#or there is and it’s some kind of ‘perk’

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain - 9

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: a/b/o, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory

A/N: I got a little stumped with this chapter but I hope it’s still enjoyable, I’ve got a few ideas for the coming chapters so we should be good :)

previous chapter // next chapter(coming soon)

When you woke up this morning the events of the day before hit you like a train, It didn’t help that after bringing you breakfast in bed Hyunjin had to leave for the day, to do some work at his art studio. You let him go with no pleas or cries but as you sit alone in his bed, your heart aches. Most of your life was spent pushing down your needs, especially the need for comfort and love. Now that you’d found this pack and your walls had started to crack it was hard, a sense of yearning sat deep in your chest. Hyunjin had let you know Seungmin would be home today so you could easily seek him out if you needed anything, and that’s exactly what you would do. It took a minute to find his scent but when the strong smell of freshly cleaned laundry hit your nose you knew you did it. The beta is sitting on the living room couch curled up looking a bit disassociated but once you enter the room he immediately perks up, his full attention on you while you take a seat next to him.

“Y/N! Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“I’ll be okay. Are you okay? You look, I don’t know, not Seungmin-like.” The beta lets out a lazy chuckle at your observation and you can’t help but laugh as well.

“I’m fine. I just get a little thrown off when my packmates are down. It hurts.” He looks away from you, embarrassed to be showing this kind of vulnerability.

“Oh! God, I’m sorry I’m causing you pain. Here lie down.” You pat your lap for him to lie his head down. He happily obliges, choosing to lie facing your bump as you run a hesitant hand through his hair. Seungmin feels a strong instinct to fix things, he wants his pack happy, and he wants you happy.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Hmm, that’s probably a good idea… It’s hard to explain though. I grew up very sheltered and in a more conservative household, raised to believe that alphas were gods amongst men who could use me however they pleased. Seeing my old alpha and hearing him talk about me like that made me feel like I was back at our first meeting, and he got in my head. Seeing him again, it made me feel like maybe things can’t be good for me, so coming home and seeing everyone here I got scared. It sounds horrible but you and Hyunjin are fine because all I know about betas is what I’ve learned from school and the K-dramas I would sneakily watch when I was younger. I feel safer with you.” You don’t realize how shaky your voice is until Seungmin pushes out his calming scent.

“I can’t explain how amazing it is to hear you feel safe with me. I hope that you can feel safe with the whole pack soon. I’m sorry your life so far has been so horrible but you’re here now, right? We’re here for you.”

“It sucks because I do feel drastically safer with you guys, I have never felt this safe in my life. But it’s just like my head won’t let me settle, I’m so on edge, I’m stuck in a permanent fight or flight it’s exhausting.” Your hands run over your face in frustration. All you want to do is give in and accept this good thing but it’s like you can’t be sure it’s a good thing at all.

“We’re not going to give up on you. We want you, all of you.” Silence falls over the living room, there’s no tension or fear, just calm between two almost pack mates. Seungmin stares at your belly intently with a soft smile before he speaks up again.

“Can you feel him?”

“Him?”

“I don’t really care either way, but I think he’s a boy.”

“Hmm, I guess I haven’t thought about what I think they are. But yes I can feel them. You won’t be able to for probably the next month but soon.”

“Can I touch him?” You nod and Seungmin takes a gentle hand and rubs it across your bump, but his hand doesn’t linger.

“Hi puppy.” He speaks mere inches away from your bump, his voice is soft but projected.

“Yeah they’re moving, I guess they are saying hi back.” You let out a giggle and the beta continues to mumble nonsense to your belly, that was until another presence entered the room causing Seungmin to growl at the doorway. When you look up your eyes meet Chan’s and you immediately tense, which only makes the beta growl more at his alpha. Chan raises his hands in surrender and doesn’t make any move towards the couch.

“Hey, you know me, I won't hurt anybody. I just got home early and smelled Y/N down here and wanted to talk.” It takes a moment but you force yourself to relax, a mantra replays in your head reminding you how much Chan has done for you this past month, he’s not a threat.

“It’s okay Seungmin, we should probably talk.” Seungmin is immediately satisfied by your words and stands down, placing his head back in your lap waiting for more pets. Subconsciously you return to running your hand through the beta’s hair, more for your own comfort than his. Chan makes his way towards the couch and sits on the floor in front of you, Your mind short-circuits for a moment at the realization, he’s showing submission to you. By sitting below you making himself a literal sitting duck he is making sure you know he’s not a threat.

“Is Changbin okay?” Your mind lingers on the image of that punch. The cracking sound replays in your head on loop. You know alphas are incredibly resilient and as wolves, you’ll always heal well if you do get hurt but the shock of someone hurting and getting hurt for you rattles your brain.

“He’s in great shape, Minho looked over his hand and everything looks good, he’s a little bruised but he said it doesn’t even hurt.”

“That’s good.” You trail off, unsure how to start this conversation. Luckily the alpha does that for you.

“Y/N I never want yesterday to happen again. We were all so on edge, wanting nothing more than to comfort and protect you. When Changbin called me and told me what happened my instincts went insane, I called everyone and made sure we all got home to you. You shut us out and I felt like the worst alpha in the world. Your feelings are totally valid though, This is all still new and I know you don’t trust us yet but we want to be there for you.” There’s no posturing, there’s no overwhelming pheromones meant to manipulate you, all you saw was a big puppy sitting on the floor in front of you nervously playing with his fingers.

“I know. And that’s the part of this that scares me the most, deep down I want to give in I want to let myself have this and be your omega. This past month has been the best month of my life, but I can’t shake the life I had before all of this.”

“So we work through it together, we’ll help you work out your new normal and we’ll show you so much love and comfort along the way. We do want to court you, and as far as we’re concerned you are already part of the pack, we just have to get you acclimated.” A stray tear rolls down your face, a happy tear. Seungmin sits up and playfully rolls his eyes.

“Alright you sappy alpha, come hug your pack mates and make it all better.” He scoots away from you, giving ample room for Chan to make himself comfortable between you two. He takes a seat and immediately pulls Seungmin into his side but hesitates touching you so you take the initiative and curl into the alpha’s side, he absolutely melts at your touch. He would make it all better, if it’s the last thing he does.

The rest of the pack came home as normal throughout the day, no questions or awkwardness, they were just so happy you were feeling better and willing to let them exist in your bubble again. The last person to come home is Jeongin who you find sitting outside your door, you assume similar to how he was last night. The alpha looks up at you shocked as you exit the bathroom.

“Y/N? I thought you were still in your room.” You can’t help but let out a giggle.

“If you had talked to the pack before coming to sit at my door you’d know we worked things out, I talked to Chan and we’re going to be as okay as we can be for now. Now get off the floor.” A smile graces Jeongin’s face, and he looks at you as if you’ve hung the stars for him. He obeys and stands up, and he tries to approach you before you stop him.

“Nuh-uh, you have outside smells on you, go change.” You scrunch up your nose at the smell of other wolves all over Jeongin but he doesn’t fight back; he simply nods eagerly and heads to his room.

You lie in your nest with a protective hand over your bump when a knock steals your attention.

“Hey, I showered and changed. Is it okay if I join you now? You know, in your nest?” Jeongin’s scent is stormy, it’s clear that he’s nervous about what you might say.

“Yeah, you can join us.” Jeongin smiles at the use of the word us. He doesn’t know if he’s thinking too much into it but it makes him feel you’re reminding him the pup is there too and he can include the pup in the love he’s ready to give. The alpha climbs into the nest gently taking you in his arms.

“May I touch?” The request catches you off guard, you understand why Seungmin asked, he’s never touched your bump before. But Jeongin had done it twice now, so why would he feel the need to ask?

“Of course you can.” As he rubs gentle circles on your bump you stall for a moment thinking of how you want to word your thoughts.

“You know, I didn’t know people were supposed to ask to enter my nest, Jisung had to tell me that. People asking me for consent is really foreign to me, but I really appreciate how you guys always ask.” Jeongin smiles.

“I know firsthand how good it can feel to have people respect your boundaries, I’m not obsessed with skinship-“ You don’t mean to but you cut him off.

“But the pack? And you? You touch me though?”

“This pack has shown me how beautiful touch can be. I learned I was never against touch, I was against my boundaries being broken. I’m still no Felix but I feel safe with you guys.” You felt uncharacteristically warm, the more you learned about these guys the more you felt the knot in your chest settle.

“I was a really clingy kid, I know omegas are meant to be clingy and that was probably my instincts forming from a young age but it was so bad. All i wanted to do was cuddle with my parents all the time, they hated it though. When they began to hurt me as punishments, I learned to fear touch. It only got worse from there.” You let out a sigh, a pit forming in your stomach out of fear that you ruined the mood.

“It’s a good thing there will be no lack of cuddles for you in this house. The only touch you’ll ever receive from us will be out of pure love for you.”

You think you believe him. Nobody had ever shown you this much kindness or said these things to you, so maybe this really was different.

[belovaballerina]

Oh gosh, this is some of the loveliest feedback I've ever received and I want to thank you for taking the time to communicate this 💞💞💞

I've been kind of at a low point when it comes to finding the motivation to write and all it takes is one beautifully kind comment such as this to perk it back up.

Santiago stole season two for me, and he's such a charming, sophisticated monster which is right up my alley. I'm so happy this fic resonated with you!!!

Thank you once again for such wonderful feedback!! 💞💞💞

To be loved by death

Interview with the Vampire: Santiago x fem!reader 

Rating: Explicit 

WC: 1.5 k 

Prompt: “That’s an awful lot of blood” for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Heavy on the blood play, stalking, oral (f receiving), manipulation, mind control, biting, thigh riding

Summary: You become Santiago's prey

A/n: Ben Daniels as Santiago has a hold on me. First time diving into writing for this fandom that I've loved for so long

A sense of dread crept up your spine as you took the last sip of your coffee at the quaint cafe on the corner. Your eyes darted around, but nothing suspicious lingered in your view. You placed the cup back on the saucer, the ceramic clinking together as you stood and left the money on the table. You hurried across the cobblestones, feeling like someone or something was following you. It was a feeling you couldn’t explain, but it felt like danger loomed in the distance, concealed in the shadows of night. 

Your pulse pounded in your throat. Heady and unstable. The pavement slapped beneath your worn leather shoes, the pointed heels scraping against the grooves. One unsteady movement caused your downfall and sent you spilling across the ground. Your palms scraped against the concrete as the rough surface tore through your stockings and resulted in skinned knees. Tears of humiliation burned your eyes as you swallowed down the pain. You were thankful this pathway through the park was abandoned this time of night; otherwise, you would have curled into a ball of shame.

“My, my, you took quite the spill.”

You lifted your head at the sound of the voice, shaking the loose curls out of your face as you peered around, your heart racing with anticipation. It was quite odd because it sounded like the voice surrounded all sides of you, echoing through the stagnant night air.  You gasped as a man appeared in front of you. Older with coiffed white hair and stunning blue eyes. Eyes that were not of this world, and something about them made you shiver. The black cape he wore surrounded him ominously as it billowed around his legs.

“What were you running from, ma chérie? Was a wolf chasing after the little lamb?”

You scooted away from him, your palms leaving a trail of blood along the cold ground, frowning as he taunted you. How dare he? He didn’t know you and had no right to be so condescending. If you were in a better mindset, you would have slapped him across the face for his brazenness.

“What’s wrong, chérie? Cat got your tongue.” A smirk crossed his face as he loomed over you. He was taunting you, and it made your blood boil.

“You are rude, monsieur,” you frowned, finally finding your voice while you slowly stood as pain surged through your body. You felt wobbly and lightheaded from the sight of your blood smeared against the concrete—a crimson gash reminding you of your folly.

“I have been told worse,” he chuckled. His demeanor shifted as he followed your gaze to the ruby blood sparkling in the dim light of the lamppost illuminating the park. “That is a lot of blood, chérie.” 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern,” you murmured, pushing your stinging palms together and cursing yourself for not wearing your evening gloves.

He tutted gently, stepping forward with intricate grace, and instinctively, you wanted to run. A cold dread set over you. Had he been the one you were running from? The looming dread from the shadows, the breath on the back of your neck, the mysterious figure who had set you on edge that sent you sprinting through the park toward the safety of your apartment. This feeling had followed you for a week; perhaps now, the answer stood before you.

“Of course I care, ma chérie,” he chided, stepping closer and drawing your hands into his. His long nails reminded you of spun glass. You stood frozen, fixated on his unnatural, spectral blue eyes as he lifted your palms to his mouth. His warm pink tongue rolled from his lips as he lapped at the tiny droplets of blood that clung to your scraped flesh. A scream felt caught in your throat, yet you were paralyzed. Pointed fangs extended from his mouth, dragging across your wounded flesh and splitting it wider. He reminded you of a cat enjoying their dish of cream.

“Please,” you whimpered, voice faint and cracked.

“The sweet essence of fresh youth,” he sighed happily, your blood splashed around his mouth, “You are going to be quite the treat, ma chérie.”

You trembled like a lamb caught in the wolf’s jowls.

~~

You waited in your apartment every evening at the same time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months progressed and still, he kept the same schedule. The night ticked away, and the city of Paris was still alive as people enjoyed the treasures offered in the seclusion of darkness. As if on cue, you rose onto your bare feet and padded onto your balcony. The gentle breeze wafted through your loose hair as the hem of your black dress tickled your calves. You were mesmerized every night as he floated above the dimly lit streets and toward your balcony. Santiago. You were his dark bride, offering your flesh and blood to satiate his voracious appetite.

You gazed up as his hand cupped your chin and pondered how easily those long glass nails could puncture your skin. His lips were cold as ice as they pressed against yours. Warmth spread through you as blood bubbled to the surface, spilling down the corners of your mouth as he laid the first mark of the evening. Wordlessly, he took your hand, guiding you into the privacy of your apartment as the doors closed behind you. You moved as if under a laden spell as your fingers unbuttoned your dress, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you in silky undergarments. Ones you had scrimped and saved for, savoring the delicate fabric as it slipped through your fingers.

Santiago stepped closer, using his claws to tear them to shreds until you stood naked before him. Not a single tear dribbled from your eyes at the loss of the treasured garments. You moved in a daze, slowly dancing in place to an invisible tune as he removed his cape, leaving him in dark trousers, a white undershirt, and suspenders. His piercing blue eyes remained fixed on you as you continued your silent dance before he pulled a chair into the center of the room. You straddled his thigh before skimming your hands over his muscled arms, marveling at how an older man kept in such shape. You supposed there were many mysteries about him that you would never uncover.

His mouth grazed over your neck, leaving the flesh pure and unmarked until he reached one of your breasts. His tongue rolled over your nipple until it stiffened under his touch. The sharp pain made you gasp and rock against his thigh as your blood oozed into his welcoming mouth. It was intoxicating; the pain was quickly replaced by euphoria. Lust unraveled through your body as Santiago continued to claim your flesh, savoring each drop of warm, delicious blood. Your arms circled his neck, one palm pressing against the back of his head to hold him closer.

Moving gracefully and quickly, he lifted you into his arms and placed you on the bed. He kissed his way down your belly, leaving a light trail of your blood over your quivering flesh until he lay between your splayed thighs. Pain and pleasure blurred together as he feasted on your thighs while his tongue claimed your slick cunt. Blood and arousal intermixed and clung to your flushed skin as your fingers buried in his white hair. The sweet release rolled through your body like waves crashing through the ocean. You knew he savored the blood more.

“Sleep, ma chérie. My sweet little lamb. I will return to you tomorrow night,” he whispered as his fingers gently slipped against the tender skin of your eyelids and closed them. A deep slumber grasped your body, pulling you under the swirling darkness of dreams.

Santiago tucked the blanket around your body, a few sparkling, wet, ruby droplets clinging to your glowing skin as the rest dried into a vexing crust. The next day, you would indulge in a hot bath and scrub yourself clean. He lingered for a moment, watching your chest heave with your shallow breaths, hot blood pumping through your veins—an intoxicating ichor that called to him. How selfish it would be to drain you and deny him such a treat.

“What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?” The words rolled from his tongue, ever the skilled orator and performing, falling onto deaf ears before he disappeared into the black night. You were left to your dreams.

You dreamt of your malcontent Santiago, giving your being over to him as his fangs and claws ripped apart your flesh. Consuming you until you were nothing as blood dripped from him. The wolf feasted upon the lamb. To be loved by death. To be wrapped in it’s tender embrace. What divine bliss. 

The next evening, Santiago did not arrive at your door, but instead, a courier who delivered a card and a wrapped box. Nestled inside the box, between layers of white tissue paper, lay a set of silky undergarments to replace the ones ruined the previous night. Inside the white envelope was an invitation to the Théâtre des Vampires on an evening of your choosing.

Join me, ma chérie. Perhaps you will welcome the dark gift. 

Your thumb traced over the elegant cursive of his signature. Answers awaited you. Time to let death embrace you.

