#my team lead is off today and so the manager has been apparently checking by the minute what I’m doing

[elysiumcalled]

Official 2 weeks at my job today. Cried already lol.

[thaliagrayce]

thank you @tinybro for sending me a prompt!! hope it makes you smile :)

There’s another boy sitting on the bleachers today. He’s in the first row, heels balanced on the edge of the seat and arms wrapped around his knees, a little ball of black hair and brown jacket. He’s watching the girls on the team kind of sullenly, but he’s making no move to get up or leave.

Maybe he’s stuck here, too. It might be nice to have someone else his age at these things.

“Hey, Thalia!” One of the girls on the team waves them down as they get closer to the volleyball court. Jason doesn’t recognize her, which is kind of weird—he’s been sitting through every practice the Central High Hunters girl’s volleyball team has had for two years, since Thalia joined. He knows them all by now, and they joke around that he’s part of the team. His role switches from Manager to Mascot, whichever one the girls think is funnier in the moment. It’s a little embarrassing, yeah, but also kind of nice. He knows he isn’t really part of the team, but they make him feel included anyway.

This girl is new, though. She’s got long, dark hair braided down her back, and she smiles at them both as they approach.

“This must be Jason! That’s so great, I was worried Nico would get bored. Let me introduce you!”

She leads them to the boy on the bleachers, and he looks up as they approach. His eyes immediately zero in on Jason. They’re wide and really, really dark.

“Nico, this is Jason. He’s another Team Brother stuck with us girls. Jason, this is my brother Nico.”

Jason gives Nico a smile and waves at him, and Nico slowly uncurls from his position. He’s wearing some sort of anime t-shirt under his jacket, and Jason doesn’t recognize the character.

Coach Diana blows her whistle from the sidelines, and Thalia smacks him on the shoulder. “Be nice, Jaybird. Yell if you need anything.”

The girls run off to start practice and Nico and Jason are left staring at each other.

“Hi,” Jason says after an awkward minute. He debates with himself a little before sitting directly to Nico’s right.

“Hi.” Nico kicks his heels against the bleachers below them. They sit.

Jason glances at Nico out of the corner of his eye. He’s probably in Jason’s grade, or maybe the one below. Jason’s never seen him before, though, so he must go to a different school. His ears are pierced, and Jason has only met girls who have their ears pierced. He hadn’t known boys were allowed to do that. Little black studs glitter at him as Nico rocks with the swinging of his feet, and Jason wants to ask him how he got them done. He wants to ask how he thought of the idea, what he did to convince his parents to let him. He wants to ask if Nico thinks Jason could look that cool, too.

Instead, he starts with something a little less huge.

“Who’s that on your shirt?”

Nico turns his head to look at him, cocked to the side. Instead of answering right away, he shoves one of his hands into his jacket pocket.

“Do you play Mythomagic?” Nico brings his hand out wrapped around a couple loose trading cards. Jason can see a flash of bright color on the top one, something with electric blue lightning bolts on it.

“I’ve never heard of it,” he admits. “What is it?”

It’s the right question to ask, apparently. A huge grin splits Nico’s face, and he spends the rest of practice explaining how the game works, the lore behind the game, and the pilot episode of the anime based off of it. His shirt, apparently, is the main character’s rival.

Neither of them notice that practice is over until their sisters come back to the bleachers, sweaty and tired.

“Heya, nerds,” Thalia calls. “Time to head out.”

Jason blinks at her. “Already?” Last he checked, they were still warming up!

“Already. C’mon, kid, time for dinner.”

Jason turns back to Nico and tries not to look too disappointed. “Thanks for spending time with me, I had a lot of fun.”

“I— Yeah, me too.” Nico smiles at him, smaller, shier now that there are more people watching. “If you want, I can bring some of my decks next time? If you’ll be here.”

Jason smiles back at him. “Yeah, lets see if I can remember the rules!” Next time. He likes the sound of that.

[fuck-customers]

This is gonna be a real long one sorry, but I just gotta get this off my chest.

So I heard from the Opener that our New Hire apparently wasn't employed w/ us anymore. Opener heard it from our Team Lead but it wasn't explained to her why. I found this out because there was only 3 people working in our area today with New Hire scheduled to close. I was the Mid person and couldn't stay late. So I called for our ETL (executive team leader) since it was our TL's day off and I needed to find out who could come in to close. Imagine my surprise when our ETL said that New Hire was still scheduled and hadn't heard anything about her not working here anymore. She promised to call New Hire and make sure she'd be in.

Fast forward about 2 hours and I found out something pretty unsettling. Apparently New Hire had just finalized her availability, most notably, she can't work Sundays because she has church in the morning and school Monday morning, so she can't work the Sunday night shift either. Our TL apparently didn't like that very much and fired her over TEXT MSG. Or she tried to anyway. It's against company policy (and i'm pretty sure she doesn't have the authority to fire/hire people anyway) to terminate someone w/o an in-person meeting, the exception being if they just stop showing up for work for awhile and can't be reached. New Hire told me she was so shocked and kinda hurt getting that message since she's only been with us for about a week and actually liked working here so far. And it's not as if New Hire wasn't doing a good job. She's actually progressed really fast with training, is a hard worker, and she gets along well with everyone she's met so far. What's really weird is that because she exclusively works nights she hasn't even properly met our TL yet, since our TL exclusively works mornings and isn't a part of the hiring process at all.

And this isn't the first time our TL has turned someone away just because they can't work the weekend. We were supposed to get another new hire very recently but she couldn't work weekends (she had open availability for all week days though), so our TL said she didn't want/need her and she was hired on for a different position in the store. Like I get we need staff for the weekend but we're also short staffed during the week?? Idk what her logic is???

Thankfully New Hire told our ETL what happened when ETL called her and the situation was straightened out. New Hire is thankfully still employed. And we're pretty sure our TL is in Big Trouble (she's also an idiot for doing this over text cuz New Hire had proof to show Management and HR what she did). Not just for attempting to terminate an employee for *checks notes* not being able to work Sundays. But because she doesn't have the power to do that AND the reason New Hire can't work Sundays is partially due to her religion and attending church which could/would be considered discrimination.

I guess what I'm worried about is if nothing ends up being done about her behavior after all... because I can't work Fridays or Saturdays due to family obligations. I don't want her trying to come for me next because I really need this job, and I would also really prefer not being trapped in a hostile work environment with a power hungry supervisor (NOT AGAIN PLS)

[reidyoulikeabook]

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

[echoghost1]

What's In A Name

okay, this took me longer than I expected... but here is the fic based on this post

Title: What's In A Name

Summary: Danny thought that having a sub in class would make things easier. Unfortunately, this leads to everyone finding out that his first name isn't Daniel.

His class isn't taking the news very well.

word count: 1670

you can read it on AO3 or down below the cut!

Oh, and I guess I'll tag the people from that post: @spookberry @shinygoldstar

Danny had just gotten to school and was getting his supplies for first period when Tucker ran up with way more excitement for this early in the morning.

“Dude, you’re never going to believe it!”

“Believe what?” Danny asked with an amused grin.

“Lancer took a sick day since the first time in forever!”

Danny felt like he was missing something.

Tucker rolled his eyes when Danny didn’t react correctly, “Subs, man. We have subs.”

“In all of his classes?” Danny asked as the news finally sunk in.

“Yup.” Tucker said with confidence as he popped the ��p’.

“I have so many classes with him.”

“I know dude, me too!” He wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder, “Which means that today is going to be a breeze.”

Danny smiled and couldn’t help getting excited about a nice easy day at school.

================================================

His first class was easy.

The sub seemed just as tired as they were and simply checked that they were in their assigned seats and handed out a worksheet for them to do.

Once the teacher made it clear that they didn’t care if they worked together or not, it turned into more of a hang-out session than actually getting much work done.

================================================

His second period was science which he didn’t have with Mr. Lancer so he actually had to pay attention.

It was a lab day and he was still banned for life from handling all fragile school property, so the lab they had was a bit difficult until the teacher remembered (was reminded) and let him team up with Mikey.

All he had to do was take notes on what was happening. Which was fine. He could do that no problem.

All Mikey asked was for his handwriting to be legible.

================================================

It was his third class that ruined everything. It had all been going so well until then.

The teacher had decided to ignore the seating chart list and did roll by reading off the class roster list on the computer. Which in theory would be fine, except that the computer list didn’t have the notes that Mr. Lancer had added over the year, things like nicknames for instance.

It would have been fine if she had called him Daniel. It would have reminded him of Vlad, which would have been annoying, but manageable.

Unfortunately his first name isn’t Daniel.

“Johnathan?”

Everyone perked up at the name. They looked around, confusion evident on all of their faces. There was no Johnathan in this class. No John or Johnny’s. Was this a secret classmate? It couldn’t be, all the seats were full and no one here was Johnathan.

The teacher sighed and tried again, “Johnathan Fenton?”

Danny perked up and raised his hand, “Here. Sorry. I just um, everyone calls me Danny. Or Daniel, or just Fenton.” he realized he had been rambling and apologized again.

He looked down at his desk still embarrassed that he sort of forgot his own first name for a second. Then he felt like he was being watched.

He looked up and realized everyone, but Tucker, who was too busy chuckling to himself, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion and anger. Sam included.

The class said nothing. Only stared for the remainder of the roll call.

Once the teacher was finished, and before they could truly start class, Dash was the first to break the silent tension. “Your name is Johnathan?!”

“Yes?” Danny answered hesitantly as he leaned away from the angry jock. Normally Dash wasn’t much of a threat anymore after all the ghost hunting, but he couldn’t exactly use his powers in the middle of class.

“Since when?!”

“Birth?”

“No!” Dash countered.

“Look, I’m named after my dad and it’s too confusing if we both go by the same name, so we just use my middle name instead.”

“But your dad’s name is Jack.”

“Which is short for Johnathan,” Danny explained with a sigh.

Dash sputtered in confused annoyance. Apparently, he didn’t know that either.

Before he could get too angry about his lack of knowledge, the teacher made it clear that they were going to start class now.

Dash glared at Danny and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t believe you, Fenton.”

“Okay?” Danny shrugged it off and the rest of the class went back to ignoring him.

Except for Sam.

She was still glaring at him.

“What?” Danny mouthed not a hundred percent sure as to what his gothic friend was upset about.

She flipped open her notebook hard enough for the paper cover to slap against the desk and furiously scribbled something down before tearing out the page and quickly folding it like a ninja star and chucking it at his head.

He carefully unfolded the note and read it.

“Are you serious?! Is this some elaborate prank?”

Danny looked up to Sam in surprise and then back to the note.

“No really. That is my name.” he wrote before trying his best to fold the note back up as she had it. He really wasn’t as good at it as she was.

She wrote her response quickly and made a point to get the creases of the folds just right. “Then why is Tucker laughing?”

“I don’t know? I’m not a mind reader Sam.”

“Did he know?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t really understand why she was so upset by this. It didn’t really matter. Did it? “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I just forgot.”

“Forgot what? That it was your name or that I didn’t know?”

He hesitated too long and Tucker finally snatched the note from him and read it over before snickering to himself and added his own two cents before tossing it back to Sam.

Finally, Sam smiled. With a roll of her eyes, she slipped the note into the pocket of her notebook and went to doodling like nothing was wrong.

Danny wasn’t really sure what that was all about, but he was glad it was over.

================================================

The rest of the day was mostly fine. His friends teased him about his full name occasionally throughout the day, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Dash kept giving him the stink eye, which was weird, but better than being shoved into his own locker.

Lunch was a bit of a disaster once Tucker let out his inner bookie and started holding bets on what Danny’s real name was.

There were three options.

One was that his name was really Daniel and he was just pranking everyone somehow.

The second was that his name really was Johnathan and he was telling the truth because Fenton can’t tell a lie to save his life.

While the third was that he had a completely different name and may or may not be related to the Fenton’s at all.

Danny wasn’t sure if he should be finding all of this hilarious or just plain annoying. Maybe it was one of those, ‘we’ll laugh about it when we’re older’ things?

Of course, word spread fast and everyone was trying to figure out what the real answer was. No one was asking Danny, because they weren’t sure if he actually was a reliable source. Tucker refused to give the answer until the end of the day when he would reveal the winners. And Sam admitted that all of the name nonsense was news to her, but since she loved chaos, she would wink and add, “But it could be true.”

Danny realized too late that the only other person to ask before the end of the day was his sister.

Before he could get to her, someone else beat him to it.

Dash had cornered her just outside of the library and asked, “What’s your brother’s name,” without any preamble.

Of course, Jazz, being two years older than them and in none of their classes, had no idea what had been going on. So she answered the question as best she could despite the confusion, “Danny?”

“Ha! I knew he was a liar!” Dash boasted as he turned around and punched his fist into his open palm as he eyed Danny.

“Wait!” He called out to Dash before turning his attention to his sister, “He means my first name!”

“Oh,” she turned to Dash, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Dash’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “his name isn’t Danny?”

“His middle name is, but not his first name.” she turned back to Danny, “Didn’t you explain it?”

“Of course I did! He just didn’t believe me! And now the whole school is losing their minds because they think this is some crazy prank or that I’m a liar or something.”

Danny sighed and composed himself before giving the warning as he had meant to, “Tucker is taking bets on what my name is so other people might ask you about it too.”

Jazz hummed thoughtfully to herself while nodding, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You are going to tell them the truth right?”

“Of course,” she said but she still had that far-off look in her eye.

Danny figured he would probably regret asking, but he was just too curious, “what are you thinking about?”

“This is very interesting from a psychological perspective, don’t you think?”

“How?”

“Well by learning that what they assumed to be true, wasn’t, it has shifted their perspective on things.”

“Do you really think it’s that deep?”

“What do you think it is then?” she asked, not annoyed that her theory was being questioned, just curious.

“I think people just like drama.”

“Perhaps.” she said as she watched a dejected Dash walk away, “and maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“Whatever it is I hope it goes away tomorrow.” he walked away and wondered if this was a preview as to what would happen if his secret got out.

He stopped in his tracks with a sigh. No, if they found out he was really Danny Phantom it would be worse. So much worse.

[fandom-monium]

Kinky but Not Really

Summary: In which you make an odd request, and Spencer tries to fulfill it. “I don’t want to disrespect you...”

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, established relationships (blegh), light use of sexual themes including light degradation, light violence, and the slamming into walls (nothing explicitly sexual or nsfw bc im a wimp), specifically post-prison Reid, ft. Garvez and Rossi

Spencer loves you. He’s never doubted that for a second.

Your laugh as you throw your head back. Your eyes, the way they crinkle when you grin too wide. Even your style, whether you’re in joggers or suits, just does something to him he can't quite explain. Really, he loves you. 

Even if you’re weird.

Spencer knew what he was getting into, okay? He didn’t consider it earlier in your friendship, but as time went on and you two grew more comfortable around each other it became apparent that he wasn’t the only… outlier in the team. By the time you officially got together, he was already used to it.

But somehow you still manage to surprise him.

“You want me to what?” 

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” You wince as Spencer coughs. With his sleeve, he wipes the coffee dribbling down his chin, staring at you as if someone hit you over the head. It has to be the only viable explanation, considering what you’ve just asked him. “But hear me out.”

Spencer sits up and sets his mug on the coffee table. “Wh...what? Why? No-what? When?”

You wring your hands together, shifting your weight foot to foot as he squints at you. “Okay. When: um, some time after you came back from prison? I think? Why, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you.” 

“I don’t know, (Your Name),” Spencer rolls his lips together, anything and everything that could possibly go wrong racing through his mind. 

“Nothing extreme! I don’t expect you to slap me across the face⏤”

“Oh my god⏤”

“Just small things! Start off light,” You think for a moment. “Like shoving me around or smacking me. Calling me names.”

“I hear where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to…” He flushes, his voice hushed like what he's about to say is forbidden, “disrespect you.”

You take his hands in yours with a bright smile, “Hon, I love you, but please. I’m the one asking you to get violent with me.”

“What the-when did you up your demands?”

You continue, “Like, if you think about it, you’d be doing me a favor. Respecting my wishes by ‘disrespecting’ me. So, what do you think?” You watch him carefully, legs tucked under you, a hopeful sparkle in your eyes. He can almost see the dog tail wagging behind you.

How can he say no?

"Alright, if that's what you really want," Spencer sighs, smiling as you break out into a grin. He laughs when you tackle him into the couch, thanking him repeatedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. But starting tomorrow.”

“That’s fine!” You sit up, smiling down at him. Your lips wiggle as you try to suppress your anticipation. “No pressure, just do what you feel comfortable with and we’ll see from there?”

Spencer bites his lip and nods. “Sure.”

⏤

The men of the BAU are distinct; you can tell just by looking at them.

David Rossi, though the eldest, the senior, is suave and has a level of sophistication that could only come with age. It’s in his blazers, his stride, the warm yet knowing eyes. A reassurance that eases the people around him.

Matt Simmons rocks the young dad vibes, with the smooth-shaven face and simple clothing. Not to mention a smile that makes him good with both children and adults alike.

Then there’s Luke.

“You!”

Luke nearly falls out of his chair as Garcia stomps over, sitting up in attention as the click of her pumps grow nearer. “What? What happened?”

“You! You happened,” Garcia hisses, looming over him while Rossi comes up from behind. 

“Penelope, we don’t know for sure⏤”

“Who else could possibly do this? Matt and you could never. Only this troll could have done this,” She whips back on Luke, her eyes⏤usually bright with mischief⏤burning and accusatory. “Fix it!”

And just to tick her off, because that’s the purpose of their relationship: “No.” 

She sputters, fuming pink as her lipstick. And as Luke revels in the oncoming eruption, sneering at Garcia, Rossi⏤that wise geezer⏤squints at him.

“You don’t know what we’re talking about, do you?”

“... Not a clue.”

Maybe I should've retired. Rossi sighs, “Spencer and (Your Name) have been off today, and we think they’re having a fight.”

“And you think I have something to do with that?” Luke's face pinches in offense.

“You didn't see them today, have you?" 

"No?"

Garcia, shaking off her fury, is more than ready to spill the tea. "Kay, so this morning on the way up, I saw Spencer and (Your Name) waiting for the elevator and Spencer just snatched their coffee. And he didn’t even bother to let them into the elevator first.”

Luke frowns, “I mean, it's a bit ungentlemanly but I don’t think that means they’re fighting.”

(Had she shared the lift, she would have seen how apologetic Spencer was, nearly bursting into tears as he hands you the cup of coffee, throwing you whatever cash he has.)

“And during lunch I caught them down the hall by the break room,” Rossi recounts, wincing at the image, “They were talking in hushed tones, then Spencer shoved passed (Your Name) and stalked off.”

(If he’d check on you, he might have caught the proud gleam in your eyes, grinning wide at Spencer’s attempt at getting rough with you.)

“And you still think I’m involved?” Luke raises an eyebrow at Garcia.

She’s completely unapologetic as she scoffs, “Listen, I don’t know how Spencer can stand being friends with you, but clearly you influenced him in some way because before he met you, he was my sweet summer child. Now…” She withholds a sob, Rossi sympathetically patting her shoulder. “You’ve tainted him!”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Then don’t,” Garcia sniffs, drying away tears. “Just bring our Spencer back!”

“Bring me back from what?”

They jump in unison, turning to find Spencer has returned from his break and is now back at his desk. He eyes them curiously as they fumble for an explanation.

“Hey, Doc,” Luke, deciding to end all this turmoil, asks, “Are you and (Your Name) having uh... lovers quarrel?” 

“A what?”

Garcia shoots him a look, “A ‘lovers quarrel’? Really?”

“Well, I doubt they’re fighting, and honestly a lovers quarrel sounds much less intense than⏤you know⏤fighting.”

“No, we are not fighting. Why would you think⏤oh, you saw...” Spencer’s face falls, melting into embarrassment. 

"Saw? Son, we witnessed," Rossi huffs as he crosses his arms and stares down Spencer. "Would you care to explain?"

"I know what you're thinking, but I swear it's not what it looks like. This is..." After his explanation, his embarrassed flush only deepens at their mortified expressions. 

"I've never wanted to be this close to you."

"My sweet summer child is no longer."

"Guys, chill. I for one am glad Spencer is willing to…” Luke gives him an awkward smile, “keep it interesting. The best relationships take effort, right?”

Spencer hums, nodding, “Exactly. We’re doing great⏤”

“Hey, guys,” You greet as usual.

Without missing a beat, he faces you and snaps, “Damn it, (Your Name), for once stop running your mouth and get me a drink.”

Luke, Garcia, and Rossi freeze, gaze switching between Spencer and you, waiting with bated breath. They haven’t seen Spencer remotely like this, not since prison. And despite knowing that you asked for this, they’re fully prepared to throw themselves in front of him just in case. 

But instead of reacting violently as they expected, you pause, taking his poor attempt at a glare in stride. Then you smile, heading to the coffee machine. “Sure, no problem.”

Spencer turns back to them. “See? B-better than ever...”

“Dude, are you crying?”

⏤

“So you couldn't do it, huh?"

Shoulders drooping from exhaustion, Spencer slumps against your desk and sighs, “No, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Thanks for trying though. As a reward, let’s get take-out. My treat." You press a kiss to his cheek, but the smile you shoot him only serves to make his heart sink. “Meet me at the elevator, k? I’ll get my things.”

“Okay...” As Spencer shrugs on his satchel, he can’t help the guilt squirming in his stomach. Why does he feel like he disappointed you? Or more accurately⏤didn’t meet your expectations. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of disputes and as Luke put it, “lovers quarrels”, but never has he felt so… defeated.

Is this what failure feels like? It sucks.

So as the elevator shuts, as it dings with every descended level, as you babble about what you should have for dinner, Spencer makes an executive decision. 

A final stand, if you will.

You turn to Spencer, “So, what do you want for dinner⏤”

You yelp as your back hits the wall, the back of your head cushioned by Spencer’s palm because he’d rather kill himself than hurt you, pressing his body against yours. Warmth envelopes him, and as you meet his gaze, he musters all the dark emotions he can, the side of him he didn’t realize he had until prison. He feels it⏤the fury, the disgust, the merciless violence⏤bubble to the surface, and he can’t deny the satisfaction he gets seeing your eyes wide with shock; the entire day you’ve seen him coming, taking every one of his attempts like a joke in spite of his best efforts.

At least now he feels like he’s got the upper-hand.

Spencer leans in, bumping his nose against yours in an Inuit kiss. It’s a gentle contrast to his next words, and as your breath hitches, he bites back a smirk, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“What I want is for you to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Your jaw slackens.

The elevator dings and you both jump, Spencer quickly pulling away from you as the door opens to the parking garage. Luckily, no one else is around and Spencer leads the way as you head for your car. But you’re silent as you walk, and he wonders if he went too far. Was he too rough? Disrespectful?

“Hey, (Your Name), are you⏤” Spencer looks over his shoulder, only to halt at your expression. 

You give him a toothy grin, face flushed and eyes crinkling as you tilt your head at him. “Yes?”

...Ah. If you keep looking at him like that, his heart might burst.

Letting his bag drop at his side, Spencer pulls you into a tight hug, and for a moment you sway together, hearts beating in time, breathing steady.

Spencer sighs, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay, I don’t get it either!”

He smiles into your shoulder, chuckling. Yeah, he loves you.

Especially because you’re weird.

