#like so many of these are because i can almost hear it in their voices

[endearng]

Brave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: You're left all alone, but now you can think of some you want to share your solitude — and food — with. WC: 5.9k (I am so sorry) Warnings: brief mentions of Penelope's parents arch, grief and depression. A/N: Hello! I struggled so much trying to find time to finish this one. Let me know what you guys think! Feedbacks are highly appreciated! neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Honestly, hearing your name leaving someone's lip usually made Spencer eager to know what was going on, if it involved you — of course, he knew that you shared it with many people, after all, there are 8 billion people existing at the same time, so he could definitely come up with statistics regarding how many of them shared names with you. Furthermore, he worked with humans, dealing constantly with their data, names included, so yours could definitely be pronounced by someone close to him.

He just didn't expect to hear a chant. Something about you and him sitting in a tree as Penelope approached him in the bullpen kitchenette.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes wide, once he heard Penelope's voice. She snickered.

She repeated the chant.

"Garcia!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantically looking around. "Shut up!" It wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but he was desperate for her to be quiet, especially because someone could hear her.

Emily, apparently coming from thin air, creeped up on them. "Spencer and who?"

"G—ah! Nobody!" He jumped from where he was standing, not expecting someone else to join them anytime soon, almost spilling his coffee.

"I caught our boygenius with a friend." Penelope announced, proud of her discovery.

"What?" Emily asked, shocked.

Once Penelope noticed that she revealed something she certainly should not have and she saw the look on his face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, wide eyes looking at Spencer in an apologizing manner. She was just so excited to finally see Spencer in that scenario that she basically ignored his wishes to keep it — whatever it was — a secret. "Thanks a lot, Garcia," he deadpanned.

"What? What friend?" Emily pressed, a smile on her lips. Not teasing, surprised, perhaps, but she didn't have any traces of mockery in her expression or tone. She looked... proud?

Penelope had started feeling bad for running her mouth too easily, but once she saw Spencer's lips turn upwards in a small grin, she gushed, "Yes!!! I went over to her house to give her daughter's gift, I am her godmother, after all... So I was knocking on her door—”

"More like banging." He interrupted.

"And from my spot, I see our boygenius not so subtly trying to disguise something. Do not look at me like that," she squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to speak. "You were stuttering and basically left her all by herself because you got too embarrassed."

"Oh, no, Reid..." Emily couldn't help her remark, pursing her lips.

"What? What did I do?"

Truth was, Spencer was replaying the interaction in his head the entire time after Penelope had left. He had stood there, at the sidewalk, dumbfounded and mortified by her remarks in your presence, not really knowing if he should go back to your apartment. He was definitely enjoying getting to know you, but it just felt wrong to go back and act as if nothing had happened because he had just gotten awfully weird. The man had struggled with himself, his thoughts conflicting between going back to yours or keeping to himself in his apartment. He decided on the latter, not willing to put himself through more embarrassment.

What if you didn't like him like that and you thought he was a creep now? What if you just saw him as a friend?

Worse, as a neighbor?

"You should've stayed. I know you probably got nervous, but what if she got the wrong idea once you dashed out the door when you were seen with her?" Emily inquired, but Penelope, despite not being a profiler, understood right away that she was onto something.

Her eyes glimmered.

Spencer's stomach dropped. "Oh, no..." he whispered softly. "I have to go."

And he basically fled the room.

The women exchanged playful glances.

"I knew it!" Penelope stated. She turned her head in the direction he ran to. "For a profiler, for a genius, he sometimes is so dumb."

"And just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "IQ of 187 slashed down to 60." she snickered. Reaching for the coffee pot and pouring some of the liquid into her mug, she remarked, "There is definitely something," Emily laughed. "Do you think we should help him?"

"Don't worry," she winked at her friend, "I've got a few ideas."

Later that day, you got a call from Garcia. You were in your car, taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. The work shift had finished, officially, nearly an hour ago, but your boss held you back to discuss some projects that you were involved in. You had to call your dad to ask him kindly to pick up your daughter at school — you didn't see it coming, so you called him after about an hour of Olivia waiting by herself at school.

The unexpected meeting made you incredibly late and it turned your mood sour, because you always loved the car rides with Olivia after you picked her up, not to mention that she probably thought you had forgotten about her. Never. You had just started the engine when you heard your phone ring. You put her on speaker as you drove to your parents to pick up your daughter, who was now there. "Hi, Pen!" You greeted.

Despite the disaster, a smile crept up on your face when you remembered the last interaction you had with her. With Spencer…

"Hi, sweetcheeks!" She said back. You could hear the faint sounds of computers and keys being pressed in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess. I had a surprise meeting so I couldn't get Olivia," you replied, eyes on the road ahead of you. "How are you, Pen?"

"Oooh, I'm sorry that happened. I know you're probably berating yourself for it, but it's okay, it wasn't your fault." She tried to lighten up.

"Yeah..." You muttered, a certain tightness in your chest you couldn't keep at bay.

"She'll understand. You are doing a fantastic job showing her the real world." Penelope comforted you. You blinked away emotional tears, grateful that the roads were calm and you weren't a reckless driver. You couldn't really speak, so she continued, "Actually, she is the main reason I called you." She revealed, making you chuckle wetly. "I really miss Olivia and I'm truly sorry I missed her birthday. I haven't been the best godmother in the world..."

"Don't worry about it." You dismissed it. "I always tell her you're a tech fairy who does magic with computers to save people. A real life hero," you chuckled. "She understands it." You whispered. Trying to keep that feeling in. Not sure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

"I know, but, still..." She retorted softly.

Penelope frequently complimented you and Olivia. You tried your best to raise her to be a good, kind and smart person. Unbeknownst to Penelope, her comments made you remind you of right after you were left all alone with your daughter. The tech analyst didn't hear a word from you for days, but once she visited you and saw the place without a single trace of Olivia's dad, she understood it all. You kept silent, still trying to adapt to a world where you were lonely again. Despite the odds and unwillingness to open up to her, you kept talking to your daughter, even if she didn't truly understand it all. From her early years, you made sure to provide her everything she needed to speak like she does now.

Your own personal chatterbox.

A titter broke through you, "I sure hope so." You replied, rubbing your eyes at a red light. "I also hope you know I'm driving and I can't cry right now," you joked.

"Ah, right! Sorry, baby!" She exclaimed clumsily, true Penelope style. "All of this to ask if I can spend some time with her on... on Friday! Yes!" She paused and then continued.

"Friday?" You asked, uncertain. "That's usually when we go out together."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for taking it away from you, it's just that I..." second pause on her speech, "I wanna make it up for missing her birthday and I seriously hope that creepy guys give me a break so that I can spend some time with our Oli girl." She finished.

Still uncertain and the tiniest bit jealous, you relented. "Okay, Pen. May I ask you where you are taking her?"

"Well... it's a surpr—we are going to an amusement park!" She paused and then squealed and you could hear clapping.

You snickered, joking along, "It's your funeral."

"I'll die a happy woman. That's all, sweetcheeks! Thank you so much! Gotta go. Prrr."

And just like that, she hung up on you. Little did you know, she and Emily Prentiss high-fived and made ridiculous noises to celebrate the execution of their mastermind plan taking shape.

Penelope Garcia, the singular rollercoaster of emotions that you are.

Back in the bullpen, Spencer focused on his reports — not that it was a difficult task, but he felt cornered by Emily's outlook from earlier. Had he done the wrong thing? If he did, could he fix it? He wasn't the most experienced man in the world when it came to dating and women in general. He was on the brink of insanity, nearly going up to Hotch for advice. He ruled out Morgan immediately because he knew he couldn't get tips from someone who would definitely tease him, in a manner that felt lowkey demeaning.

Spencer had a lot of insecurities, and being socially awkward in his mid-twenties was one of them. Next to Morgan, he felt like a fourteen-year-old who didn't even know how to properly say hi to people. He needed some words from someone who understood him.

But who did?

Wrapping up one of his reports, his phone beeped.

Come to my lair. Treats are on the table :)

Penelope

Cautiously approaching the door, like there was a bomb inside, Spencer opened the door to Penelope's office. "Okay, so I know you were upset and maybe you still are a little because I spilled your... um... moment to Emily but I wanted to say sorry and ask you to please not be mad at me. I was just excited for you and I knew Emily would be, too." She blabbered once he closed the door behind him.

His ears turned pink and he tried playing it cool by reaching for one of the cookies that were in a bowl. "It's okay, Garcia. I was upset for a moment, but I know you didn't mean it."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that! Thank you, Reid."

He leaned his body on the desk adjacent to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "So, um, how do you know her?"

"We met in college. She had my back when my parents... you know."

A pause. He hated that he, sometimes, lacked the sensitivity to approach people and that, despite being brightly intelligent, often missed possible outcomes for more personal conversations.

"I'm... I'm sorry I asked. I know it can be a delicate topic." He offered her a sympathetic smile, even though he was berating himself on the inside.

"It's okay. Thank you." Garcia smiled. "She always checked on me, made sure I was eating properly, that I wasn't... harming myself... She even went over to my dorm to tidy everything when I was too depressed to get out of bed." She took a deep breath. "I swear, Spencer. She was there. And we had just met." She finished, softly.

If Spencer admired the person you were before, now he was almost tongue tied, not having the wits to come up with a comment of his own. It truly shocked him, because, one: his experience with college kids had been totally different, of course, but two: what kind of person goes out of their way, even when dealing with their personal burdens, to help someone they just met?

Garcia searched his face. A small smile on her lips starkly contrasted with her crestfallen eyes. "Shortly after her graduation, she got married and, later, pregnant with Olivia. I was still around, on and off. I joined the FBI and had less and less time to hang out, but I always had and always will have a soft spot for her. She was there for me."

He couldn't help but want to know more. He knows it should be better to learn about you from you, but, right now, he was handed an opportunity he couldn't deprive himself from grasping, "Wow. That's-That's a lot of history." He said, in a low voice, a little hesitant.

"Yes. And you will know much, much more." Penelope said, confident tone lacing her words.

"Why do I sense you're onto something?" He inquired, brows furrowing with worry.

"Because I am." She winked at him.

Oh, no.

"What?"

"Trust me on this one, loverboy." She snickered.

Penelope Garcia, the mess you'll make.

Friday rolled around with promises of a certain blonde bringing your daughter home by 9p.m. The feeling almost made you feel like a possessive mother who didn't let their kids have boyfriends. Or girlfriends. You were fine with it, by the way. Either. You just weren't currently fine with the idea of spending time away from her.

You reluctantly let Olivia go. Penelope stood behind her in your living room. You were crouching down to your daughter's height.

"Mommy, I'll be back before you know it," she said. Just like you did when she was first getting adapted to going to school. You scrunched your face, feeling like the most loved person in the whole universe.

You were.

"I'll bring you cotton candy." She promised, raising her pinky in front of you. You crossed your own with hers.

"Now you're just bribing me." You leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Is it working?" Penelope chirped in, an easy smile on her face.

You giggled, looking up at her for a moment. "Maybe..."

"Mommy loves you, okay?" You said. "I promise I can take you somewhere even cooler than aunt Garcia is taking you," you joked.

"Now you're just being mean," the woman frowned playfully.

"Yeah, mom! Don't be mean."

"I can't believe you're turning my own daughter against me. And she's scolding me. In my own house." You feigned offense. Garcia burst out in laughter with Olivia.

Two kids in your living room.

"Okay, mommy," she said, finally, giving you a kiss on each of your cheeks, just like you did with her. "Bye bye. Say bye bye to Aunt Penelope, too."

"Okay," you agreed. "Bye bye, Aunt Penelope." you teased. Olivia was already walking out, ahead of you two.

"Bye bye, mommy." Penelope joked as you walked her out. Olivia pressed the elevator button as you and Garcia stood in front of your apartment, side by side with you, watching your kid wait for the elevator. Then, she looked you up and down, a knowing look on her face.  "You're totally a hot mommy." She winked.

You didn't have an answer to that, the remark catching you off guard. Instead, you shoved her jokingly.

"Get outta here," you quipped, flustered, watching her as she entered the elevator with Olivia, holding her small hand.

You waved as the elevator doors closed. You sighed when they were out of your eyesight.

Coming back to your place, you looked around in hopes to find something to entertain yourself with. Truth was that without your daughter, you felt a little lost. Sometimes, you'd get lost in your own head, too sick with worry about losing yourself in order to be sufficient for Olivia. The remedy for those thoughts were usually doing something on your own for yourself. Tonight, you decided to cook something.

After a quick trip to the local supermarket and some embarrassment on the self-checkout cashier, you made it back to your home with everything needed to make pasta from scratch. Maybe you got a little excited by literally having your hands dirty and made enough pasta to feed the entire apartment complex. You cut them in different sizes and shapes and cursed your dad for a moment for having taught you your way around food.

Giving it a better thought, seeing your kitchen with pasta hanging to dry everywhere, maybe it was an opportunity. You turned the thought of feeding the families who surrounded you to simply feeding Spencer.

You smiled at yourself, pleased with the idea.

One, two, three eager knocks on Spencer's doors made him interrupt his Doctor Who's weekly (if no bad guys were forcing him to work) marathon. He looked through the peephole and found you, his neighbor, studying his door, probably to avoid looking directly into the hole, like it was an intricate work of art. A smile crept upon his face. He never thought he'd be so happy to be interrupted. Opening the door, he greeted, "Hi!"

A joyful "Hi!" was your answer.

You took a minute to look at him. He looked more relaxed, of course, but you came to the conclusion that he didn't own many casual clothes, because he was dressed in a dark blue Caltech sweatshirt and slacks. Funny matching, but it worked for you. Differently from what you usually saw him dressed in, he didn't appear so tired. He was glowing.

"Um, do you need anything?" He asked politely, scrunching his brows a little bit in concern as your silence became too long.

A sliver of doubt crossed through your features. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He lied.

He'd take your interruptions at any time.

"Oh, that's great. It's just... I miscalculated the amount of pasta that I was um... making." You struggled to find the words, a little mesmerized by the simple act of looking at him. "Do you want to, um, do you want to have some? With me? I've been told I'm good at cooking." You finally asked, with a little convincing on top.

Not that he needed any. You had him at hi. Spencer felt disarmed.

"Yes. I-I'd love to."

"Great!" You cheered. "Come on. You can help me cut them once they dry a little bit."

He followed you into your apartment. Today, the atmosphere felt a lot different. You had music playing softly and the highlight was in the kitchen, where strings of pasta hanged from basically everywhere. There was still a small piece of dough on the surface of your kitchen counter, which was surrounded by a big, sharp knife, a pasta maker machine and some other kitchen gadgets that, surprisingly, Spencer didn't know the name of.

"Wow. It's really a lot." He thought out loud.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "I usually make small amounts, but there's no problem in freezing them." You said, glancing briefly at your watch.

"Oh, okay." He replied meekly. "I'm not so sure if I can help, though. I'm not very good at cooking."

"No!" You feigned exaggerated surprise.

"Yes," he quipped, furrowing his brows playfully.

"But you have to work for it." You deadpanned, looking him dead in the eye. "I tricked you. I only called you here so you'd help me with it. If you don't, you won't get pasta."

He raised both hands, joining your banter. Easily. Despite, despite, despite. "No problem. I like learning."

You scrunch your face, giving him the most adorable grin. "Okay, doctor. So, this small ball here," you said, pointing at the dough and rolling up your sleeves, "needs to rest for a few minutes. It needs to dry a little bit to make cutting it easier. I'll tell you how to do it once you have an apron on."

"Oh, sorry, I don't have any at home. I don't really cook." He mentioned it again.

"I thought so." You grinned. "But don't worry about it. I have a collection. My dad's a chef and everything he gives me as a casual gift is related to cooking" you chuckled.

Okay, so the miscalculated amount was definitely an excuse to have him with you. His heart felt like giving out at any minute. You wanted him there. It was almost like you had it all planned out, and Spencer watched as you moved around your kitchen so confidently and calmly, very much unlike his mind that was running miles per second. Spencer usually had a hard time calming down, but this, this was something else. He was alone with you and he didn't even know how to say anything. Simultaneously proud and jealous of your easygoing chatter, he decided that it was better to follow your lead and try not to be awkward around you than doing anything else.

Slowly being pulled out of his self-conscious and overall sad thoughts, he busied himself with watching you, instead. He smiled to himself. Again, despite, despite, despite. You grabbed an apron from one of your drawers and Spencer watched you quietly. You moved so effortlessly that he felt inclined to just sit and watch you in your own scene. In that moment, you were not Olivia's mother, not a character from a novel he imagined, not a publisher, not Garcia's friend from college, just a woman doing something she enjoys doing. And he was delighted to be present to see it.

Moving back to where he stood, you stopped in front of him. You held it out in front of you, almost waiting for his permission to get closer. Spencer nodded eagerly and you smiled. You put the apron over his head and he raised his arms, almost automatically, so you could wrap yours around him to tie it in the back, bodies mere inches away from one another. He somehow had the courage to watch your face the entire time, but you bashfully avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. Once you finished, you looked up at him, though. To offer him a smile.

But what caught his attention was the fact that he finally knew, now, what the color of your eyes were. They seemed a lot different than when he first saw you. Different shades swirled around your pupils in such harmony that he decided that, from then on, he'd associate these colors with you and with you only. You aimed your gaze at him with something so distinguished he couldn't quite decipher what it was, suddenly and momentarily losing his profiling abilities. Spencer knew immediately that he could never shake that moment from his memory. Then, he also noticed that you had a smudge of flour on your cheek, but he didn't have the heart to tell you to clean it up, too stuck in the warmth of your gaze. He thought of it as a reminder of what you were doing, the moment you were sharing together.

He smiled back at you.