[tobesolnelyx]

Fratboy Shauna who is starts talking to reader and is genuinely concerned with readers protein intake 😭 and starts bringing her the most insane foods to eat because of it? Has a conversation with reader about how her eating simple carbs and her energy being low makes sense. Just the most insane nutrition nonsense 😭 fully tries to reinvent girl dinners to make them more balanced. Probably even convinced the other girls to help her sneak protein into your plate or whatever, for some reason i just think Shauna would be the one who’d be so intense about it and endearing maybe the more she goes out of her way the more she’s realizing she’s into reader

a/n: im sorry, but this made me giggle. I SEE THE VISION THO, so here it is

Shauna looked up from her phone just in time to see you sit down at the table. The spoonful of her protein oatmeal, stuffed with God knows what, froze midair. She frowned, watching as you heavily placed your bowl of cereal on the table beside her. She glanced around, as if to make sure everyone saw the crime against humanity you were committing, but Natalie was too busy devouring yesterday’s pizza. Jackie was sprawled out with her notes across from you, and Lottie was watching some dumb video on YouTube.

Shauna sighed in frustration.

“What are you doing?” she asked, grimacing slightly. No one even looked up. Only you frowned and responded with a snort.

“Eating breakfast,” you replied, not quite understanding what her problem was this time. You ate this almost every day like some kind of ritual before classes. You were probably in the frat house more than anyone else, steadily clearing out their fridge. No one can blame you though.

“You call that breakfast?” Shauna raised her eyebrows, nodding toward your bowl of cereal. Now Jackie looked up, scanning the scene in front of her, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth her attention.

“Shauna, I eat this almost every day, what’s your problem now…?” you began, sighing. Typical. Shauna finding problems where there aren’t any.

“Exactly,” she said, gesturing toward your bowl before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. “That’s the problem. That doesn’t even look like breakfast.”

Silence fell. Broken only by sounds from Lottie’s phone and the crinkle of the pizza box. You turned around as if to check whether this was some kind of joke.

Shauna was dead serious. Ugh.

“Nat is literally eating pizza,” you said in your defense. Nat finally looked up, still chewing a piece in her mouth. Shauna let out a frustrated growl, quickly swallowing another mouthful of oatmeal.

“But it’s Nat,” she gestured, as if that explained anything. Nat looked at her like Shauna just insulted her.

“What do you mean ‘but it’s Nat’?” she grumbled, clearly displeased. Lottie snorted under her breath. Shauna rolled her eyes and pointed at you, speaking as if to an idiot.

“It means you’re not her,” she clarified. Very thoroughly.

Nat blinked. Once. Then again.

“I know I’m not her,” she raised her hands in a defensive gesture, her voice an octave higher. “So what, not being her means I don’t deserve your dietary advice?” she scoffed. More teasing Shauna than anything.

“Nothing’s gonna help you anyway,” Shauna shot back immediately, tired of the exchange. “Anyway, what I mean is…”

“Och, come on,” Nat swallowed the last bit of her pizza and stepped closer with her face still stuffed, smacking her lips. She looked at your cereal bowl, inspecting it. “Looks like breakfast to me. Yeah, Lot?”

Lottie glanced at the now kind of soggy cereal. Compared it to Shauna’s oatmeal, as Shauna was now leaning over you in frustration.

“Well, I mean… it could be better. I guess,” she finally said, looking around the table. Jackie shot a glance that said she was trying to figure out why a cereal debate was unfolding in front of her.

“Exactly!” Shauna immediately perked up again. “You’re not eating the way you should be.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. Nat playfully poked your forehead. “Unlike you, I don’t go to the gym. I don’t have to eat… all that,” you muttered.

Shauna leaned in even closer. Her muscles showed through the tight, black T-shirt.

“The point is to eat healthy. More… protein, fiber, and shits. You always complain about being tired,” Shauna pressed again, now clearly deciding she was your personal dietitian. “It’s because you don’t eat right,” she muttered, frustrated.

“Since when do you care?” you sighed, starting to eat your cereal, but Shauna was already sliding her oatmeal bowl toward you.

“Since now,” she muttered like a sulky child.

“She’s got a point. Kind of,” Jackie admitted without even looking up.

“Seriously?” you groaned, looking around the group. Nat just shrugged and gave you a flick on the forehead before walking off. “Thanks, coach,” you murmured sarcastically and Lottie snorted.

Ochhh, imaginee. Shauna deciding, just because, that she was going to change your eating habits. She started packing you lunches for classes. High protein ones that looked way worse than they tasted. She got obsessed with making you protein shakes and prepping your dinners. And when one of the frats came home, the air would be filled with the smell of food though she usually only made portions for the two of you.

“Fucking asshole,” Lottie mumbled, smacking Shauna lightly on the back of the head. Shauna just adjusted the arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to her chest. Her eyes stayed glued to the laptop screen where the two of you were watching a movie.

“Are you full?” she asked, and when you nodded, a kiss landed on your forehead.

“Good.”

And if anyone asked her why she cared so much? Just because. Definitely not because she cared about you. Definitely not.

[justtimings]

contents: tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, fem reader, gojo satoru x reader, this man is in lovee

a/n: my crime is writing sappy soft satoru and i’ll NEVER stop

Satoru is upstairs in your room, mindlessly playing a game of throw and catch with one of the plushies on your bed, when he suddenly hears loud cackling coming from downstairs. His movements halt, ears perking up as he slowly leans up from the bed, eyes squinted in concentration as he tries to make out the words being said.

The words too muffled to understand, he decides to head downstairs, his curiosity unsated. Walking down the steps, he notices your dad facing the stove— cooking what smelled like chicken. Your two friends were next to the kitchen island, and you were in front of them, sitting on one of the chairs near the island, pinching the bridges of your nose with a wide smile on your face.

"Did you not see what he just did?! You always do some shit like that. He's literally your carbon copy!" One of your friends laughs out, to which Satoru chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he reaches the end of the stairs. "What's all the ruckus about?" He asks, an amused smile on his face as he leisurely walks over towards you.

Too distracted from your friend's laughter, you didn't even realize he was standing behind you until his arm snakes around your shoulder, letting out a quiet yelp. "Satoru! When'd you get down here?"

He only flashes his eyebrows with a smile, signaling he was curious about the conversation. Your lips slightly part as you realize, letting out an amused huff, "it was just something my dad did that they started fucking dying over," fingers pointed towards your friends in accusation, the two of them immediately holding both their hands up while giggling, "they keep saying that he acts just like me. You think it’s true Satoru? Cause I don’t see it."

He tilts his head up, a finger slowly tapping against his lips, quietly humming as he ponders your question. But— nothing. His mind goes blank, a quiet noise of surprise leaving him at the realization.

So, trying again, he decides to think of you first— he thinks of your relaxing, genuine, refreshing personality. When he first started talking to you, the main thing he was taken aback by was how damn kind you are— and he'd be lying if he said it doesn't surprise him to this day. It's one of his favorite things about you. He thinks about how giving you are— how you'll always ask if he wants a bite of your food before he can, how you once lent him your only pair of headphones until he could buy some new airpods when he accidentally washed his in the washing machine, and you even ended up buying new ones for him as an 'early birthday gift,' even though he broke them during the spring.

You're sort of like a dream, fuzzy and unreal and random, really random. You frequently have a 'head in the clouds' moment, like you're present, but your head is filled with nothing. Far from stupid or brainless though— you're just there. Alive. He always laughs when it happens; there'll be times where he'll ask or show you something and you'll take at least 5 seconds to respond before you look up at him, eyes glazed over, faintly realizing that you heard noise and murmur, "huh?"

And now he's only thinking of you. Doesn't even really remember the question anymore.

You're only looking up at him, curiosity evident in your tone as you speak. "Satoru?" Gently tapping your hand against his face as you question, "you're not talking. What's up?"

Satoru doesn't even realize the smile that made its way across his lips, eyes softening at the mere thought of you— of how much he loves you. God, he is so in love with you, he just can't help himself.

Finally coming to, he registers the feeling of you patting his face, stopping your movements to hold your hands. And oh, the way you're looking at him, eyes glossy and wide, like you're sucking him in. His eyes rake over your features, taking everything in like it's his last time. Shit, you're so beautiful, he doesn't think he can ever get over how fucking gorgeous you are. The way you're making his heart flutter has to be studied, this can't be healthy for him. This is the woman who has his heart— this is the woman who fell for him. Fuck, he's so lucky. And he has to resist the urge to smash his lips onto yours right here, your friends and your dad are here and— shit, he doesn't even think he cares. No, of course he does.

So, he's leaning over you now, hand from your shoulder moving to gently cup your jaw, thumb lightly smoothing over your bottom lip as settles for planting the softest kiss to your lips, and he thinks it's the sweetest thing he's ever felt. He kisses you again, and again and once more before he pulls away just enough to whisper against you. "Nothing, baby."

[bellasweetwriting]

get to know you { clark kent x f. reader }

masterlist

part one. part two

plot: your intentions of remaining invisible keep getting interrupted by famous quarterback Clark Kent, yet maybe you don’t want him to look away

tags: (sequel to show and tell) / quarterback!clark x artsy!reader / soft clark / fluff / clark has a BIG crush / just big on the cuteness / more experienced reader / over eighteen characters

a/n: someone asked me to do a part two of show and tell and, I have to say, what a great idea. i love a strong female character and pinning boy character. oh, and excuse my mistakes, i wrote this at 4 am

Meet me at the talon, tonight — C.K.

What an odd thing to request considering you haven’t talked to Clark Kent ever since that conversation in his loft, and that was a week ago. Maybe the nervous tingles ahead of his big game had altered the chemistry in his brain and was acting all kinds of strange. Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to talk. Which was all kinds of strange considering you didn’t want to talk to him. And you had made that abundantly clear in you guys’ previous interactions.

Clark Kent was nothing more than another football headed good-looking hunk trying to get in his coach’s good side. Just like the rest.

You looked back down at the note he had left you on top of your palette as you painted in the art room. Maybe you were completely misjudging the guy, and he just wanted to talk. Probably be friends? Probably get in your pants. Focus. Focus. Focus. What would something like Clark Kent want from you?

You made your way inside the Talon, your eyes looking around before landing on Clark’s face. He was studying, his face buried deep into the books as he stared at the pages. That’s why he had asked you to come over? To study? You looked down at the outfit you had picked out, the one that had taken you more than usual to select, before your eyes wondered to the tiny small little purse you carried, only able to fit your phone, one key, lipgloss and a pen. Clearly, farm boy had taken you by surprise.

“Didn’t know we would be studying,” you finally said as you sat by his side, showing the note you held in between your fingers. He looked up, a smile appearing on his face as he saw you. “What are we studying?”

“I have a test tomorrow morning. I have to keep my grades up if I want to stay on the team,” he explained. “I thought you were going to ignore my note, actually. That’s why I brought the books. I didn’t want to look as if I had been stood up, so I kept myself busy.”

“That little faith you have on me, farm boy?”

“Not as little as the faith you have on me, Metropolis,” he joked back. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

“Why?”

“No reason why. Just want to. Besides, you were expecting me to do so.”

“How so?”

“You didn’t bring any money nor cards,” he pointed out, as if it was obvious, calling the waitress over.

“How’d you know?”

“I just… guessed.” Clark smiled before turning to look at the waitress, asking for two large coffees with milk, and one chocolate chip cookie. “So… how’s the small life here in the town?” He asked you as the waitress walked away, his eyes keeping his attention on you. “Metropolis seems too big compared to dear old Smallville.”

“I’m glad I can walk anywhere, though,” you said. “Metropolis is just a pain, really. Being able to use yourself as your own medium of transportation has its perks. I’d still like a car, though. Otherwise I’m stuck having to wait for my brother to finish at school for me to get home.”

“I can drive you home on no-practice days,” he offered, surprising you. “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s an old truck, though, hope you don’t mind. Guess it beats up staying at school later than you should.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked, softly. “You buy me coffee, which I love and appreciate, really, because I love coffee. You talk to me, you offer me rides home… why? Is there some kind of ulterior motive? I’d really like to know before I get used to the nice behavior from farm boy Clark Kent.”

“I don’t do that,” he said. “I don’t do things hoping to get something in return. I see someone with a problem, someone who wants help, and I do my best in order to help them.”

“So you see someone in need. A damsel in distress. And you help them. No other reason other than love for the art.”

“If you help others just to gain something in exchange, you aren’t leaning a hand, you’re giving them a price for your services. You aren’t helping, you’re charging.”

You smiled. “Who’d think that you have that mentality, Clark Kent?”

“It’s surprising how little you know about me, city girl,” he mocked you as your coffees arrived. He took a sip from the warm cup, turning to look at you. “What do you think of helping people?”

“I think it’s a noble cause until they start expecting it rather than thanking it. When people get used to someone saving them, they take less care of themselves.”

“That’s another way of seeing things.”

“There’s two sides of each coin, farm boy. Which side you prefer to be on? The one in the head… or the tail.”

“Do you always have a glass half-empty approach to life?”

“I could turn around that question and ask you the same.”

He put his cup down, turning his whole body in your direction. “I believe in the good in people. I think exterior circumstances are the causes of clouding of judgement.”

“I believe people make other people reveal their true selves. Someone who knows who they are don’t change, and the people that don’t, the encounter with different beings and situations are all to help you figure out who you are inside. Not all people inside are good. There are people that are, like you… others just try to be, and are awaiting the moment for our true self to come out.”

“I think you know exactly who you are,” Clark argued, smiling widely.

“Is that so?”

“It is so. I think you know you are incredibly strong when the rest needs you to be, when you think you can’t show any weakness, but deep down, you’re like the rest of us. Someone that’s just waiting for the right person so they can put down the barriers. That’s the y/n that I want to meet. The one you already know so well.”

You stared at him. Unbelievable. The way he was smiling at you, practically mocking your seriousness. He was holding that cookie he ordered, handing it to you, practically telling you he knew it was your favorite. And that there was no way he was going to let you leave this coffee shop without you knowing how much he wanted to get to know the person you hid behind your powerful shield.

“Stop,” you finally said, breaking the demanding eye contact Clark had established between you two.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re trying to accomplish. You already know what brought me here, Clark. And you already know why I want to just… finish high school, get my diploma, and move on.”

“Maybe rejecting your past and everything that involves it is what’s keeping you from moving forward. Don’t you think if you accept it and decide to learn from it, maybe moving on… wouldn’t be so hard?”

You stared at his eyes before grabbing the cookie he was holding, your fingers softly gracing his as you did. The way you breathing stopped as you touched Clark and felt his warmth was embarrassing to say the least, and you could swear he noticed how your breathing pattern abruptly changed, as it was pretty noticeable.

You looked up, his eyes meeting yours. Could you keep denying it? It’s not like every time he walks past you in the hallways, you don’t turn around to look at him. It’s not like you’ve found yourself drawing his face in the back of your sketchbook, involuntarily, without noticing it was him you were drawing. It’s not as if the whole idea of someone so well mannered, so good-hearted, didn’t call for your attention. And let’s not mention those icy blue eyes, a color you have only seen mixed in your palette when you paint snow.

You look away, taking a bite from the cookie.

• • •

You look at yourself in the mirror. You run your fingers through the fabric of your shirt, one far more revealing and attention seeker than the ones you’ve been wearing for the past weeks in Smallville High. One you always wore in Metropolis. You stare into your eyes in that small locker mirror. You left the glasses at home, you dusted off the makeup bag, you felt more like yourself than ever before. You were finally staring at the face of the girl you’ve been staring at for the past few years, the one you’ve been so eager to try and high. The one that committed the mistakes you regret, yet the one that pulled through… and was given a second chance.

You closed the locker, the face of your brother startling you. He was smiling at you, making you want to hide your face again under your hair.

“That’s the y/n I remember,” your brother said, mocking you. “What brought you back?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” you said, keeping the rest to yourself. “So are you supposed to win today or are you going to lose like always?”

“I love how little faith you have in me. Keeps me grounded.”

You chuckled, walking side by side with your brother through the hallway. The attention you’ve been trying to avoid was coming up, people staring at you as you walked past. You suddenly feel as if you had changed skins, and you regret it. But you kept walking, pushing through.

“Everything okay?”

That’s when you see him. Clark Kent, taking books from his lockers. That farm boy taller than normal, handsome as a magazine guy, strong and firm, acting as if he wasn’t the best looking person in the entire school.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later,” you finally said to your brother, approaching Clark, but your brother stopped you, making you turn around. “What?”

“The quarterback? Again?” He asked, scoffing. “I thought you had learned your lesson. Is that why the change of look?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“It’s never what I think, is it? Then false drug tests appear on my desk.” He pointed at you with his finger. “Watch out.” And he walked away, leaving you with a very clear warning.

One, of course, for the first time, you weren’t going to listen.

You approached Clark with a smile. The guy looked up from the locker, his eyes opening widely once he saw you.

“Hey, woah… is this who you’ve been hiding? I barely recognized you.”

“Let’s just say, growing back into your own skin can be challenging.” You smiled, widely, for the first time in a while. “You said you want to get to know me.”