⏤

AN: hello took a break from studying and wrote this trash at 2 am whoops

to the user that requested some rough d/s smut with degradation and rough play, im sorry but my asexual ass just could not with this one. but as a kinky asexual i rolled with it✨

pls take the “rough” play and “degradation” lightly. it’s not supposed to be accurate representation. this is just reader and spencer experimenting and having fun!!

i love that yall have the hots for post-prison reid while im over here just wanting to tuck him into bed and kill anyone that brings him harm😳

[ghostdrew22]

Burning From The Inside Out || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: slight angst, slight smut, swearing, mentions of abuse and self-harm Summary: Draco and Y/N evolve from fake dating to friends with benefits to… nothing? Commitment issues, and a general distaste for love, stand in the way of the two of them becoming more.

WORDS : 4710

Lyric snippets I used are from “Love Song” by YUNGBLUD and they’re not in chronological order.

<~>

“All I learned growing up was that love chewed me up Spit me out on the pavement next to the cuts And the blood that my mum and dad would Always take out on each other.”

Draco had always thought that love was fake- a neurological con job meant to bring your guard down and distract you from the more important things in life such as money, sex and success. It made sense why he felt that way- having grown up watching his parents claw at each other until blood was caught between their nails and the venom from their harsh words was lacing the atmosphere so thickly, it felt like a fog- he was bound to think that love didn’t exist.

So when his friends began ask why he wasn’t dating one of the many people that were basically falling at his feet, he froze up. How could he have possibly explained that he thought love was a ridiculous waste of time because he’d watched his parents approach to it and it scarred him so much that he wanted to leave the whole thing alone? He couldn’t. So he did the next best thing, he asked you to fake-date him.

It was a ludicrous idea, you both knew that, but you were his best friend for years and you loved him an immeasurable amount so you figured that there was no harm in helping him out. Besides, you had a lot of people hot on your trail too and you just weren’t interested in romantically committing to anyone- more attracted to the concept of sex with no strings than to the idea of being in a long-term romantic relationship with someone.

But in all honestly, you still don’t know why you’d agreed to do it, it was stupid and a very obvious recipe for disaster. I mean in the moment it had felt like a good enough idea to get Harry Potter off of your back and Pansy Parkinson off of his, but even at the time you knew that you were playing with fire and one of you was bound to get burned.

And the thought surfaced again when you two crossed territory from friends to friends with benefits. It had started with an innocent kiss on his cheek now and then- to convince everyone that you two were actually dating- but as the weeks went by and people began to get suspicious about your lack of PDA (considering Draco’s possessive nature and your touchy nature) it became apparent that the two of you had to up your game. And one afternoon when you were kissing him on the way to class, a switch seemed to flip and soon enough you were pressed up against the broom closet wall as he sunk himself deep inside your walls- trying then and there to drown every inch of you with his touch, to leave every part of you scorching with the feel of him.

It definitely wasn’t love, that much you knew. It was more just an insatiable hunger to destroy one another - to be the best that either of you had ever had so that you would both be ruined for whoever dared to come next. Maybe that should’ve been the first red flag, the first time you noticed just how toxic your little routine was, but it didn’t matter then and frankly, it doesn’t matter much to you now. Because with him logic is quickly thrown out the window and all you can seem to think about is sinking your teeth into him, making him yours, branding him so that the entire school knows not to touch what you’ve claimed as your own- even if there’s no romantic feelings involved, there’s still a harsh possession that nests itself within your relationship. A dark desire to own and be owned in the most filthy of ways, to be looked at like a meal and devoured like a feast by one and one only.

~~~

“Wanna get rid of my period for 9 months?” You groan from your place on the bed and Draco gapes at you.

“Y/N you are so foul!” He exclaims with a chuckle and you barely manage a laugh in your pained state. “Most girls would offer to take me out to dinner first, maybe undress me slowly-“

“When have I ever undressed you slowly?” You ask with a knowing eyebrow raise and Draco smirks back at you.

“Fair point.” He replies and you groan in pain again, “It’s okay, I’m coming don’t worry.” He drops his schoolbag on your bedroom floor and peels his shoes off of his feet before pulling out a brown paper bag from his schoolbag and crawling into bed beside you.

“I got you meds from Madame Pomfrey, drink this now.” He hands you a potion, “It should kick in within the hour.”

“That’s too long.” You whine and he deadpans you- making you shift under his gaze and drink the potion. “It tastes like utter shit.”

“You drink it every month, why aren’t you used to it?” He asks with a laugh and you shrug.

“I think I force myself to forget.”

“Weirdo.” He mumbles before digging back into the paper bag, “I brought you chocolate and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to keep you munching.” He pulls out the snacks and hands them to you, “Heat compress to alleviate the pain till the potion kicks in.” He puts the heat compress on your lower abdomen, “And I brought ’Sense & Sensibility’ from the library to keep you distracted.”

“Why ’Sense & Sensibility’?”

“Because I know that you’ve currently got your obsession with muggle authors and I remember you telling me that you loved this woman’s other book so I just grabbed it quickly.” He shrugs and you smile, already starting to feel a little better.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, we do this every month Y/N.” He chuckles.

He’s right, it is your routine. For as long as you can remember being friends with Draco, you can remember him looking after you whenever you have a really bad period- bringing you snacks, massaging you, singing to you, running you baths, anything that could possibly make you feel better. It’s consistent, one of the only things you both have to rely on, but you still can’t help the feeling of immense gratitude that washes over you every time. He always goes above and beyond for you, and you can’t help but feel grateful for him.

“Now,” He says as he drags your attention back to reality, “do you want me to read to you or do want cuddles?” He raises his eyebrows at you and you already know the answer.

“Cuddles.” He laughs at how quickly you respond and puts the book on the table beside your bed before hooking his arms around your waist and helping you both sink into the covers- your head nuzzled into chest as he lays flat on his back and rubs soothing circles into your own.

“Better?” He asks after a few minutes of him massaging your back and you nod eagerly- bringing your fingers up to trace lines across his collarbone in an effort to keep yourself occupied. He shivers at the feeling of your fingertips against his skin and you smile. “Keep doing that and I will have to take you up on that offer of taking away your period for nine months.”

~~~

“Nobody taught me how to love myself.”

“Standing there, you look at me Understanding everything”

The sudden eruption of voices in the hallway has you rapidly turning your neck toward the sound, just in time to catch a glimpse of Draco storming away from the rest of his exhausted quidditch teammates and into another hallway that leads to the dungeons. From what you’d seen he had looked furious and the rest of the team looks very solemn, so you say goodbye to Tracey Davis and quickly shuffle toward the team so that you can ask Blaise what happened.

Blaise catches your eye right before you reach him and opens his arms to hug you- draping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him so he can kiss your forehead. “Bad practice, he couldn’t do anything right today.” He says- already knowing what question was on your mind.

“Do you know what’s up with him?” You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and his shakes his head with a shrug.

“No clue. He was perfectly fine this morning, then by the time practice came he was fuming.”

“He’s angry?”

“He was angry. Now he’s just… sad?” Blaise sighs, “I really don’t know what’s going on, please check on him?”

You nod with a small smile and make to leave, “I’ll go see him right now.”

By the time you reach the common room Draco’s already in his room- something you figured out from the sound of his door slamming harshly- and you trek up to it nervously.

“Draco?” You ask softly as you open the door and find him hunched over his desk- still fully draped in quidditch gear.

He snaps his head up quickly and meets your eyes with a cold stare. “What?”

“Okay, rude.” You mumble as you step into the room and lean against the door.  “Are you okay?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes as he turns to face you from across the room, “Yeah, I’m bloody great.” He shrugs, “I’m the world’s worst seeker and my mother’s in the hospital, it’s truly a wonderful life.” He drawls sarcastically.

You push yourself off of the door at the mention of his mother and quickly stride toward him, “What do you mean your mother’s in the hospital?” You raise your eyebrows- concern erupting from your throat.

He doesn’t say anything but slowly turns behind him and picks up a letter from the desk to hand to you. He sighs and leans against the desk as you take it from him and begin to read the letter from his father.

a mild heart attack as she fell down the stairs.

Your eyes glaze over with anger as you scrunch the letter up and toss it to the ground. You’re no stranger to the abuse that goes on in the Malfoy household- having heard it yourself one night when you’d spend a weekend at their home- and you know that what Lucius really means is that he hit her so hard that she had to be hospitalised. You open your mouth to speak but Draco shakes his head and cuts you off.

“No. No Speaking.” You nod as he sighs and rubs his hands across his face in frustration. You take no offense at his words because, to be honest, nothing you could’ve said would make it better anyway. This has happened so often, too often really, that the two of you have evolved passed the need to converse about it.

“Fuck!” He exclaims suddenly and you flinch at the outburst- making him soften instantly as he turns to face you. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You nod in forgiveness and he reaches his arms out for you, and you do as he asks and sink into his arms- running your hands through his hair as he leans on the desk and you stand.

“I hate him.”

“I know.” You pull away from him and cup his face so he looks into your eyes. “Go take a shower, you stink.”

He laughs sadly and nods as he stands and starts walking to the bathroom. He stops midway and turns back to you, “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Where else would I go?” You raise your eyebrows at him with a smile and he smiles back before slipping into his prefect bathroom to shower.

While he’s showering you decide to get changed into something more comfortable- putting on one of his shirts over your underwear- and put out his favourite pyjama pants on the bed for him to wear once he’s gotten out of the shower. Then you climb into his bed and start reading the copy of ‘Sense & Sensibility’ that he got after reading with you and realising Jane Austen is actually pretty good, while you wait for him to get done.

“Nobody taught me how to love myself So how can I love somebody else?”

You’re so entranced by the book that you don’t even notice him come back into the room until he’s speaking to you from the foot of the bed. “Did you take these out for me?”

“Mhmm.” You respond without taking your eyes off the page in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welco-“ You gasp as your eyes come off the page and meet his figure. He’s still dripping from the shower, a towel tied around his torso, and he’s got bruises all around his abdomen. “Draco!”

You get up and climb round the bed to get him, and he barely has any time to slide his bottoms on before he starts shuffling away from you.

“It’s nothing, I promi-“ He winces as soon as one of your hands makes contact with a bruise near his ribs.

“Draco.” You pull your hand back angrily and speak with a warning tone.

“Y/N it’s-“

“You promised me this would stop.” You state firmly and he gulps in fear. “We’ve been friends what, 6 years now? And in the six years that we’ve known each other I’ve done a countless amount of shit for you, no fucking questions asked. I ask, no, I beg you to do one thing and you can’t even do that?”

“It just happened.” He sighs tiredly and you scoff with a laugh.

“No, it didn’t just happen. You let it happen. Or am I wrong?”

“I-“

“You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” You walk back to the bed with a shake of your head.

You’ve asked him a million times not to go sparring with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle before Quidditch practice because he always comes back black and blue- smothered in painful bruises on his entire abdomen. He only does it because he thinks that he deserves the pain, that in some weird way he’s getting what’s due to him for existing. It’s his own way of self-harming and it’s led him to Madame Pomfrey more times than you can possibly remember.

He promised you months ago that he’d stop for good, that he’d start taking better care of himself and stop looking for excuses to get hurt when he felt bad about himself.  But bad habits, it seems, tend to die hard when you’re self-loathing masochist who can’t trust his best friend enough to talk to her when he starts to feel like shit.

“I’m sorry, I just needed something to take my mind off of it.” He trails behind you and picks up his wand to cast a silencing charm- anticipating the screaming match that you’re both about to have.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? I’m your fucking best friend, what the hell else am I here for?”

“I know, I’m sorry I just…”

“You just?”

“I’m always coming to you with my problems, burdening you with my thoughts and it’s just not fair.”

“What?” You snap at him in confusion.

“I come crying to when my parents are doing their usual shit, I come to you when I have a bad Quidditch game, I come to you when I get a bad grade- fuck- I even come to you when I’m too scared to get into a relationship-“

“I chose to help you with that, don’t fucking act like you forced me into this because it was mutually beneficial.”

“That’s not the bloody point Y/N!” He yells in exasperation.

“Then what is the fucking point Draco?” You yell back.

He sighs, clenches his fists and closes his eyes. “The point is, I’m more bad than good for you, I’m a burden.”

You gasp at his words and sit on the edge of the bed as you look up at him in astonishment. That’s what he said to you the first time that you talked about his home life, ‘I think that they fight because of me, I ruined their lives. I’m a burden.’

“You’re not a burden.”

“You say that now. Until the day when you want more comes and I can’t give it to you.” He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, “One day this won’t be enough- you’ll want someone who can love you the way that you want to be loved- and I won’t be strong enough to do that. And then I’ll lose the only good thing I have in my life.”

“I’ll never leave you- I don’t think I could even if I tried.” You laugh awkwardly and pull him into your chest for a hug. “I don’t want more Draco, I don’t think I ever will. It sounds hard to believe but being best friends who occasionally have mind-boggling sex is quite enough for me, it makes me happy.”

“Promise me that you’ll tell me if you want more.” He mumbles into your chest.

“I promise bug.” You whisper as you rub his back soothingly- letting him relax into your embrace.

After a few seconds of silence he speaks again, “They’re going to kill each other.” He whispers- so quiet that you think maybe you imagined it-   before a soft sob escapes his lips.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whisper back and continue soothing him by running your fingers along his bare back- stopping every few seconds to massage his ribs a bit- in an effort to help him calm down.

You don’t tell him that they won’t, because in all honesty you don’t know if they won’t, but you hold him tight for as long as he needs and promise him that you’ll be there for him. And that’s enough for the both of you- knowing that you’ll always be there for each other.

You sit like that for a while as he calms down and his breathing evens out- his head in your chest as one of your hands holds his and the other digs into his skin softly. It’s when he stops rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand, and instead starts rubbing it up and down your thigh, that you realise he’s finally breathing normally again. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum in response as he pulls his head out of your chest and brings his lips up to your neck.

“Can we have some of that mind-boggling sex you talked about?” He asks against your collarbone and you laugh at his sudden change in attitude.

“I take it someone’s feeling better?” You ask as you let him take control of the situation and push you onto your back against the mattress.

“No.” He says, voice muffled as his lips graze against the skin on your neck, as his hands travel along your sides delicately. “But I need to feel you.”

“Dra-“ You start to protest- wanting to tell him that he can’t fuck his sadness away- but he cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips as his hands find their way beneath the t-shirt that you’re wearing and come up to unhook your bra.

“Please?” He asks desperately when he finally pulls away from your lips, his voice raw and raspy, “Let me take care of you princess.”

You’re still hesitant to agree, worried that he’s using this as a coping mechanism and scared that it’ll worsen the pain he’s feeling in his abdomen, but his lips find that soft spot behind your ear and you melt into his grasp like ice-cream on a thirty-degree day. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Okay.” Is all you say before he’s making good on his promise and making you feel so good that it’s as if there’s lava crawling beneath your bones.

His lips and hands are everywhere you need them, not hesitating to give you what you want as they usually do, not acting at a torturously slow pace. Tonight there’s no teasing, no tug-of-war between you both to see who cracks first, there’s just immense passion and trust- all the unsaid words left floating in the air are now dancing between your lips as they connect over and over again.

In this moment he’s Picasso and all he can think about is painting over you with his lips, his hands, his cock as it digs against your inviting walls, with every colour of the rainbow until the world itself is drained of all vibrancy because he’s given it all to you.

You meant what you said before, sex with Draco is always mind-boggling and lip-bitingly pleasurable, but this is different. It makes you finally understand what people mean when they say that they can see God at the height of their climax- that they feel as though their bodies are overheating and they’re going to combust at any moment.

He has never been this soft before, usually sex with him is fast, rough, hard, and all about building up the tallest tower of arousal so you can both knock it down with earth-shattering orgasms. But this is so different. This is soft, sensual, almost slow in a way- it says more than any words you two could possibly try to use to explain how much you value each other. You’re not in love, that’s for sure, but this feeling, this painfully exquisite moment, is the closest thing you two will ever get to uttering the words, “I love you”, to each other.

