walk on eggshells just in case he would have the same mentality today.

“Um, J? Are you okay?” You glanced at his neck which was already turning red, “I hope I didn’t squeeze too hard.”

His Light; always so sweet and pure. Joker smiled at your worrisomeness. You did choke him harder than he’d anticipated but he didn’t want you freaking out and not consider doing it again.

Again. He was already thinking about a repeat performance. He was truly messed up in the head. Joker shook his head and fussed over you.

His voice is hoarse when he finally replied. “I’m fine, Bun. That was…”

He shifted as if highlighting exactly what the two of you just did.

You blushed feeling the sticky mess pooling in between you and Joker’s legs. You grimaced at the thought of cleaning up later. Right now, you just sighed in relief. Sex with Joker was always an adventure.

Today however…

The elephant was still lingering in the room. “I thought you didn’t like being.. you know.” You bit your lip, looking away.

Joker tapped it lightly to make you stop. All his previous actions and statements done in the heat of the moment rushed back to him and oddly enough, he wasn’t embarrassed like last time.

He still didn’t know what to make of it these developments.. but you deserved an answer as his partner.

“I uh don’T? I just get so ahh, des-per-ate? Needy? Hm. I’m obsessed what can I say? Its errr.. your fault, for leaving me high n’ dry. Don’t. Do. It. Again.” He growled as he pinched your cheek.

Good to know he was back to his normal self. And in record time too.

You rubbed the sting away with a pout. You missed his submissiveness already. “Maybe Mommy should deny her pretty boy again. I kinda like you all pussy drunk and needy. Would you like that baby” you teased.

Joker’s cheeks flushed red, “Yes I.. ah ahem! Pft. Whatever ya want Bun.” He looked away, hoping you didn’t hear the first half of his sentence.

Unfortunately, you did. “Just admit you like it, J. There’s nothing wrong with a mommy kink.”

“I. Do. Not. Have. A..” you cut him off with a firm hand around his throat. His pathetic moan and the throb from his dick stirring up inside you was all the proof you needed.

You cooed and kissed his nose. “Aww, its okay J baby. Mommy knows the truth now and I’m gonna have, so much fun with you.”

[lipstick-and-libraries]

Rainfall and Realizations PT.2

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: A rainy afternoon in Kitty’s and your dorm brings you closer to her charming but flustered friend, Minho. Between teasing remarks, upcoming secrets and an unexpected walk, sparks begin to fly as Minho starts to see you in a new light.

𓋜 Notes:

Hello again!,

I just want to say, I'm so surprised that the first little drabble has reached about 100 people at this point, thank you to everyone reading and leaving a like <3

While I didn't think I'd be continuing the first part, I am very very happy to do so. I have a couple Ideas, so lets see how long this little slowburn is gonna take, but do feel free to give feedback, ideas or corrections :)

Thank you again, and I hope you have fun with this next part, and the newest little secret (Y/N) possibly has

Taglist!! <3: @finnbbl, @literallysza(tysm, ily)

The days following Minho’s first meeting with (Y/N) were…confusing. For someone who prided himself on being the most self-assured person at KISS, Minho now found himself unsettled, distracted, and unusually tongue-tied.

He hated how much he found himself looking for excuses to hang out in Kitty’s dorm, pretending to help with her chaotic plans or offering to grab coffee with her, only to find himself scanning the room for (Y/N).

And then there was (Y/N) herself. If she noticed Minho’s newfound awkwardness, she didn’t let on. She greeted him the same way every time—calm, composed, and polite but never overly enthusiastic. It drove him crazy.

One rainy afternoon, Minho found himself at Kitty’s dorm again. It had become a ritual of sorts—Kitty would ramble on about her latest love triangle (or square, depending on the day), and Minho would half-listen, his attention split between her words and the hope that (Y/N) would walk in.

“…and then she had the nerve to ask if I wanted to go shopping with her,” Kitty was saying, pacing the small living room.

Minho leaned back on the couch, pretending to listen. His attention kept drifting to the door.

“And you’re not even listening,” Kitty said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“What? No, I am,” Minho said quickly. “Shopping with Yuri. Terrible idea. Definitely don’t do it.”

Kitty sighed, flopping onto the armchair across from him. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Before Minho could respond, the door creaked open. (Y/N) stepped inside, balancing a tray of fresh cookies. She glanced at them, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Kitty, I made a little something for you,” she said, setting the tray on the counter. Her gaze flickered to Minho briefly. “Oh. Hi, Minho.”

Minho straightened up instinctively. “Hey.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “Cookies? You’ve been spoiling me lately, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing,” (Y/N) said, putting a couple of them on a platter for Kitty and sliding it across the counter. “I wanted to take some time to bake something again anyway.”

Minho hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Any left over for me?”

(Y/N) glanced at him, her expression unreadable, before nodding. She prepared another plate and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed briefly as he took it, and Minho felt his stomach flip.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking a bite to hide his reaction.

As the rain pattered against the windows, the three of them settled into a strangely comfortable rhythm. Kitty alternated between brainstorming ideas and scrolling through her phone, while Minho and (Y/N) exchanged occasional remarks about the weather and school.

Minho found himself watching (Y/N) more than he intended. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her plate balanced precariously on the edge of the table. Her hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, and she wore an oversized sweater that looked impossibly soft.

“So,” (Y/N) said suddenly, looking at Minho. “What’s your role in Kitty’s master plan today?”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I’m the…idea guy?”

“Really?” (Y/N) said, raising an eyebrow. “Because it seems like Kitty’s doing all the talking.”

Kitty snorted. “Exactly. He’s useless.”

“Hey,” Minho protested, feigning offense. “I’m providing moral support.”

“Moral support doesn’t count if you’re just sitting there looking pretty,” (Y/N) said, her tone light but teasing.

Minho’s cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment—or was it an insult? He couldn’t tell.

“Looking pretty is a full-time job,” he shot back, recovering quickly.

(Y/N) smiled faintly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Must be exhausting.”

Soon after, (Y/N) excused herself to work on her writing, leaving Minho and Kitty alone again.

“You’re staring,” Kitty said, not looking up from her phone.