He closed his locker, closing in the distance between you two. “I did say that.”

“I’m showing my work in an art gallery opening in Metropolis tonight. It’s silly. My old art teacher it’s organizing it. Would you like to come with me? There’s great food and bad music. It’s fun.”

“Tonight? I have… I can’t.” Your smile slowly faded. “I have the game, I can’t miss the game.”

“Oh right, of course. You’re… well, you’re right. Good luck!” This was so awkward, you wanted to hide. “Uhm, I hope you guys win? Break a leg? Or not! Do not break a leg, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to…” You smack your lips shut, giving him a tiny smile. “I better go. Good luck on your game.”

And without letting him say another word, you walked away quickly, not looking back. Your cheeks flushing red as you tried to be as small as you could.

• • •

The paintings that hung on the walls showed your past, the one you’ve been trying to avoid the past few weeks. The mistakes, the regrets.

But they also showed the good behind all of them. What motivated you, what kept you painting until three in the morning under the light of the street lights that enter through your bedroom window, in that so small apartment you and your brother shared not so long ago.

Your eyes wandered around your work. People come and congratulate you, they smile, they pat you on the back. They read the small description your professor made of your work, since you didn’t submit one. They say the future that awaits you couldn’t be brighter.

You chuckled, you smiled, even if it was a smile with no real meaning. But everyone could see it in your eyes.

Your sad eyes.

The people began to leave, the waitresses began to collect the food that was left, the dishes and glasses they had to clean. The music was turned off.

You were still standing there. Your burgundy dress hitting the floor as you had removed your silver heels that you held in your fingers. Your purse hanging from your hand, your hair let loose from the bun you had imprisoned it all night. You were staring at your painting, the last one you made in that apartment, your saddest work yet.

The picture portrayed a tired girl on her messy bed, staring at the ceiling. What you felt, what made you go into hiding, what changed your life, plastered on the canvas for everyone to see. And you couldn’t look away. Everyone had left, but you couldn’t move.

“You’re very talented.”

You turned to the sound of his voice.

There, in the doorframe of the gallery, wearing a cheap suit jacket, a badly buttoned white shirt, and black pants, was Clark Kent.

You smiled.

“Did you win?” He nodded. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I ran?” He joked, making you laugh. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be,” you said, smiling. “I’m glad you came.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Dick: Talia, have I ever told you that you look nice?

Talia (perking up): No. Do you finally see my beauty?

Dick: I was only checking if my mind was in the right place. It is. Thank goodness. You look like a toad with extra warts, and you're stupid.

As Dick laughed, Talia's face turned bright red, but she had a few insults up her sleeve.

Talia: You're so ugly you'd get rejected from a reality dating show.

Dick: You’d be the main focus of a three-part murder documentary, where you’re labeled as an idiot!

Talia: None of the hairstyles you’ve had have ever looked good, especially the mullet, and no one liked the disco-reject suit or the current costume you wear!

Dick (calm but threatening): I will knock your ass out.

Talia (pulling out a letter opener from her purse): Try it and see what happens!

The two began arguing, their voices raised and barely a single word intelligible. The noise disrupted Damian’s sketching. Frustrated, he dropped his pencil and angrily stormed over to the arguing duo.

Damian (shouting): STOP FIGHTING! I’m trying to draw a picture of a puppy! You're both interrupting my flow!

Dick: You're right, Damian. Talia, I’m sorry for the comments I made about you. I thought you were aware of your appearance.

Talia: I would apologize, but I refuse to apologize to low-lifes.

Damian: Mother, apologize, or I’m telling grandfather who actually broke his car window!

Talia: I’m sorry for the valid criticism.

Damian sighed, accepting that this was the closest his brother and mother would get to some kind of reconciliation.

Damian: I’m wearing my headphones while I draw. You two don’t talk to each other until I’m ready to go to the library.

Talia: I’ll keep Little Richard in line while you draw.

Dick: And I’ll make sure Cruella doesn’t get near any dogs.

Talia smacked Dick on the back of the head and then walked off. Dick went in the other direction to calm himself and text Kory. Damian rolled his eyes, placing his earbuds in and playing pop music.

[spikesbunny]

I have vision in my mind..Reader pegging Dante since he deserved to be pampered and spoiled. Why not his s/o take care of him?

+ an: nonnie i think i love this... your mind is a beautiful thing i hope yk that

minors DNI!!

when dante told you he was open to try anything in bed, you thought he was just exaggerating. after all, he tended to do that a lot, and say a lot of things he really didn't mean. so you didn't ponder too hard on what kind of kinks he wanted to try. normally, he'd just ask to swap it up a bit, check in to see if you wanted to try something new.

however, dante never told you about his pegging kink. at least, not explicitly. whenever you two walked into sex stores, him giggling like an adult child, his eyes seemed to linger on the straps. you didn't pay much mind, figuring it was just male fascination. i mean, who wouldn't be amazed by the fact women could imitate penitration?

he would always stall in the lube section, looking at the different options. he'd often making jokes about trying them out, before setting them down.

it didn't click in your head until lady slipped up one day. you had gone out for a drink with her, laughing and gossiping at the bar. the liquor started talking on her end, resulting in a major slip up - although, now that you think back on it, it wasn't really a bad one.

"ya know" she started, tossing back another shot. "dante says some nasty, depraved things about you... or more so, about himself." that got you to perk up, raising an eyebrow.

"oh yea, like what?" you questioned. you were thinking maybe eating from the back, or fucking in public. your mind didn't think about the possible different kinks he had, he always just seemed experimental. more of 'how far can i stretch the title of vanilla'.

"well, he told me he wants to be pegged. by you."

pegged??? you think, recalling anytime where he may have discreetly tried bringing this up.

dante had mentioned anal, and the lingering gazes on the straps started clicking in place. he didn't necessarily mean anal on you, he meant on him. "oh my god" you gasp, finally realizing.

"listen, between me and you, i know you're gonna try it. probably tonight." lady wasn't wrong. she slides you over a bottle of lube discreetly, smirking. "there's half the cost for the night. tell dante to add it to his tab."

you chuckle, thanking lady for the... gift?

an hour later, you find yourself out of the bar, a bag containing a new strap-on in your hand, and the lube nudged into your purse. you were on a mission - to make dante not only confess his kink, but also absolutely ruin him - just like he wanted.

you enter the office, taking note of your boyfriend, sprawled out on his chair, feet kicked up on the desk. "hey baby" he purrs, eyes flicking over you with a smirk. "good night out? seems like ya went shopping. whatcha get?"

"oh, its more for you than me." you reply, setting the bag down on the table. dante eagerly sits up, taking notice of the box. "damn, wrapped all pretty, what did ya buy?"

"open it" a command. it left him no room to argue. delicately, he takes the lid off, expecting a sexy piece of clothing or something.

dante's face flushes. he swallows, thickly. he was so unsure what to think, how did you know?

"this for me?" he ask, looking up to meet your eyes. god, he looked pretty, batting his eyelashes up at you like this. you wondered how it would be seeing dante crumbled beneath you on the sheets.

"wanna go try it out?"

he nods, quickly getting up from the table, making his way to the room. you swore you saw him shiver, taking joy in the way the devil was ready to submit already.

once entering the bedroom, you find dante sitting on the edge of the bed, almost waiting for you. shit, he had made quick work of his clothes, his shirt and pants tossed somewhere in the room, coat lazily slung over the side of the bed.

"go lay down, ass up" you coo to him, watching the him crawl over to the pillows, pressing his face into them as he arched his ass up for you. god, you didn't now he could be so submissive, yet watching this was more than you could ever ask for.

you didn't know you needed this until now.

you settle behind dante, knees sinking into the mattess. "gonna be good f' me?" you ask, grabbing his bulge through his boxers, earning a shaky moan.

"mhm... yes, please" he pants out, peaking out from the pillows. his tan skin was burning up as he eyes the box. you had settled it on the side of you, removing his boxers.

dante shivers as you pour lube down his ass, a finger circling his pucker. "please?" he mewls, burying his face into the pillows once again, desperately awaiting the feeling of one finger sinking in.

"gonna take good care of you." you whisper against his back, planting a chaste kiss, before pressing one finger in.

you didn't even know dante could moan like this. his hips jolt forward, hands gripping the sheets desperately as you curl a digit in his hole. it was tight, running over his walls, feeling him clench.

how come you hadn't connected the dots earlier? you had missed out on so much....

dante whimpers as you press in a second, scissoring your two fingers to open him up a bit more. you press the pads of your fingers against his prostate, watching how he falls apart under you.

you had a devil hunter, a son of sparda, begging for you to just fuck him. either you were the luckiest person alive, or the stupidist.

"c'mon baby, take a lil more. you can take another finger, right?" you ask, watching his white hair move in a shaky nod.

you slide in a third digit, dante crumbling under you. his legs were giving out, pants and groans falling from his lips in a choir.

he melts into the sheets, the stretch a burn that he craved. he had dreamt of this many nights, waking up in a cum coated mess. you, fucking his ass, making him submit to you. he liked this, the power swap. it was always him on top.

and you were willing to pamper him.

you pull your fingers out, earning a whine of complaint from dante. you shush him, opening the box to assemble the strap around your hips. he listens to the rustling, shivering in anticipation. he had been waiting for this moment, and now, you were going to give it to him.

you press the tip to his hole, watching as he attempted to fuck back against you. smirking, you finally - slowly - enter, feeling his body melt back into the mattress. soft 'fucks' escape his lips, his body surrendering to you.

dante whines as you bottom out, panting into the fabric of the pillows. your name is a mantra on his lips, his back arching as you preform a test roll. he seems ready.

slowly, you pull out, building up pace as the devil hunter's orgasm builds up again. he wasn't going to last long, there was no way - his mind was going fuzzy, the feeling of the strap's head dragging against his walls and bumping his prostate had him shaking.

his cock twitches, your hand reaching down to gently stroke it, bringing him closer to the verge of an orgasm. dante was close, real close.

your hips slam against his ass, his body collapsing against the sheets as he moans pathetically, humping into your hand. his pleading started again, begging for you to give him an orgasm. and who were you to deny, after he'd be so good for you?

dante cums, white ropes seeping into the sheets as he drops his body, unable to support himself anymore. you help him ride out his orgasm, giving a few last thrust, before pulling the strap out.

leaning down, you press a kiss to his neck, earning a muffled thank you.

he was a mess, and so were the sheets. "c'mon, dante, let's go clean up, hm?" he groans, shaking his head.

oh well, he deserved a break after you ruined him.

©2025 spikesbunny- please do not repost/translate my works on other media sites ♡

[katethetank]

Yours for the Night - Chapter 1

Rating: 18+ minors gtfo Plot: A chance encounter with a mysterious woman ends with Eddie making a career change he never would have considered. Working as a male escort has its perks, and the tips for his extra services are too tempting to pass up. He loves his job. He’s good at his job. He’s professional. Charming. Adapts to whatever his clients need him to be. He never gets thrown off his game. Never lets emotions get involved. Never crosses the line between business and something more. Until Steve Harrington. Chapter Summary: Eddie is approached by a mysterious woman and given a job offer he may not be able to refuse. CW: Alcohol consumption, a spicy proposition Pairing: Escort!Eddie x Rich!Steve Word Count: 1.6k (First few chapters will be shorter, last few will NOT)

Masterlist>>Chapter 2

“Hey, what can I get you?”

“A bourbon Manhattan would be great, thanks.”

Not what Eddie would have expected from the pocket-sized woman sitting on the other side of the bar, but ok. He pulls a bottle of Makers off the shelf behind him and stops in his tracks when she corrects him.

“Not that shit. Buffalo Trace, please.”

He turns his head and raises an eyebrow at her. A woman of good taste. It’s not an overly expensive liquor, but it’s fucking delicious. “You got it.”

Eddie puts the wax covered bottle back and grabs the Trace, pouring it into a glass with one of those big ice blocks in it, adds a few shakes of some locally made orange bitters, a splash of the good vermouth, gives it a stir, and garnishes it with a luxardo cherry. Sliding it across the glossy bar top, he grabs the card she’s already got set out and asks, “You want to leave it open?”

She gingerly takes the glass first, holds eye contact while she takes a sip, licks her lips, and nods. “Keep it open.”

He taps the card once on the bar in acknowledgement and takes it over to the register to start her tab. He doesn’t think he’s seen her here before, but being a busy bar in Chicago, she could have been in here a thousand times and he might not have noticed. He’s been working here for a few years now, and after a while the faces all just started to blend together.

Tonight though, she has his attention. Not like that. He’s as queer as a three dollar bill, but this woman just has some kind of presence that sort of demands attention. She’s sitting alone, completely unbothered by that fact, just enjoying a fucking well made cocktail if he does say so himself, and silently watching Eddie as he works. She’s tiny. Big eyes, small frame, dressed well as far as he can tell, and has this aura of confidence that’s almost bewildering.

She asks for another after sipping the drink slowly, and Eddie gets her a fresh glass. The corner of her mouth ticks up like she appreciates that he didn’t just refill the glass she already had. As he works the bar and slings drinks left and right, he can’t help but notice her eyes on him. She’s looked him up and down with an analyzing gaze that kind of makes him feel like a piece of meat. He gets hit on by women pretty often, and Eddie is mentally preparing himself for having to tell her “sorry darling, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

When she finishes her second drink, he makes his way over to ask if she’d like another, totally bracing himself for some kind of pickup line. 

“Is this your only job?”

Ok, not at all what he thought she’d say. Furrowing his brow he tells her, “Yeah, I’m here about four nights a week.”

“And does it pay well?”

Seriously, what is going on? He can’t imagine why she would be asking him such a weird (and ok, kind of invasive) question. “It pays the bills, yeah.” Eddie gestures towards her glass. “Did you want another?”

“Have you considered going into another line of work?”

What the hell? If this lady is trying to scam him into some MLM scheme, he’s absolutely not interested. Selling leggings or candles or some shit is not appealing in the slightest. He’s trying to think of a way to kindly tell her to fuck off without screwing himself out of a tip when she leans in.

“I own a business that I think would suit you very well. You’ve got the look for it. The charm. Something my clients would definitely be interested in.”

Eddie looks her over again. She sort of oozes power, and with the cryptic way she’s propositioning him, he can’t help but be curious as to what the fuck this pint sized boss bitch does for a living. “I’m closing up in 30. Hang back and we can talk?”

She smirks at him like she already won and nods, pushing her glass back across the bar. He makes her another Manhattan and announces that it’s last call.

Once the bar is cleared out, the door locked, and the sign turned off, Eddie approaches the patron side of the bar and takes a seat next to this mystery woman. “Ok, you’ve piqued my interest. What exactly is this business of yours?”

“I own an escort service.”

Eddie immediately barks out a laugh. “Fuck off!”

She just looks at him, unimpressed. 

“Fuck off. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Eddie scoffs, not quite believing that she isn’t fucking with him. “So what, you’re looking for hookers or something?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not a pimp. And it’s not sex work. Not unless you’d want it to be. It’s a companion agency and there’s an untapped market for gay male escorts.”

“How do you even know I’m gay?”

She raises an eyebrow at him, which…ok fine. “I clocked you the minute I sat down. Don’t play dumb with me, it’s not a good look for you. And you do look good. I can think of a handful of clients off the top of my head who you would be perfect for. And these clients? They have money. A lot of money. I don’t run some shoddy operation that’s just a cover for prostitution. This is a legit high end business, and there’s money to be made for someone like you.”

Eddie is fucking baffled. He’s just a bartender. Yeah, the bar is nice and he has to dress in black slacks and a white button up every day, so sure he looks alright. But what the fuck is this lady thinking? “What…why me?”

“You’re a good looking guy. Young. Fit, if maybe a bit on the skinny side. Might need to trim some of that hair, but the look works for you. And I’ve been watching you. You’re good with strangers. You banter well with them, listen, engage, and get good reactions out of them. You’re charming. And intuitive. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you made my drinks with the good ingredients rather than the rail shit after I asked for a better bourbon. You notice what your clients want and you make adjustments to give them just that. I really think you’d be a good fit for this line of work.”

“And uh…what exactly does this work entail?”

She smirks again like she won. “The clientele varies, but it’s usually men who are looking to have someone accompany them to events. Charity balls, galas, gallery openings. These men have class. We would just need to clean you up a bit. Get you a nice wardrobe, which would be provided for you…a little grooming. You’ve got potential.”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to chop my hair off? Because that’s non-negotiable.” He can’t believe he’s even considering this. 

“Not entirely. I can tell it’s a part of your whole look. It could just stand to be cleaned up a bit. Think sort of…70’s Mick Jagger length.”

Ok. Yeah. Eddie could work with that. Jagger was a fucking fox with that shag. He could do that. Wait, is he actually considering this? “Ok, so…you’re telling me I’d just basically go on dates with rich assholes and then…what? I get paid for it? No expectations?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. This is a legal business. All of the clientele is vetted, they send their requests through the agency, we find the most suitable matches for them, handle all the details of where and when, and you would just have to show up. This isn’t some back alley shit. These are classy events, or sometimes just men who want someone to dine with them at a fancy restaurant. They pay for your services through the agency, and you get your cut when the date is done. Simple as that.”