Who needs love when the two of you have each other to make you feel like you’re both burning from the inside out?

~~~

Now, as you sit next to him in Potions and watch intently as he chops up the next set of ingredients, you think that perhaps it’s you who’s going to set on fire.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Hm?” You furrow your eyebrows at him as you zone back in, “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of that lately, are you okay?” He asks genuinely as he stops working on the potion to focus a soft gaze on you.

You gulp and nod, giving him a fake smile, “Yes, of course, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, seriously.” You bring your hand up to his arm as reassurance and smile again- trying to ignore how taut his muscles feel beneath your fingers, even with all the fabric between them- “What were you saying?”

“Oh!” He smiles brightly, “I was asking if you want to go down to the Black Lake next period? Since we’re both free?”

“And do what?” You narrow your eyes at him but grin still.

“I don’t know- drown ourselves, skinny dip, have a picnic- whatever your heart desires.”

“If you’re just looking for an excuse to see me naked then all you have to do is ask.” You smirk.

“I wouldn’t need to take you all the way there if I wanted to see you naked.” He grins widely and you roll your eyes, “I’ve just been wanting to go down there for a while and I thought I might as well bring you along.”

“Because you love my company?”

“Because you probably have nothing better do and no one else to hang out with.”

“We both know half the boys in this grade would drop everything for ten minutes with me, I could easily find someone to hang out with.” You reply very brazenly and he rolls his eyes at you. It’s true, more than half of the boys in the grade have tried to ask you out at least once, Potter being the most insistent, and if push came to shove you could easily find someone else to spend your free period with.

Not that you want to, free periods with Draco have actually become one of your favourite pastimes. Usually spent working on extra school work, or chatting, or trashing on Harry Potter- which happens considerably often since you both don’t like him.

“Too bad for them because you’re coming with me.”

“Because?” You raise your eyebrows at him- waiting for him to admit what you want to hear- and he mumbles a reply that you don’t quite catch- “Excuse me?”

“Because I love your company…”

“I know.” You smile with a giggle.

“Sweetheart, you are Changing my mind”

“There ain’t no excuses I swear that I’m doing my best”

“Do you still think love is fake?” You ask as you both lie in the grass and stare up at the sky- enjoying one of the only sunny days you’ll be getting this June.

“Hm?” Draco hums in questioning and you turn on your side to face him- propping your head up on your palm as you lean on your elbow.

“Love. Do you still think it’s a hoax?”

He sighs and blinks a bit before taking a gulp and averting his eyes from the sky to meet your own. “I don’t know.”

“I think in the time that we’ve been pretending to date, I’ve felt a lot of new emotions that I’d never felt before. I can’t tell you if it’s love or not because well, I don’t know what that’s supposed to look like or feel like, but I do know that I like it. It’s different to anything I’ve ever felt before because it’s comfortable and warm- it’s home in a way. It’s the kind of feeling home is meant to give me, not the dread and fear I feel when I get off the Hogwarts Express and find my parents waiting for me on the platform. Not the emptiness I feel when I have to sit through dinners with them and we have to pretend that we’re a happy family. Not the sadness I feel when I’m locked up in my room and I can hear them screaming at each other at the top of their lungs downstairs. It doesn’t feel like what I feel when I think of the Malfoy Manor, the only way I can describe what it feels like is by saying that it feels like what I feel when I think of you, or when I’m with you.”

“And what do you feel when you think of me?” You ask.

“I feel safe and happy and like there’s fire coursing through my veins - almost like I’m burning from the inside out. I don’t know if that’s what love is supposed to feel like- I’ve got no one to ask- but I know that I like feeling that way.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath, “So, to answer your question, I don’t know if I still think love is fake. All I know is that I don’t feel that hopelessness that usually consumes me, when I’m with you.”

You look at him in awe- utterly speechless and completely amazed by the words he’s just spoken to you. You can’t ask him for anything more than that, he’s clearly trying his best to be open to love and honest with you, and you don’t really want more anyway- it’s enough knowing that the two of you make each other happy. What you two have is enough. “You are fucking ethereal.” You breathe out as you sink back to the ground and go back to looking at the sun.

“So are you.” Draco says back as he picks up your hand and intertwines your fingers together. He doesn’t think that love is a hoax, he thinks that maybe he’s falling in love with you, but he’s not ready to admit that just yet- not when the fear of the only solid good thing in his life disappearing still haunts him with every waking moment. Not when you’re not showing any signs of romantic attraction toward him, because he can’t afford to be another dotted line in your book of conquests just because he got soft and caught feelings for you.

He’s not sure of himself yet, how can he be when no one ever taught him how to trust in his ability to be lovable? How can he be when even his own mother and father give him leftover scraps of affection veiled as the unconditional love of parents. Letting himself fall in love with you is a big risk to take when his own insecurities swarm his thoughts day and night, when his own fear of commitment swallows him up whole at every interval in which he thinks he’s ready to be vulnerable. No, he’s not ready to fall in love with you yet. But he’s trying to get there.

<~>

So, this ending is not what I originally envisioned, that one was a lot more compact and fluffy than this one is but I much prefer this one. When I first started writing this fic I actually started with the ending and worked my way backwards but when I finally got to the beginning I realized that the ending just didn’t fit anymore and I had to end it here.

I’m much happier with this ending because it’s undefined and open to interpretation. In a way Y/N is aromantic but in a way she’s also not- I couldn’t decide so I left it in a way that the reader can decide.

I’m planning on using the original ending in something different, which I will post here once it’s done, but yeah, this is the fic.

Anyway, love you all,

jean <3

[hyungieyoongi]

Spotlight: “Run Away to You” Part 3

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.0K

Genre: Angst + Fluff (there’s a hug and everything there is fluff on the horizon!!)

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 2 // Part 4

---

You blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness of the morning as the sunlight streamed into your room through the crack in your curtains. Your eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Glancing at the clock on your nightstand, you let out an audible groan at the time. It was 9:30 a.m., meaning you had slept for four short hours, your brain and restless thoughts refusing to let you sleep until the early hours of the morning.  

After you were finally able to stop the onslaught of tears last night, you sat with Marianne on your carpet and told her everything that happened: colliding with Yoongi at the corner store, the fight in your apartment, and how he comforted you during your panic attack. When she asked about the phone call from your old number, you simply played her the last voicemail Yoongi left you, letting his words sink in on their own.

“Shit,” Marianne breathed out.

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

Your head was pounding, making you feel like you were suffering a hangover this morning from the lack of sleep combined with the many tears you cried. You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would burn away the memories of everything that had transpired.

You decided to avoid looking at either one of your phones, old or new, when you got out and dressed. Instead, you decided to try and convince your neighbor to let you take her dog on a walk. You desperately needed some company and fresh air to clear your head.

Donning the black hat on the hook by the door this time, you locked the door behind you. At the end of the hallway, you spotted your neighbor holding her little black pug in her arms, peering slightly over the railing at the end that looked out onto the sidewalk and street below.

“Hi there, good morning! What’s going on?” you asked, hoping your attempt at cheerfulness was convincing.

“You have to see this. There are cameras all over the place! The landlord had to come to shoo them from the stairwell and elevator this morning. Apparently, someone famous was sighted here yesterday, and now they’re looking for someone they say lives here? It’s quite the scene down there,” Susan let her pug down as she told you the news. He came bounding over to you, expecting to be showered with cuddles and kisses. Instead, you stood frozen in place, taking in everything Susan had just said.

“Cameras? There are cameras down there? In front of the building?” you asked.

“Yes, dear, isn’t that strange? I wonder if we have a celebrity in our midst!”

You let out a cough, giving Susan a fake excuse that you forgot a jacket so you could leave, ignoring her pug yapping at you for attention.

You were back in your apartment before Susan could question your odd behavior, grabbing your phone that you blatantly ignored when you woke up this morning.

You opened Twitter, going straight to the trending page.

The picture at the top of the list was blurry, but you could clearly make out two figures. It was a picture of you and Yoongi, walking to your apartment from the store. It looked like it had been taken on a phone camera, probably from the park across the street. Someone had to have recognized Yoongi, and now, there were cameras outside your apartment complex.

The picture causing a frenzy didn’t show your face, your hair covering your profile. You scrolled rapidly through some of the comments, people speculating about who the “mystery girl” was that Yoongi was with yesterday.

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

---

Yoongi’s phone was vibrating nonstop on the bed next to him. He tried to ignore it, shoving his face further under the thick comforter, hoping whoever was trying to reach him would just give up eventually.

When it started to vibrate incessantly once again, he finally glanced at the screen, fully prepared to yell at whoever woke him up.

An old picture of you filled his screen, one that Yoongi took when you first started seeing each other. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after a long day of filming. You looked so at peace, one of his sweaters that you stole from his closet wrapped around your frame. He had snapped a photo, setting it as your contact photo, smiling at it every time you called.

He had never changed it.

Yoongi immediately sat up when he realized you were calling. He assumed he would never hear from you again, that the chapter between you two was officially closed. This time for good.

He answered on the third ring, but didn’t say anything, waiting to see if the call was an accident.

“…Yoongi?” his heart lurched at the sound of his name.

“Yes?” he asked tentatively, his voice rough with sleep.

“I need help. There’s a picture…of us. Together. I tried to call Marianne, but she didn’t answer. Yoongi, I…I don’t know what to do. I need help,” Yoongi waited, holding his breath, “I need you.”

He threw the covers off himself, already heading toward the door of his bedroom. You sounded so scared.

“I’ll come get you. Tell me where you are.”

---

Yoongi had given you careful instructions over the phone, his voice calm and calculated. You were supposed to wait in your apartment until exactly 10:30 a.m. and head down the back staircase to the alley behind your building. A car would be waiting for you there.

He told you to wear a mask and act casual, like you were just getting into a rideshare car. Be invisible and inconspicuous.

A black SUV was idling in your alleyway. You opened the backseat door on the driver’s side, shutting it quickly behind you.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the driver asked, turning around to face you. He had a kind smile, eyes slightly crinkling in the corners from his upturned lips. You nodded once.

“Good morning, I’ll be driving you to Mr. Min���s location. He requested that we send this particular vehicle because the windows are tinted for maximum security. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved.

Despite the driver’s assurance, you turned your head away from the window as the car passed the hoard of photographers outside of your building. They seemed to be getting restless with the lack of people coming in and out of your complex. You were grateful to be heading as far away from there as possible.

The car eventually reached a gate, the security guard waving the car forward once it checked the license plates. You pulled into an underground garage. You weren’t familiar with the building; you figured that Yoongi and the boys had moved within the last year as their label continued to grow.

The driver cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Mr. Min would like you to take the elevator, the one just there, ma’am,” he said pointing to the nearest set of silver doors, “to floor 16. He will meet you there.”

“Thank you, you honestly saved me today,” you told him with a grateful smile. He gave you another crinkle-eyed grin.

“It’s nothing, really. Give my regards to Mr. Min.”

“I will.”

The elevator lurched upward toward floor 16, and you realized you had no idea what to say to Yoongi. The doors opened, and you were startled when the man in question was pacing in front of the elevator doors, looking frazzled as he evidently waited for your arrival.

His head snapped toward the open doors when he heard the “bing” of the elevator.

“You made it,” he said simply when you walked toward him.

“Thanks to you,” you replied. “Yoongi, I can’t thank you enough. I know this is the last thing you probably expected today, but I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”

If you weren’t mistaken, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks at your words.

“We have a strategy meeting to get to. The label has some, uh, concerns about the photo.”

Your heart sank at his words, but you realized it was time to stop letting your emotions about the situation run the show. You were potentially going to be forced back into the spotlight you had tried so hard to stay away from. It was time to be professional about this.

“Right. Of course, lead the way,” your tone had become formal, sickly sweet and stiff. It felt unbelievably awkward after spilling your heart out to him yesterday. But you knew your place–you were just part of his label’s damage control problems for the day.

He turned on his heel, leading you down the long hallway, shoes clicking against the tile floor. You followed a foot behind him, wanting to give him, and you, space.

In the meeting, you gritted your teeth, your hands balled into fists underneath the table as you listened to a group of label management and the public relations team discuss what messaging, if any, to put out. Would it be better to let it die down on its own? Release a statement saying Yoongi was visiting an “acquaintance”? There were dozens of options they went through. Yoongi’s eyes kept straying to look at you, but your eyes stayed on the clock above the PR analyst’s head across from you.

When they started discussing whether to release your identity, however, you decided enough was enough. You stood, Yoongi watching your every move.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I would feel more comfortable if my publicist was contacted before any decisions are made regarding the release of my private information,” you had worked in this industry, too, and hell, you weren’t going to let these people dictate your life. “As you can imagine, this has the potential to have far-reaching consequences on my own livelihood. It would be best to take no further action until she is in this room with you. Otherwise, I will be forced to contact my attorney.”

The room was silent.  

“Until then, I’ll take my leave. Thank you,” you left with a flourish, the adrenaline leaving you as soon as you made it into the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, you just couldn’t stay still, your feet carrying you away from the room and the murmurs going on inside of it.

“Y/N, wait,” Yoongi called after you. You sped up, hoping there was a bathroom or something nearby that you could go hide in until Marianne showed up. “Stop walking,” Yoongi’s voice was stern.

You paused mid-step, turning to face him with a blank expression.

“Yes, was there an update from your strategy meeting since I left?” Yoongi rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Y/N, stop, I know what you’re doing. You’re shutting yourself off. I don’t blame you for standing up for yourself back there. But please don’t act like I wanted any part of that meeting,” Yoongi said, defending himself. Your confidence deflated slightly.

“Fine,” you flinched at how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry. God, all I’ve said to you in the past 24 hours is ‘I’m sorry.’ And I am. I just…this is all…it’s a lot. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, let alone under these circumstances.”

“My studio is a few floors below us. Come on, let’s get out of here while they figure it out,” Yoongi instructed. He walked past you, but you reached out, hand encircling his wrist to stop him. Your skin burned where it touched his.

“I wasn’t ready for any of this again. It’s all too much, too soon. If people find out who I am, my whole life will change, Yoongi. I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” Yoongi didn’t say anything, so you pulled your fingers away from his arm, expecting him to continue on his way to his studio.

Instead, he wrapped you tightly in his arms, pulling you close against him. He smelled like mint and coffee, and you closed your eyes at the familiarity of it, warmth blooming in your chest.

“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi mumbled, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

Enclosed in the comfort of his embrace, you decided to believe him.

Part 2 // Part 4

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @crispychanniee @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh @alpacaparkaseok @sheebaba @diamonddia-mond​

Want to be added to the tag list? Let me know!

Check out my other work! ❤️

[lostcoves]

ft. tendou satori x fem!reader

genre: fluff & a lil angst 

wc & warnings: 3.1k | none

premise: tendou satori has a massive crush on you. could performing with you in beauty and the beast be his chance to finally get with you?

tendou satori loved you.

plain and simple, he loved you. he loved the way you walked, the way you talked, everything about you screamed beauty and grace. you laughed at his poor jokes and smiled whenever he smiled at you.

tendou didn’t understand why you were so kind to him.

you were a beauty while he was a beast.

an irony that would come forth during shiratorizawa academy’s annual charity fundraiser. 

“hello i’m (l/n) (f/n) from the drama club!” you greeted tendou’s homeroom class one cloudy morning. tendou was in the middle of trying to balance a pencil on his finger when you began to speak about the annual charity fundraiser. apparently, the drama club was putting on a musical and needed more male participants.

“you should try out, tendou-san!” his classmate– a freckle faced boy by the name of kawasaki hitoshi– proposed to tendou. tendou paused from balancing his pencil and asked, “huhhhhh? how come?”

“cuz everyone knows about your massive crush on (l/n)-san,” kawasaki snickered. other boys joined in on the snickering and kawasaki exclaimed to you, “(l/n)-san! tendou-san will participate!”

your eyes brightened at the mention of tendou’s name, “really?!”

“well, i mean– oh thank you, tendou-san!” you cut him off with an embrace. tendou’s cheeks turned as red as his hair at your touch, you were so soft and squishy. you released tendou from the hug (much to his dismay) and handed him a flyer, “auditions are tomorrow! can’t wait to see you there!”

tendou watched as you scurried off to the next classroom before examining the flyer. it was in bright, obnoxious colors with the words ‘BEAUTY AND THE BEAST AUDITIONS’ in bold. 

oh the irony.

─────────────────

“you’re trying out for a musical, tendou-senpai?!” goshiki yelled at tendou during lunch. tendou shot him a stare and signaled him to lower his voice. goshiki covered his mouth and nodded before resuming his eating. 

ushijima, reon, and semi stared at tendou and the four didn’t speak, unsure of what to say to one another.

“will this interfere with volleyball practice?” ushijima asked.

“i don’t think so,” replied tendou before picking up a chunk of white rice, “the practices would be during school hours since it’s a charity event and what not.”

ushijima nodded, “good. you should do it then.”

tendou choked on his rice, “are you serious?”

semi nodded along in agreement, “i think so too. i mean, why not? now you’ll have an excuse to be around (l/n)-san without being a creep.”

tendou scoffed at semi’s commentary and fought the urge to give him the finger. reon chuckled at the exchanged and added his two cents, “i think it would be a great idea, as well. it would also look great on college applications from a community service and extracurriculars side of things.”

“not you too, reon..” tendou groaned, “i’m not–”

“hi, tendou-san!”

tendou nearly screamed and whipped his head around to see you standing behind him, smiling happily. tendou cleared his throat and attempted to be a cool guy, “heyyyyyy, (l/n)-san! what’s uppppp!”

“just wanted to say hi!” you answered, batting those gorgeous lashes of yours, “you’re still coming to auditions tomorrow, right?”

tendou looked back at his friends, all of which gave him double thumbs up.

“yeah, of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

tendou just dug his own grave.

─────────────────

tendou nearly forgot how big shiratorizawa’s auditorium was. it felt daunting, as he stepped inside and made a beeline towards the stage. a group of students stood by the stage, practicing their lines and singing their songs. 

“tendou-san! you made it!” tendou looked down and saw you approaching him. he swallowed his nerves and greeted you with a smile, “heyyyyy, (l/n)-san! how you doing today?”

“i’m doing great!” you answered, “are you ready for your audition?”

“yup!” tendou smiled, “but if you don’t mind me asking, (l/n)-san, who are you trying out for?”

“i’m going for belle!”

the lead? of course, you would get the lead. tendou remembered seeing you perform in the blossoming of kamiya etsuko where you played the titular character. you brought tears to the audience’s eyes with your amazing performance. 

“oh that’s cool! i– er.. i’m going for the beast!”

damnit, tendou! were you trying to embarrass yourself?

your eyes sparkled like diamonds at tendou’s words, “really?!”

tendou masked his anxiety with a laugh, “haha! for sure!”

“i can’t wait to see you perform!” you gave tendou a high five, “break a leg!”

oh he would break a leg, all right. hopefully, in a literal fashion.

─────────────────

“tendou satori?” the director– an over zealous english teacher by the name of hasegawa ryuji– called tendou onto the stage. tendou felt like his legs were jelly, wobbling with each step he took. he gripped onto his sheet music tightly, as he made his way on stage. 

“what song will you be singing for us today?” hasegawa-sensei grinned. 

“i’ll be singing–” tendou scanned the crowd and found you among a group of girls. you locked eyes with him and mouthed, ‘break a leg! you got this!’ to him, “–if i can’t love her.”

not many people knew tendou’s secret but he took vocal lessons from the ripe age of five and until he entered high school. his parents forced him to go in an effort to improve his social skills and make him more approachable. while it didn’t improve his social skills, tendou gained a nice singing voice.

“you can begin at the start of the music.”

tendou took a deep breath.

do it for (y/n).

the music began to play.

and in my twisted face there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints of kindness and from my tortured shape no comfort, no escape i see, but deep within is utter blindness

tendou’s voice was gentle yet powerful.

hopeless as my dream dies as the time flies love a lost illusion helpless unforgiven cold and driven to this sad conclusion

tendou pictured all those times people made fun of his looks. every person who laughed at him, every person who shunned him. he channeled that into his singing and thought of you, you with your kind nature and you with your warmth.

no beauty could move me no goodness improve me no power on earth, if i can't love her no passion could reach me no lesson could teach me how I could have loved her and make her love me too if i can't love her, then who?

who would love him? tendou was but a beast. hideous and unworthy. 

long ago i should have seen all the things i could have been careless and unthinking, i moved onward

tendou looked out among the crowd and stared at you. 

no pain could be deeper no life could be cheaper no point anymore, if i can't love her no spirit could win me no hope left within me hope i could have loved her and that she'd set me free hut it's not to be if i can't love her let the world be done with me

i could only wish you could love me, (y/n).

the music came to an end and a shush fell over the auditorium. tendou’s cheeks flushed a warm red, did he mess up?

applause suddenly exploded among the crowds. tears were in the eyes of hasegawa-sensei, “that was amazing, tendou-san! your voice was just perfect!”

“o- oh!” tendou cleared his throat, “thanks..”

he could only hope he was good enough to get the role.

─────────────────

“are you going to check the cast list?” ushijima asked a few days after the auditions. tendou saw people crowding outside hasegawa-sensei’s classroom, the bulletin board containing the cast list for beauty and the beast.

“i rather not,” the redhead grumbled. 

“tendou-san!”

tendou perked up at the sound of his name. it was you, standing before him with that dazzling smile of yours. 

“wanna check the cast list with me?” you offered to tendou. 

how could he say no to you?

“sure thing!” he chuckled before approaching the cast list with you. the crowd parted like the red sea upon your arrival. tendou’s eyes started from the bottom of the list, thinking he got an ensemble role.

“hey tendou-san?”

“yes, (l/n)-san?”

“look up.”

tendou looked at the top of the cast list and choked when he read who got the role of the beast.

TENDOU SATORI – THE BEAST 

his eyes darted up above it and tendou nearly fainted.

(L/N) (F/N) – BELLE

tendou was in for a whirlwind.

─────────────────

tendou paced outside the auditorium, unsure if he should head inside. today was the first of ten six hour rehearsals for the musical and tendou was panicking. should he face the music or cower in fear?

“tendou-san? are you okay?”

shit, it was you. tendou couldn’t let you see him like this. he plastered on a grin and turned around to greet you, “hiya (l/n)-chan! how you doing!”

“i’m fine–” you cut yourself short, “–oh, (l/n)-san? that’s a new one. i like it.”

tendou laughed nervously, adverting his gaze from you. damnit, why did you have such an effect on him? 

“well, i’m heading to rehearsal so come along,” you grabbed him by the hand and dragged tendou into the auditorium. you were surprisingly strong for such a short person, or at least someone shorter than tendou. 

the auditorium was jam-packed with students conversing excitedly about the show. tendou felt as if he was the only one not completely invested in the show. after all, he only auditioned for you.

“attention, cast members!” hasegawa-sensei called everyone’s attention. he then launched into some speech about rules and expectations, to which tendou toned out. all he could focus on was you. 

rehearsal went by at an agonizingly slow pace. tendou managed to introduce himself to the rest of the cast, most of which knew him from the volleyball team. still unused to the environment, tendou stuck by your side like a lost puppy dog. 

tendou remembered sprinting out of the auditorium the moment hasegawa-sensei dismissed everyone from rehearsal. he wasn’t sure how he was gonna balance schoolwork, volleyball, and the musical. but the one thing he did was it would be worth it to spend more time with you.

nighttime fell over shiratorizawa academy by the time tendou got out of volleyball practice. he dragged himself out of the gym, not even bothering to see his goodbyes to his teammates from how exhausted he was. 

“tendou-san?” you approached the redhead outside the gym. tendou rubbed the guck out of his eyes and waved to you, “oh hey, (l/n)-san.”

“tired?” you offered tendou a sympathetic smile.

tendou nodded and let out a yawn, “very.”

“here,” you handed tendou some canned coffee, “this should help.”

“thanks,” he cracked it open and took a generous sip. tendou let out a satisfied sigh and smiled, “this is some good coffee.”

“glad you like it!” you returned tendou’s smile. tendou could feel his chest tightening at the sight, you were just.. beautiful. it wasn’t fair, you were too beautiful for this world.

“oh, by the way.. whatcha doing outside the gym?” tendou questioned to you.

your cheeks heated up, maybe from the cold air or maybe from embarrassment, “i– i just wanted to tell you that you did a great job at rehearsal today! that’s why..”

tendou’s chest tightened at the praise, “oh really? that means a lot, coming from you!”

“of course!” you brushed back a loose hair from your face, “and i wanted to extend an offer to you.”

“oh?” now tendou was intrigued. 

“if you need any help with rehearsing our one on one scenes, i’m more than happy to help! like our kissing scene!”

tendou grinned, “alrighty! thanks, (l/n)-chan!”

wait, rewind.

kissing scene?

─────────────────

tendou paced about outside of the auditorium. rehearsals were half way through and tendou had yet to confront the fact that he had to kiss you in the show. he should have had read the script ahead of time; what did he get himself into now?

“tendou-san, are you alrighty? you look pale in the face,” hasegawa-sensei greeted tendou by the doors to the auditorium. tendou nearly puked on his shoes but put up his typical tendou satori charade, “oh hey, sensei! how– er.. how are you doing?”

“i’m fine. tendou, what’s wrong? you can be honest with me,” answered hasegawa-sensei with a frown. tendou broke character and confessed to his director, “i’m scared about the kissing scene.”

hasegawa-sensei patted tendou on the back, “oh, it’s more than fine to have some first time jitters! if it makes you feel better, it will be a stage kiss. you won’t actually be kissing (l/n)-san.”

tendou wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

“tendou-san? hasegawa-sensei?” speak of the devil– or in your case, the angel.

“morning, (l/n)-san! ready for rehearsal?” hasegawa-sensei turned his attention to you with a grin. you nodded and fist-pumped the air, “ready as i could ever be! we got this today! right, tendou-san?”

“yup!” he chirped in response, trying his hardest to conceal his fear. 

did tendou really got this?

─────────────────

tendou laid on the auditorium’s dirty stage, eyes closed and pretending to be dead. this was the moment where he would be revived by true love’s kiss. he anxiously waited for you to pretend kiss him.

“please don’t leave me.. come back,” you stage-whispered your line, leaning in to “kiss” tendou on the forehead.

then the worst thing imaginable happened. 

some dust from the stage floor got up into tendou’s nose and he jerked upwards in an attempt to sneeze. his lips collided with yours in a messy kiss, the two of you kissing one another with wide eyes. 

tendou could only stare when you pulled away with wide eyes. he felt like vomiting, as the crowd in the auditorium fell silent. hasegawa-sensei broke the silence and exclaimed, “take five, people!”

tendou stormed out of the auditorium with you hot on his tail. he managed to find a quiet place to hide when you appeared, covering his face in shame. tendou looked back up at you and his voice croaked, “hey.. (l/n)-san..”

“what happened (l/n)-chan?” you asked. 

“i don’t think i have the right to call you that after what happened,” grumbled tendou in embarrassment. you took a seat next to him and rested your head against his shoulder, “hey it’s okay! i know it was an accident! the stage floor is so dusty, it’s only natural for you to sneeze.”

“that was my first kiss.”

“what?” you blinked once, then twice. your face erupted in a fierce blush, “oh– oh my god! it was?! d– did i take your f– first kiss?!”

“hey, hey!” tendou gently gripped you by the shoulders in an effort to calm you now. you stared at him with an erratic look in your eyes, “i– i’m so sorry! you should have had your first kiss with someone special!”

but you’re someone special, (y/n)-chan.

“i’m glad it was you.”

“wh– what?” you stammered.

“i’m glad my first accidental kiss was with you, (y/n)-chan,” tendou replied. 

your face flushed at his words, “n– now, i’m (y/n)-chan? god, y– you’re gonna be the death of me, tendou-san..”

“you can call me satori if you want,” tendou commented to you.

you smiled, “well.. okay, satori-kun. let’s head back to the auditorium.”

god, you were going to be the death of tendou satori.

and you two haven’t practiced the second kiss yet.

─────────────────

today was the day, opening night for shiratorizawa academy’s production of beauty and the beast. tendou was being held hostage by the makeup crew, as they applied his beast makeup. it itched, the fake fur itched against his skin. 

“we need tendou on stage in five!” the stage manager called for him. tendou rose from the makeup chair and examined himself in the mirror. the makeup crew did a great job, he truly looked like a beast. 

“ready to wow the crowd, satori-kun?” tendou turned around and found you standing in the doorway, dressed in belle’s village girl costume. god, you looked adorable. 

“ready whenever you are,” tendou gave you a thumbs up. you returned the thumbs up with a smile and extended a hand to tendou, “let’s wow this crowd.”

tendou took your hand and squeezed it, “let’s wow this crowd.”

the musical progressed quite smoothly, tendou nailing every line of dialogue and music. the crowd was mesmerized by his singing voice and acting skills, as well as yours. 

then it was time, time for the kisses.