“What?” Minho said, snapping out of his thoughts.

“At (Y/N),” Kitty clarified, smirking. “You’ve been staring at her all afternoon.”

“I have not,” Minho said, a little too quickly.

“Right,” Kitty said, drawing out the word. “You’re so obvious, it’s painful.”

Minho groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not…staring. I just think she’s—”

“Gorgeous?” Kitty supplied.

Minho sighed. “Fine. Yes. But it’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Kitty said, her smirk widening.

The tea that was made to go along with the cookies was long gone, the rain still drumming softly against the windows, and Minho couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in his head. Her words—“Must be exhausting”—had been light, teasing, but there was something about the way (Y/N) looked at him when she said it. Not dismissive, not disinterested. Amused, maybe even intrigued. Or was he imagining that?

“Minho,” Kitty’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to reality.

“Huh?”

Kitty rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Hiding what?” he said, attempting a casual shrug that probably looked as awkward as it felt.

“You, staring at her like she’s some mysterious treasure map you’re trying to figure out,” Kitty said, her smirk firmly in place.

“I don’t stare,” Minho said defensively. “I glance. Occasionally, and don't mention it again, we just talked about that 20 minutes ago!”

Kitty let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re in trouble, I'm just trying to get that into your head”

“I’m not,” Minho insisted, though the heat rising in his cheeks told a different story. “I just think she’s…interesting.”

“Oh, she is,” Kitty agreed. “But don’t think you’re going to win her over by just sitting here and looking pretty.”

“I don’t—” Minho started, but Kitty cut him off.

“Please. I know you. You think a few charming smiles and a well-timed compliment are all it takes.”

Minho scowled, but he couldn’t exactly argue. That had worked for him in the past. “And what, oh wise Kitty, do you suggest I do?”

Kitty tilted her head, considering. “Maybe try talking to her. Actually talking. Ask her about her life, her interests—be genuine for once.”

Minho opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the door to (Y/N)’s room creaked open. She stepped out, clutching her laptop and a notebook, her hair pulled into a clip-up hairstyle.

“I’m heading to the library,” (Y/N) said, glancing between them.

“In this weather?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s quieter when it’s raining,” (Y/N) said with a small shrug.

"Besides, I want to meet up with a guy that needs tutoring, he's hopeless"

"Just some guy, huh?" Minho pauses for a second, watching her every move.

"A random guy that you're bringing some of your cookies?"

(Y/N turns around, facing him with a judging look: "If you really think about it, you're also 'Just a Guy' at the moment"

Minho's brows furrow, and you could almost hear Kitty's low wince in reaction to her statement

“I’ll walk with you,” Minho said, standing before he even realized what he was doing.

(Y/N) blinked, clearly surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Minho said, his tone a little too eager. He quickly added, “I mean, I’ve been cooped up here for hours. I could use some air.”

Kitty barely stifled a laugh, but (Y/N) simply nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Minho grabbed his jacket, ignoring Kitty’s smug expression as he followed (Y/N) out the door.

The rain had softened into a light drizzle by the time they stepped outside. (Y/N) pulled her hood up, clutching her laptop bag close as they walked.

“So,” Minho began, struggling to find a topic. “The library, huh? Big plans?”

“I just need some quiet to work,” (Y/N) said, glancing at him briefly.

“On what?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “I write sometimes. Nothing major.”

“Like essays?” Minho guessed.

“Not exactly,” she said, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “More like…thoughts. Stories. Poetry, sometimes.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do,” (Y/N) said lightly.

They walked in silence for a moment, the rain-soaked campus unusually quiet around them. Minho found himself stealing glances at her, trying to piece together the puzzle of who she was.

“What about you?” (Y/N) asked suddenly, catching him off guard. “What do you do when you’re not hanging out with Kitty or obsessing over your wardrobe?”

“I don’t obsess over clothes, or only hang out with Kitty” Minho said defensively.

(Y/N) gave him a knowing look: "You cant deny the fashion thing, and you do hang out with Kitty a lot at the moment, you seem to be attached at the hip"

“Okay, maybe a little, but not the Kitty thing! She's nice don't get me wrong, but..” he admitted, stopping his rant when he saw (Y/N)'s expression

“But I do other things. Like…uh…” He faltered, realizing he didn’t have a good answer. “I’m pretty into music,” he said finally. “I play piano.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her tone teasing. “You don’t exactly give off ‘classical music prodigy’ vibes.”

“First of all, I’m not a prodigy,” Minho said. “And second, I’m full of surprises.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” (Y/N) said, her faint smile returning.

They reached the library steps, and (Y/N) paused, turning to face him.

“Thanks for walking with me,” she said.

“Anytime,” Minho said, and for once, he meant it.

(Y/N) hesitated, like she wanted to say something else, but instead, deciding for an alternative.

"Minho?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever get lonely when Kitty's out causing chaos, feel free to stop by anyway, alright?"

Minho and her shared a smile before she nodded and disappeared through the library doors.

Minho stood there for a moment, watching the door close behind her. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, replaying their conversation in his head. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress.

By the time he got back to the dorm, Kitty was waiting for him, sprawled out on the couch with a knowing grin.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well, what?”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “How’d it go? Did you manage to form a complete sentence?”

“Very funny,” Minho said, kicking off his shoes. “We talked.”

“And?”

“And…she’s interesting,” Minho admitted, flopping onto the couch.

She gave him an expecting look, leaning forward towards him

He have her a judgy up-and-down look before asking: "What?"

Kitty groaned and shook her head.

"And? There was something else I know it"

Minho's lips twitched into something resembling a smile before gaining back his facial control

"Well...", he hesitated for a second, "She did indirectly invite me to hang out?"

Kitty’s grin widened. “You’re so doomed.”

That night, as Minho sat at his desk, he found himself scrolling through his phone, staring at the submission screen for the anonymous blog everyone at KISS loved. He didn’t know why he was considering it, but something about (Y/N)’s quiet confidence had gotten under his skin.

Without overthinking, he typed out a message:

“How do you get to know someone who’s completely different from anyone you’ve ever met? Someone who makes you feel like you’re not as put together as you think you are?”

He hesitated before hitting send, then shook his head and closed the app. It wasn’t like she would ever see it.

Or so he thought.

[itsawitchyworld]

Highschool Crush Luigi to University Crush x Y/N

The first time you saw Luigi Mangione after three years was at the campus coffee shop. He stood in line with the same effortless posture, his dark hair now slightly longer, brushing against his sharp jawline. You froze mid-sip of your latte, heart racing as memories of your failed confession came rushing back.

It was the last week of high school. The sun was setting, casting golden light through the window as you stood by the lockers, trying to calm the storm of nerves that had built up all day. You had rehearsed the words in your head a thousand times, but now that the moment was here, they seemed to escape you.

Luigi had found you standing there, a stack of textbooks in his arms, his eyes soft with curiosity. He leaned against the lockers next to you, glancing at you like he was waiting for you to speak.

“Luigi… I… uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” you stammered, heart pounding in your chest. His brows furrowed, and for a split second, you saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.

He smiled that warm, disarming smile. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you blurted out the words you had been holding back for so long: “I like you, Luigi. I think I’ve liked you for a while now. More than just as a friend, and I just—I had to tell you.”

The words felt heavier than you expected, like they hung in the air between you, waiting for him to process them.

Luigi blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. And then, he did the one thing you didn’t expect—he looked away, his face flushing slightly. He seemed uncomfortable, almost as if your confession had thrown him off balance.

“Y/N, I—I’m flattered,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost apologetic. “But I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

The air between you thickened. Your heart sank as his words hit you like a ton of bricks. You tried to force a smile, but it felt hollow.

“I just… I didn’t want things to be weird between us,” Luigi continued, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re an amazing person, really. But I don’t want to lead you on.”

You nodded quickly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, your throat tightening. You wanted to say something, anything, to make it less awkward, but nothing seemed right. Instead, you turned and walked away, the echoes of his rejection lingering in the hallway.

That was the last time you spoke about it. You buried those feelings deep, telling yourself you would get over it, that you would be fine. But every time you saw him, a small part of you would ache.

Continue reading here.

[angelofthenight01]

Crumbling barriers

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

genre: fluff     ||     warnings: none 

It was late when Natasha Romanoff stepped into the dimly lit living room of the Avengers compound. Her black leather jacket clung to her frame, her movements sleek and purposeful as always. Her green eyes flickered toward you, briefly meeting your gaze before she looked away, the weight of something heavy lingering between you two.

You had known Natasha for a while now—long enough to understand that she was a woman of few words, one whose emotions were usually hidden beneath layers of skillful armor. Yet, tonight felt different. There was a shift in the air, something that made you uneasy, like a storm waiting to break.

“Didn’t expect anyone to still be up,” she said, her voice low and steady, yet there was an underlying tension that you couldn’t ignore.

You sat up from the couch, abandoning the book you had been reading. “Couldn’t sleep,” you confessed, your gaze studying her. “Bad mission?”

Natasha let out a quiet breath, taking a step further into the room. “You could say that.” She moved to the bar, reaching for a bottle of water. Her hand trembled slightly as she twisted the cap off, but it was almost imperceptible—just a fraction of a moment that would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t pay close attention.

“Natasha, you don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you said, your voice soft but unwavering. You knew how fiercely independent she was, how much she fought to keep her burdens to herself. But you also knew there were moments when even the strongest needed someone to lean on.

She paused, her back still turned toward you as she took a long sip from the bottle. “I don’t need anyone,” she muttered, almost to herself, as if saying the words aloud would make them more true.

But you didn’t let her retreat. You stood up, closing the distance between you, your presence steady and warm. “I know you don’t like to rely on others. But you’ve got to know, Natasha, that you’re not alone. Not with me.”

For the first time that night, she turned to look at you, her expression guarded, but there was something different in her eyes. The cracks in her walls were starting to show, even if she didn’t want them to.

A pause hung between you, and then Natasha exhaled sharply, as if the weight of everything she had been holding back had become too much. “It’s just… hard, sometimes. To let go. To trust.”

You took another step forward, your voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to let go completely. You just have to know that it’s okay to let someone in. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

Her lips parted, as though she was about to say something, but she stopped herself, her gaze flickering toward the window, staring into the night. The silence stretched, comfortable yet filled with unspoken words.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter than usual. “I never asked for this life, you know. The guilt… the things I’ve done… they don’t go away, no matter how much I try to move past them. And sometimes, I feel like no one really sees me, not the real me.”

You stepped even closer, your voice soft but sure. “I see you. All of you. And I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be here. With me. If you’re willing.”

For a long moment, Natasha said nothing, but her gaze softened, her shoulders slowly relaxing. She took a deep breath, as if she were weighing your words, measuring their truth.

And then, without warning, she stepped closer to you, closing the gap you had left open between you both. Her hand reached out, brushing your cheek ever so gently, her touch light but filled with a tenderness that you hadn’t expected.

“Maybe… maybe I could let you in, just a little,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But you’ll have to be patient with me.”

You smiled, your heart racing, but you remained calm, steady for her. “I’ll wait as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, the woman who had been through more than anyone should ever endure, let her walls fall just enough to let you in. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

And you both knew that, in time, the rest would come. Together.

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟒

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The move to New York happened faster than you expected. Drew wrapped up his commitments on the film and, true to his word, took some time off to figure things out with you. You found a small apartment in Brooklyn—tiny by any standard but perfect for two people who couldn’t bear to be apart anymore.

At first, it felt like a dream. Drew was there when you woke up, his sleepy smile the first thing you saw every morning. He walked you to the subway on your way to work, insisting on carrying your coffee and kissing you goodbye on the platform.

You introduced him to your favorite haunts—the bagel shop on the corner, the used bookstore where you’d spent countless weekends, the rooftop garden where you went to think. And he brought his world into yours, sharing stories about life on set, showing you his favorite films, and even letting you read an early script he was considering.

But as the weeks passed, the cracks began to show.

Drew had always been confident, charming, and self-assured. But in New York, where you had your own life and your own circle of friends, he sometimes seemed… lost. He wasn’t used to slowing down, to having days without a packed schedule or a clear direction.

One night, you found him sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel… useless. You’re out there working, doing what you love, and I’m here trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

You placed a hand on his knee, your heart aching for him. “Drew, you don’t have to figure it all out right now. This time is about us—about being together. You’ve been working nonstop for years. Maybe it’s okay to take a break.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, but what if I’m not good at this? At being still?”

“You’re not ‘being still,’” you said firmly. “You’re building something here, with me. That matters, too.”

He smiled then, pulling you into his lap. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“I don’t,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “But I know you. And I know you’ll figure this out.”

❥❥❥❥

The next few months were a mix of highs and lows. Drew started auditioning for theater roles, drawn to the idea of performing live, but the rejections stung more than he let on. Meanwhile, your job became more demanding, with long hours and late nights that left little time for the two of you.

One night, you came home to find Drew in the kitchen, a half-burnt dinner on the stove and a guilty look on his face.

“I was trying to make lasagna,” he admitted, gesturing to the mess.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s the thought that counts.”

But as you cleaned up together, the stress of the past few weeks bubbled to the surface.

“I miss you,” Drew said suddenly, setting a plate in the sink.

You turned to him, surprised. “I’m right here.”

“Not really,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re always at work, and when you’re home, you’re exhausted. I get it—it’s not your fault. But I didn’t come here to feel like I’m losing you again.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Drew, I’m doing this for us. To build a life together.”

“I know,” he said, his hands running through his hair. “But what’s the point if we don’t have time to actually live it?”

Silence hung between you, the weight of his words sinking in.

Finally, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want to lose us, either. Maybe I need to figure out how to balance this better.”

“And maybe I need to stop putting all this pressure on myself to figure out my next big move,” he admitted. “I think… I just got scared. Scared that if I’m not enough, you’ll realize you don’t need me.”

Your heart broke at his honesty, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. “You are enough, Drew. Always. This isn’t about what you do—it’s about who you are. And I love who you are.”

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a lifeline. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

That night, you stayed up talking, making promises to each other to try harder, to communicate better, to always put you two first.

❥❥❥❥

In the months that followed, you found your rhythm. Drew started working on an off-Broadway production, throwing himself into the challenge with his trademark dedication. You scaled back your hours at work, carving out more time for the two of you.

There were still tough days, moments when the city felt too loud or the pressure felt too heavy. But you faced them together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.

And as you sat in the audience on opening night, watching Drew deliver a performance that left the entire theater breathless, you sat there admiring him, falling in love more than ever before.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

[theworldofotps]

Forgotten Birthday (Drabble)

Pairing: Bayley x OC Bri Word Count 645 Description: Bri thinks Bayley forgot her birthday.

Wishing the happiest birthday to one of the best friends a person could have. @madhatterbri having you in my life this past year has truly been an adventure. I hope you get all you wish for, and that this next year is amazing because you deserve nothing less than the best. I love you bunches _______ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic​ @writtingrose​ @99hook @madhatterbri  @sassymox​ @mrsacklesevansmgk​ @xladyxfatex​ @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​ @demonqueen29​ @itsicantbelievethis666​ @lilred91​ @rebellious-desires​ @surdelcielo @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie​ @shortyiceheart​ @serpantscorpio8497​ @thatpanpal​ @wrestlersownmyheart​ @vebner37​​ @seeingstarks​ @whenimakeitshine1234​ @legit9thlunaticwarrior​ @blaquekitty​ @ironshamelessyouth​ @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin​ @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @terrortwinunicorn @alyyaanna  @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars @thatnerdwriter​ @sjwrites22 If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. ______

Bayley had been acting strangely all day, and to say that Bri was a little disappointed was an understatement. Of course she knew her girlfriend was busy with work and all the traveling she did with WWE. Forgetting an anniversary was something a lot of people did but it was already mid morning and Bayley still hadn’t wished her a happy birthday yet. The small subtle hints that Bri tried to give were brushed off with vague replies or simple humming sounds. Bri had received countless texts and messages from friends wishing her a happy birthday, and yet the person who she wanted to hear it from the most was silent.

‘It’s going to be fine. I don't want to make her feel bad if she did forget but I also want her to know she forgot.’

She was torn on what to do, so she stayed quite hoping desperately that something would remind her girlfriend. By the time evening rolled around, Bri had resigned herself to the fact that Bayley must have genuinely forgotten. Bri tried her best to mask her disappointment, forcing a smile when Bayley mentioned something about dinner.

“Sure, whatever you feel like babe.”

She says sinking into the couch, while her girlfriend nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something about calling in the order. A short while later Bayley returned and motioned for Bri to follow her. 

“Hey, could you come help me grab something from the patio?” 

Bri arched an eyebrow confused on what she could be getting from outside when she had been ordering dinner

“What is it?”

“It’s just… heavy.”

Bayley said, fidgeting with the ends of her shirt and winked at her girlfriend.

“C’mon, you’re always saying how much stronger you are than me. Well here is your chance to prove that.”

With a sigh, Bri got up and followed her through the house. The only sound was their footsteps as they walked. Bayley pushed the door open and stepped aside, motioning for Bri to walk out first. The patio was dark which was unusual since the lights should have turned on by now.

“Hold on baby let me get the lights.”

Bayley flicked a switch and a chorus of voices yelled out “Surprise!”

Bri’s eyes widened as she took in the scene before her, the patio had been transformed into a cozy celebration space. Streamers and balloons in her favorite colors hung from the roof twirling around posts. A small table was covered with snacks, cupcakes, and a couple of neatly wrapped gift boxes. At the center of the table was a cake that read, ‘Happy Birthday, Bri!’ in elegant frosting.

Bayley stood behind her with a proud grin, holding a party hat in her hands then stepped forward placing it on her girlfriend’s head.

“Did you really think I forgot?” 

She teased putting her own hat on and kissing Bri’s forehead gently as their friends began gathering around.

Bri turned to her, her voice soft a light blush covering her cheeks.

“I… I honestly did. You were so quiet about it.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to suspect anything babe, you’re the most important person in my life. How could I ever forget your birthday?”

Bri felt a lump rise in her throat, her earlier disappointment melting away into pure joy. She laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she looked at the woman before her.

“You’re sneaky, you know that?”

“I prefer ‘thoughtful.”

Bayley quipped, pulling her into a warm hug pressing another tender kiss to her head. The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, shared memories, and stolen kisses. Bayley’s small surprise turned out to be perfect—intimate and heartfelt, just like their relationship. As Bri blew out the candles on her cake, she made a wish that every year with Bayley would be just as magical as this one.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 8.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: More banter and slight angst! Jayce speaks French, and we are about to even out with AO3 which means I will post chapter 10 in two days :)

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A week had passed since their trip to the Undercity, though the memory of their near-moment lingered like a stubborn ember refusing to die out. Viktor had kept his distance, returning to his meticulous work, while Renly buried herself in testing the formula. She really wanted to make it before the gala on upcoming weekend. The tension between them was not sharp or angry but... unresolved. Words left unsaid.

Now, as she stood at the threshold of his workspace, cradling the first viable test sample in her hands, that tension seemed to knot her throat. She tapped softly on the metal frame of the door, and Viktor turned, his golden eyes catching hers.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice betraying her nerves, “I—um—I wanted to show you something.”

He set aside the intricate mechanism he’d been tinkering with and gave her his full attention. “What is it?”

Renly crossed the room slowly, holding the small vial out like an offering. “The cure… or at least, the first viable iteration of it. It’s ready for testing.”

Viktor’s gaze dropped to the vial in her hands. His expression, as always, was difficult to read, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe even hope. She couldn’t be sure.

“I thought,” Renly continued hesitantly, “that you might—well, you might want to try it. But only if you’re comfortable. I don’t want you to feel like…” She trailed off, suddenly aware of how heavy the moment felt. “Like I’m treating you as some sort of… experiment.”

Viktor took the vial from her with gentle hands, his fingers brushing against hers for a fraction of a second. “You would never,” he said softly, his voice carrying a certainty that made her stomach flip. He studied the vial, the pale, faintly glowing liquid catching the light.

Renly twisted her hands nervously. “I just... I know how much you’ve already risked, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m—”

“Renly,” he interrupted, looking up at her. His eyes, earnest and steady, caught hers and held them. “You are not asking anything I would not willingly give.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The words he’d just said hung between them, weighted with layers of meaning that neither dared unpack.

“You trust me that much?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Viktor’s lips curved into a faint smile, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly higher than the other. “More than you realize.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. She wanted to respond, to say something meaningful, but her thoughts tangled together. Instead, she nodded, and handed him a small parchment with dosage instructions, her own tentative smile matching his.

Viktor glanced back at the vial, his expression turning contemplative. “If this works,” he murmured, half to himself, “you will have done something remarkable—not just for me, but for all of Zaun. I hope you see that.”

His words sank in, and for the first time, she felt the enormity of what she was trying to accomplish—the weight of all those counting on her, including Viktor himself.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, attempting a lightness she didn’t quite feel. “It’s only the first trial.”

“Even so,” Viktor replied, his gaze lifting back to hers, “it is a step forward. And for that, I am grateful.”

With that, Viktor pocketed the vial, his movements deliberate, his expression unreadable once more. The moment stretched on before he turned back to his desk. “I will let you know how it goes.”

Renly hesitated for a moment longer, wanting to say something—anything—that might ease the invisible wall that had risen between them since that night in the Undercity. But in the end, she simply nodded and slipped out of the room, her heart heavy with things left unsaid.

***

The grand day had finally arrived. Viktor and Jayce were rehearsing their presentations for the fundraising gala. They knew their work inside and out—every discovery with Hextech had been thoroughly tested and meticulously documented. The primary focus of their practice speeches, however, was to ensure that Piltover's wealthy elite would view their innovations as they did: a beacon of life-changing progress, meant to be harnessed for peaceful purposes.

“She’s late,” Jayce muttered, glancing at the clock. “Renly’s never late. What if she bailed on us?”

Viktor didn’t look up from his notes. “She would not do that. Perhaps she is simply… taking her time.”

Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but the creak of the lab door froze him mid-step. Both men turned toward the sound.

Renly stepped inside, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor, their sharp rhythm underscoring the quiet hum of the lab’s machines. But it wasn’t just her entrance that demanded attention—it was everything else.

Gone was the practicality of her work attire, the reliable fabrics stained by chemicals and the scuffs from long hours. In their place was a dress—blood red, sleek, and elegant, a daring statement of confidence and boldness that seemed to make the very air around her shimmer. It hugged her frame tastefully, the neckline hinting at daring but never straying into excess. A delicate silver chain rested against her collarbone, the simple accessory accentuating her sharp features. Her hair was swept back, leaving her face unobscured, framed by the glow of polished poise.

“Sorry I’m late,” Renly said, her voice casual as she set her bag down. “Had to find something that wasn’t covered in stains.”

Viktor stared. His brain, so capable in the realm of logic and science, utterly failed him now. Words tangled in his throat like frayed wires, and after a pause that seemed eternal, he finally managed to stammer, “You look… astonishing.”

The word lingered, weightier than intended. Jayce stopped pacing, eyebrows lifting in shock, his head snapping toward Viktor as if to confirm he’d heard correctly. Viktor stiffened almost immediately, his grip tightening on the cane as he realized what he’d said aloud. He cleared his throat, looking away in a feeble attempt to recover.

Renly, however, didn’t miss a beat. Amusement flickered in her eyes as a slow smile curved her lips. She tilted her head, her tone playful but warm as she responded, “Thank you, Viktor.” A slight pause, and then, with the faintest edge of mischief, “I could say the same about you, but I’m not sure ‘astonishing’ is the right word for a man who insists on wearing a cravat to every occasion.”

Jayce burst into laughter, loud and sudden, while Viktor shot him a withering sidelong glare. His discomfort deepened as Renly took a step closer, her grin widening.

“But it suits you,” she added, her voice softening but still teasing. Her eyes locked on his, glimmering with an energy he didn’t quite know how to place. “Distinguished, refined… and maybe just a little bit pretentious.”

Jayce leaned against the counter, practically doubled over from laughing. Viktor’s composure frayed further, his ears burning crimson at the edges. “I am glad my wardrobe provides such endless entertainment,” he muttered, his voice dry but noticeably tight.

Renly chuckled, the sound light and unbothered. “Alright, boys, let’s get these speeches sorted. I didn’t put on this dress just to make fun of Viktor.” Her gaze lingered on him for half a second longer than necessary before she added, with a smirk, “Though that is a very nice bonus.”

Jayce continued to snicker, but Viktor barely noticed. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus on the notes in his hand even as his thoughts refused to follow suit. Renly moved toward the blackboard, her heels clicking against the floor like punctuation marks, commanding attention with every step.

For a fleeting moment, Viktor allowed himself to watch her, unguarded, unrestrained. His equilibrium, so carefully maintained in all other matters, was noticeably absent. But despite the flustered edges of his thoughts, one truth remained clear: whatever chaos Renly brought, he didn’t mind.

“I have to be honest with you guys—I am scared shitless,” Renly said, turning on her heel. She spoke more to the room than to her friends.

“What…? Why?” Jayce snorted at her blunt statement. “You’ve got this. Besides, Renly, you’re the only one of us who has fresh presentation practice. You teach students all the time!”

“I know, I know,” she said with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “But with the students, I know I’m talking to people who at least try to understand what I’m explaining.” She paused, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation. “Here, we’re presenting to people who might not have the slightest clue about the science—and on top of that, we have to… balance it,” she mused, pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard.

Viktor’s lips curled into a smirk as he watched her pace, her earlier worry still etched on her face. He decided to step in—not just to own his earlier compliment, but also to draw her focus away from her nerves. “I doubt the poor boy Ezra would survive if you showed up to teach class in this dress,” he remarked, his tone light but teasing.

Renly blinked, caught off guard for a moment before her wit kicked in. “And here I was, thinking it was you who’d be his doom if he ever came near me again.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as though conceding the point. “I think if you simply be yourself tonight, no one will dare to refuse you funding—or misplace your work—for fear of being eviscerated by your words,” he said, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Jayce glanced at the clock and clapped his hands together. “Alright, folks, time to go! Vite, vite!”

Renly grabbed her coat and, as they headed out the door, leaned in just close enough to whisper to Viktor, “By the way, I actually think you look very nice tonight too.”

***

She was right—it was absolutely terrifying. Bright lights, the constant hum of voices and laughter, the clinking of cutlery, the swell of music, and the shuffle of footsteps all blended into one overwhelming cacophony, crashing over Renly’s senses in unrelenting waves. Strangers brushed past her, their hands grazing her bare shoulders or the small of her back as they squeezed through the crowded room. The invasion of personal space only heightened her unease.

This was nothing like her classes. Her students were quiet and predictable in comparison—tame, even. But this… this was—

“You look pale.”

Viktor’s low voice cut through the din, and she felt his presence behind her before she saw him. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, carrying the faint, teasing scent of champagne. The unexpected intimacy of it made her shiver.

“Are you alright?”

“Totally,” she lied, her fingers fidgeting in front of her in a telltale gesture of discomfort.

“I know that ‘totally.’ It is no good,” Viktor said softly, concern shadowing his expression. Gently, he turned her to face him, his hand brushing against hers. “What do you need?”

“Quiet. And, um… a drink, maybe?” Renly raised an eyebrow, half-joking, as if gauging whether Viktor would judge her for indulging in a little liquid courage before the important presentation. “If you don’t think it would be… improper.”

Viktor didn’t hesitate. “Come.” He offered his hand, his tone gentle yet firm.

Renly took it without thinking, letting herself be guided toward the balcony. As they passed a waiter, Viktor paused and gestured toward the tray of champagne flutes. “Will you manage two? My hands are a little… busy,” he said, his smile playful as he raised their intertwined palms toward the view. Of course, the cane. She forgot briefly.

The crisp air of the evening was like a balm, soothing her stressed body with its cool touch. As they stepped out onto the balcony, the noise of the gala dimmed, and Renly found herself breathing more easily, the weight of the chaos inside melting away. She leaned against the railing, letting the quiet settle around her like a protective shield.

Viktor, ever observant, stood beside her for a moment, watching her with a soft intensity. “I know that feeling,” he said quietly. “The world getting too loud, the weight of the eyes on you. If you need some grounding, or maybe just a pep talk before you face the stage…” He trailed off, waiting for her response.

Renly glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the tension still coiling in her stomach. “What do you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity mingling with her unease.

Viktor moved closer, propping his cane carefully against the railing. He turned to face her fully, and for a moment, all the noise of the event seemed to fade into the background. His hands landed gently on her shoulders, steadying her. His touch was firm but not controlling, a reminder of his quiet strength, and when his eyes met hers, she saw something rare there—genuine care, but also something deeper.

“You go up on that stage,” Viktor said, his voice low and steady, the words almost like a command. “It’s quiet, there is only you. All those people, they should be scared of you, not you of them. What you are capable of. How wise you are. How strong.”

Renly’s breath caught in her throat as she absorbed his words. His gaze held her, unwavering, as though he were willing her to believe in her own power. She felt the words sink deep, quieting the storm of nerves that had been brewing inside her.

“And now,” he continued, his voice softer but still firm, “drink.”

Renly’s fingers tightened around the champagne flute, her eyes lingering on his face as the brief moment stretched out between them. The warmth of his presence, his steadying touch, and the sheer simplicity of his confidence seemed to wash over her. She took a deep breath, the knot in her chest loosening as she sipped from her glass, the cool liquid running smoothly down her throat.

In that moment, on the balcony under the dim light of the stars, it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. The gala, the people, the expectations—everything faded away, leaving only Viktor and his quiet strength. There was no pressure, no judgment, just a calm understanding between them.

Renly let herself relax, letting Viktor’s presence anchor her. She wasn’t alone in this. She had her work. She had her mind. And, in a way she hadn’t fully realized until now, she had Viktor. She gave him a small, grateful smile, the tension in her shoulders melting further as she felt his steady gaze on her.

“Alright,” she murmured, setting the glass down. “I’m ready.”

Viktor’s lips twitched into a smile, though it was subtle. He gave her shoulders a final squeeze, his hands slipping away. “You’ve always been ready.”

***

Renly’s heart still fluttered as the echoes of applause faded away, the weight of the speech finally lifting from her shoulders. The donors had been impressed, their pledges securing two years of funding for her research—a small victory in the grander scheme, but one that felt monumental to her. She spotted Viktor in the crowd as she finished, his gaze steady and approving, but when the applause died down and the crowd shifted, he was nowhere to be found. She felt an odd pang of disappointment, but quickly shook it off, knowing he’d likely retreated to avoid the attention she was receiving.

She was about to step off the stage when Jayce appeared, grinning broadly. “Renly! You did it! I told you, you’d kill it up there.” His voice was warm with pride, and he clapped her on the back before pulling her into a tight hug. Renly laughed, a little breathless.

“You weren’t wrong,” she admitted. “Though I’m sure you just wanted me to do well for the sake of your own ego. You did help me practice a lot.”

“Of course, it was for you,” Jayce teased, “but mostly because now I can say I knew you when you became a star.” His grin grew wider as Mel Medarda approached with her usual effortless elegance.

Renly’s eyes lit up when she saw her. “Mel, you look absolutely beautiful as usual.” The words slipped out naturally, and there was an affectionate tone in her voice. The inside joke between them—how Mel Medarda, despite whatever else might happen, was always beautiful—never grew old.

Mel gave her a teasing glance. “Thank you, Renly,” she said, “though you’re not too bad yourself.” She shot a sideways glance at Jayce, who was still laughing at Renly’s comment. “It’s good to see you so relaxed. You seemed like a completely different person up there. Confident. Powerful.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without Viktor,” Renly replied, before realizing how much that might imply. She quickly added, “You know, his advice. He’s always been the calm in the chaos. You’ve probably noticed.”

Mel raised an eyebrow, but before she could comment, a few other guests approached, eager to congratulate Renly. She graciously accepted their compliments on her work, her mind drifting slightly as more drinks were brought her way. The weight of the evening started to feel more like a pleasant haze as the alcohol began to take effect, loosening her up a little. She could feel herself getting a little warmer, the buzz of the evening mixing with the buzz from the champagne.

When the conversation began to dwindle and the crowd dispersed, Renly found herself slipping back out onto the balcony, craving the quiet again. The cool air welcomed her, and she leaned against the railing, taking a long breath to steady herself. It was then that she heard Viktor’s soft footsteps approaching behind her.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said quietly, standing beside her. He had a glass in his hand, but it seemed he’d had much less to drink than she had. Still, the slight edge of warmth in her words betrayed the effect the alcohol was having on her.

“I’m glad you came,” Renly said, her words a little more slurred than she intended. “I thought you disappeared on me.”

“I’m never far, Renly,” Viktor replied, his voice steady, though his gaze softened as he studied her. “How are you feeling? Your speech was brilliant. I have no idea how you can be so brilliant, but I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me.”

Renly smiled, though her cheeks flushed slightly from the compliment. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she murmured, her voice dipping into something more sincere. She turned toward him slightly, her words flowing faster than she meant. “You’ve always been the one who steadies me. The one who helps me see things clearly, even when the world’s too loud. I—I wouldn’t be here without your guidance. Your strength. It’s—”

Her words faltered, and she suddenly caught herself. She was bordering on saying too much, on revealing something she wasn’t ready to say. The vulnerability felt too raw. She blinked, clearing her throat, trying to regain some composure.

“Dance with me?” she said suddenly, her voice less steady now but still filled with something unspoken.

Viktor blinked, caught off guard by her request. “I... I don’t dance,” his voice quiet as he fixed his eyes on the floor, shifting uncomfortably.

“I don’t know what else to call what you’ve been doing around me those last couple of months,” she blurted out before she could stop, earning herself a concerned smile from him.

Viktor’s breath hitched, the weight of her words settling on him, both unexpected and revealing. He had hoped his attention to her, the fleeting moments between them, had gone unnoticed. But here she was, calling it out, putting words to the tension that had been building between them. He quickly glanced away, feeling the heat of her gaze lingering, but he couldn’t shake the unease that crept in. He didn't know how to navigate this space they were now in.

“I could offer my assistance in walking you home. It was a long evening,” Viktor said, his voice taking on a more neutral tone as he ignored her comment, though the sting of it lingered. She had noticed. All of those brief, charged exchanges between them.

But now—now she seemed to be asking for something more. And that, more than anything, left him unsure.

Renly saw the hesitation in his eyes, and she felt a familiar knot form in her stomach. She had never been good at reading the signs, but she couldn’t ignore the way Viktor had looked at her, the way he’d touched her, the quiet moments that seemed to speak volumes. It all seemed to point to something, didn’t it? Yet here he was, avoiding it.

“I didn’t mean to...” she trailed off, suddenly unsure of herself. “I’m not asking for anything. I just thought... Maybe I misread things.” Her voice softened, the alcohol having loosened her tongue and her thoughts. “But if that’s not what you want, it’s okay. I’m just...” She paused, biting her lip as she tried to steady herself.

Viktor let the silence hang between them for a moment, his hand resting gently at her waist. He could feel the weight of her uncertainty, but it mirrored his own. He had become used to playing the steady, composed part of the equation, but tonight, that seemed harder than ever. He wanted to reassure her, to say something that would ease the tension, but his mind was clouded, and he didn’t quite know what to say.

Instead, he took a step closer, his hand slightly tightening around her waist. “You’ve had quite the night, Renly,” he said quietly. “I can see it in your eyes. But if you need to talk about any of this… I will listen.”

Renly met his gaze, her eyes soft and searching, but it was clear she was still a little lost in her own thoughts. She sighed and, without thinking, rested her forehead against his chest. She felt a small sense of comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her.

“I don’t know how to be around you anymore, Viktor,” she murmured, her voice almost too soft to hear. “But maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel it. Whatever this is between us.”

Viktor’s throat tightened as he looked down at her, his own feelings echoing hers. He had always been a master of keeping his emotions in check, but there was something about Renly that disarmed him. Something about her presence, the way she made him feel both grounded and entirely lost at the same time.

His greatest fear still stood unshaken, though: the fear of anyone, of her, seeing how incomplete he was, how damaged. He did feel slightly better since he started taking her formula, but it was too early to tell. Still, this would only solve one of his problems. Admittedly, that problem was imminent death, but the liability of his spine, of his leg, would remain with him forever. He never allowed anyone to stay with him on this journey for longer than a flicker of time—fleeting affairs, singular events, neither forgotten nor remembered in much detail. He feared dependency. His entire body feared her and screamed for her at the same time.

“I’m not pretending,” he whispered, his voice low, the words coming more easily now that they were alone in the quiet of the night. He paused, as if searching for the right words. “But sometimes it’s easier to stay silent than to risk... changing things.”

Renly pulled back just slightly, lifting her head to meet his eyes, and in that moment, she saw the vulnerability in his gaze, the uncertainty that had always been there but that he kept hidden so well.

“I don’t want to change things,” she said quietly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I just want to know if you feel it too.”

The question hung between them, and for the first time that evening, Viktor didn’t have the answer ready. The words came from the part of him that was strongest—the one that was protecting him from himself. “I don’t have an answer, Renly. But I think… maybe we should get back to this when we are both… rested.” He really wanted to avoid using the word ‘drunk.’ He felt her face wrinkle on his chest as she turned away, trying to hide her expression.

“Yes, that’s fair. I’ll get home by myself just fine,” Renly threw over her shoulder, her voice straining.

“Are you—” Before Viktor could finish his question, she cut him off. “Please. I’ll see you on Monday.”

[farthest-harbor]

how about some smutty or fluffy domestic hcs of Nick with a m!Sole?

Sure! I'm gonna keep it fluffy for now, if that's alright.

In the evenings, Nick likes to dance with you to the radio. Nick always insists on leading, and he's so good at it, how can you complain? For the slower tunes, he holds you close and rocks you sweetly, and on the faster ones, expect him to dip you a few times. If you take him out to the Third Rail to dance, he's happy to show off both his skills and his charming dance partner.

If you shave, he likes to hang around while you do, chit-chatting and admiring you. Prewar Nick had a fancy shaving set with nice brushes and such. He made a whole ritual of it. Synth Nick misses that ritual now that he doesn't need to shave, but he likes to watch when you do. The process feels oddly intimate to him, he's glad you're willing to share it with him. Don't let him distract you too much, though...

Nick likes to read aloud to you in the evenings. Poetry, mysteries, and biographies of the jazz greats are his favorites, but he'll read something you pick if you ask him. He lets you rest your head on his chest while he reads, the low warmth of his voice slowly lulling you to sleep. When you finally doze off, he puts the book down and lets you rest, stroking your hair gently and wondering how he ever got so lucky as to have you.

At first, Nick's a little shy about PDA. He gets enough unwanted attention in public as it is, he's not sure he wants any extra. But the longer you're together, the more he warms up to the idea, and soon enough he wants to hold your hand everywhere you go together. Better watch out, he's stealing kisses left and right. He's proud to have you with him, and you give him confidence he never had before.

He will try to cook for you. Emphasis on 'try.' He never was a great cook prewar, and his sense of taste is different now that he's a synth. Ingredients have changed a lot, and he doesn't always know how to adapt the old recipes he knew. He's made you a couple really bad meals. It's up to you whether you'll eat them anyways and risk having him cook more, or if you'll bite the bullet and tell him the food is nasty. If you do, he'll stick to making you coffee instead.

Speaking of coffee, since he doesn't need to sleep, he's wide awake while you're groggy and fresh out of bed in the morning. So he makes your coffee each morning just the way you like it. It's one kitchen thing he has been able to master.

He loves when you borrow his clothes, finds it here hot. He doesn't have a wide selection, but if he catches you wearing his hat, or borrowing one of his button-downs, his eyes will be glued to you and he'll be grinning like a fool. In his opinion, all his things seem to look better on you.

Hope I did your ask justice, I guess some these are pretty gender neutral. Thanks for sending me an ask! :)

[rex-goes-silly]

first relisten of tma season 1 goes so hard omg (wife don't read this, its spoilers for you still)

all these statements i initially brushed off because i was too enthralled in the prentiss arc, who i forgot half of and didn't care to analyze and didn't really make sense and only listened to to get to the juicy character interactions, i can only now realize how much they were connected. you can tell exactly when jon starts becoming the archivist, you can tell when johnny had the fears set in place, all the fear talk, all the obvious hints at how it all worked and... it completely flew over my head until now. like wdym the weird tunnels with the goth guy that i didn't really understand where a physical embodiment of smirks 13???? wymd jane explicitly spoke about the corruption AND the beholding as we know it in her statement?? wdym someone actually held a ritual to kill gertrude in the woods and when she did die the dark also had a big moment??? wdym trevor and julia where the weird guys at the nursing home???? i forgot about ALL of this. it took me three seasons to grasp at what was going on and who was who, and missed out on so much.

and dont even get me started on constantly being aware of what the statements mean. how jon gradually acts them out more and more, how they affected who told them. how the repetitive wording and similar descriptions are just the eye's way of making them describe what happened. how they "casually" relate to whats happens in the previous one, showing up at just the right time. god I'm insane about this

[yarrowleef]

as this continues to be relevant yeah idk I just think this whole RiverClan nonsense conflict would have been less annoying for me to read if RiverClan had actually descended into true chaos. a situation like Redscar’s field guide story where several cats try to claim authority. but in this case, it goes beyond just two cats fighting and the clan starts splitting into mini factions supporting one self-appointed candidate or the other. the problem being presented as “we all forgot how to do chores without a teacher permission slip :(” is so weird and lame. give me blood shed eat each other alive so i believe your plight ffs!!! 

[c0rpsedemon]

there's so much manga i have to read it's unreal 😭