Services. His services. She’s making it sound totally legit and not shady at all, but that word sticks out like a sore thumb. “What do you mean by ‘services?’ You said it’s not sex work.”

“It’s not. You’re providing companionship for an evening.”

“So none of your…escorts or whatever sleep with the clients?”

“If the clients are inclined to provide a tip for additional services, that’s outside of the agency. We don’t ask questions, and it’s not expected. Most dates are just cut and dry, accompanying the client to the event, and that’s it.” Her stoic, professional demeanor cracks just a bit. “Look, some of our escorts do provide those types of services, but not all of them. It would never be expected of you to do that. And we would never push. It would be entirely your choice if that’s something you would feel comfortable with. But honestly…I have watched you tonight, and I really think you’d be great at this. It could be an excellent opportunity for you, and I guarantee you’d be making a hell of a lot more being served drinks at a gala than slinging drinks behind this bar.”

Eddie should have known from that first smirk she gave him that she would be getting what she wanted. This is the most tempting offer he’s ever received. He could try it out, right? Just like…one time and see how it goes?

“Let me think about it.”

She reaches into her handbag and slides a black business card across the bar. 

Nancy Wheeler Chicago Connections

“I look forward to hearing from you.”

Masterlist>>Chapter 2

And here we go! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

@mrsjellymunson @the-unforgivenn @watermelonmite @micheledawn1975 @wordynerdygurl @live-laugh-love-dietrich @connected-dots-st-reblogger

[marasmadness]

Would u be willing to write some sort of jj x female reader where jj is super protective of her and even kind of possessive (not in a toxic way). Jj wont hesitate to leave noticeable marks on reader and if needed, jj will get extra handsy when men try to flirt or be gross with reader

Sweet & Sour || Jennifer Jareau x Reader

CW: established marriage, gross men, mild food play and voyeurism, kissing, possessive JJ( HOT … who said that), sensual fic with no explicit sex :)

A/N: your wish is my command lovey. I’m a bit rusty, I apologize, hope you enjoy

JJ’s head perked up at the sound of your light laughter drifting from the porch through the open windows. Her eyebrows furrowed, unsure of who you could be talking about when no one was expected to be dropping by your home today. She placed her open book down on the couch, pivoting around on her knees to peer out the window. You were leaning against the railing parallel to the side of the house, a wet piece of laundry hanging from your arm. The goal of hanging them up to dry in the bright sun seemed to have been forgotten. JJ spotted a vague silhouette of another person lingering between her house and the neighbor’s, which had remained vacant for quite a few months now. She surveyed the moving trucks parked in the driveway and grew slightly more nosy at the low, gravelly sound of a man’s voice.

Hopping up quickly, she stepped out onto the porch barefoot, as if she was nonchalantly checking to see what you were up to. Hearing the soft pad of her footsteps, you turned around with a bright smile. “Brad, this is my wife, Jennifer. JJ, meet our new neighbor.”

She smiled softly, a dull greeting compared to your cheeriness. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks. Your wife was just telling me about the area. This was my parents house. I decided to stay here for a bit. Not sure how long I’ll be here, but it was nice to meet you.” The younger man was leaning over the edge of the porch railing. You and your wife peered over the side as JJ gave a slight nod to the explanation of his recent appearance.

Looking up over Brad’s head, the blonde’ eyes level with the woods behind their house, zoning out to the tail end of your bubbly conversation with the new neighbor. Hearing her name come from your mouth recaptured your attention. “That works right, dinner tonight Jayje?” You tilted your head, under the impression she had still been tuned into the conversation.

“Sounds great,” she agreed softly, playing off the fact that she had not been listening to the dinner plans forming nonchalantly. The introduction concluded, and Brad sent a wave as he turned and headed back across the yard toward his place. You wrapped your arm around your wife’s waist while heading inside. A slight sigh escaped her lips as the front door shut behind the two of you, restoring your privacy.

“What’s wrong?’ you asked, catching on to her quick shift in mood the second you were alone.

“Nothing is wrong, love. She tugged on the hem of your dress, pulling you up against her. Content with your closeness, a soft smile spread across her face before she pressed a soft, prolonged kiss to your forehead. “I just like the peace and quiet of our dinners together, alone.

“Together alone?” You teased, raising your eyebrow as her hands slid around your waist. Planting on the small of your back.

She scoffed playfully. “You know what I mean. I don’t like strangers in our home. I prefer having you to myself, but if you would like to be the most welcoming neighbor, I’ll get through one night of sharing your presence, but he better not overstay his welcome.”

You kissed her quickly with excitement. “Thank you, Jennifer Jareau, for setting your possessive tendencies aside for your favorite wife.” You thanked her with playful dramatics, earning you a cheesy smile before you headed off to dig through the pantry.

“I’m your only wife!” She shouted back after she was already halfway up the staircase.

While you were pulling ingredients down onto the counter, assembling meals in your mind out of items you already had at home due to the short notice, JJ was sifting through clothes upstairs, yours and hers. You tapped your nails against the counter rhythmically, impatiently waiting for your pot of water to boil. JJ called out from upstairs, hanging a white sundress of yours over the banister. “How’s this one?” She asked, twirling it through the air. “I’ll iron and lay it out for you,” she offered, her outfit already draped over her arm.

“Perfect, thank you, love,” You blew her a kiss upwards before she disappeared back into the bedroom. By the time she darted back downstairs, you had drained a pot of pasta and were intently focused on slicing and squeezing lemons. JJ’s soft, sauntering footsteps went unnoticed until her hands looped around your waist and you jumped, caught off guard.

The scent of lemons overwhelmed the room. The heat of the stove and JJ’s hands on your hips left your face flushed as you attempted to focus on the tasks in front of you. At first JJ just appeared to want to help; she began whisking the sauce that was simmering, yet her one hand never lifted from your skin. By the time you had squeezed the last lemon over the pot, your hands were slick with juice. “Done with that?” Your wife plucked the lemon half from your hand, letting it roll aside. Before you could answer, her fingers closed around your wrist, dragging your hand up toward your mouth. Her lips parted, wrapping around two of your fingers and sucking them clean. Her face puckered slightly at the sour taste, but she stared directly into your eyes unblinking as she slowly dragged your fingers out of her mouth, freeing them with a soft pop.

She smirked, dragging you in a slightly dazed state over to the sink. Luckily, you were actually done and washed your hands. JJ tossed you a towel, leaving you to continue cooking once you gathered yourself. She turned off the stove on way out, knowing it would take you a moment to pull yourself out of her trance. “Looks done to me. I’m going to finish getting ready.

Quickly you chopped and mixed up a salad, tossing it in the fridge while you went to go get ready. As promised, JJ had laid the dress out on the bed for you, the fabric still faintly warm to the touch. After slipping it on, you found a white hair ribbon to match and swiped a wand of lip gloss across your lips. Looking in the mirror, the ring on your finger gleamed in the reflection as you spun it around your finger. Just as you finished, the doorbell rang.

JJ got the door, welcoming Brad inside as she stepped out of the way. “We set up a table outside since it’s so nice out today, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I brought this for you guys. I appreciate you hosting so last minute.” He handed over a bottle of wine to JJ, who brought it into the kitchen. You joined the two of them with a warm greeting as your wife led everyone outside to the back patio. JJ politely questioned him about his hometown, job, family, and typical small talk while pouring out three glasses for the table. He did the same, asking about you and JJ, your marriage. It seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. Plates and bowls of food were circulated around the table. JJ seemed calm and at ease, a good sign for her. The sun was setting and lit up her blonde hair with an angelic glow. The slow disappearing of dishes sent a reminder ringing in your head. “Oh shoot, I was going to cut up watermelon. JJ picked it up last weekend, and we haven’t eaten it yet. I’ll be right back.”

You stood up, heading inside, feeling comfortable enough to leave JJ and Brad outside now that they had gotten to talk a bit. You watched through the window above the kitchen sink as you cut up slices of watermelon, laying them out on a plate. JJ’s lips curled up slightly, eyes brightening in a way others would mistake as her being impressed, but you knew differently. Her expressions were slightly overexaggerated, mocking, in a way.

“Honey, come here!” JJ called out, and you lingered halfwayout the door. “Did you know a Director Johnson when you worked in counterintelligence?”

You frowned, knowing JJ wasn’t usually one to share much about either her job or your past one. “No, I don’t believe there was one, or at least not while I was there.”

She grinned, “See, that’s what I thought—”

“Wait, you both have worked for the FBI?” Brad cut JJ off, his face falling unintentionally before he straightened out his expression.

“Exactly, Brad, you’re getting it. That’s why you’ve lost me. I have been a supervisory special agent for the BAU and served as the acting unit chief, yet I’ve never heard of your boss… And furthermore, my talented wife worked in counterintelligence for a decade as well. And you said that was your department, didn’t you?

He stuttered, unable to come up with a response. His phone started ringing, and he stared down at it as if a fairy godmother was watching out for him. “Sorry, that’s my sister. I have to take this.” He walked off, pacing around your yard. JJ came inside to help you finish with the watermelon.

Finishing quickly, she wiped off her knife and held out her last cut piece of watermelon toward you. You carefully took a bite, leaning forward in an attempt to keep the running juices off of your white dress. Instead, it ran down your chin, and you moved to catch it with your fingers. JJ gently but firmly captured your wrists with one hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it. You gasped sharply when her lips met your neck, sliding across your skin. Slowly she peppered kisses across your skin along the curve of your breasts. Her finger hooked around the neckline of your dress, dragging it down.

You leaned your head against her, nearing her ear as you tucked a strand of hair behind it. “I know I didn’t drip that much,” you whispered teasingly.

She smiled at you, circling her tongue around your nipple before releasing it with a pop. “Just double-checking. You’re all good.’ She grabbed your hand and the platter, following you closely like a puppy dog. “There’s a reason this dress is my favorite,’ JJ murmured in your ear, sliding her hand down your ass before you stepped outside, struggling to hold it together.

Brad had returned to the table. JJ set down the fruit and dragged her chair right up against yours before sitting down; his eyes quickly darted to your chest and then back up. You peeked a glance at JJ’s mouth, which was slightly smeared with red lipstick, and froze knowing that meant it was probably also all over you.

“Is your sister good?” JJ’s hand landed on your thigh as she resumed the conversation.

“Yep.” He tucked his phone into his pocket.

“Good. You know, I’m curious. You were really interested in how my wife and I met. Do you have anyone special in your life?”

“No, not really. I’m more of a casual guy. I have more modern views, you know? Like it doesn’t even need to be exclusive. Actually, speaking of which, I was really interested to hear about you guys dynamic. You guys seem happy, maybe open to trying new things—”

JJ cut him off with a hand, her other pinching your thigh. “This went exactly where I thought it was going,” she mumbled under her breath through gritted teeth. “Y/N, go inside.”

You listened. As soon as the door shut, JJ stood up, walking around the table, but you couldn’t hear anything. JJ was never much of a yeller. When she was angry, her voice got low and gravelly, which was honestly more frightening. By the time she came in, Brad was gone; you didn’t even see his door shut behind him

You wrapped an arm around her, still feeling her heart beat against her chest. “If you had an inkling about what he was after, why’d you let him stay?” You murmured, pulling her closer.

“Because I promised I’d play nice, so I needed to be positive. Don’t worry though, my threats were no gentler than usual.

“You’re hot when you’re protective.“ You laughed, gently biting her lip as she kissed you. ”You could’ve told me I had marks and lipstick all over me though.”

“I thought it would send a message, but clearly men are never very good at taking a hint. I’d be happy to wash it off for you, though.” She raised an eyebrow, tugging you toward the shower.

[talesofberk]

He’s not the only one

You thought I was done hehe, The brain once again cooked. But also this is a small gift for bestie @callofdudes before i go away for camping so enjoy !! Word count: 1.1K

During the beginning of your time on Berk, You've come to learn that Toothless is the only night fury, he and Hiccup have been traveling around multiple islands and archipelagos to hopefully find one. But it always accumulated to nothing, even when you tagged along and helped them by showing some areas near your old home that could be possible.

Toothless was disappointed every time the search went nowhere each time. But he usually expected it.

"I'm sorry bud" Hiccup said sympathetically as he rubbed his head gently. Toothless made a small sad sound and slumped down, tired from the flight.

"Maybe next time ??" You offered some form of hope as you presented a basket of fish, hoping this would make him feel better. It would usually perk him back up, but inside he was still lonely. When you returned to Berk, he grew a more sad when he saw other dragons of their kind playing. Stormfly had many of her kind as did hookfang, meatlug and barf and belch... He wanted that. Maybe he truely was the last of his kind.

That was how it was for a while though, It was late at night and everyone was dead asleep, you crashed in Hiccups room as you two discussed more possible routes to take, Toothless' ears perked up when he heard a noise from outside. It was brief, and not that loud, but it was unmistakable.

That got him up and looking out the window, finding a dragon zooming by, only noticeable because of how it blocked out the stars. But Toothless could smell and hear a lot more than the average Viking. He watched as it continued to circle around before zooming down with a strike, but it must've misjudged itself as it crash landed into the forest before a painful shriek was heard.

Toothless looked over at both of you before jumping out of the window and beginning to track its scent. As he made it to the forest, the downed dragon made a few more pained noises, each quieter. He then saw the downed dragon, which let out a warning noise, tilting its head up. He made a reassuring noise in return as if to say he wasn't there to hurt him, eventually realising... By the gods, it was another night fury !!! He bounced around a little before rushing back, he needed to get to you two.

So he climbed his way up back through the window, tugging at the blanket on Hiccup's bed.

"Toothless... It's too early" Hiccup grumbled and tried to pull the blankets. His tail whipped back and forth violently in excitement before tearing it off, sending you two to the floor, then nudging you two to the door.

"Ok, ok..." You yawned and then took the still-lit candle and lit up a lantern. "What's gotten into you ??"

He quickly rushed out the door, occasionally looking back to make sure you two were still following, rushing past the village and back into the hills.

"I don't like this..." You grew slightly nervous as you held up the lantern.

"What did you find ??" Hiccup looked into the distance as Toothless finally stopped.

Toothless then found the night fury again as it made another noise of pain. Both of your eyes went wide as you realised what you saw, convinced that you were dreaming.

"It's... another.." You couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Another night fury" Hiccup smiled wide.

The downed night fury then laid eyes on both of you and it's pupils immediately sharpened, growling at the two as if toothless sold it out. It quickly tried to flap away but it fell to the ground quickly, It was in too much pain.

"Woah woah, it's ok. We want to help" Hiccup tried to reassure it as you held the lantern and noticed the injuries.

"Poor guy" You showed Hiccup the injuries.

"Must've gotten it from the trees"

Toothless was watching from afar, but he couldn't keep his tail from wiggling a little. The two were somewhat enamored with each other.

"We need to get the injuries bandaged" Hiccup gently tried to inspect it closer, but it snarled and tried to bite him, which made him jump back.

"Ok, definitely not like that"

So you decided to have a go at it, gently placing the lantern down and slowly sticking your hand out. "It's ok, we won't hurt you... We want to help" The night fury narrowed it's eyes on you as you made your move, slowly it then sniffed your hand and then nudged a little closer, pressing its snout into it. "There we go" You smiled softly.

"Toothless, can you help it up ??" Hiccup asked.

He rumbled excitedly and approached eagerly, making the other startle slightly, but nevertheless, helped him up gently.

"Easy now" you slowly stood up, grabbing the lantern.

You all headed back to your house and got underway with locating some bandages. The night fury sniffed around as it took in the surroundings, still slightly cautious.

"Found it" Hiccup tossed you the bandages and you looked over, approaching with caution.

"Ok... This might sting a bit"

But that was enough to make it growl at you, you stepped back gently as Toothless approached it and reassured that you weren't going to hurt. So you tried again and this time it didn't growl. Hiccup meanwhile, grabbed some spare fish from dinner and offered it to the dragon as a distraction.

"Hungry ??" He offered the spare salmon.

The night fury sniffed it before gently taking it, eating it up as you continued to bandage him. Toothless was sure it was still hungry and regurgitated some of his dinner to him, making you gag and having to look away.

"Oh yeah, kinda forgot to tell you that" Hiccup nervously chuckled.

Soon the night fury was all bandaged up, It cooed softly in thanks.

"All better now" You smiled softly, gently brushing it's head. It's eyes narrowed and his pupils softened, nudging your hand again gently.

"Should we give him a name ??" You looked up at Hiccup.

"I think so" He tapped his chin. "What should we call you ??"

"Eclipse ??" You suggested.

The night fury's ears perked right up, as if to agree with it.

"I think he likes that" Hiccup chuckled.

"Can we call you Eclipse ??" You asked the Night Fury.

The night fury tilted his head and then huffed gently, He accepts it.

"Eclipse it is" You smiled wide.