tendou laid motionlessly on the ground, thankful that the tech crew dusted the floor beforehand. no more accidental kisses! you approached his still body with heartbreak in your eyes, “please don’t leave me.. come back.”

tendou felt your sweet lips against his forehead, his eyes opening wide and the music playing to play. he “transformed” before the crowd, morphing from a hideous beast into a handsome prince. 

tendou stood before you, dressed in his princely garments and smiling bright, “belle,” he greeted you breathlessly. 

nerves overtook tendou’s mind, as the second kiss– the kiss on the lips– quickly approached. he took a step forward and covered both of your lips with his hands, just as hasegawa-sensei taught him. 

then something unexpected happened.

you pressed your lips against his, a full blown kiss. tendou remained still as possible, unsure what to do. you– his crush– were kissing him. you were kissing him, tendou satori of all people.

fuck it, he thought to himself and allowed himself to get lost in the kiss. the curtains closed on the two of you kissing. tendou didn’t pull away, too into the kiss to realize what was happening. 

“wow,” tendou whispered when the kiss was broken. you touched your forehead to tendou’s and giggled, “that was great, satori-kun.”

“that almost felt.. real,” he sighed with a smile.

“that’s because it was,” you answered, “i like you, tendou satori.”

everything came to a standstill the moment those words came out of your mouth. you liked him? you liked tendou? for real? you weren’t kidding? you actually liked him for him?

“i like you, (l/n) (f/n),” tendou finally responded after a moment. you broke out into a grin and kissed him again, the two of you unaware that the curtains were rising. a shush fell over the crowd at the sight. you two didn’t realize that your mics were on for the long exchange.

“go tendou! go (l/n)!” 

the silence broke. the crowd erupted in cheers, essentially derailing the show. you and tendou looked out onto the crowd sheepishly, both of you holding one another’s hands.

the beast got with the beauty.

tendou couldn’t have asked for a better ending. 

[whatisthiswritingthing]

When in Houston - Alex Morgan x Reader

Prompt: How about Alex Morgan x reader where no one knows they’re together, but reader gets seriously injured and soon figure it out

You guys wanted angst, angst you get! I dug deep for some feels here too. Hope it satisfies!! 

“What’s on your mind sweetheart?” Alex questioned.

Y/N was laying with her head on Alex’s chest while the two cuddled on the couch watching a movie. Y/N attention obviously not on the screen. Tension remaining through her body while Alex scrapped her nails through the younger woman’s baby hairs.

“Yea, all good,” Y/N replied, distracted.

Y/N sighed, Alex gently trailed two fingers down her spine, applying pressure to each vertebra along the way.  

“Y/N,” Alex hesitated, unsure how to continue. The older striker had a thought of where Y/N’s thoughts were. The next morning, they would be flying to Houston for national team camp. The city not holding good experiences for the younger defender. Experiences bad enough for her to request a trade to  Orlando. The experiences and memories still surfacing just over a year later.

When Y/N first moved to Orlando, she had been distant and withdrawn, flinching when people moved too close to her, jumping at sudden loud sounds.

Alex and Y/N had been close friends for years in the national team, the older woman had seen the way Y/N withdrew into herself for years. It finally making sense when the younger woman had requested an immediate trade to anywhere that wasn’t Houston. Orlando took the opportunity, quickly signing Y/N.

From there, Alex and Y/N became inseparable. Y/N did her best to put her past behind her but couldn’t control her physical reactions. She always seemed on edge, shying away from any form of physical contact, wincing at loud noises.

Alex was patient with the younger woman, letting Y/N dictate the progression of their relationship. It took months before Y/N asked Alex for a hug. The young woman breaking down in the brunette’s arms at the gentle, safe, contact. It had been so long since she had experienced not just contact but contact that didn’t hurt. Y/N had immediately panicked, she pulled herself from Alex’s arms, apologizing profusely, for what she didn’t know.

It was the Alex realized the full extent of what Y/N had never spoken about. The signs of the physical and emotional abuse becoming more apparent to Alex now.

Alex had calmly told the young woman she had nothing to apologize for, asking her permission before gently pulling Y/N into her. Alex reassured her, letting her express years of bottled-up emotions pouring out of her. Y/N told everything to Alex that night. How abusive her ex-girlfriend had been, the control the other woman had had over Y/N, using fear and intimidation to maintain control. How it finally crashed down when her then girlfriend threatened to end her career, almost succeeding when she restricted Y/N’s access to anything involving soccer, causing injuries that were interfering with her playing. Y/N requested an immediate trade.

Returning to Houston always causing the blonde defender to draw back into herself. So, with the national team returning to the city for a couple weeks for camp and a couple games, bringing some expected anxiety.

“I will be with you the whole time Y/N,” Alex whispered, trailing her fingers back up to Y/N’s neck giving it a gentle squeeze before flattening her hand and rubbing up and down Y/N’s back.

Y/N’s body remained tense, her grip tightening on Alex’s t-shirt.

After Y/N had broken down, Alex had done everything in her to ensure Y/N felt safe and loved. This had lea to the two slowly and tentatively beginning a relationship. Alex spent every day what a relationship was supposed to be like, what love was supposed to look like. The two now being together for eight months, keeping it between the two of them.

Alex leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Y/N’s head, lingering for a second.

“I love you Y/N,” she whispered. “I am here for you however and for whatever you need, alright gorgeous.”

Y/N nodded against Alex’s chest, placing a small kiss in the hollow of her neck.

Y/N was quiet the entire day, really only speaking when spoken to. Alex didn’t take any of it personal, understanding it wasn’t personal and Y/N’s way of processing.

The team noticed the change in Y/N immediately, all giving her the space they sensed she needed. Y/N had placed herself as far back from the rest of the team as possible for the meeting, but as close to the door as she could. Alex hovered the entire day, her heart breaking when she would see Y/N flinch at the boisterous group and avoiding her close friends when they tried to greet her.

After the meeting, Y/N rushed to her room, needing to be far away from everyone.

Alex had begged the team manager to allow her and Y/N to room together. When they all saw how withdrawn the blonde defender was upon arrival, immediately agreed.

Alex quietly opened the door to her hotel room, not wanting to startle her girlfriend. She found the girl laying motionless on the bed, her eyes unfocused looking towards the window.

“Y/N, can I lay with you?” Alex asked, waiting for a confirmation. After getting a nod, Alex slide into the bed. “Can I touch you?” With another nod, she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend.

“It’s going to be alright beautiful.”

Alex just felt Y/N nod in front of her, the older woman holding the young defender for the night.

The next week, practice seemed to be the only place Y/N fully relaxed, looking carefree, interacting and joking with her teammates. Alex did her best to not hover over her girlfriend, knowing she needed her independence and understand Alex trusted her.

But once the team was at the hotel again or the large group settings, Alex could see the tension return in her girlfriend. She knew Y/N was struggling to fully relax, never sleeping through the night, being woken up every night by nightmares.

Alex could see the effect this week was having on her, their teammates seeing it too. Each one gently trying to check in on Y/N. But Y/N had pulled away from the everyone, continuing to only speak when spoken to, avoiding being near any except Alex, drawing away when things got loud or rambunctious.

A few days later, the team slowly made their way off the bus to the stadium for their full practice two days before practice. Y/N had her headphones in, in her own world, tuning out everyone around her. Alex cautiously trailing behind her, ready to help without being overbearing.

During practice Y/N was unfocused and very distracted, constantly looking around the field and surrounding stadium.

“You ok?” Alex whispered during a water break, placing her hand on Y/N’s bicep.

Y/N tensed and began to pull away once she realized who it was. She glanced at Alex and gave her a small nod.

After practice, Alex had expected to have to rush to keep up to Y/N and get on the bus. But, the other woman changed quickly, then made her ways to sit in the open seat next to Alex in the change room.

Alex gave her girlfriend a smile, crinkling her eyes in confusion at the unexpected action.

“I don’t want to walk out alone,” Y/N whispered softly, looking at her fidgeting hands, ashamed at the confession.

Unconcerned about who saw, Alex slowly reached over and grasped Y/N’s hand, standing and waiting for the other woman to stand as well.

“That’s alright Y/N/N, I’m ready to go anyway,” Alex waited to let Y/N lead them to the bus, holding hands the entire way.

Almost to the bus, Alex felt Y/N rip her hand out of their hold and freeze in place, eyes staring determinedly at the ground.

Alex looked up and saw a familiar woman approach, but she couldn’t quite place.

“Go to the bus Alex,” Y/N said lowly.

Alex glanced between the two women before it registered who this woman was. Alex placed her hand on the small of Y/N back, only for the other woman to harshly step away as if the contact physically hurt.

By now the other woman was within arm’s reach, keeping her eyes directly on Y/N the entire time.

“Y/N,” the woman drawled, firmly placing a hand on Y/N’s bicep and another on her opposite hip, invading her personal space. “You looked so good today,” she whispered in Y/N’s ear, gone before either woman could say anything.

Y/N was brought out of her stunned state as she heard several of her teammates approaching. Quickly making her way to the bus. Leaving Alex to trail behind, not knowing what to do.

“Can I sit here?” Alex asked softly as she got to her seat on the bus, not wanting the defender to feel trapped.

Y/N quickly nodded to Alex without looking up from her shaking hands.

“Was that Phelycia? The ex?”

Y/N just nodded again.

Alex could feel Y/N shaking in her seat the entire drive back to the hotel.

“It’s ok sweetie,” Alex cooed softly in Y/N ear after being woken up that night, the forward doing her best to settle the frantic woman in her arms. She could feel the tears soaking her shirt and hear the ragged breathing. As Y/N became aware of her surroundings, she quickly tensed and pulled herself out of Alex’s grasp.

Feeling Y/N struggle, Alex released her, not wanting to panic her anymore.

“I’m sorry Alex, I woke you up, and, and, and,” Y/N stuttered, her breathing quick and panicked. “And I got your shirt wet. I am so sorry Alex, it, it won’t ha-happen a-again.”

Y/N tumbled off the bed, landing awkwardly, landing on her knees on the floor beside the bed.

“Y/N/N, it’s alright,” Alex soothed, leaning to turn the lamp on, only for Y/N to aggressively flinch back, landing on the bed behind her. “That’s my fault, I’m sorry, I should have told you. I’m just going to turn the lamp on. Is that ok?”

Alex slowing twisted her body, turning the lamp on and then moved to a seated position on the bed, facing Y/N on the other one. Y/N was scared of her, she had never been scared of her before. She watched as the other woman tried to steady her own breathing unsuccessfully, her eyes moving sharply around the room, her entire body shaking and on high alert.

Y/N became more aware of her surroundings, her eyes settling on Alex who was sitting patiently, waiting for Y/N to decide what she needed.

“Can I,” Y/N started, then looked away, embarrassed by what she wanted to ask.

“You can come lay with me Y/N,” Alex offered, knowing what the blonde wanted.

Y/N slowly stood, Alex shifting to be laying on her back again. Y/N hesitated, but slid into the bed, resting majority of her body weight on Alex, her grip firm on the forwards shirt.

The next day Y/N was slow to get off the bus and leave the change room, scared to be in open areas of where she might run into Phelyica again. Alex remained firmly at her side.

By now, everyone else on the team sense the shift in dynamic between the two women. What had been overly friendly before, had noticeably shifted to protector. That along with Y/N’s change in demeanor, all the players were on high alert for the perceived threat they didn’t know about.

Y/N was on edge the whole practice again, but still managed to perform well at practice

After the practice, the players all watched as Y/N wandered into the tunnel, cleats dragging with each step, the woman too exhausted to even lift her feet fully off the ground. Alex again trailed behind, attempting to give her girlfriend feel safe but giving her her independence.

“Hey Al, you and Y/N good?” Allie asked, jogging to catch up to Alex.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Alex deflected.

“The two of you just seem weird this last week. Did something happen in Orlando? She being another diva, not getting her way and demanding another trade?” Allie laughed.

Alex stopped, turning to look sharply at her best friend.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

With that Alex stormed away, trying to catch up to her girlfriend.

Rounding the corner, Alex saw Y/N frozen, Phelycia trapping her to the wall with both hands on either side of her head, lips next to her ear. Y/N looked terrified.

Hearing the footsteps, Phelycia looked up, smirked at Alex and walked down the hallway.

Alex rushed the rest of the way to her girlfriend, who was stood shaking against the wall. Alex moved quickly, causing Y/N to flinch back. Forcing herself to slow down, Alex held her hands up, allowing Y/N to fully see her intentions.

She wrapped Y/N in the gentlest hug possible, whispering softly in her ear, reassuring her.

Allie came around the corner, seeing the interaction, hanging her head, understanding there was more happening than what she knew.

Y/N had hardly slept that night again, she had managed to not Alex this time though. But it was apparent the next morning, the fatigue clear as the young defender made her way to breakfast.

She hid it fairly well, Alex watching on concerned, her girlfriend going through the motions as she got ready for the game later that afternoon.

For being as exhausted as she was, Y/N played incredible for majority of the game. By the 70th minute, it was clear the fatigue was beginning set in. Alex watching nervously from the sideline, each time Y/N hit the ground she was slower to get up.

The opposing forwards picked up on this well, pushing the ball up the defender’s side, taking advantage of her exhaustion.

In the 82nd minute, the opposing defence sent a long ball towards the US’ box, Y/N and two other forwards jumping up high for the ball. All three landing in heap on the turf, limbs tangled.

The opposing forwards slowly untangled themselves gently, hearing Y/N cry out when they landed.

Y/N rolled onto her back, her arm over her face, digging the heel of her right cleat in the ground, back arching in pain. Her left leg obviously broken. Blood soaking the white, an obvious protrusion through the side.

Trainers and the stretcher wasted no time to get to the injured player. Alex paced the sideline like a caged animal, waiting for any information on her injured girlfriend.

Y/N did her best to remain still and avoid crying out as the trainers splint the fractured leg. The trainers waved the paramedics onto the field for immediate transport.

The medical staff worked efficiently to secure Y/N the gurney and wheeled her to the sideline toward the ambulance.

Alex couldn’t wait anymore, taking off towards her injured girlfriend, climbing into the back of the ambulance as soon as there was space.

Alex sat next to Y/N holding her hand, while the paramedics worked. Y/N squeezed her hand tight, rolling her head to the side looking to Alex for comfort. The forward felt useless, not being able to do more than hold Y/N’s hand and whisper words of a reassurance.

Quickly she felt the grip in her hand loosen, Alex looked from Y/N’s face to the paramedics.

“Y/N, we’ve given her something for the pain, it’s alright,” the paramedic reassured as they drove to the hospital.

Alex nodded, risking a glance to the injured appendage, she saw that they had cut Y/N’s sock and cleats off, gauze covering the open wound where the bone was protruding, a large splint securing the leg into position.

Not being able to handle the harsh looking injury, Alex glanced back her girlfriends face. She looked the most relaxed she had in days, her eyes closed, exhaustion and medication having set in.

Once at the hospital, Alex was allowed into the room, but shuffled to the side to be out of the way. Alex watched on as the doctor and few nurses assessed Y/N.

After a few minutes they left the room, stating someone would be in in a few minutes to transport her for x-rays and that a surgeon would come after the x-rays were complete.

Alex pulled her chair closed to Y/N, pulling her hand into her own. Y/N turned her head, giving Alex a dopey smile, the pain killers easing her.

“Hey babe,” Alex whispered, leaning forward and kissing Y/N’s forward.

“Hi,” Y/N giggled, bringing her other hand to try and touch Alex’s cheek. Uncoordinated with pain killers in her system, Alex caught the flailing hand, kissing her palm.

Someone came in, stating they were going to take Y/N for x-rays.

Y/N was pushing out of the room on her bed. Alex remaining in the room in the meantime.

When Y/N was brought back, a surgeon was trailing behind the bed.

“So, you think there’s a chance it’s not broken?” Y/N asked the doctor, giggling at her own joke.

“I’ll have to wait until I get in there to see for sure,” the doctor played along, chuckling softly.  

The surgeon walked the soccer players through what the surgery would be like, explaining she had already talking to the teams doctor about care plans.

With a smile, she said she would see her in the operating room and that someone would be up soon to get her.

After the surgeon left the room, Y/N shifted on the bed, encouraging Alex to come up with her.

Alex gingerly climbed on the bed, avoiding the well splinted leg propped up on pillows.  

That was how Kelley and Allie found the two women after being led in by a nurse. Y/N fast asleep in Alex’s arms.

Kelley and Allie set two bags by the door, quietly entering the room.

“Broken leg, open fracture, they are just getting everything ready and taking her for emergency surgery,” Alex filled in without being asked.

Another nurse came in then, ready to take Y/N up for surgery.

Alex gently extracted herself from the bed, waking Y/N up.

“I’ll see you when you get love,” Alex said softly, placing a gentle kiss to her forward, before stepping back and watching Y/N get wheeled out of the room.

“You got something to tell us, Janice?” Kelley teased.

“Y/N and I are together, we started dating a little after she came to Orlando.”

“I’m sorry about what I said at the stadium yesterday Al, I clearly misread some stuff,” Allie apologized.

“Let me go change and I can explain a little more,” Alex suggested, picking up one of the bags and making her way to the bathroom.

After changing, Alex made her way to the waiting room, greeted with the sight of the entire team there.

“So, rumour has it you have something important to tell us,” Tobin prompted.

“Uh yea, Y/N and I are dating, for about eight months now actually,” Alex said with a proud smile.

The players all smiled, rattling off several questions at a time.

Alex answered each one, skirting around why Y/N was traded and doing her best to avoid her withdrawn behaviour since arriving in Houston.

The team was all incredibly happy for the couple, each commenting how much they support them. Majority of them made their way back to the hotel for the night, promising to come back in the morning.

Alex and a few other saying they were  going to wait until Y/N was out of surgery before she would go back.

[carnationcreation]

Hey there, I love you and your work so so much!!

I was wondering if you could write a Mighty Ducks imagine, about your favorite duck-i just low key wanna know who your favorite is- that is set in the second movie where the reader is new to the team and it kinda starts off as them not liking each other to them kissing? If you need any more ideas I’d be happy to help!!

 TITLE: Pride (Adam Banks x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Request: Hey there, I love you and your work so so much!!I was wondering if you could write a Mighty Ducks imagine, about your favorite duck-i just low key wanna know who your favorite is- that is set in the second movie where the reader is new to the team and it kinda starts off as them not liking each other to them kissing? If you need any more ideas I’d be happy to help!!

Prompt/summary:  Adam finally has to admit to his pride after he’s injured.

Word Count: 1,298

Authors note: Set in D2! Also I had such a hard time picking cause I love Charlie, Adam, and Luis but I decided to go with my first boy crush from the films! For the vibes listen to Take Yours by Matthew Mole it’s so cute!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My laces were tied so tight I could feel the pressure right on top of my foot as I charged Julie in the goal, she barely caught the puck from my slapshot to the top right corner.

“Ugh, almost had it,” I groaned.

“Maybe one day (Y/l/n),” Julie said. I couldn’t see her face because of the goalie mask but I’m sure she had a shit-eating grin on.

I never thought I would make it here, representing my state for the US youth hockey team for the Junior Olympics. The day I got the call I almost passed out from the excitement and anxiety, and today I almost puked getting out of bed as I thought about how I needed to be on my best game if I wanted to make a good impression on the team I would be joining. 

I saw the whole team walk in, the green jersey was almost a threat. Something I could join but never truly be a part of. I felt that anxiety build up again when I saw they were watching me as I skated down the ice.

Tibbles began to introduce each of us giving us a chance to show off our best skill.

Julie went first, her speed and accuracy in goal made her a vital member to the team. If we were going to stand a chance against Iceland then we needed her.

“And that’s (Y/n) (Y/l/n), everyone calls her Sharpshooter though.”

“Why’s that?” Bombay asked.

“Just watch,” Tibbles nodded, “She’s the only person that’s been able to score on Gaffney.”

My heart raced as I skated quickly up to the goal, aiming on Julie’s stick side, right in the corner I knew she was weakest on.

“Cheap shot (Y/l/n)!” she yelled causing me to laugh as I threw my arms up in victory.

Tibbles waved me over.

“So what makes you so important?” Bombay asked me, “We have about 3 sharpshooters on my team. Why do we need you?”

I stood there in shock, not able to respond as I racked my brain for an answer, “I- well have any of your boys managed to score on Gaffney yet?”

“No, but they will be able to.”

“After how long? I’ve known Gaffney for maybe 30 minutes and I’m already scoring. From what I can tell your boys rely mostly on strength, put anyone up against me and I can show you how accurate I am.”

Bombay smirked, “I like this kid.”

I couldn’t help but smile as Tibbles let me skate back over to Gaffney.

“Look at the boys,” she smirked.

I gave her a confused look.

“Attractive, presumably single hockey players? Might be able to get ourselves a date.”

“Oh shut up,” I shoved her shoulder, “We should be thinking about Hockey, not getting some stupid guys to go out with us. Besides, dating a teammate would just be... weird.”

Julie rolled her eyes, “Oh whatever.”

I laughed and gave the team one final look. My eyes fell on two boys standing near the edge of the group, I assumed one, if not both, was the captain.

“Who’re those boys? Near the edge?”

Julie smirked, “Conway and Banks. The two star players.”

“Oh.”

“Who do you think is cuter?” 

I swallowed hard, “Honestly hard to tell. They both give off different vibes.”

“I thought you said dating a teammate would be ‘weird’“ Julie laughed.

“Listen,” I smiled, “I can look at the menu, I just won’t order.”

Julie let out a cackle and skated away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tension between the groups finally bubbled over and I was swept in by someone insulting Julie.

“She’s a lot better than you bus boy!” I yelled in the other goalies face.

“I’d block any of your shots any day (Y/l/n)!” he said.

“Wanna test that theory?” I said, apparently I had this fiery look in my eyes cause when Julie pulled me back I saw how terrified the goalie looked causing me to laugh.

Banks skated over, “You really think you’re hot shit huh?”

“Oh please,” I scoffed, “I know I’m hot shit. How many state titles have you one pretty boy?”

I mentally slapped myself. Pretty boy? Really? Best you could come up with?

Adam smirked, “I’d take you on anytime princess.”

“Bring it on.”

Eventually Bombay broke us all apart.

“Now we didn’t come here to fight! We came to play Hockey. We’re team USA. You represent your country!”

Julie and I giggled at the looks on the players faces. 

Adam turned to me, “SHH!”

I rolled my eyes in return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the first practice we all seemed to get along better. The girls all went out shopping together on the weekends leading to us getting close quick. Adam and I had a competition going of who could make the best trick shot, which Julie kept saying was ‘tension’. 

We finally made it to our game against Germany. The summer had seemed to go by in an instant and I knew after the championship I would have to be bussed right back home to Boringtown USA. 

I walked into the locker room after workouts, I stayed afterwards to work on my shot more. I turned the corner and saw Adam wrapping his wrist up, he winced.

“Adam?”

He jumped and looked up, “It’s not- (Y/n) don’t you dare tell coach.”

“What’d you do?”

Adam sighed, “In the last game, the dude that hooked my wrist with his stick. It’s just a little sore I promise-”

“Adam,” I said gently grabbing hist wrist to examine it, “You might’ve sprained it. If you keep playing on it it could get worse, you might not be able to play anymore.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it checked out after the seasons over with.”

“That’s self destructive. You can’t set aside your pride for a minute just to get it looked at?” I knew to get him to see how ridiculous he was being I’d have to rile him up a little.

He scoffed, “I’m prideful? Have you even looked at yourself sharpshooter? You think you’re better than everyone and-”

“Adam this isn’t about me, or even you. It’s about the team. And if you have to get benched for longer than necessary just because you ignored an injury than that’s gonna be the whole teams problem.”

Adam sighed, “Fine. But I better not hear a word from you about it.”

“And on the topic of me being better than everyone, I’ve never thought that. I just didn’t feel like I fit in.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, “You fit in fine. You’re just constantly pushing yourself to where everyone feels like you’re full of it. A lot of people are jealous.”

“Jealous?” I cocked my head to the side.

“Yeah.”

I looked at him confused, “Of what?”

“Just- you’re constantly finding things to improve. You’re just the person who doesn’t realize just how good you are sometimes. To the point where it’s almost annoying. Yeah it’s like you think you’re better but at the same time you’re never the best. And it’s infuriating when all I can think about in practice is impressing you-”

“Impressing me?” I smile.

“I- uh. Yes. Impressing you.”

“Adam,” I chuckle, “Everyone on this team thinks you’re amazing. Myself included.”

“Amazing?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. 

He stands up and walks over to stand in front of me, I look up into those bright blue eyes I could never seem to avoid. I gently grab his wrist, “Let’s go get this checked out by the trainer okay?”

“Okay,” he says as I started to lead him down the hallway, “And (Y/n)?”

I turned back to him.

He quickly leaned forward to press a quick kiss on my lips, “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[zmalkarnar1]

What About Us? Part II: Oikawa x Male Reader

Here is the second part of the Oikawa x Male reader I posted the other week. Wasn’t satisfied leaving it where it was. 

Again, if you aren’t ahead in the manga there are spoilers. Enjoy.

“Iwa-chan, I have to get this done!”

“No. You need a break Y/n.” Iwaizumi said, pulling Y/n away from his computer and through his pigsty apartment.

“But Iwaizumi, just another thirty minutes...no, just another hour and I can be done with this piece,” Y/n whined, pulling back towards his pc. 

“Y/n, we agreed to meet with Hanamaki and Matsukawa for lunch. We would’ve been there already, but I swear you’re as bad as Trashykawa, forgetting everything except your art.”

“Just a little bit, I just need a little more time,” Y/n pleaded, trying to pull away from Iwaizumi.

“Y/n. I will carry your ass outside and drag you by your ear.”

“But Iwa-chan…”

“Now,” he said, arms crossed, exasperated as if he was dealing with a child. He probably was. Y/n wilted under Iwaizumi’s gaze, and slowly got up, shoulders slouched. Iwaizumi hung his arm around him. 

“It’ll be fine. Some time with friends will do you good.

Giving d/n a pat goodbye, Y/n let Iwaizumi lead the way to the restaurant they had promised to meet their friends. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Y/n’s eyes gazed at the surrounding cityscape, the final vestiges of winter fading away as the new birth of spring sprouted forward. Iwaizumi was right; he needed a break. Though he’d never admit it to his friend. Even his walks with d/n have been little more than fever dreams to him, everything was focused back on his work.

“Man, it's nice out. You should have told me the weather was this great,” Y/n teased knowing full well Iwaizumi had done just that.

Iwaizumi stopped and stared deadpan at Y/n. He’d forgotten that Y/n was sometimes just as bad as Oikawa, well, not quite as bad. At least, he’s gotten worse ever since they left high school. Iwaizumi always let it slide; he figured it was how Y/n dealt with all the stress piling up on him. Y/n was always cheerful, and a bit of a tease, but Iwaizumi knew that more often than not, it was a façade, a smokescreen. He was hiding his pain, just like he did in high school. Iwaizumi wasn’t fooled however. 

“You’re really tired, aren’t you?”

“Huh? No more than normal,” Y/n said, that ghost of a smile returning to his face. “Why’d you ask? Worried about me?”

“Yes, I am. Trashykawa told me how you’ve been working yourself into a mental breakdown,” 

“Oikawa, that snitch!” Y/n cursed under his breath. He should have known Tooru was going to rat on him to Iwaizumi. 

“Yea, he is, but you really can’t keep on like this. Ever since he went back to Argentina you’ve been even more of a recluse. You barely even check your texts!” Iwaizumi said

Y/n sighed, letting his walls lip for a moment. Iwaizumi was right. He was always consumed with work. He loved his aft, his animation. He loved that his work was enjoyed and held dear to thousands around the world. Despite the high demands of his employers, and the fact he barely survives week to week, he still loved art. But now it was something else.

Ever since he had met Tooru that winter, it's like he was woken up from a trance. After they left high school, all throughout college, everything had happened so fast. His mother sick, his father leaving; Y/n was exhausted and broken down. Before Oikawa showed up, he was barely alive, just walking through each day, one after the other, barely recognizing the world around him. He had lost so much, and, Y/n admitted, work allowed him an excuse to bury his exhaustion and pain deep inside, trapped behind a wall so thick he became numb to the emotions roiling inside of him. His pain and tears hidden away, his work was the perfect escape, despite the endless tasks his job required. It was his way to shy away from the world. Better to be busy than alone. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t cry, or feel the loss of his family, he just didn’t want to confront it, not alone like he was. He didn’t want to feel so hollow, so torn, alone. So he worked, and worked, until Tooru showed up on his evening walk one winter day, and the dam that had begun to leak from overwork and exhaustion burst. His memories and old feelings he left unresolved boiling to the surface. And now he couldn’t get his mind off of Oikawa. Oikawa, who sent him a text encouraging him each day, a word of support awaiting him on his phone each morning as he woke. 

And every week, Tooru found time to call him, sharing volleyball stories and giving Y/n a chance to destress from work. Each call happened during Y/n’s waking hours, which meant Oikawa must have been getting up at ungodly hours just for a chat. With Y/n’s unresolved feelings with Tooru came all his damned emotions, threatening to tear him apart, and the last thing he wanted to do was show weakness to his friends again.

So, Y/n did the only thing he knew, throwing himself into a job that was slowly killing him. He stopped responding immediately to Oikawa’s morning texts. He let the past two calls go to voicemail. Too busy with work, deadlines with animes being pushed up. He could talk next week.

Y/n vaguely remembered talking with Oikawa for a few minutes before making a weak excuse about work again. In truth, he really didn’t want to handle these emotions right now, and as stressful as work could be, his art allowed him to be numb and bury them all away.  But since Tooru kept coming back, it was getting harder and harder to hold them in check.

“You know Y/n, you’re going to have to deal with your feelings and emotions eventually,” Iwaizumi said

Y/n stumbled, “What? What do you mean?”

“Even a blind man can see that you’re hiding your feelings for Oikawa behind your work. You’ve done that for years. You’re going to have to face him eventually.” Iwaizumi said, shrugging. Perhaps Y/n wasn’t as good an actor as he thought. 

“This coming from you? All your emotion is wrapped up in violence,” Y/n scoffed.

“At least I’m a stable, functioning adult.”

“Hey! I’m functioning!” Y/n argued

“You’d forget to buy food if I didn’t stop around every once and a while.”

“That only happened once!”

“It’s not my fault the two of you have the emotional intelligence of a toddler.” Iwaizumi said

“Iwa-chan, so mean” Y/n whined in imitation of Oikawa