"Okay, I guess that's it, then," you announced, voice barely above a whisper, finally. He felt both relieved and deprived from the sweet torture you put him in. He wanted to be under your spell for longer, but he worried he would be too entranced and make a fool out of himself. "First, I'm gonna divide it in half. Oh, wait. What do you want to eat? I have shrimp, chicken and minced meat. But I can also try to do something vegetarian if you don't eat meat." You blabbered inconsistently, jumping from one topic to another, our eyebrows flying to your forehead in concern for a moment.

"It's okay," he soothed you, "I'll have anything." He added softly.

You happily nodded at him. "Alright. So I'm gonna be a good teacher and tell you to use the machine to open it first, but a cook must be skilled enough to know how to open and cut pasta without one of these gems," you said.

He grinned. Cooking classes were not in his weekend bingo, but here he was. Not wishing for anything else. "I'm glad you're walking me through it." He said. "I can hardly boil an egg."

"What? I couldn't tell." You said, faking earnestness, while opening a piece of dough with a roller. You had your eyes on it, rolling the dough on the counter to make sure you'd open it completely. He was mesmerized by your focused expression. Looking at your skilled hands. Watching.

"Really?" He asked, lighting up.

"Yeah, I could. Sorry." You said, snickering, folding the dough on itself to start cutting it. The result was thicker strings of pasta, like fettuccine. "You look like the kind of guy who only eats outside."

"I am." He confided, trying to mimic your previous actions. "Maybe you're the profiler."

"Nah, just a real observant neighbor." He laughed. "Hey, you're doing alright." You told him once you saw what he was doing. Your stare was on his hands. Oh. His deft hands, albeit not accustomed to the task, worked dexterously, flexing the veins on his forearm. You shook your head lightly as an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, glad he wasn't paying attention to you.

Being with you, he realized, was easy. He condemned himself for overthinking the advice Penelope had given him earlier about asking you out today, because she planned on taking Olivia out. He had decided not to under the excuse that a case might pop at any second, but the truth was he was too afraid to be rejected. 

"Okay, so you can open the dough, Doctor. Good job!" You teased as you watched him use the machine instead of the rolling pin like you did.

"I'm decent at it, yeah," he quipped.

Spencer Reid being able to take and to crack jokes about himself. He decided then that he liked jokes, he liked your banter, but because you weren't mean to him.

Something in him finally started to heal.

"Alright." You placed yourself beside him. He gulped at the closeness. "See how I'm doing with my hands." Was it appropriate to answer that he hadn't looked away not even for a second? "You wanna fold it over and over. Careful not to stick it, though, so be gentle. You can use a little flour to help you. Wanna give it a try?"

He only nodded and you helped him fold it. He wasn't as skillful as you were — hell, your movements seemed rehearsed from how much ease you had at doing them. He was a little slower, but he moved in an effective way. "Careful not to cut yourself, Spencer." You whispered to him, to which he hummed weakly.

"Is there a right way to hold the knife?" He asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your reply was to touch his right hand, the one holding the knife, and closed his fingers around its base. Grabbing his left hand, you curled his fingers on top of the dough, and, slowly, pushed the knife down to cut it. "See?" You pulled the cut dough, revealing a string.

He wondered hastily if he could have some more time with your hands on top of his. Your delicate hands, even dirty, beat every single texture he had felt on top of his. Spencer couldn't answer anything. "Okay! Now we can set them to dry."

"Where?" He asked, robotically. You grinned.

"We gotta find somewhere." You chuckled. "By the way, it's best if we keep them away from the others." You advised.

"Why is that?" He inquired, intrigued look on his face.

"I, um, made some with eggs, you know, the traditional one." You bit your lip. "I also made a recipe with no eggs in case you had any restrictions."

Usually, he'd be speechless, not used to being treated like this. Not being one people usually thought of so intentionally, so dearly, so full of carefully. He noticed, though, that as he spent time with you in your kitchen, every one of your actions peeled away some of his issues. Then, "Oh, wow." He said, a hint of a cocky expression dancing around his features. If you kept that attitude, he might even become greedy. He remembered about your so-called miscalculation for the second time.

You finished up the meal in an instant, too fast for Spencer's liking. He was observant, of course, and you made sure to tell him about what you were doing and why you were doing every step of the way, like he was a child acquiring language. He was a grown man learning how to be around you, studying your every movement and engraving it to his memory, trying harder than he ever did when learning English (or other languages). Those came to him naturally. You, on the other hand, were full of patterns he didn't quite know yet — not that he wasn't dying to.

"Okay. We're done." You said, softly, plating the meal on two white plates. "Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?"

"Yes."

"Be there in a second. Make yourself at home."

His face lit up. Joy and embarrassment fighting to control him.

As he left with the plates in hand, which was a little funny to you, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as much as you could. You glanced at Spencer, meticulously placing the plates on the table to help you out. You couldn't control the sigh that made its way out of you, out of the very depths of your being.

Sitting down with him after you both ate to your heart's content, he complimented you. "It's not very often that I get to eat this well." He chuckled. "And you're a good chef. You make things efficiently and neatly." He said, looking at you. You looked straight ahead, longingly, into the city.

You shrunk your shoulders, a little embarrassed. Was he flirting? His words were completely different from what you used to consider flirting. Too analytical, too technical. "Thanks!" You exclaimed, albeit meekly.

Silence.

Spencer was rummaging through his big brain for something to say. You were, sort of, deflating from basically carrying the interaction all night long. Letting too many thoughts consume you all at once. "I'm not really an interesting person, so I'm not sure what I should say," he chuckled, a little disappointed by having your attention somewhere else.

Your heart probably doubled in size.

You crossed your legs on the chair. "I think you are an interesting person," you said softly, looking at him. "And I think there's no shame in being silent. It's nice. I know you like it."

His heart was making somersaults in his chest.

"Yeah..." he chuckled. “But I’d like to talk to you.”

"Try me! Penny said you can do magic, good ice-breaker. It's so nice, but so baffling!" You gushed. "I can't even do the classic trick, that one that you're supposed to be pretending to pull your thumb off. Olivia says I'm not convincing enough." You laughed, shooking your head and squinting at him. "Can you believe that?"

"She's a very bright kid." He said, amused. "It must be hard tricking her."

"Yeah, it is."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Penelope asked to take her out. Pasta time was supposed to be time spent with her. But I guess you're a good substitute."

Again, Penelope was onto something. That was when he knew for sure that his theory from earlier was correct.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided to be honest, instead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask, searching his face for something that told you if there was something wrong.

"Yes! Yes! Everything's fine." He blurted. "It's just that, earlier, Penelope was, ahem, encouraging me to ask you out on a... date. I kept thinking about it and maybe I actually overthinked everything and ended up making excuses not to ask you out.”

You were taken aback by his words. You blinked once, not expecting his words, those words, and failing at trying to slow the racing of your heart and at stopping the smile creeping up on your face. “It's… it's no problem. Don't worry.”

Spencer couldn't help but glance over, listening attentively to your reply. Your words struck a softer tone, a side of you that was filled with warmth and genuine affection — he was estranged to it, not being used to being so understood. It caught him off guard. He watched from his seat, his heart still aching from feeling scared, but filled with a new emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint yet. “Would you, um, would you say yes?”

“To what?” You faked coyness, but you knew he could see right through you. You weren’t a good actress.

He smirked, encouraged by your playful mannerisms. “If I asked you on a date.”

“Well, yes.”

Oh, so it was bravery. He felt it completely, now.

A deep breath from his end. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“There's nothing I would want more.” You replied, tone full of mischief, but your eyes held all the truth he needed to confirm that he was actually going to spend time with you in a more… romantic, perhaps private setting. “Does that count as a yes?”

Spencer was hyper-aware of himself and his reality. Therefore, used to his own little life and the trauma and suffering that came with it, he had grown accustomed to the thought that romance was far out of his reach—  stories only told by books and didn’t, couldn’t exist in real life, in his life; writers were just too idealistic. Thus, being used to those thoughts, but secretly refusing to take them as the sole truth of his life, romance came to him in the shape of silly scenarios to help him fall asleep. Now, he was suddenly changing his mind, relieved to see that it could be real.

He was immensely glad for your bravery. He wanted some of it. Needed, even.

“It's the prettiest yes someone has ever said to me.”

“Glad to hear that, Spencer.”

“I just feel a little embarrassed by not having the courage to ask you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, again, with an adoring look in your eyes, gazing at him, “we can share courage when things get too much.”

“Hey!” Olivia greeted once Spencer opened his door after her persistent, but gentle knocking. He looked around, but you were nowhere to be found. He crouched down to her height. “Here’s a sticker. Mommy said you were very brave last night.” She placed the adhesive on his vest, a star shaped sticker. “Here’s other sticker. Mommy also said you were helpful.” She said, adorning his vest once again.

Oh, my God, he thought, even her daughter knows.

He chuckled, not having it in himself to let the opportunity to joke go. “Oh, so we get rewards for good behavior?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, we do. When I get five, mommy gets me something I want. Usually cookies.” She replied, sounding satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, Olivia. I'm gonna make sure to keep them so I'll know when it's time to ask for my gift.” He said, ruffling her hair playfully.

At the conference room, Aaron Hotchner couldn't help but frown at the sight of the extra accessories on one of his agents’ vest, almost interrupting his briefing in order to address the topic to quench his curiosity. “Reid, why do you have star stickers on?”

He shrugged, failing at disguising his happiness, the corners of his lips curving up. “These were a gift.”

He was brave.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Sajda 𓆩♡𓆪

Summary: Lando found his greatest love at the worst time. Yet she would always be there with him.

♥ ln x desi!reader [important author's note below] ʚɞ

♥ angst + fluff ʚɞ

♥ tw: death [lemme know if there's anything else] ʚɞ

author's note: i know this says desi!reader, but there's only one thing in hindi that y/n says, and the meaning of it will be revealed later, so y'all can read this, despite it being a desi!reader. and, this is kinda long (that's what she said). the max i mention in this is max f, unless i mention otherwise.

masterlist ☾☼

lando had met y/n in the most unusual way possible. he'd been in a cafe, waiting for his coffee and scone, when he'd seen her walk in. she hadn't looked anything extraordinary to anyone. she looked like the average university student with too many books, and not enough hands to hold them. yet somehow, lando had been intrigued by her. he'd seen many college students around in monaco, yet something about her had made him forget about everyone else, and everything else.

he'd watched, even though he didn't want to come across as a creep, as she fell into a nearby seat, resting her arms and breathing heavily. lando didn't know why she was breathing so heavily. she hadn't ran in, and the weight of her books couldn't have been so much that it was physically draining her.

lando waited for someone to offer her water, but no one did. she was hunched over, her chest falling and rising rapidly, and he couldn't sit back anymore. quickly walking over to the counter, lando requested for a bottle of water, apologising for not ordering at the cash counter. the woman had been kind enough to hand him a bottle, and just said that she would bill it later, before he left.

thanking the woman, lando walked over with the bottle in hand. she was still hunched over, her hand to her chest, and she was still breathing too heavily. he knocked on her table twice, making her head shoot up, staring at him. wordlessly, he offered the bottle to her. she hesitated, but grabbed it, and quickly drank from it, almost finishing the whole thing in one go.

"thank you," she said. her accent was different, and her voice was soft and velvety and kind.

"are you okay?" lando asked.

she nodded, "i am now,"

"would you like help with anything?"

she stared at him for a few seconds, "i'm not accepting help from a stranger,"

lando's eyes widened, "oh, i'm so sorry. i'm lando, it's nice to meet you." he held his hand out for her to shake.

"i know who you are. i follow f1," she said as she grabbed his hand and pulled herself up. staring at her smaller hand in his, lando noticed her ln bracelet.

"so, i take it you like how i drive?" lando smirked, a little cocky.

her eyes narrowed, "sometimes."

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "what do you mean 'sometimes'?"

"well, y'all are mighty rich and arrogant, and i'd rather not give you the satisfaction by saying i'm a fan of yours," she said, taking her hand back from his. lando hadn't even realised that he was still holding onto her hand.

"that seems ru-" lando broke off when he saw her fighting a smile. he smiled as well, shaking his head.

"i'm y/n. and, i am a fan of yours," she introduced herself, a teasing smile on her lips.

she had a dimple, like lando did, and out of everything that he had noticed in the few minutes, her dimple was his favourite.

"would you like to join me? i could order you something?" lando asked bashfully.

"just because i'm a college student doesn't mean i'm broke," she said dryly.

his eyes widened, and he rushed to correct himself, to let her know that he didn't mean it like that, and he just wanted to do something nice. but then, she laughed. a loud laugh and lando froze.

that laugh, her laugh, was more beautiful than the sound of any of his cars. her laugh was more beautiful than hearing his national anthem at the top step. her laugh was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard, and he wished he had recorded it because he wanted to listen to that laugh till he died.

"i'm just kidding. thank you, i'd appreciate it." she said, still smiling.

she was shorter than him, and almost looked fragile. lando hated himself for thinking like that, given his history of dealing with bullying, but her arms were thin and he worried. he worried for a girl he met a few minutes ago.

lando picked up her books, as she grabbed her bag and the bottle of water. he led her to the seat he had previously occupied. he gently kept her books on the table, and pulled out the chair for her, being a true gentleman.

"you don't have to worry about me being the bus stop girl. i won't lie on the internet," y/n said, and lando burst out in laughter. he liked her. he liked her dry humour.

"no, go ahead and lie, i'd be fine with it," he said, as he settled into the chair across from her.

"you're not worried that i'm some crazy fan who's going to go on twitter and tiktok and i don't know where else to post a made up story about you?" she asked, settling into the seat.

somehow, she looked smaller in it, and lando felt the need to protect her, to make her realise just how much space was available for her to occupy because he didn't like that she was shrinking herself.

"are you going to?" he retaliated.

y/n smirked, "i might,"

"then, i'd like to see how creative you can get."

she smiled, showing her dimple again, and lando thought for a moment if she would scream at him if he asked to take a picture of her dimple.

the woman from the counter placed his coffee and his scone on the table, and turned to y/n, asking if she needed anything. y/n ordered for a coffee, and apologised for not ordering at the cash counter.

the woman hushed her, as if it was an every day occurrence for the two women.

"do you come here often?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

she nodded, "every day. it's the cafe closest to my apartment, so i spend a lot of time here."

lando's head tilted in confusion, "how come i've never seen you before then?"

"maybe you weren't looking for me then," she was flirting. lando wasn't sure. but he hoped she was.

"maybe i wasn't ready for you before. the universe does work in mysterious ways, y'know,"

she leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye, "oh, honey, you're never going to be ready for the storm i am,"

he laughed once again, and he liked that. the pressure of the world championship was catching up to him, despite his efforts to not let it affect him. he hadn't properly laughed like this in a while, but somehow, he was glad that he was laughing with her, a woman he met a half hour ago.

they kept talking, making each other laugh, falling into comfortable silences, asking questions just to get to know the other better. they didn't speak much about lando's job, or why she was breathing so heavily when he had first approached her. the two recognised that those were uncomfortable topics.

lando knew that y/n, as a fan, would have her own opinions, and while he didn't know what she thought of his driving or his team or his teammate or anyone on the grid, he also knew that he didn't want to hear it. the world had an opinion on everything but they didn't know the truth, and lando refused to get influenced by the opinions of someone who had no idea what happened behind cameras.

y/n had also subtly changed topics any time it came close to her breathing, or her general exhaustion. lando desperately wanted to know, but he didn't want to overstep, especially because this was a friendship he wanted to keep in his life.

lando had stayed at the cafe way longer than he was supposed to, but he didn't really mind, and he knew that max would understand. when y/n began packing up, ready to leave, he shyly asked for her number, and asked if he would see her again.

"you're a lot more confident on social media than you are in real life," she mused, a soft smile on her lips letting him know that she wasn't judging, but instead, just making an observation.

"i know what people want me to be online. it doesn't always mean that's who i am,"

"wise words, mister norris,"

lando ducked his head, "thank you, miss y/l/n,"

she had given him her number, quickly calling her phone to make sure that she had it as well. just as she turned to leave, she hesitated for a second, and lando watched, not wanting to miss a second of her existence.

she was second guessing herself, he knew, but nothing could have prepared him for when she leaned up slightly, her hand on his arm, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before turning away and walking out.

lando stood there frozen, a goofy smile on his face, feeling excited about seeing her again.

the two fell into an easy friendship. lando found out that y/n tended to sleep quite often, and because of that, she used every little energy she had in studying and maintaining her gpa. he found out that she was from india, and was attending university here on a scholarship. he found out that her favourite drink was hazelnut coffee, with a lot of whipped cream. she was a sucker for kinder, just like he was. he found out that she was bad at texting, often leaving him on delivered for hours, sometimes days, though she always apologised profusely and said that it was out of her control most of the time. lando also found out that he forgave her quite easily.

they spent most of their time at the cafe, sometimes working together in silence, sometimes she explained to him what she was studying with a passion he hadn't seen anywhere else. sometimes, they just talked about everything and nothing, and it became lando's favourite thing.

when it was time for lando to head to the mtc for work, to focus on the last three races, he had felt gutted. he wouldn't see her anymore, and he hadn't realised just how much of his mood had began depending on her. the day before he left, he walked her back to her apartment, refusing to let her walk alone in the dark.

outside of her apartment building, she pulled him in a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist. she had dropped her bag on the floor, just so she could hug him. lando immediately wrapped his arms around her neck, keeping her to him.

they didn't say anything, just breathed each other in. it wasn't goodbye, lando knew that, yet it felt like it. it felt like a goodbye, and lando was not ready to let her go just yet, no matter the reason.

as she began to pull away from him, he pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her for just another second, before he let her go.

"i'll see you soon, yeah?" he whispered.

she smiled, biting her lip. his gaze focused on her lip, and he desperately wanted to kiss her, but he couldn't. he shouldn't.

"win for me, will you?" she said softly.

he smiled, "as long as you keep letting me know you're alive and well,"

her smile faltered, and lando immediately wondered what he said, what was going on in her brain.

she smiled brightly again, and nodded. she pressed a kiss to his cheek, like she did every time she went back home. and, like every time, he froze, smiling goofily.

lando watched as she picked up her bag and walked inside the building. he watched, half because she was mesmerising, and half because he wanted to make sure that she was safe.

when he was travelling, lando and y/n fell into a similar routine. since they weren't able to meet face to face, they were on facetime almost constantly. the only time they weren't on facetime was when either of them were sleeping, or lando was training or in a meeting. she had gotten better at texting as well, keeping him updated about everything and anything. she let him know when she'd be unavailable for their facetime calls, and lando understood.

lando felt deeply for her. he knew that his feelings for her were romantic. he hoped that she felt the same for him. but, the more rational part of him also knew that if he wanted to be with her for a long term, he'd have to be her friend first. he'd have to build that solid foundation with her first.

for y/n, he was willing to wait as long as she wanted.

of course, she never said or indicated anything regarding her feelings towards him. at the end of the day, lando wanted to be a part of her life in any way that she would want him. he'd never felt like this before, had never felt this insane need to be around someone, to have someone in his bubble all the time. he didn't understand this feeling very well, had never experienced something like this before.

he'd confided in max. he explained to his best friend every emotion and every thought that ran through him when he was with her, and when he was away from her. his best friend admitted to never seeing lando like this, but also said that he was happy to see his best friend so enamoured with someone.

max's advice had been to take it slow, and to be friends with her till she asked or indicated otherwise. when pietra and ria had agreed with him, lando knew for sure that that was the best course of action. he didn't want to overwhelm her. he didn't want to make her feel like he was expecting anything more than what she was willing to give. he'd hate himself if his actions drove her away.

so, he took it slow.

he sent her pictures from his day, and voice notes at the end of the day. he kept her on facetime, saying that he needs company as an excuse. as if he wasn't surrounded by his mechanics and engineers. he texted her before he got in the car, and he texted her after he got out. he sent her memes, and he flirted a little bit.

and, she did the same. she sent him pictures from her day, letting him know when she was at the cafe. sometimes, he'd recognise his coffee order and scone, and wondered if she missed him the way he missed her. she indulged in his excuse and stayed on facetime with him. she listened to all his voice notes, and responded to them. she texted him every time he was on track, giving him a live update of everything that was going on in her head. sometimes, she flirted back too. she didn't do it often, but she flirted back, and it always made lando smile.

after the season had ended, lando stayed in monaco as much as possible. he missed his family, and he missed his friends for sure. but, he needed to be in y/n's presence like he needed oxygen.

during his off months, y/n's family had come to visit her, and she couldn't stay out much. so, they changed their routine a little. every night, after dinner, lando would meet her at the entrance of her apartment building, and the two would take a walk, sometimes getting ice cream on the way, for an hour or two.

she always made him laugh. and, she laughed just as much. he still wanted to record that sound, and play it over and over and over, till he didn't remember anything but that sound. his feelings had grown stronger over time. she hadn't given any indication of wanting a romantic relationship with him, and he hadn't pushed. he kept his flirting to a minimum as well, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

during one of their walks, y/n had informed lando that her family were going on a trip somewhere, and that she wouldn't be able to talk to him much. he had understood, remembering the stories she'd told of her parents and how they often told her to stay away from her phone. lando planned his trip to his parents' place at around the same time, as well.

he was determined not to miss a single second he could have with her.

the trip she'd taken with her family was three weeks long. they kept up the same routine as race weekends. though, this time, it didn't include facetime calls. he sent her voice notes and pictures regularly, and she responded, though, often really late, and sounding more tired than ever. she shared pictures sometimes, informing him that most pictures were on her brother's phone because he had a better camera than she did.

nonetheless, their bond remained strong.

max called him whipped. carlos said something similar. but he knew that they knew just how important this woman was to him. they hadn't seen anything like it before, and he hadn't felt anything like this before.

despite his efforts of spending every possible second with her, lando had been an f1 driver. meaning, he had to be at the mtc often, especially to meet sponsors and work with his team before the pre-testing.

even though she had never asked or indicated anything, lando bought her gifts to make up for the time he lost with her. she would always laugh, but would accept the gift. in the beginning, she had put up a fight, telling him that it was too much and that he didn't need to. lando was stubborn, and eventually, she'd sighed and accepted it.

just like that, a year passed.

lando was there for her graduation, clapping when she went on stage and received her diploma. lando was there when she found her first job. he was there to drop her off and pick her up on her first day. he was there with ice cream every time she told him that she felt drained, and the two would watch a movie. he was there for every big and every small moment. as much as he could, at least.

she was there every time he came home after a race. she was there every time he was frustrated with the team, with himself, with the media. she was there every time they went to a seafood restaurant, and only ever ordered spring rolls. she was there at the cafe, his coffee and scone ready whenever he was running late. she was there when he was homesick. she was there when he'd be streaming, just sitting close to him. she was there for every quadrant shoot, giving him her ideas as well. she was there for every game night, every movie night, every little party he had. in her own way, she was there with him like no one else had ever been there.

it was so easy being friends with her, sometimes lando forgot that his crush had turned into him being in love with her. it was so easy being with her, that sometimes, lando forgot about his own feelings, only ever focused on her voice and her smile and her hands and everything about her.

she was weak some days, reminding him of the day they'd met, with her breathing so heavily. she would always tell him that it was her time of the month, and these were just some symptoms. lando had grown up with two sisters, but he had never seen anything like what y/n was going through. he had asked his sister if it was normal to be feeling like that during their cycles. his sister had reassured him that it was different for every woman, and as long as y/n said she was fine, she truly was fine.

but, it all came crashing down one day.

lando hadn't expected it. in fact, it happened during a race, and lando was unaware.

he'd had a good race, one that he was proud of. immediately after changing, lando had checked his phone, frowning when there were no messages from y/n. that had been odd, because y/n texted him during each race. she had been doing so consistently for the past year. to suddenly not have a single text from her, not even a good luck text, had worried him.

his flight was scheduled for back home the next morning. if she didn't pick up his call, lando was sure that he would jump on the next flight out and rush home just to check on her.

the ringtone was loud in his ear, even though the volume on his phone wasn't. his heart was beating erratically again, for a completely different reason as before. usually, he loved feeling his heartbeat everywhere, feeling the rush of it in his veins when he was in the car. now, though? he hated the feeling.

she picked up at the final ring. lando breathed out a sigh of relief.

"y/n? are you okay? you didn't text me during the race and i got worried," he said.

she paused for a second on the other side, and lando frowned.

"um, this is her friend. she's in the hospital, actually," the voice was low, but it seemed to echo in his ears.

hospital? what? why? what had happened?

"what?" he croaked out, his body working on autopilot as he stuffed his things in his bag.

"she was fine in the morning, but her condition got a little worse, and we had to get her to the hospital," her friend said.

"condition? what condition?" lando was freaking out.

"she didn't tell you?"

"no! she didn't! is she okay?"

"she'll be okay eventually. at least, that's what the doctor said."

lando asked for the hospital name, looking for flights at the same time.

as he left the paddock, zak and oscar stopped him, but lando didn't have time. he couldn't lose precious seconds.

"i'm really sorry, i have to go, i need to go," he didn't know what he was saying, or what he was doing. all he knew was that he needed to get to y/n as soon as possible.

"woah, woah, woah, lando," oscar said, grabbing lando's arms, holding him in place.

"what's wrong?" zak asked.

zak didn't know y/n, but oscar did. oscar knew her. oscar would understand. yes, oscar would help him.

eyes wide, lando said, "she's in the hospital. i have to go. i don't know what happened, osc, i have to go."

"okay, okay. give me your room key, i'll pack up your stuff and drop it off at your place tomorrow," oscar was calm. how was oscar calm?

"yes, yes, that's smart," lando immediately pulled out the room key card from his pocket, handing it to oscar.

"lando, deep breaths-"

"but, she's-"

"i know. but, you're not going to be of any help to her if you can't help yourself right now. deep breaths with me,"

lando copied oscar's breathing pattern, his hands holding onto oscar's arms. once the rushing blood in his ear subsided, lando nodded, gulping.

"she's going to be okay," oscar reassured him.

lando nodded, taking a step back, ready to turn and leave. just before he began running, he turned quickly, hugging oscar, thanking him. before oscar could hug back, lando was running.

the wait was excruciating. the wait in the taxi going to the airport. the wait at the airport for his flight. the wait in the flight. the wait in the taxi going to the hospital. it was eating him alive, and every single cell in his body was vibrating with fear.

in the midst of his panic, he had managed to text max and carlos, his two closest friends, letting them know of the situation. he knew that carlos was probably asleep by now, and would see the message in the morning, but max had responded immediately, instructing lando to let him know if he needed anything.

when he reached the hospital, he immediately ran to the front desk, asking for y/n. the nurse standing there almost looked afraid of him. his eyes were red, his hair unruly. he hadn't slept at all after the race, and hadn't eaten anything either. he felt weak, but he needed to see y/n. he needed to see his y/n.

before the nurse could say anything, a voice called his name. turning, he saw y/n's friend, the one who had answered her phone. rushing towards her, he let out his frenzy list of questions.

"is she okay? what happened? when did it happen? what did the doctor say?"

her friend didn't say anything, just quietly led him to her room. the wait to her room was excruciating as well, somehow worse than when he was on the flight.

standing outside her room, her friend turned to him and said, "it isn't my story to tell. it's hers. but, know this, lando, being with her, as a friend or boyfriend or whatever, it's with a ticking time bomb. one day, she is going to leave us. if you go in that room, know that you will have to prepare yourself for when the time runs out and it all explodes."

he heard her words. he registered them. maybe he should walk away. save himself the pain that would come with her inevitably leaving. he could. very easily, in fact. she wasn't awake. she didn't know he was here. he could ask her friend to not mention anything about him, and he could turn around and leave. he could.

but he didn't. why didn't he? why couldn't he? he knew he loved her the first day he met her. he knew he wanted to be in her life for as long as she wanted. if she was going to inevitably leave, he'd rather hold her hand till it went slack and cold. if she was going to inevitably leave, he'd rather love her, just so she went with a smile.

his hand was on the doorknob, and he turned it, pushing the door open.

she had tubes attached to her, and the steady beating of her heart was heard through the beeping. she looked small and frail. she looked like she would turn to dust if he touched her. her skin was pale, and her bones were so clearly visible. oh, his sweet y/n.

dropping his bag at the side, he sat on the chair beside her bed, slowly, carefully, picking up her hand, holding it, running his fingers over and over them, making sure she was real.

tears streamed down his face. why hadn't he noticed any of it before? why hadn't he pushed her for information when she changed the subject? he knew something hadn't been right, but he was stupid enough to ignore it. how could he have been so stupid?

lando's head rested on the bed beside their joined hands, sobs wracking his body. he had felt pain before. he had felt pain when his grandmother passed. he had felt pain when he read the hate comments about him. he had felt pain then. this pain was something he hadn't felt before, something that was completely incomparable.

he must've fallen asleep right there, the exhaustion of the race and the travel, the stress of all of it combined draining him physically and mentally. he woke up with a jerk, his neck aching. wiping the corner of his mouth, his eyes fell on the sleeping figure on the bed.

except she wasn't sleeping anymore.

"y/n!" he exclaimed, standing over her and checking every single part of her that he could see, as if the condition she had was external.

"i'm sorry i didn't watch the race. how'd you do?" she whispered, smiling gently.

lando huffed out a laugh, "as if i care about the race anymore," leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"you scared me, lovie," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

"told you i was a storm you weren't ready for," she smiled, and god, lando wanted to kiss her. he wanted to kiss her so desperately.

"oh, you are a storm, alright, but i'm more than ready for you," he said, pulling back and settling on the uncomfortable chair again.

he stared at her for a few seconds, a little bit of his tension falling away. "why didn't you tell me?"

she hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as she attempted to explain to him, "i wanted to. at first i couldn't figure out how or when to tell you, and then i started worrying that if i did tell you, you'd leave. i didn't want you to leave,"

her voice was small, as if she was afraid that he would hear her, that he would confirm her fear. silly, silly girl.

he clasped her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her fingertips and he said, "y/n, i am crazy in love with you. have been from the day i met you. absolutely nothing will make me want to leave you,"

she stared at him, still chewing on her lip slightly, and then whispered, "what if i told you i had a dick?"

his brain froze for a second, but she smiled, and he laughed, and in his heart, everything was right again, "then, i'll figure out how sex works on the go,"

she laughed, and he smiled, and in his heart, the warmth spread again.

"do you really love me?" she asked, almost sounding broken.

"desperately," he said, without hesitation.

"you won't leave?"

"i'd rather drive with extremely old tyres on a wet track with no fireproofs than leave,"

she smacked his hand, "don't say that!"

"it's the truth,"

it was silent for a second.

"i love you too, by the way. i forgot to say that,"

lando laughed, "more than a friend?"

"way more than a friend,"

"y/n?"

"lando?"

"what condition do you have?" he was afraid of the answer. granted, he didn't know much about diseases and such. his knowledge of physical anatomy only went as far as understanding the risks of being an f1 driver and being in an f1 car.

"it's something complicated. it's a lifelong thing, and there's no particular cure for it. we found out in its early stages, which is why we started treatment early as well. the doctors told me that i'd have maybe twenty or thirty years more, but that death was inevitable. "

"oh,"

"yeah. my doctor in india recommended a specialist doctor here, and since my parents were already struggling a little bit with the costs, i got a scholarship, so that it was one less thing for them to worry about. i've made peace with the fact that i am going to die one day, lando. i know that it's going to happen, and i am ready for it."

"what if-"

"don't try and find a better doctor or something, lando. it's not going to work. whatever this is, it makes me physically weak and tired so easily. the walk from my apartment to the cafe sometimes tires me out so much. i can't breathe properly in it, i pass out way too often, i can't hold in any sort of food sometimes. my lungs hurt, and my arms and legs go numb, and it's a lot of things. and it's only going to result in one thing."

lando stayed silent. he didn't know what to say, and after everything that had happened in the past weekend, and now, his brain was taking time to process it.

"is that why you didn't reply to me for days sometimes? 'cause you were in the hospital?"

"mhmm,"

he tried not to cry. he really did. all he could think about was every time that he had assumed she was busy, or he had believed her excuses, she was all alone in a hospital with no one to take care of her, no one to protect her from this godforsaken condition. "why didn't you tell me? i could've been here with you? were you scared? did you have someone to hold your hand?"

"oh, lan," she cupped his cheek, as he sobbed.

"i'm gonna be here now. i'm gonna be with you now all the time. whatever happens, i'll be here, and i'll help you wherever you need me to,"

"you have a job, lando," she said softly.

"fuck that. i don't care about that anymore. i just care about you. don't leave me, please," lando was on his knees, holding onto her hand, sobbing as everything inside him broke.

"sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu," she whispered.

"i don't know what that means, lovie," he sniffed, calming himself down, doing what oscar had done not twenty four hours ago.

"when i die-"

"y/n-"

"it's the truth, lando. when i die, look it up. okay?"

he nodded, promising her that he would.

things changed after that. of course it did.

lando spent every second possible with y/n, making sure that she was okay, and following the instructions she'd gotten from the doctor to rest more. he was there whenever she needed him, and now that she was more truthful about what was happening with her, lando realised just how much she had been hiding from him in the first place.

of course, lando had to go to the mtc for work often and the races, because it was his job at the end of the day, but he always made sure that she had someone with her, and had phone numbers of oscar, carlos, max f and max v, will and jon. any person who could easily get a hold of him when he was away.

he worried, and he knew she knew he worried. but she did love him for it. she told him so repeatedly. they hadn't kissed, even when weeks had passed from her last hospital visit where lando really found out about her condition. they hadn't kissed, and hell, they hadn't even talked about dating or anything of that sort.

lando supposed that they should, at least once. to clear out any misunderstandings, or to just be on the same page. but, they did have a mutual understanding that despite not talking about the change in their dynamic, they were together. like, together-together.

they still went on walks after dinner. it was the little bit of exercise that she got, and lando was determined to make sure that she was moving. the easiness between them was still present, except there was an added element of brushing fingers, casual touching, walking a step closer than normal. and then, it changed to holding hands when walking, which sometimes became lando's arm across her shoulder, tucking her to him, and sometimes it became her hand tucked in the inside of his elbow.

lando knew that people watched, that there were cameras everywhere, but with her, it was the least of his worries. it was during one of their walks when he kissed her for the first time.

he hadn't planned on doing it. she had ice cream stuck to her lip, and lando wanted. whether he wanted the ice cream or just her, he refused to acknowledge. he had kissed her, and she had kissed him back, and they had been unable to wipe their smiles off their faces.

it felt like kissing once took away any tension between the two, because then, they were kissing all the time. little pecks of hi, i love you. make out sessions in his car or her apartment, or even the little alley beside her apartment building. forehead kisses when she felt particularly weak, or when she had to be in the hospital. love bites of when they got carried away, and then lando took pictures (but no one else had to know that).

they were happy. they deserved that happiness.

but the dark cloud was still looming over their heads, and as much as lando tried to avoid it, as much as he tried to forget about it, every trip to the hospital had reminded him that there was only one way their story was going to end and he needed to prepare himself for it.

every time, his girl saw him struggling. she knew. and every time, she only ever told him, "sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu,"

he still didn't know what it meant. he had wanted to look it up, but he also remembered his promise to her. sometimes, late at night, when she would be asleep, curled up next to him, he would repeat the words over and over again in his head.

a year after they'd started dating, y/n made her official debut as his girlfriend at the monaco grand prix. she wasn't allowed to travel a lot, especially by air. the only few times that she travelled was when her parents had taken her to another doctor halfway across the world back when lando and her were still friends, or for when she visited india, which was also rare.

of course, his friends in the paddock had met her before. but, a lot of people were going to see her in person for the first time after only listening to lando talk about her non-stop.

she was immediately loved by everyone she met, and lando felt pride running through him. he was also a little aroused. the love of his life fit so well with his work life, it made him love her more.

before he got in the car, she pressed a kiss to his helmet and whispered the words again, "sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu,"

the words sounded beautiful, and a part of lando hated that it was associated with something so haunting.

when he won the race, he immediately ran to her, picking her up, as she celebrated with the rest of the team as well. his helmet wasn't even off, before he was hugging her and begging her to move in with him.

she had agreed, because of course, she had.

so, they moved in soon after the race. lando didn't let her do much of anything, insisting that him and the boys had it under control. the boys being max f, carlos, ginge, niran, max v, oscar, and george. how that group of friends came together? lando didn't know. all he knew was that he texted on his chat groups about needing help getting her all moved in, and people showed up at her apartment with coffee and food in their hand.

soon after she was properly moved in, the couple had to christen their home, of course. lando had loved every giggle, every moan, every whimper she had given him. he had savoured every one of them, because as happy as he was, the fear was still rooted in him that it might be the last time he would ever hear it.

there were some days when her health was a lot worse. some days when lando thought that she was right at doorstep of death. she always came back to him, and for that he was eternally grateful. she would make some silly comment and laugh and joke with him, as if they weren't in a hospital room and she didn't have multiple tubes attached to her.

he indulged in her coping mechanism. lando understood the need to add humour to serious situations. he knew that while she was comfortable with the idea that she was going to die soon, she was still scared. she hadn't spoken to him about it explicitly, maybe to spare his feelings. but he noticed, with the way she was slowly making plans for the future for him without her. he noticed, with the way she began speaking about other women, women who would come after her.

he hated it. hated that she was still thinking about how he would live after her, when honestly, he didn't think he would be living after her. he would just be surviving, and he would just be breathing for the sake of it.

they did fight sometimes. mostly on the days when she was feeling more insecure about herself. those were usually the days she would cry, sitting in the corner of a room, hiding away from him. but he found her, he always did.

in fact, it was during one of those fights when lando asked her to marry him.

"maybe we shouldn't be doing this,"

"do what, lovie?" he was patient, and in the back of his mind, he knew what she was talking about, but he refused to acknowledge it unless she came out and said it herself.

"this. us."

"and why is that?" his lovie was a logical person, he knew that. between the two of them, he was more emotional than she was. it was during times like these, when her logic seemed to be on vacation, and her emotions sat at the control centre in her brain full time that lando began logical.

"lando, i'm going to die!"

"i'm aware." his responses were pissing her off, he knew. it was deliberate, though. he'd rather she felt anger than sadness.

"lando!" she yelled at him.

sighing, lando faced her, crossing his arms across his chest, his ankles crossed as well.

"we've been over this, y/n, i'm not leaving." he said firmly.

"you should! save yourself! for fuck's sake, why are you with a dying person?"

"don't say that."

"don't say what? that i'm dying? newsflash, lando, i am dying! i'm playing pretend with you, i'm pretending that i'm not going to die, just like you do-"

"i don't pretend. i know you're going to-"

"it doesn't seem like it!"

"then, what do you want me to do? do you want me to scream and cry and only ever think about you dying? y/n, i'm constantly worried about you-"

"i don't want you to be-"

"yeah, well, that's not in your hands, now is it? i love you. i chose to love you before i knew about your condition, i chose to love you even after you told me about it. i am choosing you every second of every day because i fucking love you. and if you can't see that, then i can't help you!" they were both screaming now.

"then, stop choosing me!"

he froze.

she continued, "stop choosing me. live your life. you're 30 for god's sake, you spent half of your twenties taking care of me. it's enough. go out and party. meet women who are healthy and don't need breaks in between of sex! be with someone who can come to all of your races instead of just one! be with someone normal!"

"stop telling me to go out and live my life, for god's sake! i am living my life! why can't you see that? i am living my life, right here, with you, because this is how i want to live it! i don't want someone healthy or whatever, i want you! why can't you understand that?"

"you're wasting time-"

"i'm spending my time perfectly. i get to decide that. i get to decide what's a waste of time and what's not. just because you think i'm wasting my time being with you does not mean that it's true. it does not mean that i think the same as you."

"lando, i don't want you to regret ruining your twenties or your thirties for me! i'm replaceable! i'm going to die, and you will find someone else, someone better, and you're going to regret me!"

he took big steps, covering the distance between them. he grabbed her jaw with one hand, his other arm going around her waist.

"the only thing i'm regretting right now is making you feel like any part of me would ever think of replacing you. y/n y/l/n, get this drilled into your fucking head. i am going to marry you. i am going to marry you and i am going to give you everything you could ever want, material and otherwise. i love you. i. love. you. there's nothing i'm wasting or regretting. hell, i have the ring in the sock drawer right now. was gonna do it on our anniversary. not anymore."

she was crying. god, he hated when she cried.

"i'm going to put that ring on your finger right now, and then i'm going to remind just how much i love you any way you want. i am not leaving. i never wanted to, i never will. do you understand?"

she nodded, as much as she could with his hand on her jaw, keeping her in place, "i understand."

"good." lando kissed her hard, desperate for her.

before the kiss could turn into something else, lando turned and quickly walked to their bedroom, and then the walk in closet. pulling open the sock drawer, lando pulled out the ring box, and returned to where she was still standing.

dropping to his knee, he opened the ring box and presented it to her, "i don't care how long we have. i just know that i have now with you, and i want every nows that you're willing to give me. marry me, lovie?"

she was crying, and lando hoped that it was tears of joy.

"yes, i'll marry you," she whispered. lando slid the ring onto her finger, kissing the back of her hand.

"thank you," he said.

she laughed, still crying, "did you just thank me for saying yes?"

"hey, you were a fan of me before we met, you know i'm a pain in the ass when it comes to relationships. you agreeing to marry me just proves that someone went back in time, moved a chair somewhere,"

she laughed again, and lando wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face in her neck.

"i love you so much, lovie. i hate that you can't see it. i love you so so much," he whispered.

"i'm sorry i keep pushing you to leave me. i'm sorry i keep doing that. i love you so much too," she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close to her.

pulling back a little, lando kissed her. and again, and again, and again. their plan to immediately text all their friends and families had to wait until the next morning. they got a little busy, they're a young couple, people understand.

things changed after that. she changed after that. in a good way. she was happier, and had more energy.

lando loved seeing her like that. she had almost immediately began wedding planning, sitting with both families, asking his opinions on things.

she wanted to do an indian wedding, and so they decided to do the "western" wedding, as she called it, before, and during one of the breaks, they would do the indian one as well, since that required more time.

she went ring shopping for him, went flower shopping, pulled him along for cake tasting, talked his ear off about invitations and venues, and just about everything. and lando loved it. he listened intently, he responded quickly, he gave his opinions, smiling when she said no and continued to plan the way she wanted.

it was during one of her family's visit to monaco that his future mother in law had confessed to him, "she always wanted to get married. we didn't know if she would ever have that opportunity. thank you for loving our daughter, lando,"

if lando cried while he hugged her, that was between him and his future mother in law.

the wedding date was in three months, and the closer the date got, the more excited, and healthier she got. three months had been the longest that she had stayed out of hospital. lando was thanking every deity in the universe for taking care of her.

the invitations had gone out, she had a bachelorette party, he had a bachelor party, their parents spent more and more time together, the love of his life was happy. everything was falling into place. slowly, but surely.

a week before the wedding, everything was set. the table chart was perfect, the photographers and videographers were set. lando planned to announce that he was married with a landolog. she had her dress, he had his tuxedo. she was going to stay over at her friend's place the night before the wedding. everything was perfect.

maybe lando said that too soon.

two days before the wedding is when it all went down.

the day had started normal. the couple woke up in bed, cuddling. they also did a little more than cuddling, before getting ready for the day. they cooked breakfast together, chocolate chip pancakes, and danced to music playing from the bluetooth speaker.

it was when she stood up with the plates from the table that she began to feel dizzy.

"lovie? you okay?" lando asked, a hand on her back, concern all over his face.

"um, i'm just a little dizzy, i think," she said.

lando immediately got up from his place, taking the dishes from her hand, and settling them on the table again.

"babe, look at me," he instructed softly.

she did as he asked, but her head began spinning more, and she felt like she was going to throw up, and her body was hurting.

"hurts, everything hurts, lan,"

he'd done this hundreds of time in the past four years. he knew the process, he knew who to call, what to do, everything. but still, panic flooded through him. a bad, bad feeling settled in his gut, and he knew something was going to be horribly wrong.

sitting her down, lando ran to their bedroom, throwing a tshirt on, picking up the emergency hospital bag, and grabbed his car keys. going back, he gently picked her up. she was crying now, mumbling about how it was all hurting too much, and she didn't know how to stop it.

he drove way over the speed limit. whatever ticket he would get, he was fine with it. he didn't care at that moment. on his way, he called up his mom, letting her know that he was taking y/n to the hospital, and asked her to let her family know, and to let max and carlos know.

they immediately admitted her when he reached the hospital. they told him that she was in critical condition and that he wouldn't be allowed to see her. he begged, argued with them that he was her fiance, that they had to let him see her. the doctors refused, and lando ended up sitting in the waiting room, leg bouncing, his head in his hand, trying not to cry, not to lose hope.

their families had arrived quickly, along with max and carlos. they asked him what the doctor said, he repeated the message like a robot.

his mother sat on one side, and he immediately leaned his head on her shoulder. she was saying something. they were all saying something. but, he couldn't hear them. he couldn't hear them anything other than the blood rushing, other than his pounding heart.

it was after hours when the doctor finally came back, calling out her name. their big group stood up all at once, desperate to know whether their daughter, their sister, their friend, his fiance was okay or not.

before the doctor could say a word, lando knew. lando knew what had happened, lando knew. the grim face, the head shake. he said something, something like, "i'm sorry, we couldn't save her. her condition got way worse, and we just couldn't control it."

the doctor was saying words. her mother was wailing, her father and her brother trying to console her. someone ran out, her friend maybe. lando didn't know for sure. the doctor kept apologising.

he fell to the floor, his heart hurting, his head hurting. he was crying. maybe. he wasn't sure. he didn't know. maybe he was crying. maybe he was sobbing. maybe he was saying something. maybe maybe maybe. all he knew that max had his arms around him, and all he knew was that his father was saying something in his ear. carlos' hands were on his shoulders. they were all saying something, but lando didn't know. he didn't care.

she was gone. the love of his life was really gone. she had left him, just like she had told him that she would. she was gone, and he would never see her again, and he would never hold her again. he would never get to listen to her talk or laugh. he would never get to tease her, and he would never get to be with her again.

the doctor allowed them to see her. they went in groups. her family went in first, and then his. her friends then went, and then max and carlos. he went in last. why? he didn't know. probably because he knew that if he saw her, it would be too real for him.

and he was right.

seeing her in the hospital bed, with no tubes attached, he broke down again. he fell into the seat beside her bed, gripping her hand, just like he had the first time he found out about her condition.

"don't leave me, lovie. please. come back to me. come back home. don't leave me, im begging you, please, y/n, please, please, come back home." he cried.

he wanted her to open her eyes. he wanted her to wake up and tell him that she was fine. he wanted her to hug him and let him know that everything was going to be okay. he wanted her, he wanted her, he wanted her.

lando didn't know how long he sat there, numb and crying, staring at the love of his life's face. the face that would never cheer for him again, the face that would never let him know what she was thinking. the face that he wouldn't see at the end of the alter anymore.

eventually, someone came in, and took him away. he didn't know who. they told him that her parents were discussing the funeral and making plans. they told him that her parents were going to do it according to their rituals, and lando had the option to participate in it.

nothing made sense to him.

their wedding day, the day that she had worked so hard for it to be perfect and to be everything the couple ever dreamed it would be, became the day of her funeral.

the happiest day of his life became the worst day.

they went ahead with the indian rituals. her body was dressed in white, along with everyone present there. her body was kept on logs, and she was covered with it too.

there was an indian priest, reciting something. lando didn't hear. he stood alone towards the front, staring blankly at where her body lay. her brother was holding a log, with the top of it covered in a cloth and was on fire.

the priest said something, and her brother went around, lighting the log bed on fire. when he had done it from all sides, he kept the log on top, slowly watching as it all burned.

as she burned.

lando wanted to jump in the fire. he wanted to jump in the fire and go with her, wherever she was going. he wanted to jump in the fire and die with her, because he couldn't live in a world where she wasn't living.

a hand was on his shoulder, and lando heard her father, "thank you for loving my daughter, lando. thank you for making her happy."

"she wanted to get married. i couldn't give her that." he said, almost monotonously.

her father chuckled sadly, "i remember talking to her the day she moved in with you. said that the two of you were like an old married couple. reminded her of her grandparents and how in love they were,"

lando smiled sadly.

"don't lose touch, son. you are still family. we'd hate to lose our son-in-law too,"

lando cried silently. he didn't know how to stop.

"this was the ring she was going to give you today." her father said, opening his palm to present a thick silver ring with small diamonds all around. it was a simple ring. it was his style too.

lando hesitantly picked up the ring, looking at it. there was an engraving on the inside, and lando realised that the words were written in hindi.

"can i ask you something?"

"sure, son,"

"what does the inside say?"

her father took the ring and checked, before saying, "sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu,"

lando recognised those words.

"she said it to me a lot. before every race, every time she ended up in the hospital, any time that i was away from her, she said it to me. never told me what it meant. she just told me to look it up after she was gone." lando whispered.

"sang pyaar rahe mein rahun na rahu. it means that my love will stay with you, regardless of whether i'm there or not."

the words echoed in his mind. they were true. her love would stay with him till his last breath, whether she would or not.

he grieved all the time after that.

how could he not?

he had to continue to train, to race, even when he didn't feel like getting out of bed. he had to continue to fight in a championship, even when he didn't care about it.

his team, team principal, zak, oscar, almost every driver on the grid who he had been racing with for years, were worried about him. how could they not be.

lando barely smiled. barely spoke anymore. he trained, raced, went back home. there was no light in him anymore, no spark.

of course, the media, the other team principals weren't aware of the major shift in lando's life. they used his grief as a weapon against him. said the same things they had said the year he won for the first time. said the same things, that he was mentally weak, and whatnot.

lando didn't care. he didn't care about anything anymore. he didn't care about his helmets, or about streaming, or even about quadrant. he didn't care about racing anymore.

he'd heard whispers amongst his team that they were worried he would do something hasty on track and severely injure himself. he heard the questions from the media to oscar and andrea and zak about replacing lando, now that he just wasn't good enough and was past his prime.

it was funny they said that, because he was still winning races. he was still winning races or getting on podium. he just wasn't happy. he wasn't happy or satisfied, because every time he looked at the crowd, he looked for her face and she wasn't there.

the fans, the media, they all speculated about the wedding ring on his finger. they all questioned and made fun of the fact that he was so depressed after getting married, he had clearly made a mistake. they laughed, and their laughter was cruel. but lando hadn't said anything. he didn't know why. he just couldn't.

it was when max had moved back in with lando and was streaming one day that the world found out about the bitter truth. it was max who had finally revealed to the world, months after, that lando needed someone to take care of him, because he was grieving. he was grieving the loss of the woman he loved so much.

lando had thanked max the next day. thanked him for telling the world what he couldn't because he didn't want it to be true. he had cried that day, thanking max through his tears for taking the initiative and doing what he couldn't.

max had only repeated the words she said, "her love will stay with you regardless of whether she's here or not,"

lando knew that. he believed that.

her love would stay with him till he died, regardless of where she was here or not.

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

lemme know if y'all liked this! thank you for reading it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

[sadhours]

love letters

Billy hargrove x f!reader

Cw: 18+, minors dni, blackmail, oral (m receiving), fingering and unprotected p in v

This was kinktober but better late than never

💙❤️💜💛

He lays the letter on your dresser, a smug smirk on his face as he turns back to you. Hooks his thumb in his belt as he looks you up and down, like you’re something to eat. Wolfish is the only way you could describe it, and you’re little red riding hood.

“If I do this, you’ll leave it here, right?” you ask, voice as shaky as you feel. A mess of nerves.

Billy nods slowly, brings his thumb up to his lower lip and slides it across as he keeps looking at you like that.

It’s a love letter. One you’d written for Tommy Hagan. Billy snatched it from your binder in fourth period and read it. He laughed, stared right into your horrified, wide eyes and laughed. Then he wouldn’t give it back. Threatened to show Tommy and then worse, threatened to show Carol. And you know she’d kick your ass. So you begged. Said you’d do anything. You didn’t think he’d suggest this, though.

“Let’s get to it then. On your knees,” he tells you.

With a reluctant sigh, you obey and sink down to your knees in front of him. You’re anxious, knowing you have exactly three and half hours before your parents get home from work. Billy starts undoing his belt, gets it unbuckled and then pauses. He asks you, “What the hell do you see in that fag anyways?”

You’d really rather not further incriminate yourself. So you huff, “Can we just get this over with?”

“Nah,” Billy shakes his head, “Fess up.”

“I think he’s cute.”

Billy laughs, “That fucker? Really?”

“So what?” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t think I’m cute?” he asks, a sarcastic pout to his lips. He hears it all the time, you’re sure. Why the hell does he need to hear it from you?

“Everyone does. What’s your point?” you argue.

Billy shrugs, “Not as cute as Hagan. Okay, then. I get it. We don’t have the history. What did you say in the letter? You’ve had the hots for him since junior high?”

“Billy,” you groan, “I’d really just like to get on with this so I can get my letter back.”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes and then gets started with the buttons on his jeans, “You’re such a brat.”

Once he’s done with the buttons, he pushes his briefs and jeans down his thighs and his cock springs out. You watch it bob up and down, shamefully a little— okay, a lot, intrigued. It’s thick and long. You haven’t seen one this size and now you’re really nervous. How are you gonna fit it in your mouth?

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Bigger than Hagan’s.”

You raise an eyebrow, because how the heck would he know that? And Billy sees the look before he rolls his eyes again and says, “Oh, shut up. Locker room .”

You wonder if all the guys look at each other. You know you keep your eyes to the floor in the locker room but maybe it’s different for them.

“You seemed so eager. C’mon, now,” Billy says as he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and points it down to you.

A sigh exits your lips as you prop yourself up a little taller and slowly wrap your lips around the head of him. It feels… strange. Heavy but in a good way. And warm, almost hot to the touch. It tastes interestingly salty. You give an experimental suck and Billy inhales sharply. Upon looking up, his eyes are on you and it makes you even more nervous. You tense up and swallow, around his cock.

Billy grunts and then tilts his head, “Relax, would ya?”

You pull off and look at him, drool connecting your lips to the head of his cock as you reply, “I’m trying.”

“Never done this before?” he asks, pushing your hair back.

Your face heats up, all kinds of embarrassed as he’s clocked you. Yeah, you’ve messed around with guys before. Not this, though. Mostly over the pants stuff and dry humping. You try not to think about how many girls have done this to Billy. Though since his arrival, you’ve heard rumors of about six.

“You haven’t, huh?” he strokes your forehead with his thumb and laughs, all soft this time. Doesn’t sound cruel. “That’s cute. Take your time, go slow. Just relax. It’ll come naturally, okay?”

You offer a nod before taking his tip back in your mouth. And he’s right because without being totally conscious of it, you swipe your tongue along the underside of his tip— along the ridge where it meets the rest of his cock. He hums, satisfied and strokes the top of your head. You take it as a good sign and take him a little deeper, keeping your tongue pressed to the underside of him.

The way he’s treating you now is a complete 180 of before. It’s almost… sweet? Romantic, even. You press your hands to his exposed thighs and try for more. But he hisses, presses his thumb to the middle of your forehead and tells you, “Teeth, watch your teeth.”

You know your face has to be pink from embarrassment but you listen to him. Now, much more aware of where your teeth are. Taking him an inch deeper, you blink up at him. Kind of waiting for more direction. And he gives it to you.

“Suck,” he suggests. “Go back up and down. Watch those teeth, use your tongue.”

You nod subtly as you pull back and then forward, sucking as hard as you can. Billy kisses again, “Gentle, we don’t gotta rush this, yeah?”

Closing your eyes, you repeat all his instructions in your head. You’re determined to make this good for him, make sure he doesn’t share the love letter. His eyelids flutter closed just as yours open, bobbing your head up and down languidly while you use your tongue as a barrier between his cock and your teeth. You suck him, much gentler and you keep your eyes trained on his face so you can learn from his expressions. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, eyelids closed softly while his brows knit closer together. The more you work, the wetter you get. Almost overwhelmingly so. You find yourself whining against the mouthful, squirming where you’re sat on your legs. Billy’s eyes open at that, peering down at you as his lips curl up.

“You like it, huh?” he slides his fingers through your hair and purrs, “That’s a good girl.”

That makes you feel weightless, pouring out more whines around his girthy cock. He exhales, a low grumble of sorts, “Fuck, feels good when you do that.”

You’re excited now, feeling all warm and fuzzy from pleasing him and you just want to do more. You try to take him deeper in your mouth but you gag, pulling off of him to catch your breath after coughing against the back of your wrist.

“You’re okay,” he tells you, scratching comfortingly against your scalp. “Breathe through your nose, yeah? Relax your throat, you can take me deeper, okay?”

With a little nod, you wrap your hand around his base again and try again. As deep as you can go, taking his advice and breathing through your nose and relaxing as much as you can. The weight is something else, the taste of his soft skin makes you moan against his shaft and he moans back through clenched teeth. You blink, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you work your lips up and down his hard cock. Your eyes meet his and the look of his are intoxicating, make you feel warm all over. His dark eyelashes frame the lustful gaze on you. God he’s pretty, so pretty you’ve completely forgotten about Tommy Hagan.

“That’s a good girl,” he repeats, expression on his face a lot more needy than before and it makes you feel powerful. You can’t believe you’re doing this to someone. Let alone Billy Hargrove. “That’s it… told ya, natural… yeah?”

You pull off of him abruptly, mirroring the desperation in your eyes as you squirm where you’re sat and you have no idea how to tell him this. That you’re feeling frustrated by how aroused this has made you. Billy’s smart though, smart in this kind of thing at least. He reaches for your arms and pulls you up, face an inch from yours. He cradles your jaw in his hands and kisses you. You make a shocked sound but ultimately melt into it, just as his hands wrap around your waist, squeezing your hips.

Billy’s tongue is warm and heavy as it slides past your lips and meets your own. He turns you both around, guides you to your bed and crawls on top of you without breaking the kiss. Billy kisses a lot more intensely than you’ve ever been kissed. There’s this urgency there and it’s much more sloppy than you’re used to. Lots of tongue and it’s making you feel dizzy. His cock rubs against your thigh as he licks into your mouth, causing you to gasp.

He pulls back from the kiss, looking down at you and it’s pretty intimidating. All this attention on you isn’t something you’ve experienced before and Billy’s hand hovers between your bodies.

“Can I touch you?” he asks but he doesn’t look nervous so you don’t know why he’s asking.

“Yes,” you reply, quickly.

He bares his teeth in a grin and they’re so white and straight. You blink rapidly, awaiting the feeling. Billy’s hand sinks into your waistband, into your underwear and his large hand cups your heat. You inhale sharply, eyes crossing a little bit and Billy actually laughs. You’d feel embarrassed but he slides his middle finger up through your slit, feeling just how wet you are and you moan loudly. His smile doesn’t falter, but he leans down to kiss your lips softly.

Muttering against them, “You really liked sucking me off, huh? You’re soaking wet, doll.”

You just nod, moaning out steadily as he continues dragging his finger up and down your slit. He misses the most sensitive part but you think he does it on purpose because while Billy’s acting very differently now, you know deep down he’s mean or at the very least, a brat. Your legs are shaking, bent at the knee as you spread them wider for him in a silent beg for him to do more yet he just keeps teasing. Eyes boring into yours as he continues stroking up and down, so slow. You whimper, wiggling your hips as you try to get him to give you what you want. He chuckles, low and maybe a little cruel, but he mostly sounds entertained. Like he’s enjoying this game, like he wants you to beg.

It’s confirmed when he moves his finger to where your thighs meet your pelvis and he pouts down at you, “Does baby want more?”

“Yes,” you plead at the opportunity, “Please, please, more!”

“So needy,” he shakes his head and smirks down at you, “Begging already.”

Billy leans down and licks against your lips, “Guess you have earned it, though.”

Just as he licks into your mouth, he pressed two firm fingertips against your clit and you’re impressed as he moves them in circles. It takes you some time on your own to find the right motions but Billy’s doing it instantly, like he just knows how. Your back arches, hands shooting up to grab onto his biceps as a lewd moan rips through you. He pushes the digits down to your entrance and he circles it, tantalizing you in a way that has your eyes rolling back. You’re unable to kiss back as he slips a thick finger inside of you, moaning gratefully against his mouth.

He hums, laughing softly as he pumps his finger in and out of you, “God, you’re tight… I’m gonna have to stretch you out before I can fit.”

“Fit?” you gasp, eyes wide as you look at him.

“Yeah,” he nudges his nose against yours, “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Like, you mean…” you swallow hard.

Billy nods, biting his lip as he looks at you, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, I know it’s your first time.”

“You do?” you ask, eyes crossing again as he slips in a second finger, slowly stretching you out like he promised.

He drops a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, it was written all over your face when you saw my cock.”

The gentleness he’s giving you is such a stark difference to the Billy you know and god, it’s making your head swim. You feel special, that he wants you like this. That harsh exterior falling down and showing you this foreign and downright lovely side of him. You wrap your arms around his neck, rolling your hips up as you reply with a smile, “Okay.”

And Billy wasn’t outright asking, but it was like he was asking permission, in his own way. He leans down and kisses you again, curling his fingers and you get lost in the feeling of it all. The bliss his fingers deliver and the sweetness of his lips. Billy sure has a talent of making girls feel special…

After a while, he pulls his fingers out, nudges his nose against yours again and asks, voice all soft and pretty, “Think you’re ready?”

Nodding, you tighten your arms around his neck and he gives your nose a soft kiss before reaching his hands down and starts pulling your pants and underwear down. Kicks his boots and jeans off completely and then he’s on you again, kissing you slow and sensual. Kisses you the whole time he presses his cock to your entrance. It’s an odd feeling, but with his warming you up and the way he’s aroused you beyond belief, the tip slides in easily. You cry out at the sensation and he swallows it down, darts his tongue out to soothe you and drags it against your own.

You break the kiss as he sinks in deeper and shove your face against his neck. Billy’s so close to you, you can really smell his cologne. Musky, ambery and so wonderful. You can’t control yourself as your tongue rolls out to taste. He groans, his hips snapping forward and you yelp from the movement. He’s completely inside you now, and it burns. You grit your teeth, little whimpers falling from you.

“Sorry, sorry— I,” he laughs softly and kisses the side of your head, “I didn’t mean to do that…”

You did that to him, you think. You focus on that thought as you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. He keeps his hips still, keeps kissing the side of your head as his hand comes to your hip, and he squeezes it.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he tells you, rubbing his against your neck now.

“Billy…” you whisper, turning your head and he pulls back to look at you. He’s so pretty you feel dizzy.

“You okay?” he checks in, strokes his thumb against your cheekbone and you nod.

“You can move,” you tell him and he laughs, a sweet and soft one.

“Like this?” he rolls his hips gently and your eyes roll back before closing as a moan pours out of you. “That’s a yes.”

He does it again and again, watching your face react to the feel of him. Your legs spread further, your own hips rolling up to meet his and you open your eyes to watch him watch you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, sounds like he means it and now you’re a little in awe. Billy likes you. That’s why he took the letter, that’s why he did all of this. You’re flooded with emotion, you’ve never felt this wanted before, this important to a man. Tears form at your waterline and stream down your face and Billy’s hips still.

“You okay? Does it hurt?” he asks, looking all kinds of worried and you’re embarrassed you’re crying but you giggle and shake your head.

“Sorry, it feels good, I’m— I don’t know why I’m crying,” you confess and Billy smiles, strokes your hair and leans down to kiss you softly.

“Feels so good I made you cry?”

“Something like that,” you whisper and roll your hips, “Please, don’t stop.”

He picks up the pace, but as he does so, he locks his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. His hands move to push your top up and he caresses your breasts, fingers lightly graze against your perked nipple and he licks against your lip. You let him in, suck on his tongue as this intense pressure builds in the pit of your stomach. It’s so overwhelming, more tears spill from your eyes.

Then Billy reaches between your legs, fingers meeting your clit and he moves them in time with thrusts and it’s so much, too much and you’re shrieking against his mouth as the waves of your orgasm slam into you. Billy keeps his ministrations until you’re squirming around and breaking the kiss.

“Billy!! Ah!!”

“Cum for me, that’s it,” he purrs, “God, you look so fucking gorgeous, baby.”

You ride through it, Billy following short behind. Pulls out and spills his climax onto your stomach in thick, heavy spurts. He whines as he does it and you can’t help but think he’s the one who looks gorgeous.

He collapses beside you on the bed for a beat and sits up, glances around your room for something to clean up with. He finds a washcloth and you don’t say anything about it being for makeup as he cleans his spunk off your tummy. He gets dressed and you’re hit with sadness. Thinking he’s just gonna leave. But he pats your thigh and tells you, “Get dressed. I need a smoke.”

You giggle and listen to him and before you head out of the room, you grab the letter and rip it in half. Billy looks at you with a satisfied grin.

“Tommy who?”

“Tommy who,” you blush.

“You’re gonna have to write one for me now,” he kisses your cheek.

“I do.”

[mejaemin]

[9:53 pm]

the living room floor should have caution signs all around it with all the lego pieces spread on the floor. you’re building a first date gift, the orchid lego set, with your boyfriend. it’s been a while since said date, many more happening since then, but you held off on building it until the perfect moment where you were in a lego building mood. it’s even more perfect because you could invite him over to do it with you.

soft music plays in the background, but it isn’t even needed because the sound of lego pieces being sifted through and jeonghan’s subtle humming was enough to keep you calm. honestly, all you needed was for him to be there, and it didn’t matter if you had background noise or anything else.

after finishing the bag that held stems and leaves, you stopped jeonghan’s wrist from opening the next one. “wait.” you called out.

he looks up, an eyebrow raised. “what?”

“..do you think we could stop here? pick it up another day?” your hand falls back into your lap, fidgeting with the other.

“what, why? there’s only one bag left, why don’t we just finish it?”

you purse your lips together, trying to find the words. “it’s just.. this gift is so special. from a special day. and i feel like… when we finish it, that memory will be gone too.” your voice is barely above a mumble, feeling shy and almost silly for feeling such a way.

at your confession, jeonghan smiles, stepping over the nearly finished set before sitting next to you. he wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss to the crown of your head before speaking.

“baby, don’t be sad about such things. you should be looking at it in a good way. y’know how i see it?” he turns his head to look at you, smiling softly. that tender expression he gives only to you is what makes you feel this way. just like the process of building a lego set, moments like these could be fleeting. you hope they don’t, but that fear is what makes you so upset over it.

yours and jeonghan’s relationship may be fresh, but the way he looks at you and immediately knows what you need to hear is nothing if not a reminder that you’re meant to be.

“i see it as a sign of moving forward. remember when we got this? it was our first date, so long ago. and here we are, weeks later, finally finishing something of the past so we can move forward. together, okay?” he turns to face you fully, holding your cheeks in his hands before kissing your forehead. since you’ve met, it’s been a habit for him to do so, not without baby talking you of course.

“i’m not gonna go anywhere, love, i promise. moments like these may come and go, but who you’re with will always stay the same. i know you feel it too, like we’re stuck together.”

at the end of his speech, it’s nearly impossible to hide your tears. jeonghan’s always so silly and playful, but he’s so in tune with your thoughts. he always knows when to get serious, and he’s so good at it too. he knows all the right words, everything you need to hear. with your head now pulled into his chest, the tears flow freely and all you can think is how thankful you are for him. you can’t fully let go if that fear, but your hope that he’ll always stay is growing stronger.

jeonghan pulls you back from his chest, smiling once again as he kisses away the remnants of your tears. “now, shall we finish?”

[lokismischievousmusings-fanfic]

Ok… do you all remember when I said I was working on a Detective Loki AU where he’s hunting a serial killer? Well here’s the introduction!! Please let me know if you like it!!

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mention of murder, death, crime, cause of death. (Nothing gory and no details)

Characters: Loki, other OCs.

Summary: After living for some time on Midgard, Loki takes a liking to the small city he’s been banished to. Seeing the darkness of humanity day after day for almost a century has Loki feeling like he could make a difference. He joins the local detectives to solve the city’s violent crimes and comes face to face with his first serial killer.

Snakes and Daggers

The shrill ringing of his cellphone cut through the silence in Loki’s flat like a knife through butter. He grumbled turning over and grabbing the phone and answering it with a grumpy growl “This better be important.”

A moment of silence on the other end and then the voice of his partner “I think homicide is pretty important but what do I know?” Detective Fowler replies sharply. “Ah, hello Ethan, do you have more information for me or….?” Loki sits up and runs his long fingers through his messy onyx curls. “Yeah, we have a body, I’ll text you the address, get your ass down here” Fowler snapped back. “So grumpy Ethan, I’ll meet you there soon” Loki teased him before hanging up.

—•—•—•—

Loki arrived at the scene, officers and crime scene technicians bustled about. Camera shutters clicked, baggies rustled and Fowler barked orders that hung in the air with the fog of his breath. Fowler was young but he was no rookie, he had reddish brown hair and blue eyes with soft untouched skin to match. Ethan Fowler barely drank, didn’t smoke, ate healthy and dressed well. “Everyone relax, I’m here now” Loki joked as he ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Fowler “So what do we have?” he asked.

Fowler sighed deeply and his glance flashed to the right of them. “Young female, deceased. A man was walking his dog and it pulled him off the trail and straight up to the body” he describes solemnly. “How young Fowler?” Loki presses further. “Maybe 19 or 20, college age” Fowler answers. “Shit! This fucker is escalating. This is the third body this week” Loki growls deeply.

Then grass and gravel crunch lightly under their feet as Loki follows his partner down to the location. The scene was all too familiar for Loki now, an innocent young girl lying nude in the twigs and mud, dumped like trash. Loki squats down near the body “I’m sorry darling, I’m going to catch this asshole, I promise” he says quietly. “Why do you talk to them?” Fowler asks inquisitively. Loki straightens and faces his partner, hands in his pockets. “What do you mean?” he tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “I’ve been your partner for a while now, I’ve noticed you talk to the decea- to the victims, why?” Loki searched Ethan’s face for any sign of mockery but none could be found. “Because they can hear me, I am a god after all, even if I’m not their god” Loki explains as he takes his notepad out of his blazer pocket and flips it open. “Yeah that’s the other thing, what is a god doing on earth working as a homicide detective in this shit city?” Fowler laughs as he asks that question following Loki back towards the body. “Well originally I came here to hide from retribution for my so called crimes on Asgard. While I was here I saw so much of this violence and hatred you all have towards each other, innocent people being slaughtered by people they loved or trusted. After that I learned that many of these crimes as you call them, they go unsolved and well that really upset me. I have a gift with my siedr and I realized I could use it for good, to help with this, so here I am” Loki continued examining the body, at one point even taking a camera from tech and snapping his own photos. “Hmm, interesting reason” Fowler shrugs and snaps a pair of gloves on.