Toothless looked at both of you then back at Eclipse with full excitement. He was going to make this night fury his bestie. Plus... you may have found your own dragon.

[archivegyu]

masterlist

my uncle is a cool gamer

uncle! jeon wonwoo ll 6k words

: sweet like candy

The familiar hum of Wonwoo’s gaming setup filled his bedroom-turned-streaming-studio as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his fingers after an intense raid session. His chat was buzzing with the usual post-game excitement, viewers dissecting every play and asking about his next stream schedule.

“Okay, okay, I know you guys want to see me attempt that boss fight again, but I need a quick break,” Wonwoo said into his headset, his calm voice carrying a hint of amusement as he watched the chat flood with protests. “My wrists are crying for mercy, and I promised myself I’d stay hydrated today.”

He reached for his water bottle, scanning the rapidly moving messages on his secondary monitor. *Just five more minutes!* *You were so close to beating it!* *Wonwoo fighting!* *What’s for dinner?*

“You guys are more concerned about my meals than my own father,” he chuckled, taking a long sip of water. “Speaking of which, I should probably figure out what to make later. I’ve got a very important guest staying with me this week.”

The chat immediately perked up with curiosity. Guest?, Girlfriend?, Is Wonwoo finally introducing someone?

“Not that kind of guest, you troublemakers,” Wonwoo rolled his eyes playfully. “My bestfriend Mingyu is on some architecture conference abroad, and his wife is on a business trip, so their daughter is staying with me for the week. She’s—”

“UNCLE WONWOO!”

The enthusiastic shout from down the hallway made Wonwoo pause mid-sentence, a fond smile immediately spreading across his face. The sound of tiny feet running on hardwood floors grew closer, accompanied by what sounded like a stuffed animal being dragged along the ground.

“And that would be her now,” he said to his chat, quickly muting his microphone as a small tornado of energy burst through his door.

Five-year-old Minhee stood in the doorway, her hair sticking up in at least three different directions from her afternoon nap, clutching a well-loved stuffed bunny by one ear. She was wearing a pink unicorn t-shirt that was definitely not the same outfit she’d been napping in, and mismatched socks—one with strawberries, one with dinosaurs.

“Uncle Wonwoo! I changed my clothes all by myself!” she announced proudly, doing a little twirl to show off her ensemble.

“I can see that,” Wonwoo said, trying not to laugh at the backwards shirt and the fact that she was apparently wearing two different shoes as well. “Very… creative fashion choices.”

Minhee beamed at what she clearly took as a compliment and skipped over to his chair, immediately fascinated by all the colorful lights on his gaming setup. “Wow! It’s like a rainbow computer!”

Wonwoo glanced at his chat, which had noticed his extended muting and was getting restless with curiosity. He unmuted briefly. “Sorry everyone, my niece just woke up from her nap and wanted to show me her new outfit. Give me just a moment.”

“Uncle, who are you talking to?” Minhee asked, finally noticing the headset and microphone setup.

“I’m talking to people who watch me play games on the computer,” Wonwoo explained patiently. “It’s my job. People like watching me play and we talk about the games together.”

Minhee’s eyes went wide. “People are watching you right now? Like, real people?”

“Yep, real people. See that little camera up there?” He pointed to the webcam mounted on his monitor. “They can see me through that.”

“Can they see me too?” she whispered, suddenly looking both excited and shy.

“They can if you want them to. Would you like to say hello?”

Minhee nodded eagerly but then hid halfway behind his chair, peeking out at the camera. Wonwoo couldn’t help but grin at her adorable shyness.

“Chat, I’d like you to meet my niece, Minhee,” he said, gently coaxing her to come closer. “She’s staying with me this week while her parents are away.”

The chat exploded with hearts and welcoming messages. OMG SO CUTE, Hello princess!, Uncle Wonwoo is so soft, She’s adorable!, Best guest ever!

“They’re all saying hello to you,” Wonwoo told her, pointing to the chat window where messages were flying by.

Minhee’s shyness evaporated instantly as she climbed onto his lap to get a better look at the screen. “There are so many words! What do they all say?”

“Well, this one says ‘hello princess,’ and this one says you’re cute, and this one…” Wonwoo paused as he read the next message, Adorable! “…this one is asking if you like games.”

“I LOVE games!” Minhee announced to the camera, suddenly animated. “Uncle Wonwoo, can I play the rainbow computer game?”

The chat went wild. Let her play!, Gaming prodigy incoming, Uncle-niece gaming stream when?

“Maybe we can play something together later,” Wonwoo said diplomatically. “But first, I think we should fix your shirt—it’s on backwards.”

Minhee looked down at herself and giggled. “I know! I did it on purpose because the unicorn was looking the wrong way, and now she can see where we’re going!”

Wonwoo blinked, then burst out laughing. “That’s… actually pretty logical.”

“Uncle Wonwoo, are you famous?” Minhee asked suddenly, waving at the camera as she watched more messages flood in.

“Sort of, I guess. People know me from my gaming streams.”

“Like Daddy! Daddy builds a lot of buildings!”

“That’s right, your dad is an architect. And your mom helps companies with their business, right?”

“Uh-huh! She wears pretty suits and talks to important people on her computer,” Minhee said, then leaned closer to the camera. “Hi important people! Uncle Wonwoo is the best uncle ever!”

The chat melted. PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS, Wonwoo best uncle confirmed, This is the cutest thing ever, Can she be a regular guest?

“They all think you’re very sweet,” Wonwoo told her, reading through the messages. “And they agree that I’m a pretty good uncle.”

“You ARE the best uncle! You let me have ice cream for breakfast yesterday!”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened as he quickly looked at the camera. “That was supposed to be our secret, remember?”

Minhee clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oops!”

The chat was having a field day. Ice cream for breakfast GOALS, Uncle Wonwoo living his best life, Breaking all the rules I see, We won’t tell her parents

“Okay, okay, let’s not give away all my terrible babysitting secrets,” Wonwoo said, gently lifting Minhee off his lap. “How about we end the stream here for today? I think someone needs proper food that isn’t ice cream.”

“Aww, but I’m not hungry yet! Can’t we play the rainbow computer first?”

“Tell you what,” Wonwoo said, addressing both Minhee and his chat, “how about we make this interesting? Chat, should I teach Minhee how to play a simple game on stream tomorrow?”

The response was immediate and overwhelming. YES!, Do it!, Gaming niece-uncle duo!, We need this content!, Make it a series!

“Uncle Wonwoo,” Minhee whispered loudly, “what’s a ‘series’?”

“It means they want to see us play games together more than once,” he explained.

“Oh! Like how I watch the same cartoons over and over?”

“Exactly like that.”

Minhee turned to the camera with a huge grin. “Okay, bye-bye computer friends! Tomorrow Uncle Wonwoo will teach me how to beat the monsters!”

As Wonwoo ended the stream amid a flurry of hearts and goodbyes, Minhee was already bouncing excitedly around his chair.

“This is the best vacation ever! Can we call Daddy and tell him about the rainbow computer people?”

“Sure, but first let’s get you some actual food,” Wonwoo said, standing up and stretching. “What sounds good?”

“Hmm…” Minhee tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Can we make pancakes? But not regular pancakes—purple pancakes!”

“Purple pancakes aren’t really a thing, Minhee.”

“They could be! We could use… um…” she scrunched up her face in concentration. “Grape juice!”

Wonwoo stared at her for a moment, then shook his head with a laugh. “You know what? Let’s see if we can make purple pancakes work. But if they taste terrible, we’re ordering pizza.”

“Deal!” Minhee grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the kitchen. “This is gonna be so cool! Wait until I tell Uncle Soonyoung and Uncle Chan about the purple pancakes!”

“Speaking of your other uncles, they’re coming over later to help me babysit—I mean, to hang out with us.”

“Really?! Uncle Soonyoung is gonna teach me more dance moves, and Uncle Chan promised to show me how to do a backflip!”

“A backflip?” Wonwoo stopped walking. “Minhee, you’re five years old.”

“Uncle Chan says I’m very ‘athletic’ and ‘coordinated,’” she said, clearly proud of the big words.

“Uncle Chan is going to give me a heart attack,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

In the kitchen, Wonwoo stared at his relatively bare cupboards, realizing he was woefully unprepared for feeding a creative five-year-old who wanted purple pancakes.

“Okay, so we have regular pancake mix, and we have…” he opened the fridge, “…absolutely no grape juice.”

“What about blueberries?” Minhee suggested, pointing to a container in the fridge.

“Blueberries could work,” Wonwoo agreed, pulling them out. “They might make the pancakes more blue-purple than pure purple, but close enough.”

“Perfect! And can we make them shaped like hearts?”

“Hearts?” Wonwoo looked at his regular round pan. “I don’t have a heart-shaped pan.”

Minhee looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. “We can make circles and then I’ll eat them in a heart shape!”

“That’s… actually not how eating works, but sure, we’ll go with that.”

As Wonwoo started mixing the pancake batter, Minhee climbed onto a chair to watch, providing running commentary on his technique.

“Uncle Wonwoo, you’re mixing it wrong. Mommy says you have to mix pancakes very gently or they get tough.”

“Oh really?” Wonwoo paused his vigorous whisking.

“Uh-huh. Like this,” Minhee demonstrated a gentle folding motion. “Soft like you’re petting a bunny.”

“Petting a bunny. Got it.” Wonwoo adjusted his mixing style, bemused by his niece’s culinary wisdom.

“And Daddy always makes them into funny shapes. One time he made one that looked like Uncle Soonyoung’s face!”

“How did he manage that?”

“The pancake had really big cheeks,” Minhee said seriously, which made Wonwoo snort with laughter.

They added the blueberries to the batter, which did indeed turn it a lovely purple color. Minhee clapped her hands in delight.

“It worked! We’re like kitchen scientists!”

“Kitchen scientists,” Wonwoo repeated, filing that phrase away for future use. “I like that.”

As the first pancake cooked, Minhee kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything from her favorite cartoons to her plans for teaching her stuffed bunny how to play video games.

“Uncle Wonwoo, do you think Mr. Hopscotch would be good at the rainbow computer games?” she asked, holding up her stuffed rabbit.

“Mr. Hopscotch, huh? Well, he’s got good reflexes—I’ve seen how fast he hops around your room.”

“That’s what I thought too! Maybe tomorrow he can help us play.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupted their cooking session, followed by familiar voices.

“Wonwoo! We brought reinforcements!” That was definitely Soonyoung’s voice.

“And by reinforcements, he means an unnecessary amount of junk food,” came Chan’s reply.

“UNCLE SOONYOUNG! UNCLE CHAN!” Minhee shrieked, abandoning her post at the stove to run toward the voices.

Wonwoo quickly flipped the pancake and followed her out to the living room, where she had already launched herself at Soonyoung, who caught her in a dramatic spinning hug.

“There’s my favorite dance partner!” Soonyoung said, setting her down. “Did you practice the moves I taught you last week?”

“Yes! Watch!” Minhee immediately launched into what could generously be called dance moves, but looked more like an enthusiastic interpretation of various gymnastics poses.

“Wow, you’ve really improved,” Chan said with a perfectly straight face, while Wonwoo tried not to laugh at what was clearly the same routine she’d been doing for months.

“We’re making purple pancakes!” Minhee announced. “Uncle Wonwoo let me be the kitchen scientist!”

“Purple pancakes?” Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at Wonwoo. “How very… creative.”

“Don’t ask,” Wonwoo said, heading back to the kitchen to prevent their experimental breakfast from burning.

The other two followed, with Minhee skipping ahead to show off the purple batter.

“This is actually pretty impressive,” Chan said, examining the mixture. “How’d you get it this color?”

“Blueberries,” Wonwoo said proudly, as if he’d invented the concept himself.

“Uncle Chan, guess what! Tomorrow Uncle Wonwoo is gonna teach me how to play games on the rainbow computer, and all his computer friends are gonna watch!”

“Computer friends?” Chan looked confused.

“She means my stream viewers,” Wonwoo explained. “They want to see her learn to play games.”

“Oh, this I have to see,” Soonyoung grinned. “Our little Minhee becoming a gaming sensation.”

“Speaking of which,” Wonwoo said, flipping another pancake, “you two are welcome to stick around for moral support. Something tells me I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Chan said. “Besides, someone needs to document Minhee’s first gaming stream for Mingyu.”

“Daddy’s gonna be so excited!” Minhee said. “He loves games too, but he’s not as good as Uncle Wonwoo.”

“Did you hear that?” Wonwoo said smugly to the other two. “I’m officially the gaming uncle.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Soonyoung laughed. “You’re also the uncle who gave her ice cream for breakfast.”

Minhee gasped and looked at Wonwoo with wide eyes. “You told!”

“I didn’t tell! You told my stream viewers, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled. “Oops!”

As they sat down to eat their purple pancakes (which were surprisingly delicious), Minhee regaled her uncles with stories about her week at Uncle Wonwoo’s house—from their late-night movie marathons to their attempts to teach Mr. Hopscotch various tricks.

“And then Uncle Wonwoo tried to make me take a nap yesterday, but I convinced him that quiet time with video games was basically the same thing,” Minhee said between bites.

“Minhee,” Wonwoo said in a warning tone.

“What? It worked! I was very quiet.”

Chan and Soonyoung exchanged amused looks. It was clear that five-year-old Minhee had completely wrapped her gaming uncle around her little finger.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Soonyoung asked. “More ‘quiet time’ video games?”

“Actually,” Wonwoo said, “I was thinking we could take her to that new arcade that opened downtown. Give her some hands-on gaming experience before tomorrow’s stream.”

“ARCADE?!” Minhee practically bounced out of her chair. “What’s an arcade?”

“It’s like a whole building full of different games you can play,” Chan explained.

“With prizes?”

“Some of them have prizes,” Wonwoo confirmed.

Minhee’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “Can Mr. Hopscotch come too?”

“Of course Mr. Hopscotch can come. He might need to help you win prizes.”

An hour later, they were walking through the brightly lit arcade, Minhee holding Wonwoo’s hand and clutching Mr. Hopscotch with the other, her head swiveling in every direction trying to take in all the sights and sounds.

“Uncle Wonwoo, this place is AMAZING!” she breathed, staring at a particularly colorful racing game.

“Which game do you want to try first?” Soonyoung asked.

Minhee walked around slowly, examining each game with the serious concentration of a seasoned gamer. Finally, she stopped in front of a whack-a-mole game.

“This one! The little moles are so cute!”

“Whack-a-mole it is,” Wonwoo said, feeding tokens into the machine.

What followed was perhaps the most enthusiastic round of whack-a-mole in arcade history. Instead of trying to hit the moles with the padded mallets, Minhee spent most of the time greeting each one as it popped up.

“Hi little mole! Oh, there’s another one! Hello there!”

“Minhee, you’re supposed to hit them,” Chan said gently.

“But they’re so cute! I don’t want to hit them!”

Wonwoo watched her happily chatting with the mechanical moles and realized this was going to be a very different kind of arcade experience than he’d expected.

“You know what?” he said, “I think you’re playing it exactly right.”

They moved from game to game, with Minhee providing her own unique interpretation of how each one should be played. The basketball game became “let’s see how many different ways we can throw the ball,” and the dance game became “let’s make up our own dance moves that have nothing to do with the arrows on the screen.”

“She’s got her own gaming philosophy,” Soonyoung observed as they watched Minhee attempt to high-five every character that appeared on a fighting game screen.

“I respect that,” Wonwoo said. “She’s not wrong—games should be fun first.”

At the prize counter, Minhee spent a full ten minutes examining every possible prize before finally settling on a small stuffed elephant.

“For Mr. Hopscotch,” she explained seriously. “He needs a friend for when I’m not around.”

“Very thoughtful,” Chan said, helping her carry her prizes.

On the drive home, Minhee fell asleep in her car seat, clutching both Mr. Hopscotch and the new elephant, a satisfied smile on her face.

“She’s going to sleep well tonight,” Soonyoung said quietly.

“Good,” Wonwoo replied. “Because tomorrow is going to be interesting. I have no idea how to teach gaming to someone who thinks whack-a-mole is a conversation starter.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what your viewers need to see,” Chan suggested. “Someone who approaches games with pure joy instead of competitiveness.”

“You might be right,” Wonwoo said, glancing in the rearview mirror at his peacefully sleeping niece. “She definitely has her own way of looking at things.”

That evening, after Minhee had been tucked into bed with both Mr. Hopscotch and her new elephant friend, the three uncles sat in Wonwoo’s living room planning the next day’s stream.

“What game are you thinking of starting her with?” Soonyoung asked.

“Something simple and colorful,” Wonwoo said. “Maybe that farming game where you just plant crops and collect cute animals.”

“Perfect for her,” Chan agreed. “No pressure, just fun.”

“That’s the goal,” Wonwoo said. “Though knowing Minhee, she’ll probably find a way to make it completely unexpected.”

They were interrupted by the sound of small feet padding down the hallway.

“Uncle Wonwoo?” Minhee appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t sleep. I’m too excited about tomorrow.”

“Come here, kiddo,” Wonwoo said, patting the couch beside him.

Minhee climbed up and immediately curled against his side. “What if I’m not good at the rainbow computer games?”

“Hey,” Wonwoo said gently, “remember what happened at the arcade today? You played every game exactly the way you wanted to, and you had fun, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s all that matters. Games are supposed to be fun. It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘good’ at them or not.”

“Really?”

“Really. Besides,” he added with a grin, “I have a feeling you’re going to surprise everyone tomorrow.”

Minhee smiled sleepily. “Can I stay here for a few more minutes?”

“Of course.”

As she dozed against his shoulder, Chan and Soonyoung exchanged knowing looks. It was clear that Wonwoo had completely embraced his role as the favorite uncle, and Minhee had found herself the perfect gaming mentor—someone who understood that the best part of playing games wasn’t winning or losing, but simply having fun.

“You know,” Soonyoung said quietly, “Mingyu is going to be so jealous when he sees how much fun she’s having here.”

“Good,” Wonwoo said with a small smile, carefully adjusting his position so Minhee could sleep more comfortably. “He can suffer a little bit for leaving me in charge of this adorable chaos.”

“Famous last words,” Chan laughed softly.

But as Wonwoo looked down at his sleeping niece, her face peaceful and content, he realized he wouldn’t trade this week for anything. Tomorrow’s stream was going to be completely unpredictable, probably a little chaotic, and absolutely perfect—just like Minhee herself.

“Best uncle ever,” she had called him. And sitting there with his niece asleep in his arms, surrounded by his closest friends, Wonwoo thought she might just be right.

[violetstark3000]

Accidental Dating🫠

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Y/N) Word count: ~3,200 words Warnings: Fluff, slow burn, humor, some awkwardness, light angst, no smut Summary: When a casual cover story snowballs into a full-blown fake relationship, Y/N and Bucky have to navigate the hilarious chaos of pretending to be a couple — only to discover their feelings aren’t so fake after all. Awkward dinners, accidental hand-holding, and the best kind of slow burn ensue.

A/N: Inspired by all those “fake dating” tropes I adore hope you guys like it!!

The problem started at exactly the wrong time — when Natasha cornered them in the common room with her signature “I’m not asking, I’m telling” tone.

“You two are terrible at subtlety,” she said flatly, arms crossed as she watched Y/N and Bucky sit too close on the couch, pretending to debate which pizza toppings were better. “Stop acting like you don’t know what everyone’s thinking.”

Y/N blinked, a slice of pepperoni halfway to her mouth. “We’re just friends?”

“Sure you are,” Natasha replied with a skeptical smirk. “Except you both have been spotted leaving meetings together, the way you keep disappearing during team dinners, and the way Bucky’s been — wait for it — protective.”

Bucky shot a glance at Y/N, who was doing her best impression of ‘I’m innocent’ but failing spectacularly.

“Fine,” Bucky muttered. “Fake dating it is.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled because, well, Natasha was terrifyingly effective. “We’ll play along. But just until this whole Stark tech briefing is over.”

At first, it was mostly harmless.

They showed up at meetings pretending to share inside jokes. Y/N made a point to lean into Bucky’s space, and he reluctantly let her, only occasionally rolling his eyes at how shameless she was. Wanda teased them endlessly from across the room, and Steve gave his trademark “Cap wave” approval every time he texted Bucky.

But pretending to be a couple had unexpected perks.

No one bothered to ask about Y/N’s past with Hydra anymore. The team’s protective radar seemed to dial down. Even Tony shot a wink their way that was equal parts approval and “don’t mess this up.”

One evening, after a late team dinner at the tower’s kitchen, things got uncomfortably real.

Y/N was supposed to drop a “casual” compliment on Bucky’s choice of jacket, but when she reached for his hand to emphasize her point, she froze. Bucky’s fingers twitched, hesitating before lacing with hers — naturally.

The room blurred for a second. Wanda was smirking knowingly nearby, Natasha was texting something cryptic, and Steve was quietly applauding the move from across the room.

“See?” Natasha said, grinning. “Not so fake, huh?”

The next few days were a mix of accidental touches, lingering glances, and half-hearted protests that “it’s just a cover.” But neither of them could ignore the way their hearts picked up speed when they caught each other watching during training, or how Bucky found himself waking up just a little earlier to make sure Y/N was okay.

One afternoon, while sitting side-by-side on the balcony overlooking the city, Bucky’s usual tough exterior cracked.

“You really don’t have to pretend with me,” he said softly, voice low enough that only Y/N could hear.

She smiled, a little nervous but honest. “Neither do you.”

He looked at her then, eyes warm and steady, and for once, no words were needed.

Fake dating turned real wasn’t something either of them expected — but it was exactly what they needed.

[stellargh0ul]

La Creatura

Becoming the graveyard keeper for a small town had it's perks. It came with a house on the edge of the tombstones, board, and a generous stipend. And, of course, the creature with red eyes that lurked in the forest beyond.

Desperate to escape their past, Reader took the job without ever realizing that there was more to the cemetery- and the mysterious family that seems to control the town- than they ever realized.

Now, after coming face to face with La Creatura, the town's very own cryptid, they'll learn that you can only run so far from your past, and that there may be more to the monster than they ever expected.

-

Here's chapter 1 of the AU where Perpetua is the cryptid haunting the local town! Expect weekly updates for this fic, and for the first three chapters to be based on the drabbles I have already written for this AU.

TW for animal death.

Enjoy!

as the graveyard keeper for your small town, you’ve seen some things. even as a skeptic, someone who didn’t believe in the supernatural, the graveyard had an eerie feel in the middle of the night- you didn’t like to linger among the graves for longer than strictly necessary once the sun went down, retreating to the small house you lived in on the edge of the tombstones.

it wasn’t superstition, you liked to tell yourself, reasoning that there was no part of you that was susceptible to the town’s whisperings about strange goings-on in the forest in the middle of the night. you just… didn’t like the atmosphere.

the whole town’s atmosphere had something wrong with it, in fact. you’d moved there to get away from the city and the mess you’d made there, everything that had happened enough to drive you to look for work that would let you get away from it all. but somehow you had the feeling you’d only walked into a mess of a different kind.

the listing had seemed like a godsend: tending to the graveyard of a small town on the outskirts of the forest, with room and board included in the paycheck. you’d packed up your apartment and never once looked back since arriving.

not even when you heard the townsfolk’s whispers about what went on in the graveyard after dark. not even when you realized there was a reason that none of the town’s people had wanted what was ostensibly a great position.

not even when you saw the carcasses of the dead deer left between the headstones with fang and claw marks that looked nothing like any creature you could name would leave on its prey.

but you weren’t going to give in to rumor and speculation and dead animals. because this was your chance for a fresh start, a chance for you to feel like yourself again after years of suffocating in a dead end job, with a partner who’d never cared for you in the way you deserved.

La Creatura, the monster they whispered about whenever something strange happened in town, didn’t exist. you were sure of it, as sure as you were that moving here had been the right thing for you.

and yeah, you’ve seen some things. things that couldn’t merely be hand-waved away by superstition.

eyes in between the trees when you’re in the graveyard past dusk, red and glowing and wide and staring. figures where you’re sure the air was empty only moments ago, with matching whispers floating between the graves on the night breeze.

but none of what you’d seen was enough to deter you from doing your job. from doing what earned you the right to live in this town and move among it’s people and be free for what felt like the first goddamn time in your entire life.

freedom was worth everything, even if it meant slowly losing your sanity.

so you step out of your small house with your flashlight when the clock strikes three, having only just been roused from your sleep by the alarm set on your phone. you did nightly sweeps of the graveyard at random times, dedicated to making sure that there was nothing to disturb the rest of the people buried there.

not that there ever was; the townsfolk stayed well away once the sun went down.

still, though, it was in your job description. you head down the stairs with the light in one hand, holding your bathrobe closed with the other. your house slippers squeak in the wet grass beneath you as you step off the front porch and onto the walkway that leads into the graves.

a cool wind blew through the trees, sending leaves all around you rustling as you shone your flashlight around the area, sweeping each row of headstones with the beam before moving on to the next. the sooner you got this done, the sooner you could get back in bed beneath your warm blankets. except-

your light falls on something large and dark lying on one of the paths. at first you can’t make sense of what you’re seeing: there’s a hand there, with fingers far too long for it, and the hoof of a deer over next to it.

eyes snap up to you as your flashlight plays over the shape and you gasp as you see the familiar shape of two things that are red, glowing, and trained straight on you.

there’s a man crouched over the dead deer.

except he doesn’t look like a man at all. his limbs are too long, spindly and bent at awkward angles to allow him to hover over the animal. his hair falls in greasy ringlets around a face dominated by those large, red eyes, set above a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. and that smile-

that smile is dotted with what you’ve no doubt are flecks of dried blood. the deer’s throat has been torn apart, blood puddling on the walkway beneath the carcass, and there’s more of it smeared down his front. like he’d been bathing in it, basking in the gore of the slaughtered animal in front of him.

your legs give out beneath you at the sight and you slide to the ground, trembling. all the blood’s gone from your body, a cold certainty settling over you that you are going to die here— this creature will be the last thing you ever see.

the monster leans back from the carcass as it spears you with its red stare, and raises one hand to wipe the blood away. you see claws on the ends of it’s spindly fingers, razor-sharp and catching in the moonlight.

“scusi,” La Creatura says, in a hissing rasp. “I did not expect there to be anyone else out here.”

on legs that are far too long for the rest of it’s body, it crawls over to you on all fours. you can’t even scream at the unnatural way it moves over the headstones as if they were mere rocks in the road. your voice is stuck in your throat, having fled along with the rest of the strength in your limbs.

“are you alright?”

you feel a laugh bubble up from somewhere behind your lungs, the sound hysterical and far too harsh for the situation. giggling in the creature’s face, you drop your flashlight. it rolls a few feet between the graves and comes to a halt with its beam pointed squarely at the… thing in front of you.

“i’m about to die, so… no.”

it regards you for a moment with those bright eyes, reflecting the light of the flashlight beam. there’s an odd noise and you realize with a start that it’s sniffing you, bringing its face close to where one of your legs is resting in the grass.

you resist the urge to pull away, terrified that any sudden movements may provoke him to attack.

“you are the graveyard keeper,” La Creature mumbles to itself, head cocking to the side at an angle no human neck should have been able to achieve. you feel the urge to vomit rising in your throat but tamp it down as best as you can, sure that the moment you look away will be the moment of your doom.

it nods, though you aren’t sure at what. moments pass, suspended in time, the world holding it’s breath.

“I will not harm you. I have had my meal for the night.”

your gaze wanders over to the gutted deer in the middle of the walkway. you have an awful vision of yourself lying among the graves, body posed like the dead deer, for some unlucky soul to find in the morning.

it follows your eyes and nods, and-

god, it smiles at you. a smile full of blades, a smile far too sharp to be anything but terrifying.

“si. I am full, you do not need to worry.”

you swallow hard, a question rising unbidden to your mind. before you can second guess yourself, you blurt it out, your voice quiet and barely audible above the rustling of the trees. your throat feels like it’s been covered with sandpaper.

“and if you weren’t full?”

pausing, it regards you with a suddenly quiet, thoughtful expression. neither of you speak for a long moment, long enough that you wonder if you’ve stumped the thing. if it truly wasn’t sure what it would do to you if it hadn’t been full, then maybe you have a chance at getting out of this alive.

then, another a smile breaks across it’s face and you almost scream at the sight of the blood caught in the dagger-like needles it calls teeth.

“well, I suppose i’d have to drag you back to my lair and eat you.”

you think its joking, but its hard to tell- La Creatura’s voice is somehow doubled on itself, as though more than one person was speaking to you. it makes its tone hard to decipher, your ears having to strain to pick up on the nuances of every word.

with shaking hands, you reach up to cradle your face, fighting back the hiccuping sob that threatens to worm it’s way from your mouth. you feel numb at the same time as you feel panicked, emotions warring inside of you for dominance without anything truly winning.

maybe you’re dreaming. maybe you never woke up to do your patrol of the graveyard and you’re still in your bed, dreaming about a monster that regards you with an expression that somehow, appears sad.

“I will leave.”

it turns on those spindly legs, clambering back over the headstones it had climbed to get close to you. he reaches down to grab the deer and heaves it into the air, slinging it over his back in one motion as though the carcass weighed absolutely nothing. the air’s punched out of you as you watch it move, feeling the trembling in your hands as it travels the length of your body.

“maybe I see you again sometime. seem nice.”

you feel numb. exhausted, somehow, as if you’d just run a marathon though you’d done little more than collapse into a puddle on the walkway. La Creatura fades back into the night, carrying the deer with him, and you only exhale the breath you’re holding when you no longer see it moving beyond the trees.

finally you manage to get your feet beneath you and wander back in the direction of your house, moving as though you’re a daze. the trembling hasn’t stopped and its making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other as you force yourself to keep moving.

you leave the flashlight where it is, unwilling to take a single step in the direction La Creatura had gone, instead using the moonlight above and your familiarity with the graveyard to guide you.

its only when you stumble over a headstone, falling back to your hands and knees that you feel it- pain blossoms in your hand, the heel of which had scraped over a protruding stone. you look down at the cut as it slowly begins to weep blood, the sharp, warm pain possibly the only thing that could have cut through the stupor settling over your bones.

whatever had just happened was real. La Creatura was real and he’d said he might see you again as casually as though he’d been talking about the weather.

in the morning, maybe you’ll look at job listings in another city. in the morning, you’ll try to come to terms with the fact that everything you’d been denying about the graveyard and the town since you arrived was real. in the morning you’ll figure out how to protect yourself when it does come back.

but for now, you stumble up the steps to your house and latch the door behind you, as if it will do you any good against something with eyes that glowed like that and a voice straight from the pits of Hell.

and you cry.

[animalsalvationassociation]

Fallen . . .

[ CONTENT WARNING: BLOOD / INJURIES – Mention of a Weapon ]

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Digital Illustration Time: 12hrs 10min

[ The Fallen Arc . . . ]

Their attention was veered from one another, both forms going stock still as a heavy bellow filled the glade. At first, it was only the trees, a strong breeze rustling the branches above causing each one to rock and groan. Several seconds passed as the world settled around them. Their ears perked, eyes scanning the treeline for something, anything that could have made that noise. Slowly, the man turned back, but his eyes held the trees closely. The safety on his automatic switching off as he continued to wait. But even then, it was still pointed straight at her.

“What the . . .” His eyes narrowed as he stared past the branches, his body naturally leaning towards whatever he saw as a way to register what it was. “What is tha–!” Fae could only gasp as a strong force burst out from the brush at hurling speeds. The form swept across the short distance with ease, taking the man down with it as it let out a bone-shattering roar. Then Fae screamed.

SHHPOW!

SHHPOW!

SHHPOW!

The pain wasn’t what took hold of her first, but the impact of the bullets as each one penetrated her flesh. White flashed through her vision, her fur rising as if to stop what had already been achieved. Ice flared across her skin, then fire. The ringing was even louder now, drowning the screams of her attacker as well as the bestial bellows of his own. That’s when her throat began to fill, the taste bitter, burning her tongue with its acidity.

SHHPOW!

She choked, her chest seizing as it grasped for some kind of air supply. Fae coughed once, then again, and again. Her eyes opened, the world muffled and slow-moving. Colors too bright for her sight to register, blinding her altogether. Instinctively, she rolled, attempting to add some kind of pressure to her wounds, or perhaps even sit up to try and escape the scene beside her.

SHHPOW!

Five shots, three bullets, and a million seismic pains embedded into her right arm. The bone in her arm akin to glass shards jagged and sharp, the rest of her pain grasping her senses as if a tiger had locked its jaws around them, biting down on anything and everything it could sink its fangs into. It was unyielding and strong . . . inescapable you could say. Fae attempted to find some kind of hold, breaking down what she could see. But with the light fading and the lack of visual aid from her glasses, she could only make out the crimson rivers pooling around her head . . .

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[marixrose]

MC is naturally warm and friendly—laughing, smiling, maybe leaning in a little too close during a conversation with someone else. The brothers witness this and feel a very specific kind of way…

Jealous pt2

Lucifer

Lucifer doesn’t react immediately. He watches. Calculates.

You’re smiling—their smile—at Solomon, of all people? And worse: he’s smiling back.

“How interesting. You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

His tone is smooth, but the tightening of his gloves says otherwise. He waits until you’re alone, then corners you gently—but firmly.

“I don’t mind you being kind, MC. But… don’t forget where your loyalty lies. Especially in front of sorcerers who’ve lived too long.”

He’ll pull you into his lap and kiss your hand without breaking eye contact.

Mammon

Mammon sees you laughing with some other demon and just loses it internally.

“Wha—HUH?! Are ya kiddin’ me?! Smilin’ like that for HIM?!”

He stomps over like a jealous boyfriend in a shoujo anime, throws his arm around you, and glares at whoever you were talking to.

“MC’s busy. Back off.”

He’ll deny it to death later—“I wasn’t jealous! I was just watchin’ out for ya!”—but he’s sulking the whole day. Only perks up when you give him extra attention.

“Just… don’t do that again, okay? I didn’t like it…”

Leviathan

Levi sees you laughing with someone and immediately assumes he’s lost you.

“I knew it. Of course they’d pick someone else. Someone cooler. More normie…”

He retreats to his room, moping, watching sad anime and clutching Henry 2.0. You have to knock like five times before he opens the door with red eyes.

“You… really weren’t flirting? Just being nice?”

He melts when you reassure him, but the insecurity lingers.

“Can you maybe… smile at me like that again? Just once more?”

Satan

Satan watches you tilt your head and smile sweetly at a lower demon. He doesn’t say a word.

He simply closes his book. Slowly.

“Who is that?”

He walks up casually, offers a very tense, polite smile, and wedges himself between you and your conversational partner.

Later, when you ask if he was jealous, he smiles softly but his eyes are cold.

“I’ve read thousands of love stories, MC. I know how they begin. I just don’t want yours starting with anyone else.”

Asmodeus

Asmo spots you chatting it up with someone else and his eyes narrow immediately.

“Darling~ you’re smiling a bit too brightly for my taste. Is this a flirtation? A competition?”

He slinks over and wraps himself around you like a boa.

“MC belongs to me~ Don’t they, sweetheart?”

He’ll pout and cling dramatically all day until you remind him that no one could outshine him in your eyes.

“Hmph. Good. Now give me five kisses to make up for it~”

Beelzebub

Beel doesn’t say anything at first. He just… stares.

You’re laughing. But not with him.

He doesn’t get angry, but he feels this tight twist in his chest he can’t explain. When you turn to him, he looks away.

“You seemed really happy. With them.”

When you pull him aside and reassure him that you care about him, not whoever that was, he relaxes.

“…I like it when you smile at me, too. Just so you know.”

And then he hugs you and doesn’t let go for a while.

Belphegor

Belphie doesn’t even get up. He just watches from across the room, head on his arms, eyes narrowed like a sleepy cat guarding its favorite toy.

“Tch. Look at them. Acting like MC doesn’t belong to someone.”

The moment you walk away from that person, Belphie wraps himself around your waist like a scarf.

“You were gone for five minutes. That’s five minutes too long.”

He buries his face in your stomach and mutters:

“Next time, talk to me that way instead. I don’t care how boring I am. I just want your smile to be mine.”

[mytherapyisreading14]

From Steps to Sparks

Summary: Your best friend is getting married soon and is now taking dance lessons. She's dragged you into it, the only problem is, you don't have a dance partner. When the team finds out, they arrange for Spencer to accompany you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6,6k

The conference room at the BAU is more quiet than usual. You, Derek, and Emily are stretched out across the room - exhausted but relaxed because you just finished your current case successfully.

“…I’m just saying,” Derek says, grinning as he leans back in his chair, “if he’d run five more seconds, I would’ve had him. No sweat.” Emily raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Right after I teleported in and read him his rights.” You chuckle. “You two should take this act on the road.”

As the laughter fades, your phone buzzes quietly on the table. You glance at it and sigh as you read the incoming message. Emily catches the shift in your expression. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” she asks and you can hear the concern in her voice. “Yes it’s just my best friend. She’s getting married and she reminded me our dance class starts tomorrow.”

Derek perks up. “Dance class? You? That’s something I’ve gotta see.” You give him a look. “Don’t get too excited. She didn’t want to do it alone and dragged me into it. And now she wants me to bring a date.” Emily laughs. “She’s matchmaking and choreographing?”

“Apparently so. But honestly, I’m not thrilled about the idea of getting all up close and personal with some stranger. It just feels awkward.” Emily and Derek exchange a familiar look, the kind that never means anything good for you. They’re grinning before you can say a word. “What?” you ask suspiciously. Emily leans in. “You could always ask Spencer.“ You blink. “Spence?”

Derek leans back with a teasing smile. “Come on, he’s probably memorized every dance style from the last three centuries. And he definitely wouldn’t step on your toes that much.” Emily smirks. “And you wouldn’t have to worry about weird vibes. Plus... you'd look adorable together.” Before you can respond, the door opens and - speak of the devil - Spencer walks in, balancing a coffee and a book in one hand.

Derek immediately calls him over. “Hey, Pretty Boy! You got plans tomorrow night?” Spencer looks up, a little surprised, but walks over. “Hey. Uh… not that I know of? Why?” Derek spreads his arms like it’s obvious. “Perfect! You’re going to a dance class.” Spencer freezes mid-step, blinking. “Wait… what?”

You cover your face with your hand, already regretting everything. Derek grins. “Our friend here” - he says and nods toward you - “needs a partner. Her best friend is getting married, dragged her into dance lessons, and wants her to bring someone.” Spencer turns to you, brows slightly raised. “You need a dance partner?”

You glance up at him with an awkward smile. “Only if you’re willing to suffer through it with me.” Spencer hesitates for half a second. “I mean… I did read a book on traditional ballroom etiquette last year. And technically, dancing is just applied physics, right? I mean, I’d… I’d be happy to help. But only if you actually want that. Not because they volunteered me.”

You give him a small smile . “Yeah. I’d like that. If you’re okay with it.” Spencer smiles, that shy, crooked grin that always makes your heart beat faster. “Of course I am. Then I’ll do my best not to step on your feet,“ you say.

“I mean, statistically, in beginner-level partner dances, foot-stepping is actually one of the most common sources of anxiety, especially when one or both dancers have little prior experience. But coordinated movement improves rapidly when you practice with someone you’re comfortable around. The brain responds better to physical rhythm when cortisol levels are lower, and familiarity tends to reduce that.”

He pauses, realizing what he’s doing, and pushes his hair back awkwardly. “So... what I’m saying is... uhm… It’ll probably go better than you think.” You can’t help but smile at him because it’s classic Reid, and because, somehow, that long-winded explanation actually makes you feel better.

Derek laughs, clapping him on the back. “That’s the attitude, genius.” Emily just laughs, already pulling out her phone. “Oh, I have to be there for this.” You groan. “This is going to be a disaster.” But even as you say it, there’s a part of you that’s actually kind of looking forward to tomorrow night.

-

It’s the next evening, and you stand outside the dance studio with your best friend and her fiancé. The air smells faintly of warm asphalt and summer as you slowly approach the entry with its tall windows. Your heart beats a little faster, but it’s not just nerves about the dance class.

“I still can’t believe Spencer’s your dance partner,” your friend says, grinning wide as she clutches her bag a little tighter. “I mean, we’ve known him forever, and for years been waiting for something to happen between you two. And now, here he is.”

You laugh softly, a little embarrassed. “I know, I know. I can hardly believe it myself. But yeah, there’s definitely something more there… even if we never really say it out loud.” She winks at you. “Well, it’s about time. And now that you’re dancing together, there’s no escaping it.”

Just then, Spencer comes around the corner. His hair is its usual tousled mess, a shy smile playing on his lips. You shyly raise your hand and wave. He waves back, his eyes lighting up a little as he walks toward you. “Hey,” he says softly, and your friend grins mischievously and nudges you before she turns to Spencer.

“So, Mr. Partner-in-Crime, ready not to step on my friend’s toes tonight?” Spencer smiles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll do my best.” With a last laugh, you all step inside the dance studio together, ready for whatever this evening will bring.

-

The dance studio is softly lit, with polished wooden floors that gleam under the overhead lights. Mirrors line one wall, reflecting every awkward step and nervous glance. You stand beside Spencer and your dancing teacher Derya - a graceful woman with a beautiful smile - claps her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone, we’ll start with the basic box step,” she says, demonstrating the slow, deliberate movement. “Step forward with your left foot, side with your right, then close your left foot next to the right. Then step back with your right foot, side with your left, and close your right foot next to the left. It’s called a ‘box’ because the steps trace a square pattern.”

You watch her carefully, then glance sideways at Spencer. He’s focused, biting his lip just a little. You can tell he’s trying not to overthink it, but knowing him, his brain is already running a mile a minute. You give a small, encouraging smile. “Ready to give it a try?” He nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You both start moving through the steps together, slow and careful. Your feet don’t trip, and you manage to stay mostly coordinated. Spencer matches your movements, his brows furrowed in concentration. “It’s like a rhythm puzzle,” he says quietly, “trying to line everything up. Actually, the box step is interesting because it creates a closed loop of motion. From a neuroscience perspective, repeating a pattern like this helps build muscle memory through repeated neural pathways.”

You grin. “Only you could make dancing sound like a science lecture.” He shrugs, a little embarrassed but pleased. “It’s all connected, right?” Derya walks around, offering tips and gentle corrections. Spencer’s posture straightens, and you notice his nervous energy starting to ease. You feel your own tension relax, too.

After a few minutes, you’re both finding a rhythm. You even manage a small smile as Spencer accidentally steps a little too close. “Okay, not bad so far,” Derya says cheerfully. “Let’s add some turns.” You swallow, suddenly feeling the class get more challenging. She demonstrates a gentle spin for the leader, followed by a turn for the follower.

Spencer leans toward you, whispering, “You’re the follower, right?” You nod, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “Okay, I’ll try not to spin you into the floor.” You laugh softly. “Fair enough.” The music shifts, a soft, rhythmic beat filling the room. You start the turn, Spencer guiding you with surprising confidence. For a moment, it feels almost effortless.

Then, just as you complete the spin, your foot catches harshly on Spencer’s, and you stumble badly, nearly falling forward. Instinctively, Spencer’s arms shoot out, catching you firmly around your waist. You find yourself pressed close to him, his chest warm against yours.

Your eyes meet, and everything else seems to fade - the mirrors, the other dancers, the music. It’s just the two of you, caught in this quiet, unexpected moment. “Are you alright?” Spencer asks softly, his breath a little uneven. You nod, heart pounding. “Yeah… thanks to you.”

He doesn’t let go right away, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read something deeper. A small, shy smile tugs at his lips. “I promise I’ll be more careful,” he says quietly. You smile back, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the dance studio heat.

Derya claps her hands again. “Excellent effort, everyone! Dancing is about connection and trust, not perfection. Keep that in mind as you practice.” You and Spencer exchange a glance, both silently acknowledging the growing closeness between you.

Derya finishes today's class 30 minutes later and everyone starts packing up their things and taking off their dancing shoes. Only now do you realize how exhausting it really was. But you still had fun. This dance class doesn't seem to have been a bad idea, especially since it's bringing you closer to Spencer.

As you step outside the studio, the warm night air feels refreshing after the concentrated energy inside. You glance at Spencer, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re actually not bad at this,” you say, teasing lightly but honestly. He looks surprised but pleased. “Really? I’m glad to hear that.”

You take a breath, gathering your thoughts. “Thank you… for doing this with me. I’m really glad it’s you and not some complete stranger I have to dance with.” Spencer smiles softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Me too. It makes it easier.”

You both stand there for a moment, the quiet between you comfortable, as if something has shifted, just a little, in the space between you. Spencer glances at you, curiosity in his eyes. “So, when’s the next class?” he turns over to your friend. “Thursday evening, same time,“ she says. He nods. “Alright, I’ll be ready.”

You smile and start gathering your things. “Well, I should get going. But you better brace yourself. I’m already curious what kind of comments the others will have tomorrow.” He raises an eyebrow and gives you a shy smile. “Sounds like I should prepare myself then.”

You laugh softly. “Definitely. It’s going to be interesting.” With a final smile, you wave goodbye and head off, your heart still fluttering from the night’s unexpected moments. Thank God Derek set Spencer up for this.

-

The BAU bullpen is quiet when you arrive early the next morning. You grab a coffee from the kitchen and lean against the counter, still waking up and replaying last night’s dance class in your mind. The soft hum of the lights fills the room, and for a moment, you enjoy the calm before the storm.

A few minutes later, the rest of the team starts filing in, one by one. Emily appears first, spotting you immediately and grinning like she’s been waiting for this moment all night. “So?” she asks, practically bouncing on her toes. “How was the dance class? Did Spencer survive being your partner?” You laugh softly. “He did, surprisingly well.”

Derek strolls in behind her, smirking. “I’m just wondering how many times you guys managed not to step on each other’s toes.” You roll your eyes playfully. “More than you’d think. But it wasn’t too bad.” Emily nudges Derek, shooting him a knowing look. “You know, it’s about time these two actually spend some real time together. I swear, you can feel the tension from across the room.”

You glance over, cheeks warming, but before you can say anything, Garcia pops in from her office with a big smile. “Oh, you two better spill the details! How’s the new dance duo doing? Any sparks flying on the dance floor?” The whole team seems to lean in, waiting for you to confirm the rumors.

You clear your throat, trying to keep it light. “It was fun. We’re both a bit awkward, but we’re learning. And yes, Spencer’s surprisingly good at not stepping on my feet.” Derek laughs, “That’s promising.” Emily grins wider. “Just wait. We’re all rooting for you two.” You smile, feeling a little nervous but mostly happy.

Just then, Spencer walks into the bullpen, slightly rumpled but with that familiar focused look on his face. As soon as he spots you and the others gathered around, he raises an eyebrow. Emily grins and waves him over. “Hey, Pretty Boy! How was your big dance debut last night?”

Spencer approaches, trying to keep his usual composed demeanor, but you catch a brief smile tugging at his lips. “It went well, thank you. I managed not to completely embarrass myself.” Derek smirks, exchanging a glance with Emily. “We’re still deciding if that counts as a win after the whole ‘almost falling’ incident.”

You laugh, nudging Spencer gently. “Yeah, you definitely stepped on my foot at least once, but I survived.” Spencer chuckles softly, eyes meeting yours. Emily leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now that you’re officially stuck with her for the whole course, you better get used to being close and not just on the dance floor.”

Spencer’s cheeks flush slightly, but he nods. “I suppose I’ll do my best.” Derek chuckles. “Sounds like commitment to me.” The teasing is annoying but somehow still nice, filled with the unspoken hope from everyone that this dancing partnership might lead to something more. You glance at Spencer, your heart fluttering just a bit. Maybe this dance class really is about more than just learning a few dancing steps.

-

The past few weeks fly by faster than you expect. Between cases, paperwork, and dance lessons, the days blur into each other. Before you know it, there are only a few classes left before the wedding.

One afternoon at the BAU, you find yourself in the break room with Emily. She leans against the counter with a mug of coffee in hand, giving you that knowing look she’s mastered so well. “So,” she says casually, “only a couple lessons left. You and Spencer still managing to stay upright?”

You laugh softly. “Mostly. We’ve actually gotten… kind of good at it. He’s way more focused than I expected.” Emily smirks. “Focused, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Okay, maybe a little more than just focused.”

She watches you for a moment, then tilts her head. “Have you thought about taking him to the wedding? As your plus-one, I mean.” You pause, caught off guard but only for a second. The truth is, you have thought about it. More than once. “Yeah,” you admit. “I’ve actually been thinking about that a lot lately. I feel… really comfortable with him. It’s easy. And he makes me feel like I don’t have to force anything.”

Emily’s expression softens. “That sounds like the beginning of something real.”You look down at your hands, then back up at her. “Maybe it is.” She nudges your shoulder gently. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think he’d be honored to go with you. You should ask him.” You nod, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah… I think I will.”

-

It’s later that evening, and you’re standing outside the dance studio once again, bundled in your coat against the cool air. Your best friend scrolls through her phone next to you, her brow furrowing. “Ugh,” she sighs. “I just got a message that our class is canceled tonight. Our teacher is sick.” You glance up at the familiar building, its windows dark. “Seriously? That’s a first.”

“Yeah.” She slips her phone back into her bag and shrugs. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad. I still have so much left to plan for the wedding. I’m going to head home and try to knock a few more things off the list.” You nod. “Makes sense.”

She gives you a quick hug. “But maybe you can still get a little practice in. You know, since you’ve got your favorite partner.” You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as she waves and disappears down the sidewalk. Just as she turns the corner, you hear footsteps approaching.

You glance up and there’s Spencer, walking toward you with his usual thoughtful expression and his bag slung over one shoulder. “Hey,” he says as he reaches you, “did I miss something? The place looks dark.” You shift your weight slightly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “No, you’re on time. Class is canceled, our teacher’s out sick.”

Spencer frowns lightly. “Oh. That’s too bad.” You hesitate for a second, then glance up at him, a little shy. “I was thinking… if you’re not busy, maybe you could come back to my place? We could still practice a bit so we uhm… don’t fall behind.”

Spencer looks pleasantly surprised, but he smiles right away. “Yeah. I’d really like that.” You feel something warm settle in your chest as the two of you turn away from the studio and start walking side by side into the night.

-

Back at your apartment, the two of you clear a space in the living room. The lights are soft, a playlist humming quietly in the background. Spencer shrugs off his jacket, and you kick off your shoes, both of you slipping easily into the rhythm you’ve built over the past few weeks.