“Don’t be like him or I’ll whack you!” Iwaizumi laughed, “Anyways, you really are going to need to find some way to work through your emotions. You’ve held in everything that’s happened since high school and your mother’s death. Consider this an intervention.”

“I know,” Y/n said, aware that he was right. “Food first. Emotions can wait.” Forever, if Y/n had his choice. “How’s work with the national team going?”

“It’s busy. Honestly, I’m always a little worried that Ushijima is going to break Hinata’s face one of these days at the rare times the team is actually together.”

“Must be fun though,” Y/n hummed. 

Y/n let Iwaizumi ramble on about his work, glad to be off the topic of the emotional wreck that is his life. He didn’t really listen, and he knew Iwaizumi could tell, but he couldn’t focus on the words. Oikawa was back in his head, and he kept wondering when he’d be able to move past it all. 

By the time they made their way to the restaurant, Maki and Mattsun were already there. They already had drinks. Apparently they’d been waiting a while. How late was he? As he went to sit next to Iwaizumi, Makki was already teasing him.

“You know, I remember when you’d get all flustered why you were even a minute late to class,”

Y/n blushed, “Oh shut up Makki. At least I passed all my classes. What was your Algebra II grade again?”

“He’s right. Remember when Y/n panicked when he forgot about the English test?” Mattsun said,

“Oh, I won’t forget that,” Iwaizumi laughed, slapping Y/n on the back, “Was so afraid of failing he skipped class, hiding in a broom closet, and somehow managed to lock himself in.”

���Stop it!” Y/n whined, “I left my work for this!” The others just laughed. It was all in good fun, he knew. 

As their food came and went, Y/n allowed himself to step away from work and enjoy an afternoon with old friends. He still kept his walls up though. He was strong enough to not fall apart in front of his friends. 

“So how is Oikawa?” Mattsun asked, bringing up the topic that Y/n had been purposely avoiding for the entire lunch.

“He’s fine, I guess.” Y/n said, “Big game coming up in a week or two.”

“You guess? Aren’t you talking to him every week?” Makki asked

“Y/n here has been ghosting him because he’s afraid that he likes him again,” Iwaizumi teased

“Iwa-chan, stop it!”

“Oh, stop pretending you don’t care for him. We can all tell you’re still inexplicably obsessed with Oikawa.”

“Stop it!” Y/n begged, a slight blush forming, “Can we change the topic. Please?”

“Ok, we’ll stop teasing you. For now.” Iwaizumi said, as Y/n nodded gratefully. 

Y/n left the restaurant with Iwaizumi, heading back to take d/n for his afternoon walk to the park.

“What are you going to do Y/n? You really can’t keep on like this.”

“I know. I’ll figure something out. Thanks Iwa-chan,”

“I can walk with you and d/n for a bit if you want,” Iwaizumi said, “I have nothing else planned today,”

“No thanks. I need to think this through on my own,” Y/n said, waving farewell to Iwaizumi.

And then he was alone again, walking d/n down the very path that brought him to his fateful reunion with this old boyfriend, and shattered the illusion he had been living under. If he could even call it living.

“What do I do, d/n?” Y/n whispered, scratching the dog’s ears before throwing his tennis ball again, watching d/n rush through the dog park after it. 

I still like him. God I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

Y/n took a seat on the new spring growth of grass as d/n came bounding back to him. The animal, sensing Y/n’s discomfort, sat down next to him and dropped his head on Y/n’s shoulder. 

Y/n chuckled, scratching his ears again, “Thanks d/n.”

Sitting together with d/n, Y/n knew what he had to do. Before he did anything else, he needed to resolve things with Oikawa, however they played out. He took out his phone and rang Iwaizumi. He was going to need a big favor. 

Oikawa sat down in the locker room before the game. It was the biggest game of the year. Biggest game since the Olympics the previous summer. This game would decide if him and his team would enter into the Men's Volleyball Club World Championship Tournament. Tobio was sure to be there. Oikawa would too, in order to show his former underclassmen that he was now the superior setter.

Yet for the first time, his mind wasn’t entirely on the game. No matter how he tried to settle in and prepare as normal, his thoughts drifted back to Y/n./ Y/n had been ghosting him. Not fully, but even when they did talk, he had been distant and full of excuses in order to slip away. And then suddenly he texted saying they had something they needed to talk about. 

Oikawa was worried. Has something happened? Had he pushed too hard? He wanted to give him space, but he was worried for his old friend. His love. Was Y/n okay, or was it that he just didn’t want to talk with Oikawa anymore? Was their relationship truly and fully broken? Never had Oikawa been so distracted from volleyball. He knew he dealt with the break up by throwing himself further into the game. But now that he’d had that chance meeting, he couldn’t deny it; he still loved Y/n. Because no matter what happened, he was always the one who supported his volleyball dream, and was there for every win and every loss. He left the locker room, his thoughts still lost and confused. 

Y/n cheered, poster in hand, as the players emerged onto the court to warm up. He had watched the Olympic games, but this was his first time seeing a league game. It’s not like they showed Argentine Volleyball League games in Japan. When the game started, he only had eyes for Oikawa

Tooru’s game was off. Y/n could tell that something was bothering him. He could see him make mistakes, however slight, preventing his team from getting into a rhythm. A toss too high, one too close to the net. The game was still close, but Tooru’s team just couldn’t seem to take the lead. Y/n felt a little guilty. Was it him, his ghosting, his late night message, throwing his old friend off?

It can’t be. Nothing has ever broken his focus from Volleyball before…

Oikawa muttered to himself. He wasn’t playing well. By no means was it bad, but his tosses refused to leave his hands the way they should. They were always just a touch off. Too low here, too far from the net there. And then he’d scramble, overcompensating for the next one. And his team became unhinged. 

Their receives became shaky, and their spikes wild as they began to rush. A setter's job was to restore balance to his team. That’s what Blanco would have done. But today, Oikawa was spinning them closer and closer to disaster. He was the farthest he’d ever been from reaching his goal. He couldn’t get Y/n off his mind. Even his serves faltered.

They went down the first set. It was okay. It was only one set. The second they brought to a deuce, but fell a few rallies later. His chances of making the Club World Championship this year slipping further and further away. And still Y/n invaded his thoughts. They’d have to be perfect the rest of the match.

But things started off the same way. Oikawa’s first serve slamming down just outside the line. 0-1. The next few rallies were short, but slowly and surely they fell behind. 7-9. Oikawa’s toss went just a breadth too high again, and the spike was dug, blasting back down on their side of the court. 7-10. The serve came at them, their libero flying it high up above the team. A good receive, if a little off center. Under it right away, Tooru set it to his middle blocker, already in the air. It was good, and the quick passed through the block, only to be dug before it could reach the floor. Back at them, barely dug, Oikawa’s team scrambled to get it over, a chance ball for their opponents. The toss flew up, the block in place and shutting down the avenues of attack. The spike came down hard anyways, blasting off the block and heading towards the stands.

Oikawa was after it a split second later, diving into the group towards the sign boards, he blasted the ball back up in the air to his team. But as he scrambled up, something in the second row caught his eyes. He usually ignored the crowds during games like these, but a poster was written in Japanese, and he couldn’t help but stop to read it, even as his team were barely treading enough water to keep their heads above the stormy surf of the match. 

Go Tooru, Go. Rule the Court.

Only one person would create a banner like that for him. Still on his knees, he brought his gaze up and me e/c eyes sparkling down at him, Y/n’s smile full and invigorating, cheering his name. “Go Tooru, go!”

Oikawa froze. His mind went blank. Every time he tried to bring it back to the game, it fell apart. Only one thought remained. 

Y/n is here. Cheering for me. In Argentina, in the front rows, watching and cheering for me. He came all the way across the globe to watch me play.

For the first time that he could remember, Oikawa completely forgot about volleyball as the rally ended, him still staring up at Y/n. He completely forgot about volleyball. At that moment the only thought going through his mind was that no matter what happened, him and Y/n were going to be okay. Then he heard his voice again, screaming over the crowd. 

“Remember Tooru, the team strongest as a group of six is the stronger team!” Y/n called out. 

All the frustration and worries wracking his mind fell away and he was back into the game. With Y/n at his back, nothing could go wrong. And he remembered Iwa-chan’s words. Stronger as a group of six. He’d been trying to force everything on his own, just like when he was a kid.

Tooru stood up, shaking his head and dusting off his jersey. Looking back up to Y/n he gave him the warmest smile he could and a simple nod. Then, he was back to the game.

“Sorry,” he said to his team as he returned to the court, “but I’m back now.”

His team only nodded, seeing something change in his eyes, and the match truly began.

Y/n looked down into Tooru’s dazzling brown eyes, eyes he always seemed to get lost in. Then he realized the rally was still going on, and Tooru was still on his yankees, staring up at him as if he were a phantom. Y/n’s heart fluttered and a tear threatened to fall from his eyes. Had Tooru really forgotten about the rally? For him? Indeed, when the ball finally slammed down a moment later, Tooru was still looking up at him. Yes, Tooru really did forget about volleyball for him. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.

Maybe he does think about me as much as I think of him.

Then he was on his feet and flashed Y/n the brightest, most genuine smile he’d even seen from Tooru, his eyes enrapturing for a moment. As Tooru nodded to him, returning to his team, Y/n knew he still liked Oikawa Tooru, and it was okay. 

The rest of the game flew by and Tooru melted into the match. With Y/n’s eyes at his back, he and his team flowed into each set and roared back to life, ruling the court. And every few points, Tooru turned to lock eyes with Y/n, to ensure he was still there, that he wasn’t a dream plaguing his mind. It only helped to serve to rekindle Y/n’s feelings for the brunette. It wasn’t just about volleyball. Maybe it never was.

Oikawa’s serve slammed down for another ace, ending the fifth and final set. Y/n cheered him on as his team won entrance to the Club World Championship. After celebrating with this team, Tooru ran over towards the stands, yelling for Y/n, but it was hard to hear over the screams of the crowd. Y/n took out his phone and pointed to it, screaming “Call me later!”

Y/n knew he had to spend some time working with his team, but knew Tooru got the message as he nodded and waved before trotting off. Y/n could wait one more time. He could wait once more. When Tooru was done with his team he’d come for Y/n and then...then they’ll see. Leaving the stadium, Y/n made his way to his motel, to await Tooru’s call.

What am I doing here? Halfway across the world? To do what? Confess I still love him? Why’d I let Iwaizumi get into my head?

Y/n sat in his motel room, doubt beginning to wrack his mind. He had rejected Oikawa, ultimately, by refusing to come with him again. And now, here he was, in Argentina, unable to speak the language, with no idea what he was doing, following erupting emotions he never dealt with and can no longer control. In fact, they were driving him crazy, he needed to deal with this. All he could do was wait, and he hated it. 

Oikawa joined his team in their locker room. They were already celebrating, jostling each other and him, but Oikawa had thoughts only for Y/n. Even their post game meeting was a blur to him. As it ended, Tooru immediately grabbed his phone. It was flooded with pictures from his game, including a few of him on all fours gazing in disbelief up at Y/n.

“Iwa-chan will love this one,” the message below the picture read.

No! I can’t let him send that to Iwa-chan. He’d tease me for weeks.

Tooru rushed out of the locker room, not even bothering to change, his team looking at his back knowingly. He was lucky it was a home game. Even as he rushed to his car, his phone was already dialing Y/n’s number. 

“Y/n, where are you at?”

“Back at my motel,” Y/n answered

“Where? I’m coming!”

With Y/n’s motel and room number, Oikawa hit the roads of San Juan to find him.

Y/n waited. Tooru was on his way. He needed to deal with this, whatever the result. But now that he was finally shifting through his emotions, the loss of his family, the loneliness, the stress of his dream tearing him apart, he began to falter. Now that he finally recognized his feelings for Tooru, he was afraid, terrified of what was to come. It made him miss the numbness of his work. 

He was scared Tooru didn’t want him like he hoped he did. He was terrified that he did, and it would fall apart. He was afraid of being weak in front of Tooru again. And with those thoughts rushing through his mind, his neurons firing doubt through his brain, Tooru arrived.

“Y/n, I’m here, open up!”

The door opened with a slow whisper, but Tooru burst in, slamming the door open past Y/n, engulfing his (shorter/taller) friend into a crushing bearhug.

“Y/n, I can’t believe you came! What are you doing here? I thought you had work!?”

“Can’t breathe. Tooru, let go.”

“Sorry. But why are you here?”

“You’re all sweaty too! Couldn’t you have at least changed out of your uniform,” Y/n whined as Tooru finally let him down.

“I just had to rush over. I didn’t want you waiting for a second longer. So? I thought you didn’t want to leave Japan? Did you enjoy the game? Thanks for coming!”

“One question at a time Tooru,” Y/n laughed, “like I texted, there’s something we need to talk about. And I wanted to do it in person.” 

“So, what is so important you had to fly across the globe for me?” Tooru teased

Here Y/n began to stutter, and then stop. He couldn’t do this. 

“You aren’t ready yet, are you?”

Y/n shook his head.

“That’s okay. I can wait,” Tooru said, his voice quiet and gentle, stepping back to give Y/n a little space. “How about we go grab some food and head to my place. I have a spare bedroom. Might be more comfortable than this dirty motel,”

“Y/n only nodded, grabbing his stuff.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving. I used just about all of my spending money on the plane and game ticket. I haven’t had much for food.” Y/n admitted.

“That’s some planning,” Tooru laughed, “You used to try to have every detail planned out.

“Oh, shut up and drive.”

The two made their way to Oikawa’s place, eating the takeout Tooru had ordered and picked up on the way. 

“How’d you get off work?”

“I, uh...spent an all nighter, or two in order to catch up. Maybe three? I don’t really remember much of it. Iwa-chan was less than pleased.” Y/n admitted, scowling when he remembered the scolding Iwaizumi had given him.

“I bet he wasn’t. What did he do?”

“Nothing fun. Speaking of Iwaizumi though, you’re a snitch. You told him,” Y/n accused. 

“What? Me? I never!” Oikawa argued, dramatically trying to protest his innocence, his arms flailing around wildly.

“Hands on the wheel! I know you told him!”

“Fine, I did.” Tooru sighed, his tone getting serious, “I was worried.”

“It’s okay. I got payback.” 

“What?”

“Iwaizumi and crew are going to love some of those photos,” Y/n said, smiling

“You didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t Y/n!”

“Oh, I did. Expect some hard core teasing,” Y/n laughed as Oikawa groaned.

“Come on, we’re just about there.” 

To Y/n’s surprise, Oikawa’s apartment was very nice, and immaculate. Y/n imagined it would be a disaster area, much like it was when they were kids. Maybe Oikawa had grown up a bit. More than Y/n had apparently.

Tooru jumped into the shower to clean up as Y/n settled into the spare bedroom, that night they watched a movie in relative silence and turned in. Taking out his phone, Y/n began texting Iwaizumi.

Y/n: I can’t do this Iwa-chan.

Iwaizumi: Y/n, you have to deal with this, and everything else. You can’t keep bottling it up.

Y/n: Iwa-chan, I’m scared

Iwaizumi: Do you still love him?

Y/n: I think so.

Iwaizumi: Then talk to him!

Y/n: But I don’t know. Does he still love me?

Iwaizumi: No buts! I saw that photo. He is, and always has been, completely in love with you.

Y/n: Ok, ok, I’ll tell him.

Iwaizumi: Good. If not I will fly over and beat both of you till you figure this out. 

Y/n slept alone in Oikawa’s spare room. He had it in case family visited, which they did from time to time. 

The following day, Oikawa took Y/n sight seeing through the city of San Juan. Y/n enjoyed the sights and spending time with Tooru. However, with each passing moment his stress and fear continued to build. His gaze shifted away and each time Oikawa could see it, breaking him, what Tooru knew he should have been able to see years ago. When the day came to a close, they found themselves back in Tooru’s apartment, sitting quietly on his couch. Tooru was going to give y/n as much time as he needed.

“Tooru, I…” Y/n stopped and sat back, an exhausted sigh breaking free. Tooru could tell he was holding back tears.

“If you’re not ready yet…”

“No.” Y/n interrupted, “It’s just...I never…” Y/n sniffled, choking back his tears. Tooru’s heart began to throb in pain. He wanted nothing more than to hold Y/n in his arms, to caress him, and make his pain and fears vanish into the night. But he didn’t want to push Y/n if he wasn’t ready. 

“Sorry. I promised myself i wouldn't cry,”

“You’re hurting still, aren’t you. It’s okay,” Tooru said, reaching his hand out to Y/n’s and squeezing it, hoping to reassure him. 

“I just didn’t want to be weak in front of you again. It’s always like this. I hate being so weak,”

“Weak? Y/n, you aren’t weak!” Tooru argued

“Yes, yes I am. All I do is hide from everything,”

“You’re the last person I’d call weak,” Tooru said, turning his h/c friend so he can look into his pained, but pretty e/c eyes. “Y/n, I’ve seen you push through school, with top marks, virtually alone. As your dad practically abandoned you, it was you who helped your mother, even as she was sick. You who, despite everything, came to school with a smile, never late, never missing an assignment, a club meeting or practice of yours, or a single one of my games. You bore everything on your shoulders alone, often to the detriment of your health. And never once did you complain or let it break you, never once did you allow yourself to show your pain to anyone. I know now, deep down, how much pain you were really in, and you hid it so well. I was completely oblivious to it, selfishly obsessed with my own doubts. Y/n, you are my definition of strength.

“Tooru,” Y/n whispered, no longer able to hold back his tears.

“And you know what. It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes. It’s okay to let it out. That doesn’t make you weak. You’ve been my pillar so often, will you finally let your walls down with me?”

Y/n couldn’t hold it in anymore. He fell into Tooru’s chest sobbing. His unresolved emotions from his mother’s death, the stress from his deteriorating finances, even the anger he never really dealt with resolving Tooru, all of them came flooding to the surface. And, of course, the love he still felt and buried deep beneath his skin. He allowed it all to overwhelm him finally. He could deal with it as long as Tooru was there. 

Tooru held him, so gently, understanding that, despite how strong his love was, he was brittle and wounded, and whatever he needed, Tooru would provide. So he held him close and gentle as a babe and let Y/n cry it out. He rubbed his back when Y/n muttered, “I needed you, and you were never there.” Tooru understood. Part of this was because of him, because he failed to see how much pain Y/n was in during their third year.

“It’s okay, you can be vulnerable with me. I’ll never see you as any less.” Tooru whispered. “You can be as strong as you want, or as weak as you need to be Y/n, I’ll always be here. Just please, stop numbing yourself.”

They laid together until Y/n stopped crying. And then, as Y/n didn’t pull away, or talk, only snuggled closer to Tooru, he held him tighter. Together they remained in each other's arms until the early morning hours. 

Tooru smiled, looking down at Y/n who had fallen asleep in his arms. He was tired. Mentally drained. Tooru would be whatever Y/n needed to be. And he’d wait, however long it took, for Y/n to forgive him and return to this permanently. He stayed awake the entire time, running his hand slowly through Y/’s blonde locks. He continued to caress him until Y/n shook awake. It was nearly two a.m. 

“Tooru…” Y/n yawned, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes, “what time is it?” “Two a.m.”

“What!?” Y/n pulled away from him and Tooru freely let him pull away, already missing his warmth. “I thought I was just dozing off for a few minutes.”

“Oh, you dozed straight to sleep.” Tooru laughed

“Sorry,” Y/n said, turning away, “About this...I,”

Tooru interrupted him before he could go any further, “Again, it’s okay. I’ll be what you need me to be, and nothing more until you’re ready.”

Y/n nodded, sitting up straight, “We need to talk,”

“You ready?”

“Yea. About us.”

Tooru waited for Y/n to continue, but he went quiet. “What about us?”

“I don’t want to wait. For you. For you to finish with volleyball. To have room in your heart.”

“Y/n,” Tooru sighed, fear rising in his chest, afraid that Y/n was going to ask him to give up volleyball, to give him the ultimatum he always feared. He couldn’t choose between them, “I’m not going to stop my career,”

“I know. I don’t want you to. But I can’t wait either. I want more.”

“More?”

“I want to try again. With you. Us. I don’t want to wait. I can’t,” Y/n said, “So, is your offer still on the table?” “...you’re sure?” Tooru whispered, hoping that he wasn’t asleep on his couch, that this wasn’t just another nightmare meant to torture him.

“I am. I need to know. Ever since we met at New Years, everything came to a head.  Realize I was drowning myself in my work, using it as an excuse to ignore everything else. I did that in college too. I’ve ignored the feelings of my mothers death, my dream, and you. But when you showed up…I can’t do it anymore. But I need to know. I want more. Is there any way we can work? Yes or no, I need to know before I move on. That’s why I’m here. 

“You aren’t kidding right?”

“No. So, is your offer still open?”

“Yes!” Tooru yelled, pulling Y/n into another crushing bear hug and pulling Y/n down onto the couch on top of him. “Of course my offer is open. And I want nothing more than for us to work. But I can’t be here all the time either,”

Y/n looked away, fearful for just a moment,

“But, that said, if you give me the chance, I will do everything I can to make you feel loved, to be your pillar, to hold you when you need to be vulnerable. I won’t abandon you like before. I’m stronger now. I’ve learned to balance volleyball and the rest of my life. I can make this work. I promise.”

Y/n smiled. “Then maybe, maybe I’ll be alright,”

“Can I kiss you?” Tooru asked.

“Yes.”

Tooru flipped Y/n over so his back was on the couch, Tooru looming over him. He cupped Y/n’s cheeks, pulling them in together, locking their lips. And Y/n’s fears, his pain, they weren’t gone, it didn’t vanish in a puff of smoke like a fairy tale, but with Tooru he knew he could be weak. He could allow himself to feel again. With Tooru, he knew he just might be okay. 

As their lips parted, Y/n felt Tooru pick him up and carry them to his bedroom.

“You’re tired,” he said, gently placing Y/n on the bed and pulling the covers over them. “Rest now. We’ll get the details tomorrow. Sleep my darling, sleep.” Tooru pulled Y/n in close, head to his chest, and together they fell asleep in each other's arms.

“Y/n, don’t go! Not now! Please,” Tooru whined as Y/n tried to make his way to the airport security. 

“Tooru, I left d/n with Iwaizumi. I imagine he’s sick of the animal. Plus, I still have to wrap up a bunch of things before I can move.”

“But we just got together n/n,” Tooru whined, pulling Y/n in for a kiss, asking for entrance with his tongue, which Y/n denied.

“Not here. At home. When I return. Then you can have all you want,” Y/n teased

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“But what if I don’t want to wait?”

“It’ll be a few weeks still. I’ll come back and then we can have some fun,” Y/n said, teasing, moving to whisper in Tooru’s ear, “Then we can figure out whatever citizenship work we need to do if we decide this works.”

“Fine, fine. Just a couple of weeks. And call me every day!” Tooru whined, reluctantly letting go of Y/n.

“I love you Tooru,” Y/n said, as he moved away to get through security.

“I love you too Y/n.”

One year later:

Oikawa’s serve blasted into the back corner of the opponent’s court. The libero dove for it, making contact, but the ball went spinning out of control, well out of reach of any of the opposing team members. The set came to an end, 25-19. There was only one set left.

Y/n cheered for his boyfriend before looking back down at his notebook. He had promised not to work today, but he snuck in some of his art without Tooru noticing. He was working on his own manga. He had yet to get anything officially off the ground. Most of his work had been denied, but he knew that in the writing business, that is the norm more often than not. It was okay. He would continue to work until he made that dream a reality. As for his animation, he still worked from home in their shared apartment, but had lightened his workload. And in a lucky break, one of his supervisors left and recommended him as her replacement. He now almost made something resembling a liveable wage. 

He was lost in his art. He knew that Tooru would be meeting with his team between the sets and could sneak in a bit of editing and drawing. Despite being in the front, right behind the bench, he was sure he’d be safe from Tooru’s eyes. But he was so absorbed in his art, he didn’t notice when Tooru came striding up to him, hands on his hips glaring at the artwork.

“You were supposed to be taking a day off, Y/n,”

Y/n jumped, and slowly closed his sketchbook, trying to hide it beneath the chair, “What do you mean Tooru, I am” he smiled, pretending to be innocent.

Tooru sighed, “You’re as hopeless as I am. Come on,” he said, grabbing Y/n’s arm and pulling him onto the court behind the bench.

“Tooru, what are you doing, the fifth set is about to start!”

“Don’t worry, both teams agreed to a short disruption, come on,” Tooru said, pulling him onto the court.

“Tooru, why are we on the court?” Y/n asked, blushing, unused to being in the spotlight with crowds staring down at them, many as confused as him.

“Look up.”

Y/n followed Tooru’s finger up to the screens above the court. Usually showing the game on the court, or replays, the screens now read the words, “Will you marry me, Y/n?”

Y/n turned to glare at Tooru, “Really. You are proposing to me during the middle of a volleyball game.” “Yes. I wanted to show you that I love you just as much as I love volleyball,” Tooru said, “Maybe a little bit more even,” Y/n sighed, “You know, this is a low move. I almost have to say yes, with everyone watching.”

“I’m sorry,” Tooru whispered, “Are you really that uncomfortable?”

“You’re lucky you already knew I was going to say yes,” Y/n muttered, knowing they had discussed the possibility in detail over the past month or so. Y/n shook his head and pulled Tooru in a kiss on the middle of the volleyball court. “Does that answer your question?”

Tooru pulled Y/n into another hug, leading him back to the bench as the crowds cheered. Y/n watched from the bench as the fifth set continued forward. He still wasn’t where he wanted to be yet, but Y/n knew that he and Tooru were going to be alright. He would let Tooru help rebuild him. He could make it through anything as long as he had his husband by his side. 

Here’s the ending. Not sure I like it, but it’s what came out. Again, sorry it’s so long. Too all those who distract themselves through work. Hope you enjoyed. 

[safertokiss]

Hate the Game, Love the Player

A/N: Let the fun times ensue! I really liked this prompt and a story kinda just wrote itself in my chaotic brain so here we are. I relate to this prompt greatly, I will admit, so it was extremely easy to channel. Anyways, thanks for reading and life’s a party.

Prompt: "spence i fucking hate chess. i just like spending time with you." (Anonymous)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: Fluff and SMUT

Word Count: 4k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

Spencer Reid. Spencer Fucking Reid. What a man.

You had been pretty much in love with the resident genius since the second you stepped foot into the BAU for your first day over a year ago. You could remember your first meeting plain as day, the way he stuttered out an introduction while a bright blush covered his entire figure, the way he fiddled with his hands to stay grounded in the moment. You had found the whole interaction very adorable and had decided in that moment that your heart belonged to him.

You guys had hit it off almost immediately, surprising absolutely no one on the team, and a beautiful friendship quickly bloomed between the two of you. While you certainly loved being his best friend and colleague, you were stuck.

 As more and more time passed with Spencer at your side, you couldn't stop the feelings you harbored for him from dramatically increasing. You had always read those stupid, sappy romance books that, more often than not, revolved around a close friendship being troubled by one half of the duo catching feelings for the other. Even worse were the stories where they didn’t end up together. You hoped that that wasn’t going to be the case for you and the doctor.

Of course the feelings weren’t just one-sided. It was blatantly obvious to pretty much everyone on the team, yourself included, that he felt the same exact way about you, and while the knowledge of his affection was encouraging, it didn’t amount to much because you knew he wasn’t the type to admit his feelings outright, especially to a female. Since there was no way in hell he was going to make the first move, you had been trying your hardest to make your advances as obvious and clear as humanly possible, hoping that at least one of them would finally lead to more. You had reached a point where you were so desperate you were willing to do the unspeakable for him. It was time to do the completely unimaginable.

“Hey Spence!” You watched his body jump slightly before swirling around in his chair to make eye contact with you, giving you a perfect view of his figure. He looked especially good today for some reason and you suspected that had something to do with your sudden willingness to go through with the one thing you had hoped you would never have to do. “Yeah?”

Oh boy here we go, now or never. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to maybe teach me how to play chess sometime? I’ve been meaning to learn how for quite a while now.” You certainly didn’t miss the way his face lit up with excitement at your question, quickly confirming that you had had the right idea and made the right decision asking.

“R-really? You’d actually want to do that? Oh wow, I’d love to teach you sometime! Maybe uh, if you want of course, you could come over tonight after work and we could start then. I’ll even um-I’ll even try not to win so you could have some fun! Oh um-uh not that you wouldn’t be able to win on your own, it’s just that-” 

“Spence, slow down”, you said with a chuckle, unable to contain the smile that covered your lips. “Tonight sounds great. I’ll meet you at your place after we get out of here, ok?” The stupid childlike grin that spread across his face was intoxicating and made you somehow fall even deeper in love with him. It was honestly baffling that someone as seemingly perfect as him could actually exist. God, how you hoped the two of you would at last grow some balls tonight and do something, finally putting that built-up tension to rest. Well, hopefully not to rest. You certainly wouldn’t mind it sticking around forever, as long as he was by your side to ease the borderline torture whenever it reared it’s ugly head.

“Ok uh-yeah that sounds awesome! S-see you tonight then. Oh and don’t forget to bring earplugs for when you inevitably get tired of hearing me explain the complexities of the game for the thousandth time”, he shyly added at the end. You didn’t even attempt to stop the lighthearted snort that escaped at his words. Like you could ever possibly grow tired of listening to him? That’s a big, fat negative. Giving you one last wide grin, he spun back around and began working on his files again, leaving you vulnerable to the not exactly innocent thoughts swirling around in your head.

You were going over his house tonight, the two of you would be all alone. Sure, you had been over there plenty of times before for various reasons, but this felt significantly different for some reason. Maybe that was down to the fact that you fully intended on making some kind of move tonight, in turn, hopefully, making your intentions completely clear to him. You had no definite way of knowing how far things would end up going later, but you certainly had a preference of where you wanted things to end up. Too many days had been spent pining over the young doctor, and at this point it was the only thing you could think of that would satisfy your desires.

Would he even want to though? As close as the two of you were, the topic of sex or anything even remotely sexual never seemed to breech into your conversations, as much as that disappointed you. It wasn’t exactly that you were worried about him not being into that kind of stuff, it was more of a deep rooted insecurity that often made you question whether or not he would ever want to do something of the sort with you. You quickly pushed the thought out of your head, deciding that the only way you were ever going to know for sure was if you worked up the courage to make some sort of significant advance in his direction tonight. 

Eventually ignoring your raging inner thoughts and returning to the task at hand, you couldn’t help but check the clock every few minutes, anxiously counting the minutes until you were able to leave this place and get to his. 