Loki looks up at Fowler, almost through his lashes at this angle “So are you going to interrogate me some more or actually work on solving this crime?” he motions to the murdered girl in front of them. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ve been your partner for a little over a year and I realized I don’t really know that much about you or who you are” Fowler replies squatting down. “How about we focus on our victim? Find out who she is yeah?” Loki answers back raising his eyebrows. He reaches out and gently brushes the hair from her neck revealing bruising “Victim is a young Caucasian female between 19 and 25 years old, bruising around the throat suggests that the victim was strangled, there is no evidence to suggest that the crime took place here, location appears to be a dumpsite” Loki speaks into a recorder as a tech takes down notes. “Hey…. Lokes….” Fowler’s tone changed to that of concern. “What is it?” Loki looked over at his partner, he seemed paler than a ghost. “Isn’t this the girl who was talking with you at the bar Saturday night?” Fowler asks quietly so the others won’t hear. “Shit… yeah it is her” Loki goes even paler than he already is and stumbles back. “Well did you get her name?” Fowler asks him. Loki looks around at the other officers and begins to breathe heavily, he runs his fingers through his black tresses “Uhh no, we just talked for a few minutes at the bar” his voice was shaky. Fowler steps closer to Loki “Hey, no one is going to think you killed this girl” he assures him. “Obviously no one is going to think I’m a bloody killer Ethan!” Loki hisses at him through a clenched jaw. Fowler backed up a little bit with wide eyes “Whoa, calm down Loki. You looked upset or nervous or something Is all" he explains. “Well, I am upset, I talked to this girl and now she’s dead, was the guy watching her while she talked to me? Did he get her after I turned her down and she left the bar that night? How did this happen?” Loki rambled on a bit in his worry. “Loki this had nothing to do with you and doubt you could've stopped it, let's say you did take this girl home, there would be a different girl laying here in her place. You and I have been doing this long enough to know that” Fowler reminds him. “I’ll meet you back at the station, we’ll start looking into her last movements and see if she has anything in common with our other victims” Loki replies as they head back to their vehicles.

This was the 4th victim in two months, the killer had the same MO each time. The victims were left nude and appeared to be washed prior to being dumped, cause of death strangulation. Each victim was discarded near the lake in the tall brush near the woods, it wasn’t an easily accessible area. The bodies had to be carried to the location, the killer would have to carefully navigate the gravelly shore to reach it. Loki had no doubt that the killer chose the area because the rocks made it impossible to leave any footprints behind. The question was when he was leaving the bodies, it had to be at night since the lake was a popular spot during the day. These killings were eating at Loki, keeping him awake and consuming his thoughts as he tried to chase down the monster responsible.

Tags: @mischiefmaker615

[blackcatnip]

The blue sky in your eyes

Soukoku Ok, you know about when you are crying and it’s the most beautiful day outside, so you think like, “the sky should be as sad as I am”. With that in mind this scene came up, and it’s more of Dazai having that thought, and deciding to latch on another anchor to validate his mood.

Dazai doesn’t remember when it changed. One day, before he could realize, he wasn’t looking up to calm him down anymore.

It was a thing that had stayed in his body almost like a program inside a robot. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, trapped, or just wanted to be gone, he would look up. And see the sky.

It was a dangerous gamble. He knows that, but what is life without a little danger? Look up when you want to burn the world, and if the world apparently wants you to burn it too, it would respond with a shitty sky.

For some really annoying reason, it was rare, and when faced with the most common blue sky sprinkled with some clouds, he would just decide to lay down and do some cloud watching. — If sometimes he happens to be in the middle of the road, what can he do? It’s the system.

It was in that situation that Chuuya appeared one day. Thinking about it now, Dazai is almost sure it was then that it changed.

It was a bad day. He had fucked up, big time, he had too many subordinates killed, the drug he was suppose to retrieve was shattered on the floor, all that piled up, with the dooming notion that, on top of everything, he would have to report back to Mori at the end of the day. He was not afraid of the man, never. But, and with a lot of buts, Mori was his boss, and he, despite how Dazai hated to admit it, had power.

So he laid down, this time in a park, and looked at the sky. Cussing once more at the view of the overwhelming blue with those stupid fluffy clouds.

“What are you so angry about?” A voice popped up beside him and Dazai just closed his eyes.

“I’m meditating, could you please leave? It would be nice.” The guy just hummed at that.

“You fucked up real bad this time uh.”

Leaning on his elbow he glares at Chuuya.

“I did not. They were incompetent and now the one facing the consequences is me.” He groans and lays back down. “I’m here, alive, in the shit while they managed to die, how is that fair?”

After some minutes of silence he hears some shuffling beside him and when he looks over, Chuuya is laying down at his side.

“So? Why are we angry at the sky?”

“We?”

“I hope he didn’t do much, cause it really sucks to fight, the… you know, the infinity blue.”

Dazai chuckles. “You can attack it at night when it’s black then.”

“But I have to see to make it a good fight.”

Dazai looks up at a little cloud with a beautiful shape, he pulls his arms up and tries to grab it.

“I know what you are thinking, that does not look like a hanging rope”

“You are so mean, if it wasn't, how could you know that was what I was seeing, hm?”

“Because I know how crazy you are.” The boy puts his arms in the back of his head and continues to scan the sky. “You want backup?”

“For what? To talk with the boss?” He scoffs at that. “We aren’t kids being reprimanded by our fathers.”

He can sense Chuuya shifting to the side and staring at him.

“No, it’s worse.” He waits some more minutes and when Dazai doesn’t dare to respond he continues. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.” At that Dazai looks at the redhead. And is caught by the depth of his eyes.

They are more gray than blue now, even with the sun right upon them. Somehow, that was comforting, to look at them and see something other than just clear blue. Chuuya seemed mad, probably at Dazai, but at the same time it didn’t feel quite that.

“Just a crappy day. It will pass eventually, like any other.”

“You can talk shit about crappy days you know? Instead of..” He waves his hand at Dazai. “Picking a fight with the sky.”

Dazai gaps at that and puts his hand dramatically on his chest.

“For your information, he was obviously taunting me.” Chuuya rolls his eyes at that. “He should be suffering just like me, with rain pouring on us, or with fog, or at least cloudy, this-” He points accusingly at the sky. “Is just outrageous.”

He sees Chuuya slowly getting back up and brushing off some grass from his clothes before walking to him and offering a hand, to which Dazai just glares suspiciously.

“You are blocking my view.”

“Come on, nothing will come out of just sulking in the park, the weather forecast says it will be a sunny day all the way up.”

“And what do you propose?”

“Get it over with and then, I don’t know, open a bottle of wine.”

“I prefer whiskey.”

“I’m not drinking that.”

“So you are drinking too?”

“Well, duh.”

Good enough, Dazai takes Chuuya’s hands and they both start walking to the Mafia building. Before entering he takes one more glimpse of the sky, and sighs, blue as always. And so he turns to Chuuya’s eyes that were already changing their shade again.

So much better.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.195 Uncle Luca's day out

So, uhhh ... We have a closet now. After seeing Less', our empty wall was looking extra empty. Once I told Sophia what I saw, it was a wrap. She ordered that thing so fast, and it arrived way too early this morning, but here we are. It's funny how this room is smaller than the last one, yet we never had so much storage space before. Fewer windows have advantages, I suppose.

Rosie is barking outside our window. Our dogs are always barking, especially when she is playing, but what catches my ear this time is another voice. I look out the window and see Alessia playing with her! This house is doing a number on all of us, I see. I love that she's not only getting along with our dogs but also seeking them out. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it once more: we're going to be alright.

The other night, when me and Sophia looked school information after trying to prep Desiree, we learned the school system is on winter break right now, so we have loads more time with her! I was so glad and relieved to find this out. I mean, if she had to go to school, we'd send her, but I felt like we were all unprepared for this next phase of life. It came around so fast! Now we have the time to prepare, and we get to have more fun together. With school out, four kids, and two deserving mothers, I decide to take the kids out and let the moms rest. Also during the school information quest, I stumbled upon the high school's events page. They host many events that the public can attend, and tonight there's a football contest. That sounded like a good event for the kids, but it wasn't until 5 p.m., so I made an impromptu agenda to kill time. We began our adventure early with breakfast in Oasis Springs.

We go to the steak house me and Sophia frequent, but I don't recognize the host this time. She must be new, but man, does she have an attitude. She acted like me bringing four kids to a restaurant at 9 a.m. is a personal affront to her. Maybe it is early, or maybe I'm just too flabbergasted by her outburst, but I don't know how to respond. It's for the best because I probably wouldn't be nice because I feel the spirit of "I got time" rising up in me again, heh. I need to get into the gym and hit a bag because it is clear I want to fight someone. I blame Alessia's sperm donor, Jace. We got all hyped up about fighting him and never did. Maybe that urge never left me. Anyway...

The cook had just walked in on her berating me and shook his head at her. If this happens a lot, why don't they fire her? It can't be good for business.

"Come on, man," he said to me. "We've got plenty of tables, and I have to walk that way, anyway."

That was so nice of him. We followed him to a table, and I told ol' Nasty Nelly to have a good day so the kids could hear, heh. Sure, it was sarcasm, but hopefully they haven't learned that concept yet. With any luck, they'll learn to return nastiness with kindness.

When we get to the table, we have a quick family meeting. Because it's their first time in public, and I am the lone adult, we discuss inside voices, manners, and general public behavior, aka, this is not a playground, aka do not embarrass me, heh. Breanna and Arvin want to play in the rain, so I let them go as long as they are quiet. Desiree and Lex stay with me. She colors the placemat, and he plays quietly with a toy.

When the food came, I collect the other two from outside, and we have a fairly decent time together with minimal incidents...

I'm not naïve enough to think we could go all day without someone acting up. But what I did not anticipate was it would be my child I'd have to call out. She kept farting and laughing about it. I didn't realize she was the culprit until Breanna had enough and screamed at her.

I told her no one else thinks it's funny. We're eating, and no one wants to smell that with food in our mouths, and she should apologize to the table. Her remorseful face almost broke me, and I wondered if I was too harsh. I knew I wasn't because I didn't yell, but I just hate seeing her sad. I stayed strong, though.

After breakfast, we still have several more hours before the event, so I take them to Copperdale so we'd already be in town. I remembered a park down the street from the pier, so we go there first. The weather is not conducive to playing in the park. A thick blanket of snow covers the ground, and it's still falling on top of being extremely cold. I should cancel our plans and go back home because I don't want anyone getting sick. But the kids scatter before I can stop them. Desi says she has to pee and goes to the bathroom. Breanna makes a beeline for the monkey bars, reminding me so much of her mother. Arvin also goes to the bathroom, which leaves Lex with me again. He's such a cool little dude with a chill temperament, like me. I noticed his outfit earlier, and he seems to care about his appearance more than the other two.

Some older gentlemen are out taking a stroll for some reason and come over to talk about the weather. Lex doesn't seem to mind, but I want him to have fun too, so I excuse myself to have some snow fun with him. We have a snowpal building contest with Bre.

We win by default because Bre quit when she saw Desi and Arvin talking outside the bathrooms. We're still proud of our victory, though.

It seems a shame to come all the way to Copperdale and be a stone's throw of the pier and not ride the rides, so I check on the kids to see how they're doing with the weather. It stopped snowing, so the visibility is better, but it's still freezing. Children have an uncanny knack for being impervious to the weather, however, so they all said they're fine to stay out. I tell them about the haunted house ride, and they're all very excited about it. I figure we'd do that one over the Ferris wheel so we can get inside for a bit.

Although I know the cars only have two seats, I still wish we can all go together. I want to ride with Desi, but who would stay and watch the other kids while we ride? She wants to go with Arvin anyway, and Lex wants to go with me. Breanna is a boss just like her mom, and she doesn't want to sit with anyone. By the time we all take our turns, it's about 5:30, so we head to the high school.

On the way, I explain how this will be their school when they become teenagers. There're all kinds of activities they can get into, like the football team, which is what we'll be doing today, cheerleading, chess club, computer club, and so much more. Realizing they have no frame of reference for school, however, we walk around the classroom building to warm up and see what it's all about. This isn't my alma mater, but a school is a school. They're all basically the same.

Bre got upset about Desi farting again. Just as I begin to express disappointment, I remember something from her infancy. She was gassy a lot and constantly had hiccups. And she belched a lot when we burped her after feedings. Could something still be going on with her stomach? Am I telling her to stop being nasty while she can't actually help it? I didn't say anything that time and decide to talk to her about it in the privacy of our home.

[shaded-night]

The Price of Gift Giving

There are many things Aventurine can pride himself in. He has no shortage of talents that have gotten him as far as he has. However there are still a few things that he cannot wrap his head around. When it comes to love and showing his affection, Aventurine fumbles more often than not, even with his heightened emotional intelligence.

Now, he isn't sure what exactly he had done this time around, but his beloved Doctor seems to be frustrated with him. So here he is standing in one of the most luxury malls in all of Pier Point trying to pick out the best gift as an apology. He knows Ratio isn't big on material luxuries but as Aventurine eye's a beautiful fountain pen, he can't help but throw his card down. He pays extra to have it engraved with an owl face -the same one that adorns Ratio's shoulder- and a quaint but sweet quote, "For my Beloved Veritas". Aventurine feels confidence flow through his veins as he becomes a couple hundred thousand credits lighter. The pen is packaged nicely, the engraving hidden from view so he can surprise his boyfriend even more.

When he returns home, Aventurine can here Ratio in their shared study grumbling to himself as he no doubt marks another students paper as inadequate. Aventurine braves a smile as he tucks the small gift into his coat pocket and quietly enters the study.

"I'm home~. I see you're still working hard. Do you have time for a short break?"

Ratio sighs, sparing Aventurine a quick glance before his eyes setting back on the stack of papers .

"Unfortunately I'm on a tight deadline. I did mention to you earlier that I'd most likely will be busy all day." Ratio's voice held clear annoyance, but that's fine. Aventurine's smile faulters for only a second.

"Yes I remember you saying that. Sorry, I just don't like seeing you over work yourself."

Ratio only hums in acknowledgement as red ink fills another paper.

If Aventurine just stands here any longer he's sure to be kicked out, so to not waste anymore time he fumbles to get his gift out of his pocket.

"I have something for you." He places the box neatly on the desk, and Ratio pauses to look at it. It's not hard to guess its price, the name of the store was printed clearly on the lid. Aventurine can feel the annoyance radiating off of Ratio as he narrows his eyes at the package.

"Aventurine," said mans smile drops; Ratio never calls him that at home. "While the thought is appreciated, we've talked about your frivolous amount of gifts before. No matter how deep your pockets are, always spending isn't a good lifestyle. Honestly, is drowning me in expensive products the only thing you can do?"

It shouldn't hurt because Ratio is right; they have talked about Aventurine's unhealthy spending habits. Still, he had no issue buying anything that he thought Ratio may like. And that's what made his confidence crumble. His eyes stung and his voice was stuck in his throat. Ratio was looking at him, almost expectantly, but Aventurine couldn't form any words.

Instead he turned around, silently leaving the room. It felt humiliating standing there under his boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze. Maybe he deserved it for being inconsiderate of Ratio's thoughts on luxury goods. That was the only rational conclusion he could come up with.

~*~ When Ratio had finally emerged from the study, it was well into the evening. Aventurine could hear him in the kitchen getting himself his share of dinner Aventurine somehow managed to put together just a hour prior. He had the catcakes to thank for pushing him to get food in him. The last few hours he had just been curled up under a blanket on the couch while the snacks meowed at him sympathetically.

Eventually the noise in the kitchen died down, and was replaced with the couch dipping under Ratio's weight. Aventurine didn't move from his place under the blanket.

"Vasha," a hand fell onto Aventurine's shoulder; and maybe he's just a little too weak because a second later he wrapped himself tightly around his boyfriend. "I would like to apologize, my love. I shouldn't have been so insensitive to your gift."

Aventurine closed his eyes, letting his head fall against Ratio's chest.

"I just wanted to make you happy. I know you've been overworked lately...and I know I can't help with that kind of work. I know I said I'd work on my spending. So I guess I'm sorry too."

Fingers thread through his hair and a kiss is placed on his head.

"Change doesn't happen overnight, and I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. You are far more valuable than any gift, Kakavasha."

Ratio shifts and pulls the giftbox from his pocket. It was still unopened, but Ratio swiftly untied the bow around it and removed the lid. He picked up the pen, admiring the pretty swirl of blue and white along its body and it's gold accents. His thumb ran over the engraving and Aventurine feels a smile against his temple.

"It is quite a lovely pen. Thank you, Vasha. I will treasure it always."

~*~ inspired by this twt post~

rtrn is so stupid i love them

[angermango]

reasons not to get hit right in the face

[carefulfears]

top 5 (or 10 if you have em) scully taking care of mulder moments <3

she said IF i have 10 😭😭😭

1/ sein und zeit

i fear i have talked about this television scene more times than anyone has ever talked about a television scene....like. one, two, three, four, i was even foolishly invited onto a podcast to talk about it more...

my tags here:

she gets down on the Ground. there's something so primal about it. there's such a lack of pretense and sense of desperation about it. the way he hits the table. we so Rarely see him lash out like that. but it's just too much to Bear. like everything in him is just Breaking the only thing that he's even remotely been able to hold onto amidst all of the unbearable loss and trauma in his life has failed. he's fumbling around for anything that might make it better. that audries fic describing him in this moment as an 'addict out of a fix' with 'newborn anger.' “this is the world? this is it?” it's the way that he spends this whole ep cooking up some elaborate mythology about missing children and how they can be found and then the last shot of the episode is that wide shot of all of the children's graves. sometimes he's just wrong. the world is so much fucking darker and uglier sometimes than the way he sees it. and that's what is crashing down around him in this moment. and she's sitting in the wreckage holding him tight.

this is such brave, brave love. i keep thinking about CSM in the following episode, standing in scully's apartment, warning her. "allow him his ignorance, it's what gives him hope."

she doesn't know what will happen to him, to her, to them, when she breaks down the only method of coping that he has. his mother lost her bedrock too, and she didn't survive. from the moment scully enters, you can watch it break her. she does it anyway. she gets down on the ground, and she cries, and she holds him. god, it all just would've been so different, if there'd been just 1 person, 27 years ago.

(thinking about mulder reaching up to hold scully when missy died, and these tags asking: did anyone hold him, when it was his sister?)

i love the show's message on grief (and trauma), in that this is all that is necessary for "closure." there is no "Truth," (and there really isn't any closure, there's no "beyond" the sea). but it matters that someone knows. it matters that someone bears witness. it matters that someone tells you the truth, even when it fucking breaks their heart. sits in the destruction with you.

the exhaustion in her voice the next morning, when she tells skinner, "it's been a hard night for him." she's still wearing her work clothes from the day before. she was up all night. she's tired, and she's scared, and she's sad. it's been a hard 7 years. it's been a hard 27 years.

it makes me tear up every time i see it, the way she blocks him in the doorway. she's not moving. this is just so scully. it's not even starbuck, it's just so scully. she would keep him in that apartment where she could cover him and control what touches him forever, if she could. (she can't, so you're not taking him anywhere without her. the way she looks her boss in the eye and tells him he better book her a flight too. brave love.)

2/ demons

god, this one just makes me sad. this might be the one that makes me saddest. she's dying. she doesn't have it in her, anymore. i talked about this in my newsletter (and i wrote a fic about it once) but this is like...the only time where she never calls him out on what he's doing. she never yells. she never rolls her eyes. she never gets frustrated with him. she doesn't have it in her. she's dying. he will be alone. she won't be here the next time. what can she even do about it?

i always think about this post:

and you know she is thinking about how if she hadn’t been there he would’ve died. and how the next time he does something like this, she won’t have enough life left in her to keep them both alive. she might not even have enough left for herself. and she’ll give whatever she does have left to him, but it won’t be enough to save either of them. she’ll die cold and pale and he’ll burn himself out. and what can she do but hold him? who will he have when she’s gone? what will he do to himself? who will he call?

and these tags:

this is so cautious and tender and apologetic. sorry for all the pain he feels constantly. and sorry that nothing can ease it. and sorry that she is dying and leaving him like this.

she started writing to him as soon as she was diagnosed, begging. begging forgiveness, begging courage, begging grace. begging for him to not feel there was anything more he could've done, to not become the next cause he is lost in. for him to keep going, as she needs to know he's "out there."

but she's seen him hold a gun to himself too many times, and she knows he's coming down with her. and it's such a loss? this is a person she gave up everything, including her life, to follow, because she believed in him and what he wanted to do in the world that much. but things are different now. he won't survive this. he won't be "out there" saving the world.

what can she do? go to rhode island at 5am, wrap him up. stay quiet, stay still, but scream and thrash at anyone who's careless with him. sink down next to him, cover him, hold him. "maybe we need every answer in the world to survive a single question: how long do we have each other?" (x)

(also, her memento mori journal, in general. she sat in that hospital alone, for days, knowing she was going to die. and she wrote letter, after letter, after letter, to him. so that he would have something. so that he wouldn’t be left alone with nothing, again.)

3/ the end

"as mulder appears. the look on his face is of a man who's seeing, smelling, and tasting the loss of everything he has worked for. it's the look of utter defeat. angle on scully at the door. she sees only mulder right now...she moves to him now. putting her arms around him, holding on to keep him from breaking. off this, we fade out. the end." (script)

i think so often about the script notes of this scene. the description of mulder, as absorbed in destruction. everything that he's worked for, literally reduced to (cigarette) ash. scully only focused on him.

in the final angle of the season, you can really see how she's standing in front of him. her fingers clutching him. but when she first grabs him, it's so tentative. it almost feels like she's trying to see if he's still there, if he exists, if his work doesn't.

this is...the whole thing! there's a reason why this was "the end." the final image of this iteration of the series, before everything changes. this is what it is all about. it's mulder walking headfirst into the devastation of the world. drenched in loss. seeing it. smelling it. tasting it. surrounded by it. and it's scully knowing what he'll find even as he's still moving (this script note, from the hallway: "reverse on scully. returning the look. knowing what mulder is going to find. and what it will mean.")

following behind. eyes on him, while he takes in the ash. just holding on for dear life; trying to keep him close, whole.

(also, i love the moment before the fire, at his apartment, after diana was shot. the way scully tells skinner that he can reach her at mulder's if he needs her, because that's where she'll be. he doesn't even have a bed, or anywhere for her to stay!! she's not leaving him.)

4/ paper hearts

oh, starbuck. we are really in it now.

paper hearts is an ahab and starbuck episode, yes. but mostly it's about grief. mostly it's about harsh awakenings. mostly it's about confrontation with fear, scully's included.

one of the most haunting moments of the series, to me, is when they speak to the father of the 14th victim, twenty-one years after his daughter went missing. and through tears, the father says, "i used to think...that missing was worse than dead, because...you never knew what happened. now that i know, i'm glad my wife's not here. she got luckier."

in that moment, as mulder looks over at the photos on the mantle, missing is not worse than dead. it is not worse than knowing. and later that day, in his first scene, roche calls it exactly as it is: "i understand you take this very personally, mulder."

i've written about this scene in the hallway so many times, because it's truly the crux of this episode (my favorite episode).

from my newsletter:

There’s something so viscerally deep about this episode that’s hard to put into words, but to me, it is most palpable in the moment in the hallway when Mulder asks Scully if she believes that his sister was abducted by aliens. And you can see in his face that he knows the answer, and he’s challenging her to come out and say it. You can see in Scully’s that she would rather admit to anything else.

he's challenging her. he's taking their entire dynamic, and throwing it in her face. not to be cruel. not to disrupt. but just to say...so what now? isn't this what you believe?

i don't think that they've ever been so fragile, as in this hallway, honestly. they rarely threaten to break it all down. their entire lives are built on him walking up to tragedy and saying: it was aliens. it was XYZ. and her following behind saying: no. it was a killer, it was a man.

what does that mean? what is she really saying?

this episode is hard on scully. mulder has never been more haunted. there has never been a bigger reminder of what they are actually doing. they are not just chasing little green men, having adventures, studying sewer worms. they are trying to make sense of something that will never make sense. they are trying to find a "truth" that they do not want to know. they are living their lives in mourning, in bereavement, in remembrance, of a missing little girl, and scully is terrified that they'll find her. that it will be exactly like roche threatens. that missing is not worse than dead.

and there is no one else. there is no one else that even knows how haunted he is. how stuck he is, in that childhood bedroom, like he said all those years ago. how deeply sad it is.

it's all of the little things. it's the "you did good work, mulder" in the beginning. it's the way she asks if he's okay to go tell the 14th victim's family. it's way she exclaims "oh my god" when roche says that he just wants to see mulder's face, when he finds samantha's body. one of the few times that we ever see scully lose control, but she just stands up and screams, opens the door and wordlessly waits for mulder to get up and get out of there.

it's the way that she hears "help me, scully" and digs in the dirt, with her bare hands.

(you can tell in his eyes here that he's been crying, and it really gets to me. there's so much that we don't see.)

in the end, they're back in the basement. nothing left but one scrap of tattered fabric, one more lost failure. it's over. she just comes down to check on him.

the progression of scully's face in this last scene is just unbelievably gut-wrenching to me. her smile, when she tells him to get some sleep, and he laughs. the way it disappears when he holds her, and can't see her anymore. with his mother, flashing that smile and hugging her was all that it took to convince her not to worry. when he repeats the same actions with scully, she looks like she could break.

this post:

Episodes like this make me think how alone - not just lonely, but truly alone - Mulder was before her. Nobody lost sleep over him falling apart under the fist of decades old trauma. Nobody grappled with him, let him wrestle his grief against them, and still stayed. Nobody visited him in the hospital, flew to Alaska, lied for him, stayed by his bed for days straight without an extra change of clothes. Nobody else knew he was suffering or wanted to, knew it more than he knew. That end of Paper hearts where she tells him to get some sleep, he laughs at the ridiculousness of it, but also out of incredulity at having someone to wish for better on his behalf. The heartbroken look on her face as he’s laughing into her waist seems to be her coming to the same realisation; “Who looked after you before? How long did you feel like this on your own?”

she is heartbroken. there is so much grief, in being starbuck. there's grief in being needed. there's grief in following ghosts. there's grief in loving someone who is so encased in pain, in loss. he will not go home and get some sleep. a well-placed joke, that smile, a hug, does not convince her that he's okay. he hurts so much, for so long, and he has one person who knows it. and all they do is keep moving: closer and closer to that breaking point that she is so afraid of, and they can't stop.

5/ redux ii

remember when dana scully lied on her death bed and looked up at mulder as he told her that he was not willing to jeopardize skinner to save himself, and she replied, "well, then, you have to lay it on me."

the way he smiles and shakes his head, chokes out "i can't...i can't do that." through tears...they are so kind to each other. all that she has left in the world is her reputation, and she says: take it. take it all. take everything.

she cries when he won't do it.

6/ herrenvolk

okay, i wanna get into some slightly lighter ones, so y'all remember when she nearly fully knocked skinner into the wall, because mulder came in with a (checks notes) scratch on his face?

this is just so scully.

she is so panicked. she just wants to slow him down, to stand between him and the world for even one moment longer.

these tags:

she's almost begging him not to go in. the extent of her worry is heartbreaking. she loves him. it frightens her to know what awaits him.

one of the biggest conflicts of scully's character is that she just cannot stop him, she cannot shield him, she cannot protect him. the way she leans up here, and pulls him to her shoulder. covers him with a blanket. this is what she can do.

there is so much grief in being starbuck!! in loving someone who walks blindly into a world that you do not trust. in following someone into the worst night of their life: over, over, over. years, years, years. in being first mate, holding the responsibility on your shoulders of having to steer in a safe direction, only having one to choose from.

(i also think it's really special, all of the little moments where she checks in. in the previous episode, in the hospital hallway, the way she says "are you okay?" so softly.

in paper clip, when she makes him stop, and says "no, wait, hold on a second...i don't think you've had time to process everything that you've been through."

remnants of the girl who told him she'll cover for him and he should just go get a beer, take some time for himself, after jersey. who suggested he talk to someone, when jerry lamana died. she's always wanted so much for him, but she understands more now. there's still room to pause, for a moment, before he carries on.)

7/ anasazi

ladies, would you shoot your man with a gun, to keep him from endangering himself, while he was being laced with LSD, and then drag him across the country singlehandedly, while he was unconscious, despite him being twice your size? and this, too, is taking care.

the way she says, "i was certain they would have killed you, mulder." and the fear in her voice, his hand on her knee. (she is so young. she really doesn't know what to do, not as often as she seems like she does). the way he says, "thank you. thank you for taking care of me." they are so kind to each other. it'll break your fucking heart.

(i remember asking y'all a few weeks ago, if mulder and scully ever say "i'm sorry," if they ever apologize to each other. and we came up with a couple of times. i'll tell you what, though: not as often as they say "thank you.")

8/ fire

girlbosses when they singlehandedly solve serial murders, to get their best friend's shitty ex away from them!!! okay, i put this one on here because we were talking about it yesterday, but scully really does handle the entire situation with phoebe so perfectly, and that's hard to do, when you're dealing with friends and abusers.

trish, i loved this part of your post yesterday:

scully gives him the space to talk about it, never says too much but she says enough. her phrasing is SO important. she repeats what he just told her in a way that frames it as wrong.

she's a little rabid, lol. we can see it on her face when she's alone, or when mulder's not looking. but around him (around phoebe too) she's calm. she listens, she addresses what he tells her as bad, without pressing. when he tells her that she's off the case, that he doesn't want to expose her to what phoebe is doing, she asks one time: are you sure you don't want help?

he says yes, and she does it anyway. she catches that fucking murderer so that this woman can go home. just, like, an inspiration to us all.

trish's tweet:

really, truly, genuinely. scully solving the case in fire was the absolute best course of action she could have taken. get that woman out of here, an ocean away from mulder. (give him freedom, let him heal, teach him what real love feels like)

(her eyes locked in on him here, phoebe behind her. the way that when phoebe leaves the room, scully says, "you alright?" instantly.)

meeting phoebe just a few months into their partnership made her so fucking crazy like...i make fun of her for being sick in the head in regards to everyone he meets (men and women alike) and never wanting anyone around him other than her but like, my god, can you blame her!!! he's such a gentle person and people are so cruel and it makes her eyes bug out of her head.

yeah, i really don't have much else to say here, you guys. she solved a murder herself, a case that she wasn't even supposed to be working, so that his old gf would go away and stop being mean to him. she doesn't play!!

(also! while we're on the subject of abusive exes, honorable mention to scully cornering diana into an empty room and telling her to "just think" about who mulder is, who he was when she met him, compared to where he is now. "and then try and stand there in front of me. look me in the eye. and tell me mulder wouldn't bust his ass trying to save you.")

9/ deadalive

oh, you guys remember that time she raised him from the dead, right?

scully at 8 months pregnant, sitting in that hospital chair, holding his hand, for days. knowing he can’t feel it, knowing that there’s nothing that says he’ll ever wake up. that it’s impossible. that there is no science…yeah. she just sits there and holds his hand.

i love the moment when she finds out, and she comes barreling through that hallway. she hits skinner first, and starts yelling, “i want to see him. no, i need to see him,” slams her fists into his chest.

then she moves onto doggett. repeats, “i need to see him” through tears. and the way doggett says… “i know. but i wish you wouldn’t.”

she’s loved. they want to protect her, protect her image of mulder as she knew him. but they also both know she will fucking plow them down.

i always think of this fic and feel so ill:

“I pulled you six feet out of the ground,” she whispers, dangerously low. “Because I couldn’t live without you. I gave birth to your child.”

she fed his fish while he was in a casket. she planned a funeral and decorated a nursery alone, at the same time. she ran herself ragged all over the country, trying to keep his work going. she raised him from the dead.

(i also feel that i can throw in here, as related, the time that she busted him out of prison and then abandoned everything in her entire life including her career, her family, and everything she owns, to go on the run from the law and live secretly in seedy motels for years to be with him.)

10/ fight the future

there are too many contenders for my last spot, so i’m gonna keep it simple, and go with the most special movie moment. (of all movies).

from my newsletter:

“Mulder watches the spaceship as it flies overhead, his face glows with a heart-melting grin of childlike wonder and awe.”(x)

That’s exactly what it feels like to me, it’s an innocence and excitement that was so present in season one, that was all over him when he told Scully to come look in the second episode, but that’s rare to see in the later seasons. It’s rare to see at this point in their story, after all that’s happened. They are stranded in Antarctica, both of them injured, both of them freezing in the cold, and they are holding each other and gazing up at the sky. What a perfect thing in their big momentous feature, to bring it all back to what it started with.

there’s such a reverent sentimentality to it, in the simplicity. she had stopped breathing, a few minutes earlier. but when he passes out, she pulls herself up, and grabs onto him. keeps him alive, keeps them both alive, just by holding him close. that’s really the heart of it.

(also, i find it so moving that this film is the only time in the franchise that scully considers leaving, not working with him anymore, and it’s because she thinks she’s not good for him. that she’s holding him back. she never considers him as anything other than wanted, something worth believing in.)

some honorable mentions to: little green men, which i’ve written about here. (especially her secret-signaling him to their secret meet-up place, just to ask if he’s okay). the erlenmeyer flask, which i’ve talked about here. (she literally stops him in the street to tell him that she should have listened to him, and she’s sorry, because she should have trusted his instincts. that means so much, you guys). her telling colton she hopes he falls on his ass after he was making rude comments about mulder in squeeze, screaming at a serial killer that she’ll gas him into hell herself and no one will stop her, if mulder isn’t okay, in beyond the sea….she has threatened and shouted at and smacked around so many people for fucking with him, and this too is care!! (anger meaning you’re worth being angry over, etc etc)

how desperately she became frantic to find their son, after 17 years resigned to never ever looking for him, never ever endangering him that way…because she became convinced that it’s the only thing that would help mulder.

and how important samantha is to her. it matters. it matters, that sam is remembered. that someone else in the world knows. someone knows that they played baseball in the summers, that they fought over the television, that he’s looked for her in every room he’s ever been in. someone else cares about her; not as a white whale, not as a photo on a desk, as a little girl who broke her collarbone because she played on swings too hard. scully listened to her journal, and cried. listened to how much she suffered. how much she just wanted to see her big brother. (scully kept a journal like that, too, once. underwent those same tests. almost died at the hands of those same men. wrote her testimony to that same person.) it’s taking care of mulder, to love samantha. and she does.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

god, grief hits you at the weirdest fucking times

[mbat]

"this house is so full of ghost activity!!"

the house:

[thedeadthree]

lila thoughts under the read more <3 🥀✨🌹🎸

lila getting with griffin / g reign and having their little thing in “secret” not only bc it’s what her parents did to each other to get back at the other for slights and arguments but also bc she wanted to not only get back at seven but also to be like “oo look at me i can pull griffin freaking reign i won teehee.” and then the clown catches real feelings for griffin and calls jazz near in tears bc she’s just like her mom 🥀✨🎸🤡 and using someone she loves to get back at someone who she loved may or may not have even loved (i think she did but loved more the idea ? it’s complicated!) but loved the IDEA of seven loving her? dear you know it everyone knows it you want to be loved so bad!!!!!! the sooner you admit that lila the sooner you’ll be much happier my love! so excited to see where things go for her ! and things for her and her beloved g!!!!!

(x) for the divider <3

[triglycercule]

sometimes i like to think that horror comes to dust's room late at night just to talk to phantom papyrus. no he doesn't wanna talk to dust. horror probably doesn't even CARE if dust's awake at the asscrack of dawn or rambling off to the hallucination too loudly this late at night because he just wants to talk to phantom papyrus

horror's not delusional enough to believe that phantom paps is actually real and his own papyrus like dust does but sometimes he really wants to,,,, so just for these short moments between them he wants to pretend that the hallucination is his papyrus. that he gets to talk to his own brother before everything went to shit and before he ruined his brother's life. yeah sure phantom paps kinda says some crazy stuff that horror's papyrus never would back then but so what?? dust's papyrus is the closest thing he's got and at least he doesn't have to deal with the guilt at even LOOKING at his brother's face (the sunken eyesockets,,,, the uneven teeth,,,,, yeah no) because there's nothing there. horror doesn't have to do anything but keep his back turned to dust and just talk to papyrus through him

they both keep their backs turned to eachother when they do this because neither of them can stand looking at eachother. dust especially because hearing horror sound so much like how he was before. horror sounds so lighthearted and relaxed and just,,,,, normal that it almost reminds dust of himself. maybe if he closed his eyes and tuned out his own voice he could just imagine the moment being a conversation between himself and paps back then before he had to kill him over and over. dust doesn't want to have to look back and see horror's mutilated skull and his permanently replaced eye. he doesn't want the fake scenario he's choosing to indulge in right now to be broken

and then i think they talk like that for a long time; because horror has a lot to say to paps about himself and what he regrets and dust has a lot of reminiscing to do on the good old days before he lost himself :3

[dutybcrne]

Okay quick pause from things: Kaveh most definitely has talked to Mehrak all things about Alhaitham, his gripes, compliments he would wish to give him that seem to lodge in his throat, and most definitely each and every regret he longs to resolve, both past and present.

Mehrak is also the only thing Kaveh has willed to Alhaitham, in the case of something happening to him.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 1st. theodore — size kink, big dick.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | 2024.

summary: there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, hogwarts uni (obviously), big dick!theo, size difference, size kink ofc, fingering, PIV, dirty talk, slowish sex, put on your fantasy cap for this one bc it’s a little wild, also, anyone know any wheelchair providers?

How the hell did you end up here? How had a night meant for celebration, for laughter and drinks and the triumph of a Quidditch victory, lead to this—

Fevered kisses, teeth clashing—your breath catching in the dim, muted glow of Theodore Nott's dorm—spine pressed against his door as his lips attacked yours, moving to your neck with a hunger that had your knees weak. There was a party, still alive somewhere down the hall, warmth spilling into the corridors, the echo of cheers and laughter floating past—but it was all a distant memory now. All of it blurred, lost in the way Theo's hands roamed over your hips, tugging you closer like he was starved.

Oh, right—the rumours.

Rumours have always had a way of creeping into places they don't belong. A whisper here, a careless word there. Stupid little fires, barely a spark until someone fans the flames. You've seen it before—how a single rumour can grow, how it can warp a simple night into something bigger. Something chaotic.

And now, well, you're living it.

Curiosity was what pulled you into his orbit tonight, what sparked the embers that had been burning between you two for far too long. Because Pansy Parkinson—loud, exaggerative, and far-too-tipsy—couldn't resist spilling some gossip mid-party, something about Daphne, something about Theodore and nine goddamn inches.

You know, the usual Quidditch post-match talk.

And it should have been nothing. It should have got lost in all the other Slytherin boy ramblings but instead, it stuck. Gods, it fucking stuck. Pansy's little comment sparked the fire in you, a fire that led to a conversation over drinks, your hand grazing his, and before you knew it, you were leaning into Theodore Nott at the punch bowl, asking questions you had no blasted right asking, yet went ahead and did anyways.

Something about...well—

"You've heard, then," he'd replied, voice low as those blue eyes watched you over the rim of his glass.

It wasn't a question. It was a challenge. For all the audacity you had—Theodore had just as much.

"I have," you leaned closer, your voice almost teasing as you whispered against the curve of his ear. "Big rumours, Teddy...huge, even."

He tensed, just slightly, the kind of reaction you noticed only because you were watching him so closely. You're pretty sure he wasn't expecting something like that to come out of your mouth—and you couldn't blame him, because truthfully, you weren't expecting it either.

That was, what you'd like to call, the point of no return.

There was a response from him. Something cocky enough—something like; "and do you make a habit of believing everything you hear?"

"Not everything," you said with a shrug, though your heart was in your fucking throat. "But I'm open to proof."

There weren't very many words exchanged after that—maybe some slight teasing—maybe another brush of his hand—but Theo was never a man to waste time, and it was clear that whatever curiosity you held for him had bubbled up now—heady and bold—and created a mess between you that couldn’t be contained.

The party, the victory, the cheers—it all became static as his hand slipped around your waist, his lips at your ear in a whisper. "Then let's put these rumours to rest."

You barely had the chance to nod before Theodore moved—grabbing your wrist and moving you through the crowd like you were something to be expedited, the sea of students parting before him. Pansy spotted you leaving, her eyes gleaming as she threw you a wicked smile and a drunken thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, smirking back, but everything else blurred into the background as Theodore led you out of the common room, and before you knew it, you were inside his dorm.

The door slammed shut behind you, the cold surface meeting your back before his lips found yours—urgent, consuming. His hands moved with purpose, sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head before you even realized what was happening. His own shirt followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor as he pressed his body against yours.

The memory blurred as the urgency of the present took over. You gasped at the feel of him, his entirety—hard, aching, massive. The outline of him was impossible to ignore, the mere suggestion of what was to come already making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

The rumours had seemed absurd at first, but now...now, they felt terrifyingly real. He was huge.

"Tell me," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your lips as his fingers worked deftly at removing your skirt. "About those rumours..."

Your head fell back against the door, exposing the line of your throat as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, hips working to fuse you with the door.

"I—I heard..." you tried to speak, but his mouth was on your neck, and the words tangled in your throat. "Gods—something about...nine inches..."

Theo hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, sending blood pooling low. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips hovering over yours, his breath hot and heavy as he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up—carrying you toward his bed.

"What else." He muttered against your mouth.

"Daphne..." you panted, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you. "She...she said she couldn't take it all..."

"And if I say that's true?" He rasped, laying you down onto his comforter. "What then?"

A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard—he sprawled over you, his body massive—engulfing yours, roving his hands up and down your bare thighs as his lips left wet, warm kisses across your breasts, teeth digging into the sheer fabric of your bra—you were gasping, whimpering under him, your chest rising and falling so rapidly you'd think you'd ran a marathon.

"Gods—that's...an odd question, Teddy..." your hips bucked, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he'd fit his thick fingers under the hem. "Are you...mm..asking if I can handle it?"

"Fucking soaked already," Theo peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. "Yes—I'm asking if you can handle it."

"Fuck—I don't—I don't know..." he dragged a slickened finger over your clit—you quivered, biting your lip until you found your words. "Only one way to find out."

"You're right," he breathed, swirling his finger, your body pulsing underneath him—every nerve within you roaring to life. "I'll be easy on you...I'll go slow..." his thumb took over, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. "Let's stretch you out first."

"I—" you began, and he plunged into you. "—fuck."

Theo crooked his fingers in your cunt, eyes focused on your flushing face, the flow of your moans, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. His thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, two long fingers filling you full. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you caught sight of his erection straining against his jeans—

"Tight little thing," he growled, head dipping low as he watched his fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. "I might fucking break you."

He jutted his erection against your thigh and you moaned, clenching around him. "Mm—Theo—"

His eyes followed yours toward his crotch—you couldn't help yourself, your fingers burned to feel him—to stroke him—to feel the weight of him in your hand. He nodded, and amidst your gasps and moans you reached for him, grasping at his zipper and undoing the button, tugging his jeans and boxers down his thighs—

Theo groaned and your mouth watered. Those rumours—Gods, those fucking rumours—

"Fucking hell—" you breathed, wrapping your fingers around his thick, heavy cock—he choked, digits pumping you deep—your thighs shook, your pulse in your throat. You tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes. "Theo—holy fuck.."

His lungs sputtered. "That enough proof for you, Bella?"

You nodded and he throbbed—twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, his breath uneven, tattered from the weight of lust—but so was yours.

You moaned. "Oh—Gods—I'm—"

Theo circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse, your orgasm charging toward you at light speed—his lips found yours, softly, muffling your moans.

"You're close, I can feel it..." he muttered against your mouth, fingers dragging at your walls, groaning as you clenched—as your free hand gripped his hair harder. "Cum on my fingers, Bella, go on..."

You shuddered and snapped—pleasure pulsating from your core and through your limbs, your orgasm lighting up your spine. In its intensity, you bit at his bottom lip while your cunt clamped down around his fingers, a feral energy coursing—the need for more—the need for every goddamn thing he was willing to give you eating away at your sanity—all coherent thought gone, only dissipating further as Theo pulled his fingers from your soaked cunt and sucked them clean with a growl.

"As fucking delicious as I'd imagined," he cooed, drifting his other hand up your thigh, fingers kneading the trembling flesh. You swallowed, lungs still working to find their rhythm. "I don't think you have any idea how long l've wanted this...any idea what you do to me..."

Gods—you almost wanted to laugh—this felt like a fever dream. You'd been friends for years, the fact it took this to get you both here was astonishing. His blue eyes peered down at you—wide and waiting.

"Look at you," you muttered, eyes dipping down to his throbbing dick, still twitching insistently in your hand. "I think I know exactly what I do to you."

Theo snuffed a groan in his throat, but his cock twitched again, despite himself—there was no preventing that.

"Cocky as ever," he whispered, lips curling in a teasing grin. "But now's not the time, principessa..."

"I can handle you," you breathed out, though a tremor in your voice hinted at the uncertainty you felt.

"We'll see." He said. "Lay on your side."

With a flush creeping up your neck, you complied, turning to face the window. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a silver sheen over the rippling surface of the Black Lake. Theo moved behind you, his body flush against yours, the slickness of sweat making your skin cling together—one arm slipped beneath your head, cradling it, while the other slid under your thigh, lifting it with a deliberate, practiced motion.

His dick slid against you, the girth daunting enough if not for the sheer fucking length of it—his body was massive behind yours, dwarfing you, a solid wall of heat at your back. You'd never felt so small, so fragile in a way that screamed breakable.

Theo teased your slit, covering himself in your juices—

"Just the tip, yeah?" He whispered, and fuck—you almost moaned. His voice was ruined. "For now."

"Theo—I—I think I can handle it..." you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. You wanted him to enjoy himself, too. "Just…fuck me, please.."

"Merlin help you..." Theo groaned and it almost sounded pitying—dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit before dipping lower, pressing against the folds of your greedy cunt— "you don't know what you're saying..."

His arm under your head curled inward, wrapping around your neck and holding you in place against him—his other hand guiding his length to your entrance and pressing in—shushing you softly as the first inch breached you and you cried out—as your mind blanked.

"Theo—" you gasped through the chokehold he had you in, his free hand holding your thigh up as it trembled. "That's—you're—fuck—"

He pulled out and rocked along you again, testing you, offering you centimeters of his length at time. Gooseflesh flooded you.

His lips pressed against your ear. "Shhh, you said you could handle me, yeah?"

His hand on your thigh shifted lower, resting on the crease. He rutted against you a few more times, dragging this out for everything it was worth until he brought the tip back to your entrance and pushed in—slowly, inexorably—spearing you open, splitting your cunt and prying you wide in a way that rid your breath.

You whimpered, hand scrambling for purchase on his hip behind you. "Ohhh—h-holy fuck.."

"Fucking hell...you're tight..." his arm around your neck tightened, holding you against him and he pressed in deeper. "That's barely half..."

You fought for air and found absolutely none, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs trembling, your mind fizzing with staticky pleasure. You felt as though you could break in two.

"Fuck," he drew out again, and pressed back in. "You can barely take it."

He was right. You could barely fucking take it. A revelation that you weren’t surprised by—but that made all the blood in your body pool low, walls fluttering around him in protest.

"Gods, Theo—T-theo—" you grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, eyes squeezed shut. "Wait—"

"Little more...you're doing so good, Bella..." he was cooing now, pressing kisses to your cheek. "I'll make it fit...we'll make it fit, won't we?"

You couldn't find a fucking modicum of sense to articulate a response. All you could do was feel—take and feel—the way he slid out, only to drive into you again, slowly, with a hiss of air through his teeth—drawing out loud, shameless groans from your chest.

"Mmm—breathe, Bella..." it was soft, soothing, like he was trying to coax you open with words. "Relax for me, yeah? Let me in...let me in..."

You obeyed without even thinking, pulling in shaky breaths, forcing your body to comply, even as your muscles screamed to stay tense—to fight the overwhelming fullness of him. You felt as though he couldn't possibly get deeper, but then he did, and he continued to until he bottomed out—his cockhead kissing your cervix, forcing a sound out of your chest that was more a sob than a moan.

Your eyes were shut so tight. "That's—"

"All of me," he interrupted, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and your whole body clenched in response. "Does it hurt?"

Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.

"A little—“ the words were a whimper, and your walls tightened around him instinctively, fighting to adjust, to accommodate the impossible size of him. “Gods—“

"Then why are you making it worse?" He hissed through his teeth, strain bleeding into his tone. You could hear the shift—wrecked, ruined, like he was barely holding onto himself. "Fuck, you're squeezing me...too tight...relax.."

He pulled out and thrust back in, harder this time, sucking in air through his teeth as he worked you wider with each plunge into your soaked cunt. Your body rebelled, clenching down around him again, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you, his hips snapping against yours in response.

"That's not going to make it easier, you know." His voice was a tight growl, but there was a grin in it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Keep that up and I'm going to leave you sore all day."

The thought made you clench again, your body betraying you as a broken apology fell from your lips—pain giving way to pleasure. "I'm—ohh—sorry-"

"Oh, you're going to be sorry." His pace quickened and you were seeing stars—bright and flashing and blurring your vision. "When you're spending all day in bed tomorrow...recovering..."

It only took seconds before he was grunting behind you—lost in your tight heat as he held you against him, hooking your thigh up toward your chest as his arm tightened around your neck, cock ramming your cunt—colliding with your cervix, pushing screams from your lungs. You couldn't think—couldn't catch your breath as he drove into you over and over.

"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Theo moaned, the sound of his cock slippery and lewd, broadcasting evidence of your arousal. Face on fire, you tossed your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, chewing your lip, rocking with the force of his strokes. “You like that—being filled like this...greedy little thing..."

You whinged; he was boring into your stomach, delight gushing through your veins. You had never been with a man this endowed, and this fucking ruthless. It made you throb, set you aflame, whirled your brain with desire. Words eluded you.

"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"

"I am," he groaned in your ear, the hand on your thigh shifting to your belly, palm pressing against your pelvis—he eased his pace, offering you deep, slow strokes, letting you spasm around every goddamn inch. "That's how deep I'm in you."

At that, you moaned, shamelessly. Cocky bastard he was. You knew now that he was more than entitled to it.

"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" His fingers slipped to your clit, slowly swirling over it—you didn't even have a second to process that question before the pleasure wracked you so hard you cried out, and he growled. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."

Somewhere in the blur, you registered his words—low, rough, pulling at the frayed edges of your sanity. Contraceptives. You were on them. It was the last rational thought you had left, buried deep under layers of heat and want. You knew you were fine, but the way he asked, in that voice—Gods—

His fingers increased their pace and you wailed. "Theo—holy f-fuck—yes—yes please!"

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt throbbed and milked his dick, your thighs twitching, and your back reached for the wall but his arm around you kept you in place, pleasure possessing your nerves. It seemed an eternity—he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, and then he shattered too—breath washing over the back of your neck, chest heaving and lungs sputtering as he spilled his release into you, deep and sticky and hot.

You were still floating between realms of sensation and reality—your mind struggling to tether itself back to consciousness when Theo finally pulled out, releasing you. Both of you were heaving, chests rising and falling in tandem, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

A moment passed, your breaths slowly steadying, when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you effortlessly against his chest. You shot him a weak, lopsided smile over your shoulder, still catching your breath.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice a quiet hum in the afterglow.

"More than," you nodded, though your body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure. A hollow ache replaced where he'd been, leaving you startlingly aware of how empty you felt without him. "That was...you are...

"I know," he purred, lips grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear, the smirk practically carved into his breath. You could feel his smugness radiating off him, a tangible thing. "Hope your curiosity was sated."

You let out a breathy laugh, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. "That, among other things."

"Good," he whispered, "I went easy on you."

You huffed, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Is that so?"

"Extremely so," he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip. "Took all the willpower I had."

"Sure," you teased. "You're just saying that because I took you so well."

He chuckled, low and sinful, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your spine.

"Oh, she's cocky," he drawled, lips brushing your shoulder. "We'll see about that after I put you in ten different positions."

Your heart stuttered, your muscles tensing at the sheer boldness of the statement. Heat pooled in your belly once more, that insatiable curiosity sparking again. You knew this night was far from over.

Perhaps a little more proof wouldn’t hurt...

You turned your head just slightly, voice breathy but wanting. "Please do."