You dance for a while. The two of you are focused at first, counting steps under your breath, trying to remember what Derya showed you. Spencer is careful, gentle in how he moves with you, guiding your steps like he’s thinking through every motion before he makes it.

Time passes quickly, and soon you find yourself letting out a small laugh as you miss a beat and stumble slightly. “Okay,” you say, breathless, stepping back, “I need a break before I collapse.” You sink onto the sofa, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Spencer stands there for a moment before dropping down next to you, equally flushed from effort.

“I was going to ask,” you say between breaths, “do you want to order something? I’m starving.” Spencer nods immediately. “That sounds amazing. What are you in the mood for?” he asks. “Italian?” you suggest, already reaching for your phone. “There’s a great place a few blocks from here.”

He leans a little closer to see the menu with you. “Looks good.” You both make your selections, place the order, and set your phones aside. There’s a short, comfortable silence until Spencer turns to you with a slight tilt of his head. “We’ve got a little time before the food gets here,” he says. “Want to run through that one spin again?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “You’re relentless.” He grins. “Just committed.” You sigh with mock resignation and get back to your feet. “Alright, one more round.” But this time, the tone shifts completely. Neither of you is really focused. You’re laughing too much, teasing each other as you try to stay in sync. Your timing’s all over the place, and you keep stepping on each other’s toes.

“You’re totally throwing me off!” you giggle as you spin a beat too late. Spencer holds up his hands in defense. “You’re the one who said you were starving, maybe it’s low blood sugar.” You roll your eyes, then smile as he takes your hand again. “Okay, okay, one more time.”

He tries to lead you into the spin, but your foot catches his, and suddenly, you lose your balance. “Wait - !” You stumble, grabbing instinctively at his arm - but you both go down, landing in a heap on the carpet. You land on top of him, your hands pressed to his chest to keep from crashing into him entirely.

There’s a beat of stunned silence. You look down at him, heart racing, and your cheeks flush bright red. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry -” But Spencer’s not complaining. He looks up at you with wide, amused eyes… and something softer beneath. You don’t move. Neither does he.

Your breath catches a little as your eyes meet his, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of how close you are and how warm his hands feel, one resting gently at your back. You lean in, slowly, without thinking, just a few inches separating you now - Ding dong. You freeze. Spencer blinks.

You scramble upright with an embarrassed laugh, brushing your hair back quickly as you hurry to the door. “That must be the food.” You open it to find the delivery driver holding a warm paper bag, which you accept with a grateful smile.

Back inside, you carry the food to the living room, and Spencer is already sitting upright on the floor, trying to act like the moment didn’t just happen but his ears are just as red as your cheeks. You sit down beside him again, passing him a container and chopsticks.

Neither of you says anything about what just happened. But the air between you hums a little differently now. You unpack the food in quiet motions, placing the warm containers on the coffee table between you and Spencer. The scent of tomato and garlic fills the room, but neither of you reaches for anything right away.

For a brief moment, there’s silence - not uncomfortable, just… charged. Like the air hasn’t quite settled since the moment on the floor. You clear your throat gently, breaking the silence as you hand Spencer his fork. “So,” you start, voice soft but steady, “I get to bring someone to the wedding.”

He looks up at you, giving you his full attention. “And,” you continue, tucking a loose hair behind your ear, “we’ve been dancing together all this time, and… I just feel like it makes sense. I mean only if you want to. But I’d really like it if you came with me.” You glance at him, nervous suddenly. “Would that be okay? Would you want to?”

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. Not because he’s unsure, but because he’s smiling, slowly and sincerely, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes. “I’d like that,” he says softly. “I’d really like that.” You feel a warmth settle in your chest. You smile back, and this time, the silence that follows isn’t awkward at all. You both reach for your food, the easy rhythm between you returning but now with something new in it.

-

The next morning at the BAU, you’re standing by the coffee machine when Emily walks in and spots you. She gives you that sharp, curious look she always has when she knows there’s something to dig into. “So,” she says, raising her brow as she pours herself a cup, “did you end up asking him?”

You try to play it cool, but your smile gives you away almost immediately. “Yeah. I asked him.” Emily blinks, then breaks into a wide grin. “And?” she asks curiously. “He said yes,” you say, a little quieter. “He’s going to be my plus-one.” Emily’s grin widens even further. “Finally.”

Unfortunately for your hopes of a low-profile announcement, Derek happens to walk by right at that moment and naturally, he catches every word. “Ohhh?” He turns, hands on his hips. “Did I just hear that Pretty Boy is officially wedding-bound with you?” Before you can answer, Penelope pokes her head around the corner like she’s been summoned by gossip radar. “Wait what?” she gasps. “Spencer’s your plus-one?!”

You groan, but you’re laughing. “Can I tell one person something in peace around here?” Derek claps you gently on the shoulder. “Absolutely not. This is what happens when you drop relationship bombs in public spaces.” Penelope’s eyes are practically sparkling. “It’s about time! Honestly, you two have been orbiting each other like anxious little planets. Did you kiss yet?” You go still for a second, then mutter, “Almost.”

The collective gasp from the three of them is dramatic and immediate. “Wait, what do you mean almost?” Emily demands. You cover your face for a moment, then lower your hands with a sigh and a smile. “We were dancing, we fell - long story - and I was about to… you know. And then the food delivery showed up.” There’s a beat of silence.

And then Penelope throws her head back and groans. “I swear, if I ever meet that delivery guy, I’m filing a complaint. Or giving him a very stern look.” Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Man, the tension is killing me. I might wear a tux to this wedding just to be ready if something finally happens.”

Emily leans against the counter, sipping her coffee like she’s watching her favorite soap opera. “So, when is this wedding we’re all living vicariously through?” You grin, cheeks warm. “This weekend.” Another chorus of gasps. Penelope looks like she might combust.

“Oh my god. That’s practically tomorrow! I need to emotionally prepare.” You raise your hands. “Which is why I seriously need help. I still don’t have a dress.” Penelope doesn’t even pause. “Emergency declared. Emily, JJ, and I are coming with you.” Emily nods without hesitation. “We’re clearing our afternoon.”

You blink. “Wait—really?” JJ walks by just in time to hear and chimes in casually, “What time are we meeting?” You laugh, a little overwhelmed, but touched. “Okay, how about four?” you suggest. “Perfect,” Penelope says, already pulling up potential shops on her phone. “We’ll make you shine.” Derek shakes his head with a grin. “You guys are a whole operation.” You look around at your chaotic little work family, heart full. Yeah. You’re in good hands.

-

The soft lighting of the boutique should feel calming, but after trying on what must be your hundredth dress, you’re leaning your forehead against the fitting room mirror with a dramatic sigh. “This is it,” you mutter to yourself. “This is how I die. Buried under a pile of tulle and regret.”

Outside, you hear Penelope’s cheerful voice. “Come on, sugar! We believe in you! One more! I swear this one is going to be the one.” You roll your eyes playfully, but you pull the next dress off the hanger anyway. You slip into it slowly, almost expecting the same disappointment - too tight here, too dull there - but as soon as it falls into place and you turn to face the mirror… You freeze.

It’s simple, elegant, but not too much. The color flatters your skin perfectly, the fabric hugs you in all the right places without feeling overdone. It’s you - only elevated. Heart fluttering a little, you step out of the fitting room. Emily looks up first, her eyes widening. JJ’s jaw actually drops. Penelope clasps both hands over her chest. “Oh. My. God.“

You stand there, suddenly shy under their stares. “That’s the one,” Emily says, no hesitation. “You’re not trying on another thing.” JJ nods, getting up to circle around you. “It’s perfect. Clean lines, great fit, and it’s so you. Effortless but gorgeous.” Penelope fans herself dramatically. “And when Spencer sees you in that? Oh, he is going to lose it. In the best way.”

You laugh, your cheeks warm. “You really think so?” Emily grins. “I know so.” Then Penelope squints at you. “Only one thing left to settle… what are you wearing underneath?” You raise a brow. “Why does that matter?” Penelope raises both brows right back. “Oh honey, everything matters. The foundation is just as important as the gown.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Well… I may have already taken care of that. Bought something a while ago. Just in case.” There’s a chorus of pleased gasps. JJ laughs. “You so did not.” You shrug innocently. “Just covering all my bases.” Penelope throws an arm around your shoulders. “Our girl is ready. Dress, check. Lingerie, check. Wedding date who’s clearly half in love with her, check.”

You groan. “Okay, okay. Can we just pay before you all make me combust?” Emily tosses her arm around your other shoulder. “Only if we go get drinks after this.” JJ’s already grabbing her bag. “Absolutely. We are celebrating.” Penelope nods eagerly. “Tonight, we raise a glass to friendship, great fashion, and impending romantic developments.”

You laugh, letting them steer you out of the boutique, your dress carefully bagged and in hand and your heart a little lighter than it was before. Because now, everything’s ready. And you’re more than a little excited to see what happens next.

-

It’s already late afternoon when you finally unlock your front door and rush inside, kicking it shut behind you with your heel. You’ve spent the entire day helping put the finishing touches on the ceremony setup - wrangling florists, calming down her stressed-out mother, and making sure the playlist didn’t mysteriously vanish from the DJ’s laptop.

Now you’re home… and you have barely an hour to transform yourself. You throw off your coat, toss your shoes into the corner, and immediately head for the bathroom. The makeup bag’s already open on the counter - foundation, mascara, liner - you work fast, balancing on the edge between panic and precision. Your dress hangs in the doorway like it’s waiting patiently for its moment.

You curl your hair in record time, smooth a bit of color onto your lips, and step into the dress with practiced care. A deep breath. Then another. You glance at yourself in the mirror. Not bad. Actually… pretty damn good. You’re just slipping into your heels when the doorbell rings. Your heart skips just slightly. You walk to the door and open it.

Spencer’s standing there in a perfectly tailored suit - crisp white shirt, dark tie, jacket buttoned just right. His hair’s styled, slightly messy in that effortless way that probably isn’t effortless at all. But as soon as his eyes land on you, the cool, collected expression he arrived with melts away instantly.

He blinks, and his gaze sweeps down your figure, slowly, like his brain is still catching up with his eyes. “Wow,” he breathes. “I mean… wow.” You feel your cheeks heat as he stares, momentarily stunned. “Hi,” you say softly. Spencer exhales a quiet, amazed laugh and finally meets your eyes again. “You look… incredible. Like, stop-time kind of incredible.”

You smile shyly, smoothing your hand down the side of your dress. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself, you know.” He laughs, his ears turning slightly pink. “I mean, you always look great, not just today. I mean…” He clears his throat. “You’re always beautiful. But tonight, you’re… wow. Really beautiful.” You bite your bottom lip to hide a smile. “Thanks, Spencer.”

He nods quickly, still looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real. “Are you ready? Or… is there anything you still need? Something I can help with?” You shake your head. “I’m good. My best friend and I went over everything earlier, so there’s nothing left to do now except show up.”

He offers you his arm, his smile a little crooked. “Then I guess it’s time to go turn some heads.” You link your arm with his, still smiling, and lock the door behind you. As you walk toward the car together, his hand brushes gently against yours, and for a brief second, it almost feels like he might take it. But for now… you’re both just quietly enjoying the way things are falling into place.

-

The sun filters softly through the trees as you sit among the gathered guests, the gentle murmur of whispered excitement floating in the air. Your best friend stands at the altar, radiant and glowing, her hands trembling just a little as the officiant begins to speak. You watch her with a full heart, a smile that won’t quite fade playing on your lips.

As the vows unfold, you feel your eyes sting with tears - not sadness, but pure joy. The words spoken about love, partnership, and commitment echo in the quiet space around you, wrapping everyone in a warm embrace.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Spencer shifting slightly beside you. His gaze flickers toward you with quiet concern. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, voice barely above a whisper. You blink back the tears and turn to him, your smile honest and bright.

“I’m more than okay. I’m happy - so happy. She’s found the right person, Spencer. The right man for her. And knowing she’s in good hands… it just fills me with this kind of peace.” Spencer nods slowly, his expression softening. “That’s… really beautiful.”

The ceremony continues, and you feel the atmosphere tighten with emotion. Around you, guests wipe away tears; some hold hands; others steal glances filled with hope. You reach out instinctively and squeeze Spencer’s hand. There’s something quietly powerful in this moment - the way love can be both a personal victory and a shared joy.

As the couple exchange rings, you whisper, “I hope one day I’ll find that too.”Spencer’s eyes meet yours, full of warmth and something deeper. “Maybe it’s closer than you think.” You glance away, heart pounding, just as the officiant pronounces them husband and wife. Applause ripples through the crowd, and you stand, clapping with everyone else, your smile genuine and wide.

-

Your best friend and her fiancé - now husband - take the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple. All eyes are on them as they glide gracefully to the music, the room glowing with warmth and happiness. Guests smile, some dabbing at tears, caught up in the beautiful moment. The energy hums with love and joy. As the dance ends, the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, officially marking the start of the celebration. You turn to Spencer, excitement sparkling in your eyes.

“They just nailed that,” you say softly. “Now the real celebration starts. I’m so curious to see how they handle the rest of the day.” Spencer smiles warmly at you. “I’m really glad to be here with you.” You nudge him gently. “And you know what? Our moment’s coming soon, too. We finally get to dance and show off everything we’ve learned.”

His eyes light up. “I’m really looking forward to it.” He grins playfully. “We just have to make sure we nail the spins… don’t want to send anyone flying across the dance floor.” You laugh, feeling a lightness in your chest. “Definitely not. No accidents tonight.”

The DJ announces the floor is open for guests, and Spencer offers you his hand. Taking a deep breath, you step onto the polished floor with him. Once in his arms, a calm warmth spreads through you. He leads effortlessly, your steps syncing perfectly with the music.

You find yourselves locking eyes often, the world around fading away. His fingers brush lightly along your back, gentle and reassuring. Sometimes, his hand glides over yours, a tender touch that sends a flutter through your chest. You stand close, almost as if your bodies remember a rhythm of their own, hinting at something deeper between you.

You laugh softly each time he spins you gently or pulls you in for a twirl, your smiles mirroring the joy swelling inside. Catching his gaze again, you see the same happiness shining back. In his arms, you feel safe, cherished, and alive. After a while, your feet begin to protest, and you lean in to whisper, “I think I need a break. Maybe something to drink?” He nods with a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

Together, you leave the dance floor and find a quiet table. Sitting down, you soak in the festive atmosphere, your hearts still beating fast from the dance. You look at him, gratitude in your voice. “Thank you, Spencer. For coming with me, for doing that dance class. I’m really, really grateful.”

He squeezes your hand gently. “I’m glad I did. It’s been… special. I’m happy to be here with you.” You smile, warmth spreading through you, knowing this night will stay with you forever.

-

The party inside is buzzing - warm lights casting a golden glow, laughter mixing with the soft hum of music. The room feels cozy but alive, packed with friends and family celebrating the day. You and Spencer have just finished dancing again, spinning and stepping in rhythm, your laughter blending with the joyous noise around you.

Your chest still flutters from the closeness, the way his hand rests lightly on your back, and how his fingers brushed gently over yours while you danced. Every so often, your eyes meet, holding a silent conversation full of something unspoken but electric. The warmth between you isn’t just from the room - it’s something more.

Spencer leans in slightly, his breath warm near your ear. “This is crazy loud in here,” he says with a soft smile. “Want to step outside for a bit? Get some fresh air?” You nod, grateful for the chance to breathe and maybe catch your breath from all the excitement. Together, you weave through the crowd, feeling the buzz of the party fade behind you as you step onto the terrace.

Outside, the cool night air wraps around you like a soothing blanket. You shiver slightly, feeling the chill nip at your skin. Spencer notices immediately. “You’re cold,” he says softly, slipping off his blazer and draping it over your shoulders. His hands linger a moment, making sure the fabric settles comfortably.

You lean against him, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the cool air. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice soft, feeling suddenly very safe and warm. The moment feels intimate, just the two of you away from the crowd. After a brief silence, Spencer looks down at you, eyes full of something unspoken.

“I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while,” he says softly, his voice a little hesitant but sincere. You meet his gaze, feeling your heart flutter. “Funny, I’ve…I‘ve wanted to tell you something too,” you admit and before he can continue, the words are spilling out of you. “I guess… I’ve had feelings for you long before this dance class even started. I just didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was afraid to admit it - even to myself.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes locked on his. “But spending all this time together, learning, laughing, even stumbling over each other’s feet - it made everything so much clearer. I realized I don’t just want to be your dance partner. I want to be… more. I want to spend more time with you, to share moments like this, to be close to you, not just on the dance floor but in everything.”

Spencer’s smile deepens, and he gently squeezes your hand. “I feel the same way. You’ve been on my mind since the moment we started this whole thing. I guess I was just waiting for the right moment… or the courage to say it.”

You stand close, the world around you fading away until it’s just the two of you. Your heart races as the feelings you’ve both kept hidden finally have a voice. “I’m so glad it’s you,” you whisper. “That it’s us.” He pulls you even closer, warmth radiating between you as he leans in and kisses you - softly, deeply, with all the promise and love you both feel.