~~~

You had all but sprinted out of the office earlier once your shift had come to an end, rushing to get to your car so you could leave. 

The excitement that had been pumping through your veins was intoxicating and made you question all the seemingly silly nerves you had felt building up throughout the day. What was there to be nervous about? It was just chess. However, as you pulled into his apartment complex’s lot, you realized that it was so much more than just chess and the nerves came rushing back through you like a fucking tsunami.

You didn’t even want to discuss the way you felt right now, perched directly outside of his apartment, dazedly staring at the wooden door. Was it too late to just turn around, go home and forget that this whole damn thing ever even happened. A lucid fever dream, that’s what this could be if you just left. 

No. You wanted and needed this. Here’s hoping Spencer did too.

You cautiously raised your fist before gently knocking on the rough surface a couple of times. You were able to hear some slight movement from inside and just as you were taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down a bit more, the door swung open, an equally nervous and excited looking Spencer now standing opposite you. God he was so pretty.

“Hi”, he quietly spoke, his eyes absentmindedly sweeping across your frame. You were easily able to detect the anticipation that radiated off of him in waves, the same feeling emanating from deep within you as well. “Hey Spence”, you breathily whispered, a shy smile gracing your lips.

After a brief moment of just silently staring at each other, Spencer snapped out of his apparent stupor and awkwardly angled his body to the side so you could come inside, gently shutting the door behind you. Immediately after entering his apartment your eyes drifted to the kitchen, noticing that he had somehow managed to cook dinner for the two of you in the very short time since you guys had gotten out of work, him leaving the office slightly earlier than you did. The kind gesture made you feel warm inside, the situation as a whole feeling amazingly domestic. 

“Oh my god. Spence, you really didn’t have to do all this. It smells amazing!” You watched the young doctor ripen into a tomato at your words, feeling your desire for him deepen even further. He blindly followed you as you made your way towards the kitchen to investigate his hard work, passing by the fancy, little chess board you had always ignored before on the way. “It’s no problem at all Y/n, can’t have you learning on an empty stomach right?”, he teased as you let out a light giggle at his thought process. “I suppose you are the doctor here”, you answered with a joking tone. “Shall we then?” Suddenly feeling much more comfortable in each other’s presence, the two of you quickly ate, Spencer’s cooking completely blowing your mind.

“Ok as amazing as that was Spence, I believe it’s chess learning time!” You succeeded in portraying genuine excitement at your statement, simply opting to instead think about all the possibilities of what could happen, rather than the game itself. The evident excitement that exuded from his slim figure was more than enough encouragement for you to get the ball rolling and waltz over to the mahogany table, promptly assuming your position across from him. “All you Reid, I’m completely at your mercy.” You saw him swallow hard at your choice of words and found yourself slyly smirking at his reaction. Quickly clearing his throat, he jumped right into things.

“O-ok so basically to start off there’s um-six classes or ranks for the pieces. You have the pawns, the rooks, the knights, bishops, kings and queens and uh-each different rank has their own move set or “abilities”, if you will. Before every game there’s a specific order that they…”

You tried. You really, really tried to focus on what he was saying, but there was no stopping your mind from wandering to more pressing matters. For example: how unbelievably hot he looked rambling excitedly about one of the most boring things on the planet. He made you actually look forward to playing. In all honesty, you already knew how to play the dreadful game, thanks to years and years of mandatory family bonding time with your dad when you were younger. Spencer didn’t need to know that though. 

Eventually his instructional spiel had come to an end, the two of you now having moved on to a couple practice rounds to get the hang of things. You hated fibbing to him about your previous experience with the game, but it was well worth it to see the way his face lit up with every word that fell from his lips. After engaging in several “practice” games, Spencer had deemed you suitable for the real deal, offering to still help you along the way if you needed it, for which you thanked him.

The first few trial games that you guys played through went by pretty smoothly and while you were nowhere near beating him, you were able to hold your own weight fairly well. Sure, you had had previous experience from your childhood, but it had been so long you found your skills were kind of rusty and they presented themselves as such. The longer you both played the more you remembered, reaching the point where you were actually rivalling him and giving him some sort of competition. You could see how impressed he was with you, but there also seemed to be some layer of pride boiling underneath the surface. While you loved his reactions to your “newly” acquired skills, things were going much too slow for your liking and you knew exactly what to do.

“How about we up the stakes a little bit, hmmm?” He looked up at your words, a curious look crossing over his features.

“What did you have in mind?” You watched him visibly gulp at the suggestive smirk that slowly adorned your face. Momentarily ignoring his question, you began to reset the board, the clinking of game pieces being the only sound filling the apartment, that and Spencer’s bated breath as he waited for a response. 

“Ok, I’m sure you’ve heard of strip poker before?” You watched him hesitantly nod his head in agreement before continuing. “Well how about we play some strip chess, make things a bit more exciting, yeah?” The speed at which a blush overtook his features would’ve been alarming to anyone else on the planet, except for you of course, who found it utterly adorable.

“I uhh-I y-yeah, sure. Sure! We can do that. It sounds kind of...fun? What um-how would that work exactly?” You gave him a bright smile at the evident eagerness laced within his words before explaining your thought process on specific rules for the game. 

“Well I’m thinking that we don’t have enough layers on to remove something everytime we capture an opponent’s piece...soooo..maybe every two pieces captured by the other person you have to take something off? Yeah that sounds like it should work. Good?” You watched him seem to mull over things quickly in his head before nodding with slightly more confidence than he had exuded before. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Around twenty minutes later, the two of you were stripped down to the bare minimum, you in just your panties and bra, him in his boxers, both of you finally seeming to understand the weight of the current situation you were in. You certainly hadn’t expected to give Spencer this big of a run for his money, but you were glad you were able to best him at least a few times. However, depending on the next few moves, you guys were so close to crossing a line that neither of you could possibly come back from. 

Unfortunately, while you were too busy worrying about what was about to happen, Spencer had cornered one of your pieces and captured it, making it his second piece of yours captured since the last article of your clothing had come off. His head jerked up towards you as he realized what his small victory meant. Shit. Were you really about to expose yourself to him, willingly at that?

Yes. Yes you were.

Spencer watched with wide eyes and labored breathing as you slowly reached behind your back to undo the clasps on your bra, the material falling forward slightly, until you removed the straps making the lacy garment come off completely, sending a shy smile in his direction. You swear you saw his eyes darken as they widened even further at your bold movement, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of your bare chest right there in front of him. Unable to think about it too long and suddenly emboldened by his reactions, you quickly made your next move while he was basically hypnotized by your tits. Maybe this could work to your advantage after all. 

Realizing that the boy genius wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon, seemingly too invested in his personal peepshow, you snapped your fingers in front of his face to grab his attention. His eyes immediately snapped up to meet yours, embarrassment coating his face as he cleared his throat. “Oh I-um-sorry. I was a bit d-distracted”, he nervously chuckled, aware he had been caught ogling your body like a horny teenager, not that you minded in the slightest.

You could easily tell how frazzled the young doctor still was as he took his turn, making a move that there was no way in hell Spencer would have ever made with a clear mind. An excited smirk graced your face as you registered what he had just done. And based on the way his eyebrows furrowed, it seemed as though he had too. No fucking way. 

“I uhh-uhh...shit. I-I um…”

Making sure to maintain steady eye contact with him, you slowly leaned over the table, your breasts pushing together perfectly to compliment the show you were putting on, and confidently made your final move.

“Checkmate.”

As the two of you sat there just staring at each other, you noticed his breathing becoming more and more labored, his eyes completely black with desire, yours probably looking the same.

Fuck it, let’s go.

The speed at which you shoved the board clean off the table and climbed across it into his lap was astounding, immediately smashing your lips together as you successfully straddled him. He moaned into your mouth at your eagerness and it only egged you on further, roughly tugging on his hair as your lips moved in synchronicity. Reluctantly prying your lips away from his, you stared directly into his black orbs, your chest heaving.

“I want you.” You watched his pupils dilate at your words, a low groan leaving his lips.

“I want you”, he reciprocated with sincerity in his tone. Moaning at his agreement and admission you desperately reunited your mouths as he swifty lifted you onto the mahogany table, stepping in between your welcoming legs so your bodies were as close as possible. 

You both needed this. Badly. It was inevitable that at some point the two of you would finally snap, mutually ravaging each other in the most animalistic of ways. It was like a switch flipped inside the two of you, totally disregarding the way you normally acted on a day to day basis. Honestly you had no idea Spencer had it in him, this feral, primal side of him. But you fucking loved it.

As soon as he stepped between your legs and reconnected your lips, his large hands pawed at your chest, squeezing the pillowy flesh like it was his favorite hobby. The moans pouring from your lips only fueled him further, his grip becoming noticeably stronger. Letting his hands roam wherever they pleased on your body, you raked your own up and down his chest, bright red streaks left behind in their wake, making him groan uncontrollably. 

“God Y/n, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. Since the moment you walked in I haven’t been able to control myself around you. You drive me fucking insane.” His words only increased the veracity behind your moans as you reached down to palm him through his boxers, which weren’t doing much to hide his rather large excitement. He threw his head back with a groan, his mussed hair protruding in every direction possible. “Spencer pleaseee!”, you begged, desperate for him to touch you and give you more. You needed more.

Seemingly getting the hint, he immediately ripped your panties off before roughly thrusting his fingers into you, exploring your heat eagerly, moaning at the overwhelming warmth and wetness surrounding them. You cried out at the intrusion, instantly latching onto him, your nails digging into his back as your body arched into him. Your reactions drove him insane, his digits consistently pumping in and out of you, making your whole body tremble as you felt your release speedily approaching. 

“That’s it baby, let go.” As soon as the words left his mouth, you felt yourself completely tense up before releasing all of the tension in a blissful moment, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips. “Spencer!” He watched with hooded eyes as he pushed you over the edge, evident pride rushing through his veins. The fire inside of you came rushing back, reigniting every inch of your body, craving for more.

You tugged on the hem of his boxers, trying to convey your desires, watching him get the hint fairly quickly and hastily remove them before stepping back between your legs. Surging forward you latched your lips onto his and wrapped your legs around his waist, effectively tethering himself to you and urging him to continue. You could feel him hot and heavy against the inside of your thigh, but it simply wasn’t enough, him seemingly thinking the same thing, soon feeling him position himself against your throbbing core.

Both panting with anticipation and desire, he looked up into your eyes, searching for any kind of sign that this was for sure what you wanted. You frantically nodded your head, a desperate gleam in your eyes. “Please Spence! I need you!”

Seemingly satisfied with your response, the young doctor let out a feral growl before thrusting his entire length into you on the first stroke. You both whined out at the feeling, latching on to each other like your lives depended on it. “Holy shit, Y/n. You feel so fucking good.” His words triggered an unnecessarily loud moan to escape your throat, feeling yourself unwillingly tighten around his cock. The pace he set was brutal as he pounded you into the table over and over again. 

That stupid chess table. You could confidently say that this was worlds better than any of the many games you had both played earlier in the night. If things worked out your way the two of you would be doing this a lot more often instead of playing chess.

Even though the two of you had only been going at it for a fairly short time, you could already feel your climax speedily approaching and, based on the way he kept scrunching up his face, you’d guess he wasn’t very far behind. 

“Spencer please! I’m so close, baby please!”

The guttural groan that escaped him was sinful and ignited your insides with a fire that you didn’t even know existed within you. As he roughly thrusted into you, your body slamming against the hard surface below you, you felt yourself quickly tumble over the edge, your vision going spotty at the intensity of your orgasm. The way you screamed out his name and clenched around his cock was too much for Spencer to handle, him following you closely behind and filling you up completely with his seed. 

The two of you held onto each other desperately as you waited for your bated breaths to return to normal, a light sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Giving you a soft smile, drastically different from the man who had been inside you moments ago, he carefully removed himself from you before walking to the kitchen to get some towels. After cleaning the two of you up, he gently picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, both of you settling immediately under the sheets, clinging to each other.

As Spencer softly played with your hair in the comfortable silence, you could feel the two of you giving into the slumber that was calling out to you. However before you gave in, you needed him to know how you truly felt.

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I fucking hate chess. I just like spending time with you.” He chuckled softly before responding.

“I like spending time with you too.”

Taglist: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @watermelonstyl @goldnratio @cheyxminds

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[koalatydm]

Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcast Episode 5 - The Deluxe Elf Interview with Devon Giehl and Iain Hendry

Transcription Part 1 of 2 (includes Wonderstorm questions and Kuno's questions)

[Transcriber's Notes: This took me SO LONG to transcribe, like multiple hours and I'm only halfway done... But I will make it through at least this one episode because I want fellow Moonfam enthusiasts to have a text source, not to mention make it easier for deaf/HoH people to follow along. I guess I'll tag @kuno-chan since she said it was OK at the beginning of the podcast, sorry if I'm bothering you!]

KUNO: Hi guys, so I have a personal request for this particular podcast episode if you guys could tweet, post, both at least one piece of information that you learned from this particular episode, that you love, that inspired you, that you thought was cute, whatever. Like, I really—one thing that really tends to happen is that people listen to the podcast and they kinda just go about their day. We don’t actually see the information circulate through the community, which we really try to have creative questions—questions that are fun and explore the characters in different situations. And it would just be really, really cool—it would mean a lot to me to see this actually circulate through the community, actually circulate through the fandom, and see, you know, it would be awesome to see it be inspired—to inspire fan works, fan fiction, fan art, especially fan art. I just—we talked like a solid hour at least—really like a solid hour about Runaan, Rayla, Ethari, that family, um, and Moonshadow elves a lot. We talked a lot about that. And I think this is information that a lot of people really wanted, even if it’s in largely headcanon form. But Devon and Iain were so gracious and we talked so much about that family, and including Ruthari, and of course some Rayllum in there. So if you guys could live tweet, or even just one tweet, at least one tweet. Tag us, tag me, tag Hailey, tag @HotPotion, even if you send it directly to me on Tumblr, that’d be awesome and we’d retweet, reblog all your stuff. It would be good for the podcast and I just really want to see this information circulate through the fandom, so at least one tweet. Alright, um, let’s get to the episode though. Thanks! Hope to see you guys on social media about this.

—————

KUNO: Alright, hey everyone, this is the Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcasts with your hosts Tamika and Hailey, and we are here with Devon Giehl and Iain Hendry, two writers on The Dragon Prince at Wonderstorm, and Devon being actually the recently announced lead writer at Wonderstorm, so say hi everyone!

DEVON: Hi!

IAIN: Hi, this is Iain…

DEVON: Hi, I’m Devon… (laughs)

KUNO: And so we have a ton of stuff to get through today, um, a lot of questions, so—but we’re going to ask Iain and Devon a little bit about themselves first, since I think—I’m not sure if this is the first interview they’ve really had, personally, so uh, Hailey do you want to start—head that?

HAILEY: Um, yeah, sure. Uh, could you tell us about your roles at Wonderstorm?

IAIN: Uh, sure, uh—I’m also a writer at—official title “Senior Writer” at Wonderstorm. I was one of the writing team on the show, not quite as early as Devon, who was basically employee 1 after the founders but um, I joined sort of, end of 2016 when season 1 writing was really starting to get rolling, and was you know part of the process all the way through all the seasons. Uh, and since this—it’s such a small start up company, all the writers take a bunch of other, like, production roles on the show. Like, throughout all three seasons we’ve done, like, continuity notes work, we’ve given feedback on like every step of the production process. And then the other kind of side things we have, like you know, very top secret game that we’re making in here. And like, kind of straddle the line between the show writing and the game so that that’s all kind of on point and feels like it’s in the same universe with the same characters as The Dragon Prince, but ah, can’t say too much about that just yet.

DEVON: Iain does a lot of—a lot of secret work (laughs). Um, yeah as for me, I’m also a writer on The Dragon Prince and my—I was a Senior Writer until very recently, and now I’ve been made into a Lead Writer, which means I just get to flex a lot. Um, but I started in, I think the very, very end of 2015 when Wonderstorm was first getting off the ground as like a tiny, tiny startup. And we were basically four people in a room about, I don’t know, like 20 ft by 10 ft. It was really, really awful—

IAIN: Really smelly.

DEVON: Really smelly, really tiny, like only a skylight for a window, it was great. And I—so I was involved in like the earliest of brainstorming for the show. I helped sort of like put together a lot of the pitch deck when we you know took it around to studios and like, I named like most of the characters—is like my most self-indulgent claim on the show cause I got to do a lot of really silly stuff. Um, but yeah, and then I like help out on a million other fronts at Wonderstorm too because we’re a small company and—yeah, the funny thing about the—the small tasks we have, like you mentioned continuity checks. Um, we often had to make sure that Callum’s backpack and book and Rayla’s bindings were always correct, and that was kind of, the funniest and most intense, like, stage of production ever. Cause you would, you know, watch one shot and then the next shot would come up and Callum’s backpack would have disappeared. So we had to be like, “OK, let’s give Callum backpack back on.”

IAIN: Yeah, and it’s not just for accuracy, but like, the way fandoms operate, like, we just knew if Rayla’s binding reappeared sometime, it wouldn’t be viewed as an error. People would be like “WHAT DID THE KING GET UNKILLED WHAT HAPPENED OVER HERE”.

DEVON: No it was just the—

KUNO: Oh, yeah.

IAIN: Woo!

DEVON: —continuity’s way harder than anyone thinks it is (laughs). It’s a lot.

KUNO: Oh bless you guys for knowing that though cause we—we totally would. Like, think, there was a point I remember saying that they changed Viren’s eye color because they didn’t want too much continuity with Rayla’s eye color and I feel like we were really that close to having a ‘Viren is Rayla’s real father’ issue. We really were. Somebody had to have thought about that issue (laughs).

DEVON: I actually think there is—there’s still at least one shot in the show where Viren has the wrong eye color and if you can find it, congratulations (laughter in background). That’s where we missed—missed it. So it’s in there somewhere.

KUNO: Xadia CSI (IAIN laughs). So you two are married, um, can you tell us what it’s like being married writing partners?

IAIN: You wanna go?

DEVON: Um, yeah, I mean it’s—we actually knew each other professionally before we dated, so it wasn’t like we—it’s sort of like, it was easy for us to—to remain work partners because that was how we existed in the first place. Like I met Iain when I interviewed him for a job and I—he was great (IAIN laughs), he was fun, he was all right.

IAIN: Apparently I passed.

DEVON: But um, so yeah we had a professional relationship before we had a dating—‘dating’ relationship. Um, so it’s strange because a lot of people will say like, “Oh, that’s probably terrible. You probably, like, become absolutely sick of each other” but somehow we’ve managed to—to have like, two relationship patterns where when we’re at work and we’re working on writing stuff we have this very professional thing going on and then at home, we’re just married idiots and we have a lot of fun. So like, I don’t know, I’m never tired of you, personally.

IAIN: No, (DEVON laughs) yeah I mean when we’re writing it’s generally like, Devon’s the one on the keys uh, you know, putting the words in and so on, and it will kind of bounce back and forth between like, I’ll have the idea for the—how the scene should flow and I’ll kinda narrate bits and then we’ll go back and smooth things over. But I mean, I could imagine that with some people it would get tense, but I think Devon and I, we’re just absolutely the most comfortable with each other and neither of us takes it personally when it’s like, “that line that you pitched isn’t working” or “this joke could be funnier”, anything like that.

DEVON: It’s usually Iain who’s—cause I usually type cause I type really too fast.

IAIN: She’s really too proud of her typing (laughs).

DEVON: I type super fast, it’s my only real talent, but—like I’ll just sort of go off on some sort of like incredibly unnecessary, long description of something and Iain will sort of let me get about like four or five lines into this unnecessary nonsense and he’ll just sort start going like, “OK so like, do we really—do we need that? I mean, you know, could we sort of parse this down a little, a little less, a little less”. And then I, just like, “Ugh, fine” (laughs).

IAIN: But um, every word she writes is great.

DEVON: Mmm (skeptically)

IAIN: It’s perfect.

DEVON: Completely not true. Also in our scripts I think like—

KUNO: Aw.

DEVON: —in terms of the way that we work professionally, I think like a lot of my strengths are in—in really almost self indulgent levels of drama and he can kind of pull me back from being too indulgent on those fronts. And then I think that Iain is objectively absurdly funny and so when you kind of look at our episodes usually everything that’s pretty funny and lighthearted and like the sense of levity often comes from you and then if there’s anything that just feels really painfully sad it’s probably me?

IAIN: I’m the funny one.

DEVON: (laughs) It’s true.

KUNO: Aw, I feel such a connection to you Devon, because I’m actually, episode 3 was actually one of my favorite ones because I love all that like domestic stuff. I love just kind of like—oh, I don’t know what you call the trope, like a safe house trope where you go somewhere, you’re still kind of in the adventure but we’re in a space right now, a narrative space where people are safe, if that makes any sense. Like you—if you’ve ever seen How To Train Your Dragon, like (T/N I don’t know what was said here, sorry!), the base is the safe place, that kind of thing. So, I totally get that, I actually see—episode 3 was one of my favorites outside of pretty much every episode where Rayllum was a thing. (laughter from multiple people)

HAILEY: The whole season basically (laughs).

KUNO: Pretty much the whole season, um. I think there was one more question about two.

HAILEY: Yeah sooo.

KUNO: Before we get to the elves.

HAILEY: Yeah, definitely. Uh so it was mentioned that you’re now lead writer, Devon, and can you tell a little bit more about what that entails if you can, and how that’s been going?

DEVON: Yeah, I mean… I actually don’t know what I can say about it, um… I think it—it means that uh, for future Dragon Prince stuff I’ll sort of like take a bit more of an active role in leading the—the development and the storylines and things like that. It also means that from a company perspective um I’ve been kind of involved in some other side stuff that Wonderstorm is quietly looking into developing and um I help a lot with other IPs that we would love to make a real thing someday and that’s kind of all I can say about it I think or I’ll get in trouble.

HAILEY: All right, that’s great, that’s good to know, thank you.

KUNO: The Dragon Prince 2 (laughter from multiple people). I’m totally joking everyone that’s not a thing so don’t take that for—

HAILEY: Wow.

KUNO: I’m joking.

IAIN: Two dragons.

DEVON: The Dragon 2 Prince.

KUNO: Yeah. OK also if there’s anything that you guys say that you want redacted this is probably not going up for another week because I have to get our reaction episode out. So anything you guys think about that you’re like, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that” just message us and we’ll redact that. Yeah, cause we know that—

HAILEY: Or just say it. Just tell us, like, what’s—

DEVON: Hopefully we have some self-control but—

KUNO: Okay, so we are going to get really indulgent here and I think this is going to be really in Devon’s wheelhouse. We have a lot of questions and a bunch of the scenarios so try to get through as much of it as possible. Um so the first question is can you tell us more about the Silvergrove? What is the government system like in Silvergrove? Who runs it? If you could tell us that is that the only—at least like the leadership role? Um, is that the only Moonshadow elf village? And also do they actually get any real daylight because I noticed when the illusion thing happened it just got shady and I’m like, “They might be taking this Moonshadow thing too far”. Like the elves—do they really like that much? So like tell us about the Silvergrove and where Rayla grew up.

IAIN: So I guess it’s probably worth just starting off with a kind of blanket like, ‘if it hasn’t been in the show, we can’t say it’s 100% fact. A lot of this is just gonna be what kind of we thought, rough shape of things happen in our heads—‘

KUNO: Yeah, absolutely.

IAIN: —going into the writing and so on. So you know, don’t come after me with any, uh, fandom lawyers, anyone. But um yeah, I guess like it’s sort of—it’s most useful for us to think about it in comparison to how the Sunfire elves, like clearly they have very structured society. They have a queen, obviously, and they have large cities and so on whereas we think Moonshadow elves live in, as you saw, much smaller communities. And I think the Silvergrove is not the only one of those, it might be one of the better known ones where clearly the best assassins come from. But uh, I think are other ones out there, um, and maybe even Moonshadow elf people do not know where all the other ones are. Obviously the Silvergrove is hidden and maybe they don’t even have access to all the other ones. So I think there’s a sort of community run vibe to things. I think you know when they decided to—to ghost Rayla, and before that Rayla’s parents, I think that was probably a ‘let’s all come to a consensus before we make a decision about something like this’. I think, Devon, if you want to talk about the kind of like sunlight vibes things, because that was a big part of your driving force behind how this episode looked and felt.

DEVON: Um… well… first, I will say that it was potentially from the top down a complicated visual decision to have episode 3 take place in a Moonshadow elf shady forest grove and also the kingdom of sunlight.

IAIN: Yup.

DEVON: It created a couple production problems in terms of like the way we wanted the Silvergrove to look was very like evening themed and cool colors and you know shaded. And I had this really sort of self indulgent thing where I really wanted it to be as close to night time as possible and yet the story line in Lux Aurea was clearly taking place in the middle of the day. So we came to this sort of compromise that you know it is technically daytime through the whole day and there is enough tree cover that it’s already pretty shadowy but also I think there is some magic at play that’s sort of like generally um shrouds the whole thing in more of like a night time vibe. And my inspiration for that was I’m a big World of Warcraft player, or was I don’t super play a ton anymore but I really loved Ashenvale and some of the night elf regions and they had that similar thing that no matter what time of day it was it always felt like at least dusk or like this sort of like ever—ever shaded feeling. And I indulgently kind of wanted that to be where Rayla came from. So that’s what that’s about.

IAIN: Yeah and I think they’re magical beings. They don’t need vitamin D from the sunlight or anything like that. They’re totally fine if they just get moonlight every so often.

DEVON: But yeah, don’t write a script that has, you know, moon themed place and sun themed place at the same time. It was a… questionable choice (laughs). But I think it turned out—

KUNO: Yeah, ‘cause I was wondering—I was wondering—I was like “Okay” because a lot of the stuff you run through—you run the okay, if I were to write a fanfiction how do I use this. So it’s like, do they just never like—if they like—if Callum were to say live in the Silvergrove would he just have to get used to the fact that like it’s just never totally bright daylight or unless you leave the Silvergrove in the forest, uh, and like—that type of—is that what’s kind of like going on, they just like their shade?

DEVON: I think they like their shade. It’s like Scotland in the winter.

IAIN: Oh yeah, except we all get miserable by around about February when we haven’t seen sunlight in several months. But um yeah, I think it’s kind of like yeah, a combination of ‘oooh, magic’ and also just extremely, like, thick tree cover in the deepest parts of the forest. But I don’t think you have to travel too far. But uh, I think there’s a reason why everyone in that town was a Moonshadow elf and there were no Sunfire elves or random humans just like, chilling and living there. I think only the most goth of kids would be able to live in the Silvergrove without going a little bit mad.

DEVON: I mean you only have to go as far as the adoraburr field which clearly still gets a significant amount of daylight.

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: And you said there’s not really like a leader. They do as a community, but is there anyone that like makes decisions, like is there anybody that like if they were to go to somebody, like if they have like village leadership decisions. And obviously, um, blanket statement that all this we assume is kind a little bit of headcanon so it doesn’t have to be like for gospel, but you know for purposes of writing stuff.

DEVON: Um the way I thought about it—well, to back up a tiny bit, there was actually a version of the story where there might have—this was super, super early on, we were thinking about how the story might play out and we talked about there being potentially another Moonshadow elf leader type character that they would meet who, you know, was the one who ultimately called for the Ghosting decision. But that didn’t really fit the sort of, like, very personal nature of the story we wanted to play out with Rayla specifically. Um but thinking about that and the way that we were, you know, trying to shape it—I would imagine that like the assassins are sort of like a specific group that live in the Silvergrove which is otherwise—it’s not all assassins, like, not everybody there is an assassin. And I think that means that like you know Runaan was the leader of the assassins so he might consult with the leader of the blacksmiths who may be someone over Ethari but maybe it’s him now who might consult with the other general leaders—I don’t know. Like I think it’s more of a counsel of different groups than one single authority. It just seems like that would be a better fit for Moonshadow elves than the sort of like very, very strong-army, structured, high-and-mighty feeling that the Sunfire elves have, so, does that make sense?

KUNO: That totally makes sense, a little bit like an oligarchy, I think I had the idea that like they sound like they like a counsel. Like it sounds like a elven conciliatory.

DEVON: Yeah I think like someone might say, like obviously something horrible has happened and Rayla is exactly the person we thought she was. I’m calling for a—a ghost vote. And then you know—

IAIN: With a cooler name than that.

DEVON: No I think it’s canonically, I’m sorry—

IAIN: Ghost vote?

DEVON: The canon is “ghost vote” now.

IAIN: Okay.

DEVON: But yeah, they would all sort of like weight in kind of like a town hall scenario about of like why this is obviously the correct call and they would all sort of like have to come to some sort of agreement about what to do versus the Sunfire queen just being like “mph, time for the light, light decides!”

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: Okay um the next question being almost a little on that, does Ethari regret, um, what does he—does Ethari regret doing the banishing spell now that he knows the truth about Rayla?

DEVON: Oh absolutely 100%. But I don’t think he would have the power to—to reverse it. Like I think he could do a quick charm to help reverse it in the moment just to speak with her but ultimately it would take a lot for him to undo it and I’m not—we haven’t talked about what he’ll get up to in the meantime, but I don’t know he would be able to pursue it so directly—I’d have to talk about it, I think it would be an interesting side thought to think about how he might pursue redeeming her in the eyes of her people knowing what he knows, but—

IAIN: Yeah I think given that we said it would take everyone to do it collectively and make an agreed decision it would similarly everyone would have to understand the truth and go back on it and ‘oh I saw her one time and she said she didn’t do anything wrong probably isn’t enough to overturn that. But yeah I think he probably felt some regret even at the moment, but you know he’s in some of the worst grief of his entire life and he’s not going to make perfect rational decisions. And I’ve seen you know some people were slightly upset that he got so angry with Rayla in the moment of seeing her but I think like when you first see the person that you’ve tried to convince yourself sort of took the most important person in your life away from you, you’re gonna feel a big mess of feelings and it will bring up some grief that maybe you thought you were just—just starting to get over, so ah. Yeah I think hopefully he can turn that around in the years to come but they’ve all had a rough time. They’re at war. It sucks (DEVON laughs). Don’t go to war, kids.

KUNO: Hailey did you want to ask the next one or did you want me to?

HAILEY: Sure I can ask it. Could you—so I mean—you mentioned a stuff—a couple things about their government system and whatnot, but is there anything else you could tell us about Moonshadow culture, like what their day to day is like, and what it means to be a Moonshadow elf?

DEVON: Um I do think that a lot of the fandom I’ve been pleased to see has picked up on this sort of idea of a fairly rigid culture and you know there’s a lot of importance placed on things like honor, loyalty, and the ability to commit to things. And um I think that could come off as pretty strict but I actually think it comes from the place of valuing a close knit community. And I think, like, to the idea that we said like they probably have some kind of counsel instead of some single authority kind of ruler. It’s—I think their day to day would be very much going about their business in ways that support each other you know? Like does that make sense? It’s—you go to the blacksmith and he does work for you and it’s friendly and conversational but it’s productive—it’s all very for the good of the community.

IAIN: Yeah I think early on in season 1 even Rayla says that you know they’re not really meant to show their feelings. So I think everyone kind of commits to doing their task for the good of the village and doesn’t gripe about their day to day until something bad happens as the entire series to this point has been driven by. But um yeah I think they uh—they’re just committed to having a good, small, close knit village life and all supporting each other the best they can. And then occasionally the dragon queen tells you to go kill someone and that’s your job so you better go do that without complaining about it.

DEVON: I think we use the words “reclusive yet intimate” in the article we put up about the two moon creatures, the moonstrider and the shadowpaw. And I liked that a lot because I think they’re reclusive in the sense that they’re a little bit shut off from the wider world and they’re um isolationist in their preservation of their own culture but they are very close to each other and that is something that they hold at such an—like a preciousness level but it’s also a bit extreme, like if you betray that in any capacity like obviously they take that very seriously. And so it’s a double edged sword if you will, to have a community that supportive and that close but also your ability to perform all of yourself for the good of that community can be your undoing so—

KUNO: No I actually kinda get that um ‘cause I’m Pacific Islander so I think we’d call that what you’d call a collectivist society where it’s like the needs of the group supercede needs of the individual so I kinda like I—it’s not the extreme I think that they are because they’re very like reclusive but um I kinda live like that in a little bit of way. It’s what I grew up with. So I actually totally get that which might be why I like that so much (multiple people laugh). Um so the next question would be how does the banishing spell work that, um, that was used on Rayla politically and magically? I think we’ve talked a little bit about politically already but magically is—I’m assuming it’s a collective decision or does each person, like, opt in? Like could Ethari have opted out of doing it or did we—did they all have to agree?

DEVON: I think everybody have to agree?

KUNO: And how is it broken?

DEVON: I don’t think you can opt out?

IAIN: Um I think ‘how is it broken’ is something we definitely want to save for—for the future uh we really hope that Rayla manages to undo that. In terms of I think that it’s just culturally ingrained that you wouldn’t opt out. Um I think they would probably just argue forever until they manage to come to an agreement. So I—yeah I don’t think there’s you know half the elves in that village who are seeing Rayla and were like “Oh hey Rayla how’s it going?” I think uh they all came to the collective decision. That’s kind of the political angle. Um sorry, what was the other part? Magically how it works?

KUNO: Yeah? How would you do it?

IAIN: I—again, you know if it’s not in the show it’s not canon, but I sort of inspired by how the entrance spell works where they do a dance and there’s a ritual and I imagine it’s kind of similar. Like I think there’s a lot of that kind of like ritualistic style of magic and it’s kind of like what you see when they put the flowers out onto the water as well. There’s you know a collective dance probably involving a lot more people, a lot more cool intricate runes that happen only with a much more somber mood than the fun, happy times of Callum and Rayla dancing around in the forest. Um so yeah it’s probably—I would imagine it’s probably tied to some whatever the saddest phase of the moon is and that’s when they all get together and really somberly and really sadly uh commit to never seeing this person again. At least that’s the part of the plan. An interesting question that I think could be something that fanfiction writers such as yourself could get into is has any one of these ever been broken before or have they all been pretty sure that they would never need to go back on it? Is that going to be something that Rayla is going to figure out for the first time ever or is there a precedent for this happening. And we don’t have an answer right now but I think that would be a cool story to think about and write.

DEVON: Oh man I love the saddest phase of the moon idea. Imagine if they do it at the new moon because it’s like the moon’s face is hidden forever. Whoo.

IAIN: Whoo.

DEVON: Sad.

KUNO: Maybe we’re birthing things while we’re doing this interview. I actually think it would be like Callum does the Historia Viventum thing and it would be so—cause now I’m just imagining this whole village doing this sad dance which is the Banish Rayla dance essentially. And like that would be so sad for Rayla to witness that just for the drama of seeing her entire village decide to just not see her ever again. And that’s like wow, I’m so sad now.

DEVON: I love sadness.

IAIN: Yeah Callum just crushing a series of Moon Opals to show such a clip show of all of Rayla’s saddest history moments (laughs).

DEVON: Oh god.

IAIN: That’d be great.

DEVON: Thanks Callum.

KUNO: Thanks Callum. Um, she’d love him anyway. But um okay so some of my favorite stuff, what was it like for Rayla when her parents had to leave her to live with Runaan and Ethari and what was that transition like for them all? How old was like Rayla too?

DEVON: This was one that we’ve had a couple different ideas about so this is another one that’s like heavy not quite canon bubble. Like if we actually end up doing a story that involves some of these details it’s likely to change and be slightly different but the versions that I’ve liked have involved her being pretty young. And because honor is such a you know key part of Moonshadow culture I think like overall it was something that she felt you know sad about because she knew that she wasn’t going to be directly seeing her parents very often anymore. And—but it was uh such a huge honor that she felt you know pride in what her parents were being selected to go do. You know, act as Dragonguard and serve as these sort of like honorific, um, warriors that left the collective of the Silvergrove to go represent Moonshadow elves in the service of the Dragon Queen. And I think she had—she grew up being told what an honor that was and how much pride she should have in her parents because that is such a special thing. And then I think like it speaks a lot to how proud she was when she believed that they ran away and abandoned that duty because you know, how could they? If that was their reason for leaving her when she was a child and then they ran away from that job, like, how important could it have really been? And then you know, I’m sure that makes her feel very, very small. It made her feel so hurt that she told Callum at first that they were dead so she took it pretty hard.

KUNO: Yeah.

DEVON: But I think the other thing about it that we’ve sort of kicked around is that like, Runaan and Ethari were Rayla’s parents’ close friends and I think she was familiar with them enough that she didn’t feel like she was being you know left with two strangers. It’s sort of just like, you’re going to be under the care of people who are already very, very close to you and care about you quite a bit.

IAIN: Yeah I think with like Moonshadow elves in general the thing I think about a lot is like the good and evil that comes from suppressing your true emotions to show a different face to the world and I think we see a lot of that in Rayla. Like I think she probably committed pretty hard to Ghosting her parents because she had this like big mess of like sadness that she’d left but at least the soft landing of Runaan and Ethari to live with and so on. But believing like this sadness is worth it because they’re doing something so noble and then the betrayal of that—it just came out in kind of a messy like toxic way, right, where now she’s committed to becoming an assassin at a really young age in a way Ethari doesn’t agree with and so on. But I mean on the other side I think having a strong handle on your emotions is often one of Rayla’s strengths right? Like we saw in episode 5 of this season after she’s going through a whole lot of stuff, both her family situation and this new development with Callum, she’s just able to like operate as a cool badass extremely cool assassin without letting any of that affect her. But you know I think there’s balance in how you handle your feelings and how you externalize them in a good way that people can learn from, but sometimes you gotta—you gotta work (laughs).

KUNO: That makes sense. Oh well yeah I always had this personal headcanon which I kind of like incorporated into my fanfictions where she felt abandoned by her parents so in a way it’s kinda like slightly—kinda like that except it was all those feelings that have been repressed from years and years basically came out when she felt like—like the abandonment came to like the head when she felt like they had left because they had ran away—they kind of like ran away like from her.

DEVON: Oh yeah, absolutely.

KUNO: In a way—their duty to—

DEVON: I think that validates the suppressed feeling, you know.

KUNO: Yeah, since their duty to the Dragonguard was in it’s own way more important and that’s something that was like okay because it was an honor but since they ran away it’s like obviously it was more important in a terrible way, if that makes any sense?

IAIN: Yeah I mean I think it’s like she did her best and she’s trying to be a grown up but it’s hard at a young age to accept that you know there are meant to be higher callings than a bond between parents and children, right? Like that’s hard for her to grasp and she probably didn’t express that openly ever really. But I think it really did help that she had two genuine loving father figures ready to accept her with open arms even if one of them did train her to become the best assassin of her generation, which again I wouldn’t advise to—to most parents out there.

DEVON: I do think like even that was considered, you know, honorable. It was you know, you’re going to—not only are you going to get to live with Runaan and Ethari, like Runaan is the leader of the assassins, or at least maybe at that point in time he wasn’t the leader but he was very up and coming. I don’t know, it could be either or, but that I think was probably something that she fully embraced and fully wanted, like you know, ‘this is my purpose in life, this is my calling, my parents have gone off to do their calling and it’s a great honor for them, and this is my path and what I’m going to do with myself’. And that didn’t end up being true but it was probably a comfort to her at the time.

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: That makes a lot of sense. Moving on, okay, this, we’re getting real indulgent now—do you know what Ethari and Runaan’s wedding was like and what are Moonshadow elf weddings are like in general?

DEVON: Um, I have a, so a lot of the dancing stuff is because I have an enormous soft spot for tropes involving cute dances, like, just a huge, huge soft spot. And the thing that comes to mind is, if you’ve seen the movie Prince of Egypt, which is such a weird reference—

KUNO: Yeah, I love that.

DEVON: —the scene where he and the girl, I forget her name, they do the thing—

KUNO: Tzipporah.

DEVON: —with the ribbon and they do the cute little dance with the ribbon. For some reason that’s what I think of when I imagine what a moment in their wedding would look like would be a dance with a ribbon that they sort of use to—you know, Moonshadow elves love ribbons, I guess, but this is a good ribbon! It’s a love ribbon. But anyway, that’s just my idea. I love that specific—that song that, “Through Heaven’s Eyes”, it’s during that sequence but that—

KUNO: Yeah.

DEVON: —would be my go-to inspiration for like, it’s like that and then you know, everybody dances with them because Moonshadow elves like to dance.

IAIN: Yeah, I kind of like the idea of the—there’s a lot of these symbols that are sometimes extremely sinister. I mean I think Ethari even kinda calls this out when he shoots the—the Shadowhawk arrow to inform the queen that her son is in fact alive. But like, Moonshadow elves believe that death and life are not good and evil, they’re mirrors of each other and an important part of the cycle. And you know, the moon has cycles and that’s an important part. So I think thinking about all the rituals and stuff that they have, which initially you’re introduced to as ‘let’s go murder someone party’, like if that was—there was a kind of inverse to that that was a big part of their wedding ceremony I think that would make a lot of sense to Moonshadow elves because this is two people binding their lives together forever. Binding for a shared purpose in a good way and not the grim ‘let’s go kill Prince Ezran’ kind of way.

KUNO: Yeah. Cause naturally this is involving like several ships so I’m like, I had to ask that. And on the piggyback of that, as detailed as possible, can you describe courtship customs for Moonshadow elves?

DEVON: Oh man.

KUNO: I mean like dating—dating customs, like a headcanon even if it’s just headcanons.

IAIN: Devon is deep in thought (laughs).

DEVON: I’ve never—like for some reason the—the headcanons that I’ve thought about are more specific to like, Runaan and Ethari than I’ve really sort of like branched out into thinking about how Moonshadow elves do this in general. So I imagine there’s intended—there’s some formality to it, I would imagine, in that like, because they’re so, you know, purposeful and thoughtful with how they express their feelings if at all, I think it would be, you know, exchange of gifts like small favors and making your purpose known in a way that starts small but has purpose. So I think like, there’s versions where Ethari would put extra detail into the work he was doing for Runaan which you know, could be perceived as a sign of affection or Runaan was coming to Ethari asking him to work on his weapons or metalcraft stuff a little bit more than was necessary and—stuff like that, where it’s a bit stiff and difficult but I think like once—once there is clear reciprocation I think there can be more of an open discussion about it, does that make sense? But I think Runaan probably struggled with this a whole lot, like, ‘cause he’s—did I, it might have been you who I responded to on Twitter but someone asked me something along these lines and I think Runaan had a really hard time even with this first sort of like simple offerings of affection because that’s just him. Like he sort of takes that aspect to an extreme. Like he has a hard time being like “here is the way I wish to express myself in a soft way and not with a—a sharp object. So I think Ethari had an easier time because he’s just more naturally soft (laughs).

IAIN: Yeah I sometimes think that Runaan is the most Moonshadow elf of all Moonshadow elves, but like, you know, it’s—

KUNO: I was gonna say that.

IAIN: Yeah, um, you know when they have such a hard time showing their feelings and they sometimes feel like they’re not supposed to and so on, and so Runaan is trying to pick up on the tiniest possible hints through professional exchanges and so on. And I think when it’s actually time to confess that there’s a feeling there you would, I think especially Runaan would have to be 100% sure and then do it entirely in private, the most private situation possible where there could be no possible spies who could see this if it was going to go wrong because that would just be the end of his entire life, obviously.

DEVON: Yeah he would bind himself to his own death (laughs).

IAIN: Yeah, that’s it. Gonna assassinate myself because I confessed love and it didn’t get reciprocated. That’s that.

DEVON: It’s over.

IAIN: So yeah, lot of—lots of awkward advances where they’re trying—trying to have the escape hatch of “Oh I didn’t really try to suggest that I liked you, this was just me asking you for a professional favor by let’s never speak again”.

DEVON: And then he comes back the next day (DEVON and IAIN laugh).

KUNO: Oh my goodness. Uh I felt—I—I kinda like headcanoning now that Ethari tells Rayla all this “how I met, you know, your surrogate dad” kind of stuff. Like, and that’s how she—she’s like, this is how you do love apparently.

DEVON: I do think that like, yeah, he had a much easier time and probably picked up on stuff. And to me there’s a side of Ethari that you don’t really get to see in the episode because he’s very sad. I think he’s a—he does have a playful side and I like to imagine that while Runaan was doing his, like, really just not-the-best attempts to display affection early on, like Ethari would pick up on them but not necessarily give the full signal back. And he played a little bit oblivious but he absolutely was—he’s just more emotionally in tune. So I think, “Oh hey, you’re back again, wow. I thought I did fantastic work on your blades last time. I cannot believe they’re already dull!” Like and he just sort of like, he knows—he knows there’s something there.

IAIN: I think like this kind of gets echoed in Rayla, like where Callum in an effort to pick her up and be honest about how he feels that she’s just an incredible person. Like to her that’s like, ‘person being entirely open with their feelings in a positive way? That’s a love connection!’ And then it goes wrong for one entire episode and then it turns out that Callum was also not fully aware of how he was feeling and so on. But I think like, yeah, I think that’s why she was like immediately “Wow, this is clearly meant to be romantic and this is—this is going exactly the way I want!” and then it didn’t. But then it did! So we’re all happy.

DEVON: Aww.

KUNO: I am! I’m certainly happy. Um—uh let’s see—the next one is—okay. What was Rayla like as a child growing up in a household she did—household? Um, she mentioned going to school and we’d love to know how baby Rayla fared as a student and just a child growing up in the Silvergrove and what that experience is like for a Moonshadow elf child?

DEVON: You want—you want me to do this one?

IAIN: Go for it.

DEVON: Yeah, um, I think Rayla was feisty (laughs) in a word. I think she—for some reason there’s a scene in the beginning of Korra where she’s already mastered like, three elements and she like comes out punching. I kind of think about that when I think about baby Rayla. She knows she’s—there’s that end credit scene where she’s got the two sticks and she’s posing with them and Runaan’s sort of lifting one of them up and I’m thinking like, okay so sheg’s like, from a tiny, tiny age thinking like, “I’m gonna be the coolest assassin the Moonshadow elves have ever seen!” and she’s like rambunctious about that almost, because you know, as a child you don’t really understand what the ramifications of that are but it’s considered like a highly, highly valued, honored position and so she’s obviously like, “Yeah I’m gonna do that and I’m going to be the best at it and there will never be any complications whatsoever!” In terms of Moonshadow elf childhood, I think with the way that I would think about it is—we talked about the sort of community aspect. I imagine Moonshadow elves have pretty, like, what’s the word, like, a lot of general education, sort of, like, “this is what weaponsmithing is like and this is gardening and raising crops and things to provide for the community” and so I think they would have a lot of ‘school’ that covers a lot of just like, life basics because you are expect to find a place that contributes to the collective whole. Does that like—?

IAIN: Yeah, I think like it’s also lucky for Rayla that a big part of Moonshadow elf culture is what we would call PE. Like I think she excelled at striving to be an assassin warrior and so on. Especially like, she’s trying to live up to her parents who at first were honored Dragonguard and you know, Runaan as well. I think in terms of like, more academic stuff like if there was Moonshadow elf history lessons and “let’s go out and understand the, you know, ecology of the Moonshadow forest” and stuff I think she was probably a bit kinda like, rambunctious and not super paying attention and running off and not really giving it her all and so on. Um, you kind of get that impression from early on where she knows what Primal sources are and she’ll explain that to Callum but like, when she’s talking about ‘how do you do that Moonshadow form thing’ she’s like “I don’t know, it just feels right”. Like I think that’s—she did everything very intuitively and focused on the things she cared about and understood and kinda did what she—did what she could on the other subjects, I guess, but didn’t care as much.

DEVON: Yeah I feel like if you imagine the kid that is going to grow up to be an artist is doing doodles on their math homework and just sort of like doing the math homework but—but you know, clearly the effort is being placed elsewhere. I think it’s that but she was excelling at PE and assassin training and therefore fell very, very easily into her supposed path.

KUNO: The—this isn’t on the thing, but did—did she ever—did she ever really have any friends? ‘Cause she doesn’t really mention—ever mention friends. I—maybe that has to do with the whole assassin thing where if she wasn’t learning being at school she would probably doing assassin stuff with Runaan or assassin training stuff—I guess not really assassinating. But um did she have really friends growing up?

IAIN: I think if she had friends they were not super close. And I think she valued her alone time. There’s a sweet moment early in—well end of season 1 where she like tries to cheer up Ezran by saying that fitting in is overated and I think she felt that a little bit. Um and you know I think there’s some amount of when you’re being trained in the art of an assassin like you’re probably somewhat taught to—to keep people at arm’s length a little bit, right? And I think she—she took that to heart. So I think that’s a big part of why when she was first traveling with Callum and Ezran there wasn’t that much trust between then and it was kinda like, it was Ezran honestly that bridged the gap being most empathetic number 1 child. And yeah, I think having a close friend is relatively new to her.

KUNO: Makes sense. Like just few, not the many. Um okay then next question before we get to Hailey’s batch of them are um, what are Runaan’s feelings toward Rayla as of right now and everything that’s happened since season 1? I understand he’s in a coin, he’s in a finacial crisis, he’s probably not thinking about it too hard—

DEVON: Oh my god (laughs).

KUNO: But you know, like he’s gotta be—you know he’s not doing anything right now, I’m assuming, so like what would be his feelings about her at the moment?

DEVON: I mean he’s got a lot of time to think, wherever he is. I think like—I got into this a little bit on Twitter in a self-indulgent rant at one point where I think he went through a lot very quietly during the first few episodes of the show where he very, very much wanted Rayla to succeed, even if he wasn’t necessarily like being the dad on the sideline of the soccer game, like, cheering for her. But he thought this was her moment, this was her time to prove that she really was more dedicated to you know, her cause and her people than her parents were because they had, you know, been the subject of such shame. And then ah, everything goes the way it does, I think he has a brief crisis of, “Is this my fault? Did I fail to train her well enough? Like, was Ethari right?” Because he always thought she had, you know, a softer heart. And I think like those are the types of things that he’s still stewing on, um like did—”did he overstep? Was it something—was he so eager to give her the opportunity to prove herself that he, you know, ultimately put her in a position where she could not succeed?” I think like, the other thing that I mentioned on Twitter was I think he took her off the mission both because he very, very much wanted to give himself and the others a chance to complete the mission even if it meant their deaths. But it also meant that Rayla had the chance to survive even if it was potentially going to be misinterpreted and she’d get slapped with the Ghosting, I think he believed that her alive was better than everybody being dead. So I think like, he’s got a lot—a lot to work through and I think like—I think he feels guilty. I think there’s the smallest part of him that he has the—again, a lot of time to potentially stew on and reflect on is he does feel like he put her in a position that was, you know, not fully taking into account the type of person she was and more projecting onto her the type of person he wanted her to be and gift he wanted to give her of redeeming herself in the eyes of her people for her parents. And I think he’s gonna have to work through that. Poor dude.

KUNO: That’s so sadly heartfelt. That’s so sadly heartfelt. Here I am thinking that he’d be, like, maybe a little angry with her, ‘cause obvious reason, but now it’s like, oh he feels guilty. Like, “Oh, okay, let’s just slap the angst on, okay”.

DEVON: I mean, I think like—

KUNO: Yeah, mm-hm.

DEVON: Sure he’d have some anger, like, “Awgh, I gave her everything. I gave her the exact opportunity she needed”. But I think like the guilt and the reflection leads to the “Maybe I—maybe it was me who stepped too far here”.

IAIN: Yeah, I mean another part of it is like, we don’t know what it’s like being trapped in the hell coin dimension, right?

DEVON: Oh I do. I—I mean—

IAIN: Oh you do?

DEVON: It sucks.

IAIN: Oh it sucks?

DEVON: When it happens to me on the reg (IAIN laughs).

IAIN: But you know, does it feel like an eternity is passing? Does it feel like no time has passed? Is he in eternal pain? Because if it’s like real bad—

KUNO: Oh my god.

IAIN: —in there I can imagine that like yeah there’s definitely some of those kind of anger feelings that you don’t want to feel in but you do sometimes, right? Like it’s like, if he has a snap moment of “I wouldn’t be in here if she hadn’t gone off and disobeyed our orders and, like, lied to me and so on”. So if he ever comes out uh don’t know what side of the emotional coin he’s gonna land on.

DEVON: Ohhh, please leave.

KUNO: Oh my god.

DEVON: Get out, oof, ouch.

IAIN: Finger guns.

DEVON: I do think like that sort of complex—

KUNO: It sounds—

DEVON: —emotion is just, I don’t want to give any time to that pun, we’re moving on. Like that sort of complexity of emotion and relationships is something that I really like in the show overall. Like you said earlier, you saw some people that were a little bit upset that Ethari was so willing to lash out at Rayla at first and I think like to me that was always part of the big, big thematic of the show, which is this sort of endless cycle of people being willing to hurt each other and not forgive each other and not, you know, accept that you can choose peace. It’s, you know, it’s—Runaan having that impulse to anger is a very natural thing and it doesn’t—I don’t think it necessarily makes him a bad person for feeling that. And I don’t necessarily think that Ethari having his moments of grief lead him to actions that are ultimately like, regretful, like I don’t think he would want that to define him in the long run. Like those are very human things but those are the things as we acknowledge them and as are—so long as we are capable of recognizing how flawed we are and how violent and…

KUNO: Messy.

DEVON: Messy! Thank you, that’s like, I was going to say like churning, messy is good. Like messy emotions can be and how they can like, dictate the way we treat each other, um, but forgiveness and patience and acceptance are ultimately just so much more powerful than those negative perpetuating lashing outs. That was an inelegant way of ending that screed, but yes.

KUNO: I actually really love that um ‘cause I from the beginning I’ve loved their father-daughter relationship so I love how complicated it is, ‘cause the truth is you know every parent-child relationship is a little complicated, except theirs is a little more complicated with assassination going on in the works, the family trade. So I love that it is this complicated ‘cause I know I remember in the beginning where people were like you know—you know she does have a dad. And it’s like I know she has a biological dad but until I am told otherwise that’s her father. I don’t care and I love their relationship so I love that that really reflects that. Another—the next question out of me before we get to, um, Hailey’s, which are all about different elves, is um, course I have to ask, my policy is one Rayllum question per interview. Um what are Runaan’s feelings—whah, no, whoop, how would Ruthari and Runaan react to Rayla’s relationship with Callum considering he’s not only a human but a human prince? ‘Cause as far as we know Runaan really hates, um, humans and I’d love to see that story later, both individually and as a couple. Because as far as I know, Ethari probably doesn’t know that their in a relationship unless he sensed it?

DEVON: Oh man, I—I think you should take this one, but I do want to say that I saw one comment on Tumblr at one point where someone said that they wished that Ethari had said something to Callum along the lines of like, “Take care of her”. And I want to travel back in time and pretend that was in the script ‘cause I think that would have been really, really nice. And I do think like, he picked up on the fact that Callum was important to her even if it—he didn’t necessarily read it as romantic right off the bat. I think he mostly was like, “Oh this guy is kind of like a cute—he’s a human but he’s, you know, a friend to someone I care about and that in and of itself is valuable and there’s something there”. So I think—pretend that was in the script. I wish I had thought about something like that but—

KUNO: I will (DEVON laughs).

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: That’s canon as far—as far as I’m concerned that’s canon.

IAIN: I think uh it would be best for everyone involved if they found out together, uh, because I think Runaan’s impulse would not be good immediately. I think like, when you spend so much time as an assassin and you drill into your head that the people that you’re meant to kill are not people, they’re the enemy right? Like I think that’s—sometimes that’s a thing he turns on to do the job and so on, but I do think that’s gonna bleed into his personality and it’s—you know, especially given his extremely recent history he’s not got the best feelings about humans. So I think it would inspire an immediate negative reaction in him that would not be pleasant for Callum and Rayla, but I think Ethari just has a much softer heart and that is where Rayla kind of got that side from. So I mean I’m not going to say that he would immediately—you know, they’ve been at war for hundreds and hundreds of years with humans and they’ve been told all through their history that humans committed the original sin of dark magic, et cetera et cetera, but like, I think it would take not that much time of seeing Rayla and Callum together for Ethari to see that there’s something there and then I think Ethari would have the ability to ah, to talk Runaan down pretty quick. But I also think that like, Runaan might not even show any of this, there might just be a kind of seething resentment that he’s not really talking about inside. Um unless it was like on the battlefield or something and he was like, “That’s a prince that I’m meant to kill” or something like that. But overall I think Ethari would sense that Runaan was not like—was not taking this well and they would be able to talk it through. At least that’s my gut.

DEVON: No, that sounds right (DEVON and IAIN laugh).

KUNO: I feel like poor Callum is just always on the edge of “Am I going to die tonight?” while he’s there, “Is this gonna be it?” Just gonna be like, “Oops sorry I had an accident—hey I had an accident in the middle of the night, you know, just a knife to the throat, that’s all”.

IAIN: I mean, he’s doing pretty well, like he said as they were about to meet Ethari and Rayla was like, “Remember Runaan?” He was like “Oh yeah, that guy who tried to kill me as soon as he met me? Cool guy”. Callum’s doing pretty well on the acceptance front these days.

DEVON: I do—

KUNO: Yeah.

DEVON: I do want to say that I think Ethari and Callum would get along really well because I think they both have sort of like a soft hearted friendliness to them that they would have a fun rapport. And that’s the sort of like “Trees to meet you” line is definitely supposed to be like—they’d you know, crack some goofy back and forths and I think that would soften Runaan too because he couldn’t ever hate someone that Ethari liked.

IAIN: Yeah, I think it’s a weird—

KUNO: Aww.

IAIN: —reversal where like Callum’s the one doing the dad jokes and Ethari’s like humoring them and Runaan’s like, “I don’t understand. Trees do not meet.”

DEVON: “Please stop saying ‘trees to meet you’.”

KUNO: Aw it never gets old. I love that. Um alright, Hailey, take it away. Your turn.

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc���"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans