#part five? yikes

[boomerang109]

the worst part of growing up is all the things you leave behind

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[theemporium]

A green-eyed mojito with Quinn Hughes and promt 28 please 🙏🥰

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

28. “I trust you, I just don’t trust them."

.

“You don’t look very cuddly right now, Huggy.”

“Shut up.”

“Yikes, snappy too.”

Quinn turned to glare at his teammate, his brows furrowed and his lips turned downwards as he watched Brock try to withhold his laughter. If anything, the glare just made him laugh harder as he watched Quinn seethe away. 

“I can make you do bag skates at the next practice,” Quinn warned. 

Brock’s grin widened. “Before or after the little green monster in you explodes because your girlfriend is being hit on?” 

“Once again, shut up.” 

“You know I’m right,” Brock sang happily. 

And he was. He was fucking right because Quinn was jealous and he fucking hated it. Because this happens every single time the Canucks played the Ducks and he had to watch everyone of your brother’s teammates fawn and flirt with you like he wasn’t standing right there. 

“It just comes with the territory of dating a Zegras, Cap. They attract people, it’s a part of their charm,” Brock added before pushing him towards where you were standing along the sides, chatting away to the Ducks players on the ice who were meant to be warming up. 

Unfortunately, Brock was right once again. You were an outgoing person, just as talkative and charming as your brother (but thankfully nowhere near as annoying). You were a beacon to people, they were just pulled towards you. And some people mistook that chatty nature as meaning something more. 

Case and point—the Ducks player that was smiling at you the way only Quinn should be able to smile at you. 

“Five minutes left of warm ups, you should really use it,” Quinn bit out as he skated towards where you were standing, his face remaining blank as he looked at the Ducks players with pointed looks. “Beat it.” 

You raised your brows in amusement, waiting until you were alone before you turned to your boyfriend. “What was that all about?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged.

Your lips twitched upwards. “Babe, are you jealous?”

“Funnily enough I think that’s a very fair emotion to feel when some random guys are flirting with your girlfriend,” Quinn retorted, bitter and annoyed. 

“Aw, baby,” you cooed with a grin as you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his jersey to tug him closer to the boards. “You know you don’t have anything to worry about, right?” 

“I trust you, I just don’t trust them,” Quinn confessed, glove tucked under his arm so you could intertwine his hand with yours. 

“Well, unlucky for them, I have a very specific type,” you mused. 

Quinn raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I only like hockey players with really cute nicknames and a C on their jersey and look amazing in the colour blue,” you said, trying to keep your expression serious but it was hard when you watched his cheeks blush at your words. “Oh, and they have to completely thrash my brother when they play his team to humble him.” 

Quinn smiled. “I’m sure I can manage that.”

“Good,” you hummed before placing a kiss to the back of his hand. “Now go! I’ll be the one in the stands wearing your jersey, screaming the loudest.”

“My favourite fan,” Quinn joked.

“Your number one fan,” you corrected with a smile.

.

[taintandviolent]

Le coup de foudre ; Gambit x Reader

summary: THIS IS PART 3 OF THE TACO TUESDAY SERIES! PART ONE HERE / PART TWO HERE! Reader is suffering, big time. She wants Remy, but he hasn't called. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | some angst to start things off, smut with some plot (we've got an established relationship, huzzah), French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), shower sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n, and some fluff at the end, because I went and broke y'all's hearts in the last chapter.

a/n: praying that the gambit fandom hasn't completely died out.... i'm so sorry this took me so long. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The first day is the hardest. 

The first day is the hardest because by 1:30 PM, you realize that you’re in love with Remy Lebeau. You cry on the couch he kissed you on. Why are you crying? Because you can’t remember the last time you’ve been in love with someone, and you know what comes with love. None of it is good. 

The second day sucks too because you go to work, and come home to an apartment that, for the first time since you’ve lived there, really felt empty. There’s nowhere you can sit that he hasn’t touched. His memory lingers everywhere and try as you might, you can’t escape it. You aren’t sure you want to, either, which is troubling in and of itself. 

By the third day, your heart is aching, but it’s a dull ache. Something like anger has started to roil in your system, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t called, or stopped by. You can justify it by saying that you don’t know what mutant superheroes go through or what their daily life looks like, but you’re still sour that there’s been nothing but radio silence on his end. 

Day four comes and goes, and nothing changes. You’re still sad. You’re still angry. But most of all, you’re still lonely. 

Day five… however. Day five comes, you’ve cycled through all the stages of grief and landed somewhere on the spectrum of desperation. 

So, after work, you march across the hall to Wade’s, and knock three times in a little melody. After a few moments, the door flies open, revealing a very casual looking Wade. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grey sweats. You avert your eyes from his groin, out of respect. 

“Wade,” you stammer, scratching a non-existent itch on your arm. “Hey.”

“Pookie! How nice of you to stop by. Blind Al and I were just about to partake in some Colombian party powder, care to join us?” 

Your pupils dilate. Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “Uh… no. No, I’m good.” 

You shift uneasily. You aren’t sure how to start this, so you just blurt whatever comes out. 

“Wade… um. Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you. I just…. I can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t seem like the type to ghost someone, and I just… I really want to talk to him.” 

“You want Gambit’s number?”

You perk up, relieved that you didn’t have to ask the question yourself. Wade was more perceptive than you thought. 

“Y-yeah, if you have it.” 

“I don’t. Womp-womp. But I gave him yours.” 

“Oh…” A beat. “...wait. How did you get my number?” 

“Remember that package that was misdelivered?” 

“No….” 

“Yikes. Well, I do. It had your name and phone number on it. I figured it’d be useful to have so…” He taps the side of his head.

“Why did you… did he ask for it?” 

“Boy, did he.” 

You frown, feeling an overwhelming flurry of emotions. On one hand, he’s had your number and hasn’t called. On the other hand, he wanted your number. But he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Your shoulders sink, unconsciously. 

“Oh, sweet cheeks. Someone play some Cigarettes After Sex, this is getting emotional.” Wade mock frowns, looking off to the left for a moment before his eyes dart back to you. “He’s probably saving lives or something heroic. Undisclosed mutant drama.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, choosing to ignore his weird commentary. “I appreciate it.” 

“What’re you gonna’ do now? Cue the depressed drinking montage.” 

“That’s a great idea, actually…” 

“No, no… let’s not.” 

You interject with a finger in his face. “Yeah, let’s.” 

“If you’re going to do that, let’s do it inside. C’mon.”  Wade doesn’t give you a moment to reject him, and plants both of his hands on your shoulders, yanking you forward. 

Turns out, Wade does have alcohol. He makes you a drink, something that tastes like whiskey. Maybe it's your whiskey, left over. You bring the glass to your lips, sucking the liquid down. It’s strong, but you aren’t complaining. 

“Oooohohoh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Heart eyes and all that mushy-gushy shit?”

You throw a glare his way, and take another sip. The liquor burns better than any remark you could’ve come up with.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s that Southern charm he’s got. Handsome, slick, and he can do magic tricks.” His eyes widen, excitedly. “How could you not fall in love with him?”

“Wade, you’re not helping.” 

“Sure I am,” he retorts. 

You take a seat on Wade’s couch, looking distraught. You’re thankful that Blind Al is in fact… blind because she can’t see the way that the tears are welling up in your eyes. You look at the chairs that you two sat on, flirting with each other.

“Oh,” Wade says, looking somewhat surprised. “Oh no.”

“She cryin’?” Blind Al asks. Great, she’s perceptive. You swallow back a sob, and bring the glass to your lips again. 

“Almost… almost… c’mon, give us a cinematic, single tear.” 

You shake your head and suck it up as best you can. You don’t want acknowledgement, that’ll only make it worse, possibly sending you into a fit of sobs. You don’t even know why you’re so upset – it’s not like he told you he never wanted to see you again. He just hadn’t… well, done anything and that was somehow worse.

“Je-sus…!” Wade says suddenly, leaning over to angrily look through the peephole. He stays there for a moment, before leaning back, a sly smile on his face. 

And that’s when you hear the dull thudding that has Wade’s attention. It sounds like a knock – a heavy handed one. 

You straighten your spine, curious. 

“Oh, this is too perfect.” He says under his breath, before taking one step towards you. “Save the waterworks, your Cajun Prince has returned.” 

You set the glass on the floor and scramble off the couch, practically on all fours as you run towards the door, pushing Wade out of the way. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole for only a split second, you get a visual. Hurriedly, you twist the knob and throw the door open, wanting to rip it off its hinges. It bumps into the wall behind it, and your breath rushes out.  

Remy stands there, facing your door, his fist raised to knock again. He has a duffel bag on his shoulder, which slides off the second he hears your voice. 

“Remy?” you call, your voice quivering slightly. He turns abruptly, his coat flaring out behind him. He’s wearing armor now, and looks like he’s just come back from something serious.

“Chere? What’re you –” 

You don’t need to answer again, instead, just run across the hall, rushing into his arms. Your body hits him so hard that you let out a little vocalization, a delicate oomph, as you compress yourself to him. He immediately responds by wrapping one arm around your waist, and the other around the back of your head, hand petting your hair gently. 

He smells like blood, sweat and ash, but you nuzzle your cheek into the rigid plate of his purple chestplate anyway, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso in a desperate hug. 

After a moment, you pull away, just enough to look up at him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with such an adoration that you can’t help but clench your stomach. He looks like he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“Is this your superhero outfit?” Your fingers stroke the ridges in his cowl, admiring it. Slowly, they trail down the length of it, and begin to make their way over his smooth chestplate. 

He laughs, looking down at you. “ ‘Spose so.”

“I like it.” 

Two smiles later, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lifting you up off the ground slightly. You’re on your tiptoes again, smashing your lips against his and tasting him as hungrily as you did the first time – if not hungrier. There’s something extremely erotic about kissing a costumed hero, something to do with uniforms and all that, you assume, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the feeling of his armor against you. This time, you don’t try to suppress anything and give into the feeling of it all. 

Someone sighs dreamily behind you and Remy breaks the kiss to look knowingly over the top of your head. Wade is leaning against his door frame, hands clasped in front of his chest. Short of having hearts bursting over his head, he’s silently gushing, his brows pulled together in a sappy expression, with a dorky smile curling around his lips.

“Oh, c’mon! Just a peek? Where’s your sense of fan service?!” 

“No, Wade.” Remy croons, opening your door and pulling you in with him. He shuts the door with one hand.

“Now before we get to the good stuff, I wanna’ wash this day offa’ me.” 

You nod your head, understanding, and reach for his hand. The bathroom is adjacent to your bedroom, so you lead him down the hall.

You flick on the light; it’s all dark tile and cool tones. You head to the sizable shower, and open the glass door, leaning in just enough to turn the knob. The water splashes to life, and steam fills the bathroom quickly. 

Watching Remy undress himself is like a strip tease that has you biting your lip. He’s determinate and meticulous, like he knows you’re watching. The jacket and armor pieces come off first, and get set on the edge of the bathroom counter. Then comes the shirt, revealing that delicious torso again, the one that you’ve been longing to run your hands over for almost a week. He quickly unzips his pants and drags them down his legs before setting them atop the rest of the items. The briefs are last – the perfect ending to reveal his heavy, flaccid cock before he turns, and walks into the shower. He’s got a perfect ass, too; muscular and round. You’re pretty sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. The water splashes against the roundness of his freckled shoulders, spattering against the muscle and onto the tile. 

“Chere, c’mere…” He reaches for your hand, pulling it inside the shower. 

“Wait, wait,” you laugh, and retract your hand. “I’m not coming in there fully dressed.” 

“Then get naked, mon amour. We know we done been waitin’ long enough to feel each other again.” 

You pull your shirt over your head, and reach around back to undo your bra. Your jean shorts are next, joining the pile on the floor.

The water is warm, but Remy’s naked body is even warmer. 

There’s a beautiful, tender familiarity in the way you touch each other, coupled with a hunger that can only be fueled by absence. He hasn’t had you in days, you haven’t had him; the desire has reached a boiling point, and needs to be expelled. He presses you against the tile of the shower, watching as the water pitter-patters against your skin, over your decollete, over your breasts and down the gentle curve of your stomach. He leans down and kisses the hollow of your throat, his hands cupping your hips forcefully.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“I missed you too… maybe more.” 

“Ooh, doubt that.” 

As his fingers trail along your body with an air of ownership, Remy kisses your wet shoulders, nipping at the warm, slick flesh. Despite the heat, you shiver. He has a real knack for making your body shudder. Your knees feel like jell-o, so you wrap your hands around his strong neck, interlacing your fingers behind it for some support. 

His fingers dip down between your legs and teasingly splay out over your folds. His middle finger slips between them, glossing over your center, and slides all the way down, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. Everything is wet, but he can feel the slickness that meets his finger. His cock twitches against your thigh. 

“‘Dat’s my girl,” he says, low. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ‘dis way too much.” His hand cups your cunt, as if to punctuate his sentence and you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You shift, forcing more friction against his wet palm, the warm water pooling between your legs. “The thought of you been distractin’ me. You a dangerous woman, cher…” 

“I’m dangerous? Says the guy who has fucked me in every room, on almost every surface in my apartment…” 

Remy chuckles and the sound fills your heart. There it is again – that unyielding feeling of adoration. You’re horny as all get out, but somehow, you still have the capacity to swoon over tiny things like his laugh. This isn’t you, this isn’t what you’re used to. Frustrated, you bump your head against the tile, letting out a small groan. 

He notices this, and brings his other hand – still leaving one situated between your legs – up behind your head. 

“What’re you doin’? What’s wrong, chere?”

“Nothing...” you huff, looking over at the shower head. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but you aren’t ready to spill your guts to him yet… you’d rather have him rearrange your guts and not think about the feelings. 

He smirks, devilishly, like he already knows. If he does, he’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Guess I just gon’ have to fuck it outta’ you, huh?” 

You avert your gaze back to him, pupils dilating. You know him well enough now that he means what says.  

With that, he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns his body towards the stream of water. He begins washing himself, and you watch as the suds slowly trail down the ample curve of his back. You reach forward, spreading them over the indentation of his spine, washing him gently. 

“Hoo, the way you touch me…” he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear it. 

The shower is intimate and everything is mutual, cue the montage. For the… what? Tenth time that week? You realize that you're in way too deep with Remy. Way too deep, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. 

Drying his feet off on the mat and allowing you space to do the same, Gambit then pulls a towel from the rack, and wraps it around your naked body. The droplets absorb into the fibers, and you’re a little less drippy. Well, your body is. The hungry, whining void between your legs isn’t. 

When Gambit turns, you catch a glimpse of his half-hard cock and blush. Even though you’ve fucked it, sucked it and everything else, the sight of is still enough to send butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

He can’t get you to the bedroom fast enough. His hands are on your hips, directing you towards the bed and you let out a little vocalization, much to his delight. 

“C’mere, mon ami… get up on ‘dat bed.” 

You obey. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been waiting for this for almost a week now. 

Before he has a chance to stop you, you’re reaching forward to take his cock in your hand. It’s heavy and hot and the feeling of it against your palm makes you clench painfully, twinging with heat. You take your time in stroking him to full hardness, swiping your thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the pre-cum down his veiny length. 

Once he’s there, he’s like a freight train. Unstoppable and panting hard. He fucks you hard over the edge of the bed, hard enough to make your breasts bounce back and forth with each bullying thrust, withdrawing it to the tip and bottoming out each time. Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of bodies slapping together, flesh against flesh. 

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Ain’t no place for secrets up in here.”

“It’s not important – uuhhh!” Another thrust, deep as he can go. 

“Cher,” he growls and thrusts again. “I ain’t gonna’ let you cum ‘till you tell me.” 

“No,” you moan, bringing your hands to your tits as they move. “Please, I’m so close, we can — uhhh god!”

He’s relentless. 

“Fuck, fuck-fuck, oh my god…!” 

With a slick pop, he pulls his cock all the way out. You lift your head up, gazing distraught between your legs; he’s centimeters away from you. The tip is red, glistening and angry as it twitches up, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Tell me, cher, or you ain’t gonna’ get ‘dis cock again.” He bucks his hips forward, dragging the fat, wet tip against your swollen cunt. You cry out at the sensation, your clit buzzing with electricity. Despite all that, he doesn’t penetrate you again, and you whimper at the empty sensation. Every time you try to move your hips to get his cock to slip in again, he pulls back just enough to put distance between you two. You whine through gritted teeth. 

“Okay!” 

He presses the head of his cock against your clit. Waiting. Patiently. So patiently. For a moment, you marvel at the control he has considering that his cock looks red and angry, aching to empty itself inside of you. 

“Fine. I think…” You pause to catch your breath. “I think I love you.” 

Remy closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the sound of you saying it. He’d wanted to say it to you at breakfast, and he’d wanted to say it before he left. 

“Mm.” 

“Mm?”

“Mmm-mm. ‘Dat’s what I wanted to hear, chere. An’ it sounds so good comin’ outta’ ‘dat mouth of yours.”

He lines the cockhead up, and bottoms out with another word. He’s said enough, apparently. When he takes hold of your hips, lifting them up slightly to give himself a deeper angle, you wrap your hands around your sheets until the fibers squeak. Your nails dig into the fabric, nearly puncturing holes in them. It’s only a few more earth-shattering thrusts before you cum, and before he fills you with white hot heat, the two of you calling and moaning each other’s names in ecstasy. 

After softening inside of you, which is somehow extremely sweet, he withdraws himself from your cunt, and uses the sheet to clean up the mess that leaks out. He carefully lifts you up onto the bed fully, and then crawls next to you, nestling into the same space he did last night. 

It’s like he never left. 

“I really do, you know. I love you. I know we just met and fucked and that’s all, but I love you.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘dat’s all’ as if what we have is somethin’ casual, cher. You’re gonna’ hurt Remy’s feelings if you keep ‘dat up. So, knock it off, ah?” 

“It’s… it’s not casual?” 

He shakes his head. “I love you too, mon coeur. I have since I first saw you…” 

You hum happily, and nuzzle yourself against his bare chest. “I finally understand that French phrase I learned… C’etait le coup de foudre?” (It was love at first sight.)

“Oui… oui.” 

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER EIGHT: CONNECTIONS

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SUMMARY ↳ So.. dinner with the family. Yikes. Damian doesn't release his hold until you're both in a quieter part of the manor, away from potential eavesdroppers. "You enjoy teasing me, don't you?" he murmurs, voice dropping. You grin saliciously. "Of course I do," you reply, your voice teasing as you lean in closer to Damian. "It keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: subtle "accusations" of cheating wc: 4.4k NOTICE: im gonna start adding my notes/end notes on ao3 from now on if i have any. they just include my yapping (the beginning notes are usually just warnings anyway) i might go back and add them to previous chaps, might not.

You actually spend the next morning skipping your first classes in exchange for visiting the Den. You’ve had perfect attendance so far, so you’re only grievance is that you won’t be able to brag about it anymore. You’ll send in an excuse note later.

The reason for your absence is to take note of what you need for the badassium. Karen lists things off for you as you write them on a little note. A lot of it is high-grade expensive stuff. If Victoria can’t get it for you, you’ll just ask her for the money to get it yourself. Or just ask her where you can steal it.

You arrive only a tad bit late to ballet class. That’s a lie, there’s five minutes left till the bell. The teacher barely notices, too occupied with scolding some of the other kids. Victoria sees you enter and scurries over.

“Where were you?” she asks.

You pull out the list, holding it up to her. “Making this.” You hold it out to her. “It’s a list of all the stuff I need. You wanna help me? Get me these.”

She takes the paper, looking it over. “What is it?”

“Materials I need. I’m building something really important.” Victoria’s eyes roam the sheet, before nodding and tucking it into her bra.

“How fast do you need them?”

“As fast as you can get them without raising suspicion. If you can’t get them, either give me the money or tell me where I can pick it up myself.”

Victoria raises a brow. “You’d steal it?”

You shrug. “What, like it’s hard?”

She huffs is disbelief. She’ll get used to you soon enough. The bell rings, and you and Victoria walk out together. “My staff are very discreet,” she reassures. “I will get it to you.”

“Drop it off at this location,” you text her the address. It’s an old apartment close to your Den. No one lives there, you made sure.

Determined to be of use, she nods. You wave her goodbye as you drop her off. Since you missed first period, you’ll only get to see Damian at the end of the day. You also missed lunch, so there goes your most fulfilling meal of the day.

You’re beginning to feel like a zombie. You’ve always been isolated from your peers, not on purpose, most of the time. Your mind is simply far beyond theirs in every universe, it seems. It’s why you started online classes, you simply just couldn’t stand being in school with others. It was just so boring . Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck in class. Life’s rough. Maybe you should start skipping more often. You can definitely catch up, you just have to not miss too many classes.

Ms. M greets you with a bright and cheery disposition, quite the opposite to your current demeanor. You give Ms. M a stiff but polite smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. She’s one of the few teachers you actually like, her passion for the subject always evident.

You place your head down on your desk, feeling the lull of boredom pull you under. As Ms. M begins her lecture, you try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting back to the list of materials and your plans for the badassium. The thought of finally making significant progress makes you giddy.

Luckily for your peace of mind, Ms. M has a short lecture for the day with no assignment. She leaves the class alone for the remainder of the day. You shut your eyes, breathing calm. Feeling the call of sleep, you answer, escaping from the boringness of the day.

Except a finger flicks your ear, rudely disturbing your would-be sleep.

“Damian,” you murmur, rising. “May I help you?”

“Where were you this morning?” He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He never does.

“Not here,” you grumble. “I had to take care of some stuff. And I was kind of thinking about not even coming at all.” It’s true. Most people in their right mind just stay home if they’re even ten minutes late.

Damian picks a piece of lint from your collar. “I thought that perhaps you were affected by Ivy’s abilities. After all, I doubt you are capable of taking care of yourself.”

You cup Damian’s face, making his lips pucker. “Aw, is this your roundabout way of saying you want to take care of me? You’re so sweet.”

He takes your hands into his own, pulling them away. “I didn’t think you the unfaithful type, [Name].”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Considering the compromising position I found you and Victoria in, certainly the two of you are… together?” His face twists as he says the last word. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he walked in on the two of you. The whole carnival thing occupied your thoughts.

“Well, first of all–” you start, placing your hands in your lap, tugging his hands there as well. “–you make it sound like we’re in the regency era and I’ve just compromised the young lady Victoria,” you huff in a British accent, rolling your eyes. “Second of all, what you walked in on was a… confusing situation. We kissed, agreed we were better of as friends, and that’s that. I am not the unfaithful type, fuck you,” you grin. Leaning back, you raise your legs so perch them on his thighs. Surprisingly, he lets you.

“So don’t worry, I’m still available and I would never cheat on you, baby.”

He pinches your thigh in retaliation, before moving to massage your calves. You let your head hang over the edge of your chair, relaxing. Damian’s got skilled hands, he has too. From his background as an assassin and his current occupation as Robin. His fingers work the stress out of your muscles. His hands feel really nice.

“We’ll go to my home to work more on the project,” he mutters, focused on his current task. You hum in contentment, the tension in your muscles melting away under Damian's skilled hands. “Sounds good to me,” you murmur. “Alfred makes really good sandwiches.”

Damian continues to knead your calves for a few more moments before finally stopping. “You’ve become spoiled.”

You laugh softly, sitting up and stretching. “Says the rich one.” You and Damian gather your things as the last bell rings. Stepping outside, you breathe in the cool air. It’s getting colder in Gotham, soon it’ll start snowing. Damian’s hand finds its place on your back, guiding you to the car. You make sure to greet Alfred as you step inside. 

“How’s Jon doing?” you ask. “I hope he isn’t too embarrassed about what happened.”

“Jon is fine. The antidote did it’s part. As for his unnecessary embarrassment…” he trails off, “...you should ask him yourself.”

You tsk. “Useless,” you joke. You have a feeling Jon will do anything to ignore and forget about what happened, so you’re not sure how easy it’ll be to ask him.

Wayne Manor stands before you once again as you arrive. The sprawling estate is both imposing and welcoming, a testament to the Wayne family’s legacy. You step out of the car, feeling a mix of anticipation and exhaustion.

When you enter, you’re greeted by a loud bark. A large dog, a Great Dane, rounds the corner. He trots happily towards Damian, panting. Damian gives him generous pets.

“This is Titus,” he introduces. Titus barks at you in greeting.

You grin reaching out a hand to pet him. “Hi, Titus.” Titus leans into your scritches, making you coo and increase your petting tenfold. 

“Sorry about that! I guess he knew you were here and got excited,” says a voice, rounding the corner. A figure clad is comfy loungewear makes his way over to the two of you. You clock him immediately as none other than Dick Grayson. He bears a charming smile as he approaches.

“You must be Damian’s friend I’ve heard so much about,” he greets, holding out a hand.

You shake it, looking at Damian smugly. “You talk about me, Dami?” You grin as he glares at you.

“I’m his older brother, Dick.”

The urge to make a joke is very strong, but you persevere. Wrong audience. “Nice to meet you. Damian hasn't mentioned you at all," you tease lightly, shooting Damian a playful glance.

Dick chuckles, looking between you and Damian with a knowing expression. "I can see that. Well, if you're Damian's friend, you're welcome here anytime. And it's always nice to meet someone who can keep him on his toes."

You chuckle softly, liking his easygoing demeanor. "Thanks, Dick. I'll do my best to keep him in line."

Damian doesn’t like how you and his brother are plotting against him in front of him, so he grabs you arm and drags you away. “We have work to do, Grayson. Do not bother us.”

Dick grins and winks as you two disappear from view. As Damian drags you away, you shoot Dick a playful wave before disappearing from view. You can hear Dick's laughter echoing behind you, amused.

Damian doesn't release his hold until you're both in a quieter part of the manor, away from potential eavesdroppers. "You enjoy teasing me, don't you?" he murmurs, voice dropping.

You grin saliciously. "Of course I do," you reply, your voice teasing as you lean in closer to Damian. "It keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"

“It seems to be your only talent,” he says, turning to look at you. Your faces are close together, breaths intermingling.

Your playful grin widens at his comment, enjoying the closeness as Damian's gaze meets yours. "Oh, I have plenty of talents," you retort smoothly, teasingly brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Damian's pupils dilate, a glint flickering in his eyes before he regains his composure.

"Is that so?" he challenges, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand, which had been resting on your arm, moves to lightly trace the line of your jaw, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You lean into his touch, meeting his gaze with a mixture of playfulness and genuine affection. "Mhm," you murmur, your voice low. "But you'll have to stick around to find out all my secrets."

The intensity in Damian's eyes deepens, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "Maybe I intend to," he replies, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Before the moment can escalate further, a loud bark interrupts the thick atmosphere. Titus, ever the loyal companion, trots over to Damian’s side, breaking the spell between you and Damian. You chuckle softly, pulling back slightly as Damian withdraws his hand.

Damian straightens beside you, brushing his hands down his front. Clearing his throat, grumbles. “We are distracted, we should be working.”

You shrug, easy. “You’re the guide.”

Damian leads you into the same room you worked in the last time you visited. Titus takes perch under the table, settling in and curling up. Today will probably be the last time you’re invited over for a while, if not indefinitely. You’re sure you’ll finish the powerpoint in an hour or so, so you wonder if Damian will kick you out as soon as that happens.

You hand Damian your laptop, since it’s been mostly you doing the actual work, it’s his turn. His fingers fly across the keys as he types. You sit on the table next to him and point out things he should add. You both work in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by your comments and Damian's terse responses. The atmosphere is focused, the earlier playful tension replaced by a shared sense of purpose. 

After an hour or so, you lean back, stretching your arms above your head. "I think that covers everything," you say, looking over the final slide.

Damian gives a final, scrutinizing look at the presentation before nodding in agreement. "It’s comprehensive," he admits, shutting the laptop. "We should be prepared for any questions they throw at us."

"Good," you reply, hopping off the table. "Now that the hard part's done, let's hope the presentation goes smoothly."

Damian closes your laptop and sets it aside. "It will. We've covered every angle. Even if they ask something unexpected, we can handle it."

You smile, appreciating his confidence. You stretch once more, your muscles appreciating the movement after sitting for so long. Titus wakes up from his nap, prancing over to you. You kneel and pet his face generously. He whines when you pull away to gather your stuff.

As you gather your things, you notice Damian watching you with an inscrutable expression. You can't quite read what's going on in his mind, but there's a sense of something unsaid lingering in the air.

“What is it?” you ask.

Damian hesitates, which he seems to do a lot around you. It’s strange to you how someone who appears so sure of himself, so absolute can do such a thing. “What are your plans for your future?”

You blink, taken aback. “Like… after high school?”

He nods, his gaze intense. "Yes. What do you see yourself doing?"

It's a question you haven't given much thought to, caught up as you are in the present challenges. You don’t really want to give it much thought. Being here long enough to go to college makes your stomach turn. You can’t pretend like you have been miserable all this time. You’ve made friends, made a life here. But it’s not your life.

“I haven’t really thought about a college or anything. I know I want to help people,” you say, eyes trailing off. “What do you wanna do?”

Damian’s expression softens. “I want to continue my fathers legacy. Do everything to make the city safer, I suppose. However, I would also like to explore my own interests.”

“I look forward to seeing your art in a museum, Damian,” you declare, facing him.

There's a moment of shared understanding between you, a recognition of the complexities that lie beneath the surface. It's a comforting feeling, knowing that despite your differences, you share a common drive to carve out your own paths.

A polite knock echoes against the door before it opens. Dick pokes his head out with a smile on his face. “Hey, you two. Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

You shake your head. “Nah, we just finished.” You shoulder your bag over your shoulder. “I was actually about to head out.”

Dick perks up. “Actually, Alfred wanted to know if you would like to stay for dinner.”

Behind you, Damian freezes and narrows his eyes. “As [Name] was just saying, they were leaving–”

“–Actually I think I will stay for dinner,” you grin at Damian. Only a fool would skip out on a chance to taste Alfred Pennyworth’s cooking. Any pokes and prods about your identity you’ll meet head on, and any chance to embarrass Damian is a good chance.

Dick matches your grin, nodding. “I’ll let him know.” He disappears, closing the door and leaving you two alone

Damian scowls. “Whatever you are planning–”

“I have no wrong intentions whatsoever Damian,” you furrow your brows and place a hand on your chest in mock offense. “I’m offended you think so low of me.”

Damian's scowl deepens, clearly not amused by your teasing. "You always have some ulterior motive," he accuses, crossing his arms.

You step closer, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Maybe I just want to enjoy a nice dinner with your family. Is that such a crime?"

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Fine. But don't think I won't be watching you."

You smirk playfully. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

With that settled, you follow Damian out of the room and into the sprawling manor once more. The atmosphere shifts slightly as you join Damian and Titus, walking through the grand halls towards the dining room. You can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and curiosity about what dinner with the Wayne family will entail.

When you step into the room your senses immediately buzz with anticipation, jittering around your skull. Just about every single member of the Batfamily is present. Even goddamn Jason Todd is here, helping Alfred set the table. It boosts your ego a little bit. Bruce Wayne greets you as you enter.

“I’m glad we can have you over,” he smiles. “Damian doesn’t have many friends to bring over.”

You snort at Damian’s grunt. You decide not to push Damian's buttons further in front of his family. For now. "Thank you for having me, Mr. Wayne," you reply politely.

Bruce nods back, his smile warm and welcoming. "Please, call me Bruce. Make yourself at home."

You take your seat at the large table, Damian at one side and Dick at the other. Everyone else settles in as well. Alfred serves the meal, a fancy foreign meal you don’t understand the name of. Damian, of course, gets a vegetarian portion of it.

Jason speaks up first. “You gonna introduce us or what?” He asks Damian. He looks about a second way from pulling out a hidden knife from somewhere, so Dick jumps in to save the day.

“This is [Name], they’re Damian’s classmate and…” he pauses for dramatic effect, “...friend!”

The table erupts in chuckles at Dick's teasing, though Damian remains stoic and unamused. You take the opportunity to greet everyone with a friendly smile and a wave.

"It's nice to meet all of you," you say, trying to match their warm reception despite Damian's icy demeanor.

Tim, who's been quietly observing the interaction, finally speaks up. "So, [Name], Damian's told us a bit about you. How's school been treating you?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts. "It's been... interesting," you reply diplomatically, trying not to reveal too much. "I’m used to online so it’s definitely an experience."

“[Name] takes a ballet class. They are also the lead in the upcoming winter performance,” Damian pipes up, no doubt trying to put you on the spot. Asshole.

Stephanie grins. “No way! Cass does ballet too,” she claps a hand on Cass’s shoulder. Cass nods. She signs ‘what is your favorite move?’ . Barbara opens her mouth, prepared to translate what Cass said, but you beat her to the punch. You respond, fingers moving in practiced efficiency to gesture out your favorite move. Cass grins in approval.

“You know sign?” asks Duke.

“I know a lot of languages,” you smile. It’s true. Many of the Avengers know multiple languages, and they took to teaching you as much as they could. You even learned some Asgardian to impress Thor (he cried). Nat said it was a crucial skill to have.

“Like what?” asks Bruce, leaning in.

You look up as you think. “Russian, Italian, Spanish, some German, some Latin…” you trail off, “...etcetera. My dad has a lot of cool friends.”

A shared look of impressed spreads throughout the room.  Bruce hums, “and what about your father? What does he do?”

“He invents things. Right now he’s on vacation. Don’t remember where exactly he said, but he sends me money every now and again.”

Bruce gets a kind of sour look on his face before nodding. “Ah, sounds like quite the character,” Bruce responds with a nod, trying to maintain his composure. You sense there might be more to Bruce's reaction, perhaps his adoption senses are tingling (God forbid). The dinner conversation continues on lighter notes as everyone shares anecdotes and stories, keeping the atmosphere lively.

“Damian says you also like to invent and program things,” pipes up Dick.

“Yeah, I’m actually working on something right now. It’s pretty big, but hopefully it’s works,” you reply vaguely.

“Your father must be very proud of your accomplishments,” Bruce remarks, his tone measured. He gets a couple of side-eyes.

You nod. “Yeah, he always encourages me to pursue my interests. He’s pretty cool like that.”

Barbara chuckles, "It's always good to have interests outside of school. Keeps things exciting."

Tim nods in agreement, sipping his drink. “Yeah, I dabble in programming too. It’s a useful skill to have.”

After a while, Alfred brings out dessert - a decadent chocolate mousse that looks almost too good to eat. Everyone digs in eagerly, sharing their thoughts on the meal and enjoying the dessert in comfortable chatter.

Throughout the evening, you notice Bruce observing you with a mix of curiosity and concern, as if trying to gauge something beyond your words. His occasional glances toward Damian and Dick imply a silent conversation that you're not privy to, though you catch a few knowing looks exchanged between the brothers.

As the dinner winds down, Alfred discreetly clears away the dishes, signaling the end of the meal. You offer to help with the dishes, but Alfred kindly declines, insisting that you're a guest tonight.

Dick stretches contentedly, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled over the table. "Well, it's been great having you over, [Name]. Hope you enjoyed the meal."

"Yeah, thanks for letting me crash dinner," you reply warmly, smiling around the table. "It's been really nice."

Damian stands abruptly. “I believe [Name] should be heading home now,” he states, pointedly ignoring the snickers.

You nod, rising from your seat. "Right. Thanks again for having me, everyone."

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night, [Name],” smirks Tim. “We have plenty of room, though I’m sure Damian would be happy to–” Cass pinches Tim’s ear, interrupting his sentence.

You smile at their antics. “My cat is waiting for me, so I have to pass. I appreciate the offer, though.”

Bruce nods, his expression serious yet not unkind. "Anytime, [Name]. You're welcome here."

With a final round of goodbyes and well-wishes, you follow Damian out of the dining room. The atmosphere between you two is quieter now, the playful tension from earlier replaced by a sense of calm. "You enjoyed yourself tonight," Damian states, more a statement than a question.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, your family's pretty entertaining. I like their dynamic.”

There's a moment of silence as you both stand there, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. You take a step closer, closing the distance between you and Damian. His gaze meets yours, a mixture of intensity and vulnerability that surprises you.

"You know," you begin, your voice low, "I do really like teasing you, Damian. But I also... appreciate our time together." Your heart beats a little faster as you admit this, feeling vulnerable yet strangely liberated.

Damian's expression softens further, a rare vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you. "I... feel the same," he confesses quietly, almost hesitantly.

Before either of you can say more, the door creaks open, and Dick pokes his head in with a cheeky grin. "Hey, you two. Hate to interrupt, but Alfred’s outside ready to take [Name] home."

Damian straightens abruptly, a hint of irritation flickering across his features. "We'll be there shortly," he replies tersely, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

Dick raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Sure thing. Don't keep Alfred waiting too long," he teases before closing the door.

You roll your eyes playfully at Dick's teasing as he disappears, leaving you and Damian alone once more. There's a brief moment where neither of you speaks, the tension palpable in the air. Finally, Damian breaks the silence.

"We should go," he says, his voice low but firm.

You nod in agreement, trying to dispel the awkwardness that has settled between you. "Right. Let's go."

Together, you and Damian make your way out towards the front door of Wayne Manor. The grandeur of the mansion surrounds you, yet it feels less intimidating now, having spent an evening with Damian's family. As you step outside into the cool night air, Alfred waits patiently by the car, ready to drive you home. Damian walks beside you, carrying your stuff, his demeanor slightly tense yet thoughtful.

As you approach the car, Damian walks up to Alfred and mutters to him. Alfred raises a prim brow, handing Damian the keys with a nod. He walks back towards the Manor, where you see the rest of the family either peeking out the door or straight up standing outside looking. You snort. Damian sets your stuff in the backseat, opening the passenger side door for you to enter. You hum in appreciation, sitting inside.

Bruce watches the car drive away, a pinch in his brow.

“I thought Damian liked Jon?” questions Duke.

“He does.” Barbara squints. Tim gestures to the leaving car. “Then what was that?” he asks. Cassandra hums. “He also likes them, he doesn’t know it yet. Or he is just in denial.”

“Well if Cass says it’s so, then it’s so,” nods Stephanie sagely. Alfred leans closer to Bruce. “They may become part of your brood yet.”

"Perhaps," Bruce murmurs quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. Duke leans in, intrigued. "You think they're good for Damian?"

Bruce considers his words carefully before responding. "I think [Name] challenges Damian in ways that are both positive and... complicated."

Inside the car, Damian focuses on the road ahead, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The drive is quiet. You watch as people go on with their lives. Very few people roam the streets at this hour. You steal glances at Damian occasionally, noting the tense set of his jaw and the focused look in his eyes.

As you approach your apartment building, Damian breaks the silence. "I apologize for my family's... curiosity," he says, his voice soft yet tinged with annoyance.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "It's alright, Damian. They just want to get to know me better."

Damian parks the car and turns to face you, his expression unreadable. "They can be... overwhelming at times," he admits reluctantly.

"You're lucky to have them," you remark sincerely.

Damian steps out of the car, grabbing your bag and walking you to the front door. The air feels like a stark contrast to the warmth of Wayne Manor. Damian's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. You lean in slightly, hesitating for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, just like last night. Damian freezes for an instant, different to his lack of reaction before.

"Goodnight, Damian," you murmur, pulling back slightly.

"Goodnight, [Name]," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a final smile, you close the door behind you. Damian stands there for a moment longer before driving away into the night. As you enter your apartment, you're greeted by the familiar sight of Nari lounging on the couch. Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

‘All of your materials have been delivered to the address.’ is what greets you when you open up Victoria’s chat. You grin, sending a thank you. Your bed feels like heaven as you sink into it. Tomorrow real progress will be made, and you can’t wait.

notes: reader and damian are practically dating already lets be honest they just dont know it yet

[webslingingslasher]

Hii Ik your resquests are currently closed so you obvs don’t have to do it but when you’re up for it could you please do a part 2 w nerdy Peter on their first date. But take your time to rest and everything just thought I’d put this in for good measure ❤️

*cleaning out my drafts*

pt 1.

'first time?' peter slightly turns, it's an older man, probably mid forties and he gets an instant dad vibe. he's comfortable nodding at his question.

he's been standing in front of bouquets for at least seven minutes, nothing seems right. peter wants to make the best impression, but what if he got your least favorite flowers?

'is it a date?'

peter nods again, 'yeah. and she's super out of my league.'

the dad smiles, 'they usually are.' then steps up, he takes his time looking over each flower wrapped in cellophane.

'there's not much to go wrong on, kid. don't get the artificially dyed ones and choose something with some flowers that haven't opened up all the way. they'll last longer and smell better.'

peter feels alright with speaking his nerves to him, 'what if she hates them?'

his temporary mentor picks up a bouquet, it looks beautiful, he was right. the plastic is pushed into peter's chest, his hand wraps around the stems. 'then you bought flowers for an asshole, don't make the same mistake twice.'

it makes peter feel better, he really doesn't think he's buying flowers for an asshole.

-----

you like them. at least he thinks you do, your face lit up and you were quick to do a smell test. you even told him he did a good job at picking them out.

'these are beautiful, peter!' he's lucky he didn't buy flowers for an asshole. you delicately set them down, 'these are going in my room, by the way.' you didn't dare share the beauty with the rest of the house.

'i'm glad you like them,' he really is. peter feels the need to add how nice you look, he's not too sure on how to compliment a woman but he knows he has to try.

'you um, you look very pretty.' yikes, that sounds like he doesn't think you're pretty the rest of the time. 'you always look very pretty, but this is a different kind, like, cause it's the first time i've seen you all dressed up.'

did he just tell you he likes you better this way? peter widens his eyes, the date hasn't even started and he's already sweating. 'i mean, you didn't have to dress up for me, wait, no, you dressed for yourself. but i just meant...' he really doesn't know what he meant, but you look entirely way too amused at his fluster.

'keep going, i'm really enjoying this.'

a gentle tease at his nervous personality. he really likes it coming from you.

'i'd rather not.'

you smile wide, 'i love hearing how pretty i am tonight, but actually all the time, but differently this time, but also not. and how you like my outfit, but not too much, because all my other outfits look just as good and i definitely don't dress for the male gaze.'

it sounds like you're making fun of him, but your smile tells him you actually really like it.

'don't worry, peter. i'd act the same way if you were in a tux.' peter glances down, 'should i go put one on?' biting your lip at his joke, you push his shoulder, 'next time.'

peter's head is spinning when you pull him out the door by his hand, it's been five minutes and there's already another? you must have a thing for socially awkward guys.

---

peter watches you glance around the restaurant, he hopes he picked good. it's nice, but not nice enough to be weird.

'you're pulling out all the stops for me, mr. parker.'

peter hopes you don't notice his blush, he thinks you do when you lean closer. 'i mean, flowers and a medium fancy restaurant? you're raising my standards very quickly.'

you mean it, too. peter knows he has no experience under the belt but you've been on a few dates, nothing that stuck from what he's overheard but he can't fathom how this tops any of it.

'really? i thought you would've had better dates.'

you hum, 'maybe. one question for you, then i can let you know if this is the best date.' peter can handle that, he's good at questions. 'i'm ready.'

'what can i get to drink?'

peter tilts his head, he might not be that good at questions. 'anything you want?'

it's the right answer, you grin across the table. 'i can get a coke and you won't cheap out on me?'

peter laughs, that's what he was up against? 'so i can pay for a dinner but draw the line at soda?'

you don't directly confirm it, 'some would.'

'as long as it's not rootbeer, i'm alright with it.' your eyebrow raises, 'not a fan?' peter scoffs, 'it's like the kitchen sink of sodas, it poured all the leftovers into a giant vat and lied to everyone about liking it.'

you laugh quietly, 'who's it?'

peter is completely serious, 'capitalism.' you bite back a grin as he shifts forward a little. 'so, um, was your dad mad that you canceled for me?' your fingers tap the table, 'nope. not when i told him why.'

'wow, the first dad i know who's okay with their daughter dating.'

you stop him, 'oh, he's not crazy about the dating part. he likes the who.'

peter can't help but feel slightly offended, 'am i really that non-threatening?' suddenly your dad was okay when he was the suitor? peter really is out of his league and everyone knows it.

'oh no, you're the most threatening of them all. you're the only guy i've ever liked, so my dad was excited for me, but also a little scared because you're the strongest bet at his daughter dating someone.'

peter's heart is thumping harder than it ever has, if he wasn't in your eyesight he'd be counting his pulse. he wants to kick himself a little, he has no idea how much time he's wasted by not asking sooner. how many guys have you wished were him?

he's not able to respond, but you don't mind. the waiter has your attention, when he asks for your drink you shoot a look at peter with a gleam in your eye.

'do you have rootbeer?'

peter thinks he's gonna have a girlfriend real soon.

-----

on the walk back to your home, you had forced your fingers between his. peter can't remember the last time he held hands with someone, but it feels nice holding yours.

you swing them back and forth as you talk, he thinks the deal was secured when he brushed chocolate crumbs off your cheek from dessert because immediately after you had tied your hand into his and held him close.

'i had a very nice night, and just in case you need me to say it, that was the best date i've ever had.'

peter feels shy, but it's welcomed with you. 'you're just saying that cause i bought you rootbeer.'

you bump your elbow against his, 'next time i'll buy you a milkshake.' you weren't lying, you had a nice night. so nice you want to do it again and if peter's really lucky, you'll want to keep doing it forever.

'careful, i'll hold you to that.' he really will, peter loves milkshakes.

'i will, i love milkshakes. i have a secret place i go to all the time in the west village.' peter's eyes widen, 'west village? that's a haul for a milkshake.'

you press a hand to your forehead, 'oh no! a whole afternoon with you, how yucky!' peter hides his smile, it's nice that you want him around. 'if we get milkshakes does that mean you want a second date?'

'yes. and if i do good enough you might want a third out of me.' peter laughs, it's adorable you think he might want a third date. 'we might as well plan the fourth one now, huh?'

you bounce your arm off his. 'i think you should kiss me.' peter's jolted from his date daydream. kiss? peter plays it cool. 'what, right now?' he can't hide anything, you hear an undertone of panic but you skim over it.

'well, i'd prefer if it wasn't at my front door where i'm at risk of being seen because if my dad catches you all over me before he could meet you, i don't think he'll like you anymore.'

'so i should kiss you? right now?' peter's voice is hitched, you didn't mean to throw him off his game. you know he's a little more reserved so you were giving him the open shot, but you think you stressed him out even more.

'you don't have to! i was just offering because i thought you were going to try and do something at my door.'

peter's thankful for the night sky and the cool breeze that's chilling his burning face. 'i've never kissed anyone.' peter stops walking because you stopped. you've got an open jaw and a dead stare on him.

'repeat that.'

he'd rather not. 'i've never kissed anyone.'

you shake your head, the words aren't making sense. 'one more time.'

this is kind of a nightmare. 'i've never kissed anyone.'

'you're lying, right? this is a joke?' why is peter feeling a little insulted right now? 'it's not weird. i know several people who haven't kissed anyone yet.'

you scrunch your face up. 'no, peter, i'm not judging you because you haven't. i'm confused about how you haven't. like, no girl has ever tried to kiss you?'

'no.' it's an instant answer.

'not even as a kid or something?'

'never.'

you feel offended on his behalf, oh well, more for yourself. you stand straighter and give him what he's been missing out on. 'if you'd let me, i'd love to kiss you.'

'really?' sure, peter might've scored a second date but a kiss too? his first one at that. 'yeah.' you step up, peter can feel his heart pounding. he knows he's awkward, he's unsure of his stance, he doesn't know how to lean into it.

'it's instinct. don't panic, okay?' easier said than done because peter swears he's at risk of throwing up when you loop your arms around his neck. you bounce up on your feet, just a tad, the rest of your weight brings peter down to your level.

there's a brief moment of nerves but they're not bad. it's exciting, it's thrilling, it's new. your gaze bounces between his eyes and his mouth, you think he catches on and does the same.

one final moment before you seal the deal, peter parker is going to be all yours. your heart races when you lean in, your lips brush against his feather soft.

one, two- you swear sparks fly. peter's warm and gentle. he's unsure and it makes the kiss so much better. a hesitant hold on your hips when your chest bumps his, you add a little movement- you're not trying to add too much, but god, you'd pay fat dollars to explore him further.

peter pulls away first, you almost claw him back into you. 'i'm sorry.' you lightly shake your head, he has nothing to be sorry for. 'i think i'm bad at kissing.'

'you couldn't be farther from the truth, parker. you're the best one.'

peter doesn't believe you for a second. 'really?'

'yeah. cause it's you.'

peter melts. 'i think you're an angel sent from heaven for me.' peter isn't sure if he's religious or not, and he was leaning towards not but now he thinks there has to be angels because you're proof of one.

you look away, you've never been complimented like that before. an unearthly creature whose only purpose was divine intervention, how could you not give him another kiss?

peter's surprised at this one.

'what was that for?'

'because you're really nice, super smart and kind of the hottest person i've ever seen.' compliments? you're giving him compliments? 'that's nice, but i think you're talking to yourself.'

you frown. a true grumpy look crosses over your face. 'don't do that. don't sell yourself short or act like you're not deserving of praise because i'm going to be doing a lot of it and i need you to accept it.'

before he could try to fight it, you start pulling him along. you do have a curfew after all. peter's fighting back disbelief. 'angel. i swear you're an angel.'

you shrug, 'i'm your angel.'

'you are.'

when you get home, you get a third kiss. and this time, peter kisses you. 

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck Returns

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: Our little menace of a nephew has secured a date for you. Here is part 2 to Uncle Buck.

Word Count: 1401

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

A/N: what in the actual f👀 is going on 😅 I was expecting maybe 10 or so people to read Uncle Buck. My notifications haven't stopped going off since I posted. Thank you so much everyone that read it and enjoyed it. I hope you also enjoy this little continuation. P.S. GIF replies are my love language so if you enjoy send me your best (or worst 😈) 🫶

As soon as the pair return home and walk through the front door, Benji skips his way in shouting, "MAWWAGE! MAWWAGE IS WHAT BWINGS US TOGEVAH TODAYYYY!" Arms high above him as he rushes through the living room in search of his parents.

"Benji, please don't make me regret letting you watch my favorite movie," you sigh, flopping onto the couch, hands covering your face.

He stops short and looks back at you, "Have you the wing?" He bows and giggles, then turns back around to continue on with his search.

"You're back!" Your sister shouts while she snatches Benji up into her arms, covering the small boy in kisses. "Did you have so much fun with Auntie today? Why are we shouting Princess Bride quotes?" She gasps, "Did you get to meet the dread pirate Roberts??"

Benji looks up at her in confusion, "What? No Mom, we saw Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson! And guess WHAT!"

"Ohhh, what?!"

He whispers into her ear and throws his head back laughing like a tiny evil madman.

"You did what???!" She laughs.

You groan from the couch.

She walks both of them over to you.

"Did I understand him correctly, is there something we should know? Are you betrothed to a super soldier?"

"I'm gonna go throw up," you groan again.

Sweating doesn't even begin to cover it.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire.

You agreed to meet Bucky for a late lunch the following day. You've been sitting on the floor by your closet for what you thought was 30 minutes now, staring into the clothing abyss, spiraling into an internal panic.

You don't go on dates. You keep to yourself. It's comfortable. Living in a combined household with your sister and her small family you're certainly never alone.

What are you even supposed to talk about?

Your current job is nothing super exciting to talk about. You do like to go to concerts and musicals... However you can't really imagine the 106-year-old super soldier going to a pop punk or metal show, nor do you imagine him attending Wicked 3 times. Note to self: do not bring up Rogers the musical. Yikes.

Your sister has already talked you off a ledge 3 times since last night when you got home.

While still wallowing in self pity and loathing, two outfits are scattered by you and you have three more in your arms.

Your sister walks by your open door and backtracks peering in.

"Y/n," she sighs, "just wear the first outfit. You'll look great, I promise." She walks over and grabs the armful of clothes from you, dumping them on the bed and grabbing the first outfit. Your favorite pair of black jeans and a sweater you bought specifically because it was so damn soft.

The doorbell rings and your eyes widen. "He's early?!"

"He's on time, you would have noticed if you weren't staring into space for the last hour."

"WHAT?!"

"Don't worry we'll keep him distracted while you finish getting ready."

"Oh sure, don't worry. That fills me with all the confidence..."

"Benji has already asked him to marry you, what's the worst that could happen now?"

"I don't even want to think about the answer to that. So many possibilities come to mind."

You grab your outfit and start rushing around.

"Can I get you something to drink, Bucky?" Your sister asks while she moves about the room.

Bucky and Benji are seated at the kitchen table, just off from the living room. Benji is across from him with his tiny arms crossed on the table, and a very serious look on his face.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Ok, I'm sure she'll be down in just a moment. Make yourself at home. Hopefully we will see you around again soon," she smiles, "I'm just gonna go switch the laundry over quickly. Benji," she looks down at him while pointing two fingers at her eyes and then over to him, "behave yourself," she warns while leaving the room.

The table stare down continues.

"Where do you live?" Benji asks.

"In the city," Bucky answers.

"You have a house?" Benji fires back.

"Apartment."

"Own or rent?"

"Rent."

"Where’s your office?"

"I don’t have one."

"How come?"

"I don’t need one."

"Where’s your wife?"

"Don’t have one.."

"Yet," Benji squints with a tiny smirk, "but how come?"

"It's a long story."

"You have kids?"

"No I don’t."

"How come?"

"It's an even longer story."

"Do you prefer dogs or cats?"

"Both are fine."

"Do you have one?"

"I have a cat. Names Alpine."

"Is Steve Rogers really on the moon?"

"What's your record for consecutive questions asked?"

"38."

"He's up there all right." Bucky answers with a nod.

"Your metal arm and regular arm match well with how ginormous your muscles are."

"How nice of you to notice."

"I’m a kid, that’s my job."

Bucky raises a brow, "Why am I getting the 3rd degree here?"

"Just checking in on my investments. If this didn't work I was going to ask our neighbor Frank, but he kind of sucks," Benji shrugs his shoulders.

Before Bucky can question the language and what the 8-year-old said, you walk into the kitchen and quickly look back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh no, how long have you two been alone in here?? What did he say?" You ask Bucky, looking over at Benji quickly after, "What did you say??" Your eyes narrow.

Benji grins and holds your purse up for you. "Have fun storming the castle," he cheekily smiles with that glint in his eyes.

"Benji," you glare down at him.

Bucky clears his throat while standing up from the table. Walking over to you he points to a small bouquet of flowers that were already in a vase waiting on the kitchen table, "Um, these are for you…" he smiles.

"Thank you so much, they're beautiful," your reply is breathless while you look at the arrangement filled with a small mix of your favorites.

"He also gave me this," Benji holds up an RC truck with a Captain America shield painted on the side.

"That was very nice of him, did you say thank you?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes while grabbing the remote to the car and rolling it out to the living room, "Thanks Future-Uncle Bucky," he grins and chases after it.

"Anyone ever tell you guys he's kind of a strange kid?" Bucky whispers conspiratorially while offering his arm to you.

You throw your head back with a quick laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."

Your date is going better than you expected.

You have managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself so far and both of you seemed to be enjoying your time together.

You have apologized multiple times for Benji's antics.

Bucky laughs, "He reminds me a bit of a young Steve and my sister Rebecca combined. Didn't realize that combo was possible, it's a little terrifying. I hope they have great medical insurance," he jokes.

"His father's a nurse, so we have in-house medical on demand. My sister tried to convince me to go to law school so someone can represent him when he undoubtedly tries to take over the world. Guess I can save some money and time on law school now that we have a super soldier plus a Captain America connection that can potentially stop him before lawyers need to be involved."

"Your sister already welcomed me to the family when she opened the door to let me in," he smirks.

You put your face in your hands, elbows leaning against the table in support.

"Well now you know where her small menace gets it from."

Bucky helps pull your chair out for you as you're both about to leave. As you stand up your purse falls off the back of your chair, spilling some of its contents on the floor when it lands.

Bucky ducks down to help collect your things when something shiny appears next to your chapstick. His eyebrows furrow as he picks both up and holds them up to you.

You let out a slightly strangled cough as you realize what he's holding up to you.

Bucky Barnes was kneeling holding up your peppermint chapstick and your Grandmother's opal ring that was supposed to be safely in your jewelry box at home.

...Benjamin!

Next: Part 3 Lord of the Pins

@pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

[eroselless]

PATO - FIVE

series masterlist | part 3 | part 4

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: pregnancy, angst, breastfeeding, spanish and google translated french

note: Yikes, the way I wrote charles is lowkey toxic, mb lol. This part reminded me of a picture i saw ages ago about how men and women deal with breakups, dudes moving on immediately and end up being sad after a few months and women being sad for a bit and then moving on after a few months. 

Anyways, shoutout to my baby sisters for being my main inspiration behind Lucero and for helping me figure out what babies do at 13 months lol I apologies in advance if some things don’t make sense, I tried my best to imitate the way they used to speak and use that for Lucero. 

Although not necessary, I listened to this playlist while I did all my writing and editing. It’s a nice bittersweet blend. If you guys wanna give it a listen, I think it would enhance the feelings in this part :)

We’re bouncing a little with the time jumps again but as always, they have the dates so its easier to track :) Happy reading!

MEXICO, OCTOBER 2024

Charles staggers into the hotel room, chest heaving as if he’s been sprinting miles without rest. His chest constricts,  each breath coming out in shallow puffs as he struggles to recompose himself. 

“Mon cœur?” he hears come from the bedroom and he no longer has it in him to hold back. Alexandra peeks out, eyes full of concern as she approaches the sobbing man. His face is buried in his hands and he would give anything to blend into the wall he’s leaning on. Guiding him to their room, she sits him down, slotting herself between his legs as he grips tight around her middle. His tears soak through her shirt as his body wracks with loud sobs. 

Frustration, anger, sadness – they all jumble together in his mind. Alexandra runs her fingers through his hair, murmuring comforts and feather light kisses into his hairline and waits for the sobs to soften before speaking. 

"Mon cœur, que s'est-il passé?" she asks, gently pushing his face away from her torso. My heart, what happened? She cradles his face as he looks up at her, silent tears staining his face. “That little girl we met today... she's my daughter. I didn’t know.” His voice is hoarse when he whispers, full of regret and guilt.

Alexandra’s eyes widen at the admission. “Charles, comment a-t-elle pu te cacher quelque chose comme ça? C'est... impardonnable," she says, her tinged with sympathy and indignation. How could she keep something like this from you? That's... unforgivable.

Charles shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, a few tears still escaping down his cheeks. His sobs are fading in quiet hiccups as he slowly regains his breathing. “No, Alex. It’s not her fault. I’m the one who wasn’t there, it’s all my fault. I didn’t care enough, I left.”

She’s puzzled at his confession, lost in the depth of his sorrow. “What?”  

​​*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MONACO, DECEMBER 2022

You’re lying partially on your side, arm draped over your bare chest as it rises and falls at a steady pace. He watches as you turn away, hair cascading over your back. The sheets are wrapped just over your middle, your upper body completely exposed to the air. The soft morning light filters through the room and Charles can’t help but think of the events last night.

He can still hear your voice as it echoes through the room, begging him not to stop. He can feel the crescent moons you’ve pressed into the thick muscles of his back. The ghost of your lips still lingers on his skin, like the stain of red lipstick on the collar of a white shirt. 

He leans over your sleeping figure, dragging his nose over your shoulder and pressing a ghost of a kiss there. It rouses you just enough to murmur a drowsy protest. “Don’t go,” you whisper and reach out for him, the tips of your fingers barely catching his skin. He is already on his feet. 

"I'll be back soon," he lies, slipping out before you can say anything else. He busies himself with mundane tasks, filling his day with errands that could be left for later. He thinks of you, all on your own, in your shared apartment waiting for him to come home. As you always did. He drives across the city, glancing at his phone as your messages roll in, swiping them away almost as quickly as they came. 

The truth was, being at home was proving to be increasingly difficult as time went on. His home with you, once a sanctuary, felt like a pressure cooker ready to pop. He loved you, doted on your every move but the constant fear of his career and unrelenting scrutiny of the public had slowly started to suffocate him. He couldn’t bear to break your heart and burden you with his overwhelming amount of feelings. What if he’d never be good enough for Ferrari, good enough for you? With every moment he spent away, he kept sinking into his own mind, choosing to ignore you and your attempts at breaking down his walls. He hated being away from you but he couldn’t help but pack you away into a corner of his mind, where he knew you’d be waiting for him, day in and day out. 

He comes home late that night, the guilt of having to face you gnawing at him. It's well after sunset and the night air is cool, the breeze turning icy. He walks through the door, expecting the lights to be off but is surprised to see you leaning over the sink, rinsing off dishes. 

Your face lights up when you see him, a tender smile he knows is only for him.

“Cha, you’re back,” you exclaim, turning to face the counter closest to the wall. You pick up a plate, filled generously with a meal that he could tell you spent a great deal of effort on. It’s gone cold in his absence. 

He only gives you a small smile, pressing a light kiss to your temple. He can’t help but feel a little surprised at your good mood. But he can’t bring himself to match the enthusiasm you carry in your voice.“I’m not really hungry,” he mutters, eyes not meeting yours. “I think I’ll just shower and head to bed.”

Your smile falters as he moves towards your bedroom, hurt flickering across your face. “But.. I made this for you. You’ve been out all day, I thought we could eat together.” 

He forces a smile, trying to appease you and end the conversation quickly. “I appreciate it amour, really. I’m just really tired.”

He can feel your eyes on him as he turns away, heavy with unspoken words. If he knew then what he knows now, he would've stood in that room and held you close. He would’ve tried harder to keep you by his side. He would’ve told you that he loved you. But he didn’t. 

She’ll come back, it’s okay, his thoughts echo while he stares at the door as you run into the night. You’re his rock, his anchor. His home. Weeks trickle by slowly and he can feel you slip away as more time goes by. He eventually stops thinking that he can hear your keys jingle in the lock at the front door. Your scent no longer clings to the bedsheets and the lush scented detergent you would buy gradually runs out. He slowly begins placing your things in boxes and taking them into storage where he hopes one day you’ll come to get them. Soon enough, he erases you from the apartment completely and it's as if you were never even there.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles shakes his head, his breath hitching. “I would do that often when I was home. I would lavish her with affection, trying to make sure she knew that I loved her with my whole being but…” he stops, pressing shaky fingers to his lips as if his breath is completely depleted. “I would find reasons to leave, seeking comfort in anything that wouldn’t make me think of what I was feeling inside.”

"Why?" Alexandra asks softly, her hand gently stroking his back. 

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing her, of not being enough. I thought keeping my distance, both physically and emotionally, would protect the both of us, but it only drove her away."

Alexandra's heart aches for him as he confesses. She knows Charles loves her but as his emotions spill out before her, she can’t help but feel like the other woman. She feels guilty as this new feeling is born and grows quickly. He’s confiding in her and the only thing she can think of are the doubts beginning to spiral in her mind. Trying to mask her discomfort she wraps her arms around him, his body relaxing against her as his breath gets smoother. 

"You did what you thought was best, Charles. You made mistakes, yes, but now you’ve learned and can move to find a better way forward," she says as her hand rubs up and down his back. 

Charles shakes his head. "I was selfish, Alex. I was so focused on my fears that I ignored her needs. I wanted to build a life together, to have a family. I pushed her away, and now... now I have a daughter I've never met."

Alex swallows hard as tears begin to bead in her eyes. She tries not to think too much about what he’s saying. She tries not to think about how this could make or break them. Would he still want to build something with me? Have the family he’s always wanted with me? 

“But you're here now and that’s all that matters. It’s not going to be easy but you can still be part of Lucero’s life and maybe, in time find a way to make amends.” She meets his gaze once again. The whites of his eyes are now red, only making the green around his iris look more brilliant than it did before. “Thank you, mon amour. For being here, for listening. I don’t deserve you.” 

She gives him a small smile, pushing away the feelings of insecurity that are now growing in the back of her mind. “Nous allons nous en sortir. Juste… ne m'exclut pas, d'accord ? Je ne peux pas t'aider si tu ne me laisses pas entrer.” We’ll get through this. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.

“Je promets,” he nods, pulling her into his arms again. I promise. 

Charles is exhausted as he lays in her arms later that night, face pressed into her chest, snug against her heart. Alexandra lies awake in the darkness, the thought of you overtaking her mind. Her hands tenderly brush over Charles’s hair, his deep breaths tickling her skin slightly. There will always be a part of him that belonged to you. And it makes her wonder, with Lucero and you beginning to take your places in his heart, would there still be room for her? 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun gently peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir from your sleep, eyes heavy as you turn to the sound of Lucero’s cries. You begin to pull yourself up, pushing the sheets off of you. You hear a string of tsks next to you, Carlos gently pulling you back to bed.

“Tu quedate aqui,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “Yo voy por ella.” You stay here, I’ll get her.

You mumble a slurred ok, nodding with eyes still very heavy as you settle back down. Eyes still puffy with sleep, you settle on now propped-up pillows. Pulling at the straps of your sleep shirt, you slip the top off. You watch hazily as Carlos moves to Lucero’s makeshift crib, his steps quiet and measured. He coos at her and you can see her little hands reach out for him, legs kicking in frustration. “Buenos días, mi patito,” he says, cradling her close. “Ya vamos con la mamí, no te preocupes.” Good morning, my duckling. We're going with mummy, don’t worry. It makes your heart flutter as he stares at her with his gentle eyes, pressing a kiss to her hand as it goes to poke at his chin. 

He makes his way back to the bed, watching as you adjust yourself in your spot. Lucero babbles, her initial upset fading into a groggy murmur as she nestles into the crook of Carlos’s neck. Her thumb catches on her lip as she tries to suck on it.

Carlos chuckles as he watches her latch onto it, gently pulling it from her mouth. “No, señora,” he says teasingly. No, ma'am. “No thumb-sucking, little miss.” His gaze is warm as he hands her to you. 

The room fills with a peaceful silence as Lucero latches on, her small body relaxing in her mother’s arms. She holds on tightly, almost insatiable as she feeds. Carlos climbs back into bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze is fixed on the two of you, eyes soft as he sees how devoted you’ve become to your little one, the love and connection strong between you. 

He can’t help but feel a sense of awe as he continues to watch you. He can’t help but admire how far you’ve come, the bond between you and Lucero beautiful and pure. The feeling of protectiveness and devotion to the two of you grows every day. He catches him thinking of the babe as his own, his daughter. She meant everything to him and he can’t bear to even imagine his life without her in it. Yet, he knew that Charles had a right to be a part of her life too, no matter how much it hurt to have to share that role. It's a thought that fills him with warmth but follows with a pang of bittersweet reality. 

With Lucero’s cries ceased, you gaze down at her. You're engrossed with how peaceful she looks, her little nose pressing into the flesh of your breast, little hands holding you as close as she can. Her eyes are beginning to droop again as her tummy fills up. She sighs in her stupor, pausing briefly before continuing.

You can feel Carlos’s gaze on you. He looks at you in adoration, fingers ghosting over Lucero’s chubby legs. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, sitting up as he does. Taking a deep breath, he breaks the silence. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asks gently. “And what comes next?” 

The question hangs in the air briefly, heavy with the weight of this new reality. You take a deep breath, mind coursing with different thoughts and emotions. “Not really, no.” You confess with a dry chuckle. If you could stay in this moment, just the three of you, you would without a second thought. “But we need to.”

He takes another deep breath, nodding. His expression is thoughtful as he threads his fingers through yours, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I know,” he says quietly. “I was thinking… If we’re going to do this, maybe we should also think about involving Alexandra.”

You blink in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing. “Alexandra?” you repeat, voice uncertain. 

Carlos nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I know its complicated, but she’s a part of Charles’s life. If he’s going to be in Lucero’s life, she might be too.” 

Your expression is still a puzzled one as you respond. “I hadn’t thought about that,” You admit. “Do you think it's a good idea?”

Carlos sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I think we should at least be open to it. Lucero deserves to know everyone who loves her. And I’m here, i know it’s not the same but I feel that because of that, she should be there too. We can’t ignore that.”

Your heart aches slightly at the thought, fear and hope swirling in your chest. “I’m scared, Carlos,” you say, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t want to make things harder for her.” 

Carlos leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know,” he whispers, eyes trained on her little figure, still sucking away. “But we need to think about what’s best for her in the long run. We’ll take it slow and be there for her every step of the way.”

Your eyes begin to fill with tears, your grip on Lucero tightening slightly. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if it hurts her?”

Carlos’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s okay,” he says firmly. “We’ll protect her. But we can’t shield her from everything. She deserves the chance to know her family, even if it’s complicated.”

You nod slowly, heart heavy with the weight of the decision. “Okay,” you say softly. “We’ll try. But we have to be careful. We have to make sure it’s what’s best for her.”

Carlos smiles, his eyes filled with love and pride. “We will,” he promises. He presses his forehead to yours.“We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucero had finished feeding, her eyes now drifting closed as she snuggles against your chest.  You look down at her daughter, feeling a swell of emotion as you cradle her closer. Her jaw trembles slightly, a sign she was tired once again. “I just want her to be happy,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly.

Carlos wraps his arm around you, pulling the two of you close. “She will be,” he says gently. “She has you. And she has me. And now, she has a chance to know her father too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BRAZIL, NOVEMBER 2024

The sun is high over Sao Paolo when you arrive to the paddock. The air is electric with excitement, spectators slowly filling up the stands around the track. Their conversations create a gentle buzz that echoes above the garages. 

Carlos makes his way into the paddock, smiling at photographers and journalists as they wait for his entrance. They don’t miss the small body he holds in his arms and the woman that trails closely behind him, fingers intertwined with his. 

Your eyes scan meet the people waiting for you to enter, a delicate smile gracing your lips. Once in the Ferrari garage, you take release a breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding back. 

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” you ask Carlos as you’re settled in the back of the garage. A sudden wave of nerves washes over you as you can see a couple photographers clicking away around the garage. “Bringing her here?”

Carlos leans on one of the tables with you, nodding, fingers gently brushing over her wispy tufts of brown hair. “She seems to like it,” he points out as she squeals happily, pulling at the wire that connects to the big headphones Fred passed to her as you entered. “Besides, it’s good for her to see where Charles and I spend so much time.”

You smile, the concern still evident in your eyes. “I just don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Carlos says, fingers going to lovingly pinch at your arm. You know he’s referring to her but the look on his eyes makes you think he might mean you too. 

Lucero spots the red car being worked on and babbles excitedly as she sees the garage technicians checking around the car. 

“Cah-loh!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of wonder and determination. “Sí, Lu, un carro,” you correct gently. Yes, Lu, a car. Her attempt at say carro was endearing, the R sound still elusive for her baby tongue. Car. “Es rojo. Puedes decir, rojo?” she claps her hands, ignoring your request. Its red. can you say red? 

Carlos chuckles, leaning down to kiss her head. “Lolo’s going to drive el carro rojo, mi amor.” he says to her, pointing to himself and adding a soft vroom as he begins to imitate a car with his hand. He makes almost a flying motion with his hand in front of you before gently whooshing it towards the bubbly baby, tickling her tummy. She giggles, managing to grap his hands and pulls at his fingers. She holds them up to her face, a soft gargle of buh buh buh falling from her lips.

Lucero catches the eye of Charles as he makes his way into the garage, his eyes lighting up as he approaches you. He’s wearing those god-awful bleached jeans again, the odd stripes something you always teased him about. You just don’t see the art yet, he’d often say.

He gives Carlos a side hug before hesitantly leaning over you and wrapping his arms around you. It sends a wave of nerves through the both of you. He lets go quickly before he can think much of it and crouches slightly to meet Lucero’s eyes. 

“Bonjour, ma petite amour,” His voice is soft as he speaks to her. Hello, my little love. There’s an eager smile on his face, one that masks the nerves that were bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s one you recognize. 

Lucero looks at Charles, suddenly clampering into your arms, tucking her face into your neck. Charles’s heart clenches at the sight. “Muñeca, dile hola a Cha,” you say, his nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. Doll, say hi to Cha. 

You poke gently her little tummy, pulling her attention to her father. He smiles at her as she peeks out from behind your hair. You guide her hand gently towards Charles and she meets him in the halfway, her little fingers wrapping around his. “She’ll warm up,” you reassure. “It’s a lot for her, all these new faces and places.”

Charles nods, a slight flutter of uncertainty vibrating through his chest. “I understand,” he says. “I’m just happy to see her.”

Carlos observes the exchange, emotions swirling in his chest. He can’t help the protectiveness and understanding that bubble up as he sees this. He moves away from the table only to have Lucero reach her arms out for him. 

“Vienes conmigo, estrellita?” he asks as she pulls away from you and Charles, oblivious to the emotions of the adults around her. Are you coming with me, little star? She points excitedly at the car again, prompting Carlos to get near it. Buh buh buh she tries quietly.

“Bah bah,” she finally manages, voice loud as she proceeds to bury her face into Carlos’s shirt. He lets out a giggle as she does so. “Baba, bluum.” he looks at her with wide eyes, bouncing her in his arms. He glances over at you, jaw slack as he identifies what she’s trying to say. 

Charles’s smile falters momentarily. She means papa, he thinks. He masks his broken-heartedness quickly and turns to you. “She seems to really like the cars.” He comments, trying to keep his otne light.

“She does,” you say, glancing between the two men. “Maybe she’ll be a driver someday, like her father.”

“Maybe,” Charles says, his voice sounding like it’s far away. The word father hangs in the air, shrouded in a veil and he’s not sure if you mean Carlos or him. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Unraveling the Ferrari Enigma: Carlos Sainz Arrives with Mystery Woman and Baby, Spotted Again with Charles Leclerc at Brazilian GP

In an unexpected twist at the Mexican Grand Prix, Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz was seen arriving hand-in-hand with a mystery woman and a baby, sparking widespread speculation and intrigue within the F1 community. The woman, identified by sharp-eyed fans as Y/N L/N, the elusive former girlfriend of Sainz’s teammate, Charles Leclerc, has rarely been seen publicly, adding to the mystique surrounding this revelation.

Y/N L/N, who maintained a low profile throughout her relationship with Leclerc, has remained a figure of intrigue among fans and the media. Leclerc, known for his privacy regarding personal matters, never publicly acknowledged L/N, making this unexpected appearance alongside Sainz and the child even more startling.

Adding to the speculation, L/N and the baby—whose identiy remains undisclosed—made a second appearance at the Brazilian Grand Prix, further capturing the attention of the F1 world. Observers noted that not only were L/N and the child seen with Sainz, but they were also frequently spotted around Leclerc, intensifying curiosity about the current dynamics within the Ferrari team.

The repeated public appearances of L/N and the child have ignited a flurry of questions regarding their connection to Sainz and Leclerc, and what this means for the Ferrari drivers off the track. Could this development cause tension between Sainz and Leclerc? With the high stakes of the racing season and the close-knit nature of the F1 community, the unexpected appearance of L/N and the baby has undoubtedly raised eyebrows and sparked numerous questions.

a/n: Hi friends! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Any feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated, they seriously keep me so motivated <3

What do you guys think about this little news item? I enjoyed coming up with the one I made back in part 2, I thought why not make one for this part? Should I keep adding them in every now and then?

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy @honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux @jeondeluxe111 @dessxoxsworld @xoscar03 @emryb @yl90 @poppyflower-22 @a-distantdreamer

strike through => tumblr won’t let me tag you!

[demonpiratehuntress]

Good to know you're doing great, and that's fine (and Yes Inumake Toge 😍😍 🥺🥺) How about Zoro x reader (reader is the daughter of Gold Roger but uses a different last name she's two years older than Ace and her identity is a secret, she does tell Zoro in private after they get together) them having triplets together all look like Zoro (all have his sense of direction lol) just the shenanigans of reader having three lost Marimos 😂 she's very amused by it (it makes sense considering her sense of direction is non existent too 😂 the crew has five direction challenged members yikes) also she's a fighter (has Uzui Tengen's swords lol... I'm only adding this part cause I don't really like reader not being a fighter sorry if that's inconvenient you can remove it, I'm not asking for battle scenes just a note to point out) she's his height (the struggles of my tall ass constantly having to imagine how tall a character is for them to be taller than my 6'4 ass 😂) and kinda hot headed

i love the idea of Zoro's and reader's children being directionally challenged just like him lol. i can do this idea, because i am also directionally challenged :) i just don't know who Uzui Tengen is, but I did google him to make sure! i hope you enjoy this :) so sorry it took so long!

taglist - @kabloswrld

it runs in the family

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

summary - the ask ^-^

warnings - not proof read

It was hard enough having one lost soul to take care of. Watching Zoro was like watching a child, needing constant focus and attention to keep him from wandering off. Everyone takes turns watching him, but it ultimately ends up being your job most of the time because it's so exhausting.

"I'm going to that weapons store over there, be right back."

Your head snapped up when you heard him say that, eyes going wide as you immediately lunged forward to grab his wrist.

"It's right over there!" He protested, "I won't get lost."

You snorted and raised an eyebrow, "Babe I've seen you walk across the street and get lost. I don't believe you for a second. Sit down."

He grumbled and complained, but listened and took his seat next to you again. The two of you were waiting for the others to come back from their respective tasks, having finished your own (no thanks to Zoro, you had done it yourself). You swore you looked down for two seconds and when you turned to say something to him, he was not there. You shot up instantly, looking around for a mop of green hair.

"That idiot-"

You found him soon enough, and he was making his way to the weapons store just like he wanted. You were quick to scramble after him, knowing if you lost him now it would take you a whole day to find him. Maybe two.

"Zoro!"

The man grunted as you grabbed his ear, shooting you a pained glare as you twisted it and pulled him in the other direction.

"Dammit woman, at least let my ear go!"

"You need a leash!"

"..."

And that's pretty much how it goes every time you have to babysit your husband. It only got worse when you found out you were pregnant, and produced three exact copies of the swordsman. Three little menaces with his hair, his features, his personality, and your eyes. That's about the only thing they got from you.

To absolutely no one's surprise, they turned out to have a horrible sense of direction just like their father.

To be honest, you were a little relieved they hadn't inherited anything from you. As the daughter of the famed Gol D Roger, you were just as much at risk of being captured and locked up forever - or executed - just because of your parentage, like your younger brother. Only Zoro knew who your father was, as you kept the secret as possible. Even then, you only told him because you wanted no secrets between the two of you, which you'd promised each other on your wedding day. It seemed so long ago, with everything you'd been through, but you were more than grateful for the swordsman.

Not just for keeping your secret (you were pretty sure he forgot the day after you told him) but for protecting you to a point. He knew you could take care of yourself, he'd seen how skilled you were with your blades. He wasn't overbearing, because you were already a strong fighter, but he protected you in other ways, like keeping you from getting into dangerous situations that risked exposing who you were - like that one time in Water 7 when Garp absent-mindedly noted that you reminded him of Gol D Roger, Zoro quickly changed the conversation. He was dumb, but he was more perceptive than he led people to believe.

All these memories, of meeting him and dating him and eventually marrying him, flooded your mind as you gazed down at your sons. A soft smile on your face, you admired just how much they looked like their father, something you had hoped for but the others teased you for.

But you found out soon enough that although having three little kids running around was hard enough, it was made worse when you and the crew found out about their lack of directional sense.

"Zoro!"

You smacked the back of your husband's head hard, immediately waking him from his nap. He glared up at you for a moment before seeing the furious look on your face and immediately became nervous.

"Where are the boys?!"

"They were right over-" He pointed to the nearby swing, "-there."

"Uh huh, and where are they now?" You crossed your arms.

He scratched the back of his head, getting to his feet, "Uh..."

You smacked him again, "Dumbass. You're just lucky this island isn't as big as all the other ones we've been to!"

But as it turned out, searching for your lost children wasn't hard. They were only a block away from the small park Zoro had taken them to, huddled together on the side and looking around in confusion. In true Roronoa Zoro fashion.

One of them spotted you and yelled happily, dragging his siblings towards you and your sheepish husband. You smiled and scooped two of them up, leaving the third to be lifted into Zoro's arms.

"You guys know you're not supposed to go anywhere without me or your father," you scolded, holding back a smile at how cute they looked glancing at each other before looking down.

"Sorry, mommy. It won't happen again."

And they sound so cute, so sad, you just have to smother their little faces with kisses until they're laughing and pushing your face away.

"Ew, mom!"

But of course, it does happen again. Because they're Roronoa Zoro's children, they always manage to get themselves lost. The next time it happened, you were visiting Vivi in Alabasta. As you and the others were caught up in greeting the princess, your overeager kids found some other kids to play with and went off with them without telling you or Zoro.

Your husband, bless him, tried to go after them but got himself lost in the process. How you know? Sanji found your kids and brought them back, but said he hasn't even SEEN the swordsman.

"Babe you are the LAST person who should go looking for lost people!" You sighed when you found him, shaking your head. "It always ends up like this."

"Those are MY kids-"

"Clearly," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Anyway Sanji found them, so let's just go." You dragged him back to everyone else, ignoring the way his eye twitched at the mention of the cook.

That's not to say you were good with directions, because you were also bad with them. Sure, you had a better idea of direction than Zoro did, but the crew was still a little wary about sending you anywhere alone.

You and your family tended to butt heads about it, especially when you were all shopping for things you needed. Zoro would claim what you were looking for was in one aisle, while you asserted that it was in another.

It was quite funny for the crew actually, watching the five of you argue and then run off in different directions, only to forget which way you came from and struggle to get back. They had a blast when you took the kids to a carnival where there was a maze, because they found their way out relatively quickly. All the while you, your directionally-challenged kids and your even more directionally-challenged husband went in circles.

"I think it's this way."

"No, no, it's definitely this way!"

"Trust me, I know where I'm going!"

"So do I!"

You two were so busy arguing about where to go that you didn't notice your mischievous children sneaking off to try and find their own way out. Much like Zoro, they hated arguing and they wanted to just take action instead of thinking. By the time you realised it was too quiet, they were nowhere nearby.

"Oh my God, not again!" You face-palmed, then whirled on the swordsman, "This is your fault!"

"Mine?! You wanted to argue!"

Steam was practically coming out of your nose and ears, but you took a deep breath and calmed yourself. One of you had to be reasonable here. So without a word, you turned and walked in one direction while your thick-headed husband went in the other.

"(kid 1 name)! (kid 2 name)! (kid 3 name)!" You tried calling, hearing their voices call back out to you every time you did. But as soon as you thought you were getting close, you would call again and their voices would be even further away.

They were going in the opposite directions.

"Hey, kids!" You called again, "Just stay right there for mom, okay? Stay where you are."

Eventually you do find them, but now you have no idea where you came from so you have no idea where to go. Outside the maze, the rest of the crew is fast asleep as they wait for the five of you to figure it out, Nami being the only one staying awake just in case you made it out earlier than they expected.

You didn't.

"We can't take you guys anywhere," the redhead complained, making you laugh.

Yeah, that was pretty much what the Straw Hat crew had to deal with.

A/N: i hope this lived up to your expectations! i wasn't sure how to piece it all together so just tell me if i missed anything in your request, or if you're not satisfied with any of the parts! :) im open to criticism!

[sxftkxssxs]

How would the main5 reader being related to Lucio? As I would have a field day with that information

I tried to balance lighthearted and serious thoughts in this one, it likely doesn't come across as well as I'm seeing it at the moment since it is late.

I hope you enjoy anyways!

Asra

Asra is appalled by this information.

You, the absolute love of his life, who was killed, albeit indirectly, by Lucio, are related to him? That's fucked up.

He's absolutely not happy. Lucio's somehow managed to screw with every part of Asra's life. His parents, Muriel, and his partner.

If you decide to play protagonist and try to make everyone get along, they'll tease Lucio to hell and back five times over with this.

It does not help that Lucio doesn't like Asra the most. Why'd his relative pick the worst one?!

He holds it over Lucio's head the rest of his life. He'll find so many ways to say the same thing over and over again.

"This is karma for throwing my parents in the magical realms."

Julian

Yikes, this one is a little hard to grasp for me.

He'll likely make some sort of joke or jab at the information but don't be fooled. He's processing.

He decides he doesn't really know what to feel, except for a reasonable amount of lingering anger, like any normal person would.

Lucio force-fed him a plague beetle, they aren't exactly on, "sorry we cool?" terms.

If you don't mind that you're related to Lucio he'll tease you about it, if not he'll leave it alone.

He's not gonna be very happy go lucky with him, but with you he's all teasing, especially if you indulge in his scheming.

Nadia

This woman cannot get a break, can she?

She's internally trying to see the resemblance but her ability to depends on your personality.

If you're an absolute menace to the living breathing world, she absolutely sees it. If not, she's at a loss for how the two could possibly be from the same family tree.

She doesn't see you or your relationship any differently, whatever she had with Lucio is in the very far past, but Lucio is throwing a fit.

Why are you with HIS ex-wife?? MC??? Hey! He's talking to you, MC!

Muriel

Yeah, no. sorry.

We all have to remember what that man put Muriel through. Muriel obviously held every single action that happened in that colosseum against Lucio. As he should!!

If we're talking about early Muriel he's immediately running from the MC. Get away, shoo!

If we decide to talk about late or even post-upright Muriel, we can have a different outcome.

He'll be upset, confused, and likely very apprehensive. Inanna is there as a bridge between the both of you.

He doesn't want to see you any differently, and he doesn't. But how can one relative be the absolute worst person to grace the earth and the other be the best thing to ever happen to him?

Portia

She's surprisingly only slightly bugged about it.

That is the man who force-fed her brother a beetle and gave him the red plague.

But if her brother can put it in the past then she supposes she can too. (But you can swear she gives Lucio the nastiest look when he isn't looking..?)

She still has some trouble fully letting it go, but instead of a full on grudge its more like when your friend doesn't pay something back. She'll just bring it up every once in a while.

Teases you about being considered royalty, even if Lucio isn't count anymore.

Lucio

He's having a field day, greatest day of his life even! He's sorta got a mini him!

...Until you start out-menacing him, even if its only in certain ways.

who knew that ran in the family tree? Morga is losing her mind in the background

[libraford]

So I have a question about your outlining process for your books? How detailed do you get in your outlines?

I am trying to go back to a book I started 6 years ago but had to stop cause my daughter was born and yikes this outline is almost 40 pages long cause I got super detailed.

You're gonna hate this.

My initial outlines max at like five sentences. Really, sometimes it's not even an outline, it's a title page from Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Start thinking about the scenario that excites you the most. The situation you wanna put your blorbos in.

"The flower shop gang does a wedding."

Then add conflict

"The flower shop gang does a wedding, but the client is a bridezilla."

Then add details.

"The flower shop gang does a wedding, but the client is a bridezilla and a series of complications with the project creates friction between friends, and they have to resort to shenanigans to make things right."

Add another layer.

"The flower shop gang does a wedding, but the client is a bridezilla and a series of complications with the project creates friction between friends, and they have to resort to shenanigans to make things right. But little do they know that the venue is targeted for a heist."

Start with a broad strokes statement of the plot and then narrow it down. When you go through the outline you have, ask yourself questions like "is this part of the plot or is this character development?" "Plot or world building?" "Plot or magic system?" "Plot or in-world politics."

Then take that broad strokes description and add some Pratchett asterisks.

"The flower shop gang* does a wedding,** but the client*** is a bridezilla and a series of complications¹ with the project creates friction between friends, and they have to resort to shenanigans² to make things right. But little do they know that the venue³ is targeted for a heist."

*a demigod, a thief, and a jack of all trades (see character sheet)

** high-stakes celebrity wedding

*** beauty pageant queen, see character sheet

¹a volcano eruption in Peru cuts the orchid supply

²some magic nonsense, see world building section C

³a huge public garden that includes a hedge maze, but also a historical landmark- see map on page 10.

Like, I totally get having a ton of world building. I have a binder full of random info that fits into my fiction worlds. But for the sake of sorting out the plot and actually getting to the actual writing part- keep the outline vague.

At least that's what works for me. Truthfully, Damn Good Party started because I wanted to see my gang of losers steal copious amounts of cake at a wedding expo and see what happened next.

[shunin-gumis]

L4mps Main Story Translation

Designs of Happiness A01

Title: ep.1 Well-being by myself

Characters: Nagi

Summary: One night, an interesting radio show could be heard at the Flower Laundry...

JP Proofreading: aca @463ce6 on twt EN Proofreading: jes @arcanecrayonn on twt

No matter how hard I try, a worthless person like me could never trace after the path to "happiness" that everyone else gets to experience.

As the gentle loneliness of the night envelops me, I drift between fleeting moments of happiness, barely holding on to see the next day.

-It was one of those days.

Location - Flower Laundry

Voice from the Radio: Coming to you live from HAMA Studio no.3-

Arisa: It's Arisa and~

Teresa: Teresa's~

Arisa and Teresa: Intelli-radio: Aristotle~*

Nagi: Sonia, could you turn up the volume?

Sonia: Okay~

Teresa: The rain sure isn't letting up huh?

Arisa: True~ It's quiet but it's perfect for getting some me-time in, whether it's to study or get some reading done.

Arisa: As we were talking about before the commercial break, forgive us if we go on too long on the mechanisms of achieving Happiness, just blame it on this lovely night we're having~

Sonia: ...

Sonia: Nagi-shan, you've been working on your bike all this time, but you made sure to eat dinner, yesh?

Nagi: Eh? ... Ah.

Nagi: Now that you mention it, I might be really hungry right now.

Sonia: Geez~

Sonia: You're still in the middle of work, so I'll get you shumthing you can eat with one hand.

Nagi: Thank you, Sonia. If you weren't around, I'm sure I would've ended up a mummy by now.

Nagi: "A mummy was discovered in the middle of the city!" Could Flower Laundry possibly be the next new hot spot...

Sonia: Don't say shumthing so ominous. It's exactly to prevent unfortunate people like you from ending up in such sad situations that helper robots like me were created.

Sonia: Pleash wash your hands and wait there.

Nagi: When did it get so late...

Nagi: I should get the bike back in the garage for now...

Arisa: While countries and corporations were competing between themselves for economic growth, the end result was that most of our environment was destroyed, and resources dried up in the blink of an eye.

Arisa: Did humanity manage to achieve true prosperity after this? Was it worth the cost? The answer is a resounding "No". Although the country's GDP* has increased four, or even five-fold, the happiness-index has flatlined for the past 100 years or so.

Teresa: Wait, really? A 100 years ago, people couldn't even have their clothes dry automatically, right? They also had to wash the dishes by hand... No way, that reminds me, they even had to vacuum the dust off the floor themselves or something right..?

Arisa: I think they'd still be using brooms about a 100 years ago?

Teresa: No way~ That's way too retro for me! I can't imagine life without all the smart appliances we have now. I mean, a world with no food-printers? Yikes.

Sonia: Here you go, "fresh" off the food-printer...

Nagi: Right on time.

Sonia: On time?

Nagi: I was just talking to myself. Thanks for the meal.

Arisa: Okay, I get how much you love your smart appliances, but do all these materialistic things truly fill your heart? Does it really let you sleep better at night?

Teresa: Hmm, you do have a point. The more convenient things get, the more it feels like the world is telling me to be time and cost-efficient, but before I even realize it, I'm already doom-scrolling on dazzle*...

Arisa: "More convenience! More income!" Such concepts are shoved in our faces constantly... How about trying to remove ourselves from this endless equation? There's quite a few factions amongst the younger generation who never expected much from society nor themselves...

Teresa: Sorry, that's just not for me. Chasing after your dreams, working towards your goals: those are the things that make life worth living. Growing as you compete with others is part of it too. And then when you finally get your hands on the things you've always wanted with your own effort... It doesn't get better than that.

Arisa: That's right. That's why people have come up with a strategy guide-

Arisa: The era of learning the Psychology of Happiness is upon us!

Teresa: The Psychology of Happiness?

Nagi: What's that?

Sonia: Oh! There's a response on the shop's PeChat*, hm...

Sonia: Nagi-shan, we just got an order. The customer will be coming by in ten minutes to pick it up.

Sonia: They're requesting a bouquet that can cheer up their girlfriend who's feeling down about making a mistake at work.

Nagi: ―

Sonia: Nagi-shaaan.

Nagi: Ah, sorry. Can you ask them what her favorite color is?

Sonia: I already did. Apparently, she likes the color blue!

Nagi: Blue... Blue, huh.

Nagi: I think we can use the nemophila we just got in earlier today. Add in some large calla lilies and sky-blue baby's breath...

Nagi: Maybe some delphiniums and blue stars could work as accents...

Sonia: And what about the ribbon?

Arisa: To explain, the Psychology of Happiness is the study that aims to help anyone, of all ages and gender, understand how to engineer and replicate the mechanism of happiness in their own lives.

Nagi: Replicate... happiness?

Sonia: Nagi-shaan, are you listening?

Nagi: I'm listening. Could you bring out the thin, light blue ribbon from the back?

Sonia: Got it. I'll leave the card here too.

Nagi: Okay, thank-

Teresa: Wait, some people find it easier to be happy because it's hereditary!?

Nagi: What!?

Sonia: Huh!?

Sonia: Geez, don't scare me like that. What's got you sho worked up?

Arisa: That's right. 48% is already determined by our DNA.

Nagi: .....

Sonia: Nagi-shan?

Arisa: Just like how some people might find a dish spicier than others, some can experience happiness easier than their peers as well. This is a hereditary factor, determined by our genes from the moment we're born.

Teresa: No way! So what you're telling me is that half of the happiness we can experience in life was already decided while we were in our mothers' womb!?

Nagi: ......

Sonia: Are you okay now? The customer will be dropping by soon.

Nagi: ...! Right, I need to get this done quickly...

Sonia: I'll go ahead and cut the flower stems under water.*

Nagi: Thank you. Could you also get the blue gift-wrapping paper-

Sonia: I've already spread it out for you!

Customer: Um... I'd put in an order just earlier.

Nagi: ...Ah.

Nagi: Sorry, could you please wait for just a moment? There's just the finishing touches left.

Teresa: So, what about the remaining 52%? Don't tell me it's influenced by the environment we were born and raised in.

Arisa: Not at all, the influence from your environment makes up only about 10% of it. As for the remaining 42%...

Teresa: ... Is it based on our actions?

Arisa: Correct! This means that, out of 100% achievable happiness level, about 42% of it is within our control.

Nagi: Wow. I've never thought about it that way.

Customer: Huh?

Nagi: No, if I think about it, is that really possible?

Arisa: Just as how the right diet is different for each person, once you figure out the method, anyone can achieve happiness. How it comes to bear fruit for you, is up to you yourself.

Nagi: If half of it is determined by fate, and the other half is uncertain... Could it really be that simple? Then maybe it's also possible for me to.... No, it's probably just a waste of time in my case. I shouldn't get my hopes up. Just thinking about it is making me depressed.

Customer: Erm... Are you alright? You've been muttering to yourself for some time now...

Nagi: Ah... Sorry about that. Don't mind me.

Customer: Right...

Nagi: Thank you for waiting. This is the completed bouquet. Is it to your liking?

Customer: Wow...! It's beautiful... It's just how I'd imagined it, I'm sure my girlfriend will be happy with it.

Nagi: I'm glad to hear that- Ah.

Nagi: That's right, I almost forgot... Excuse me, would you mind handing the bouquet back to me? There's one last thing I need to do.

Nagi: Mu....

Customer: Mu?

Nagi: Mu.....nn!

Customer: Um, what exactly are you doing...?

Nagi: I've instilled some energy* into it. In other words...

Nagi: It's something like a good luck charm. When your girlfriend receives this bouquet, she'll be so happy that she'd be skipping along the pavement.

Customer: To the point of skipping...

Nagi: Oh but, even without my little charm, I'm sure she would be plenty happy just knowing she has someone who would get her a bouquet when she's feeling down.

Nagi: In any case, I hope the two of you can skip along merrily.

Customer: I-I see... Thank you...

Nagi: Thank you for your patronage.

Sonia: Thank you very mush!

Teresa: Whaat, is it time for us to go already? Too bad, I really wanted to talk some more~

Sonia: Phew... I'm glad we finished it in time.

Nagi: Yeah, it's all thanks to your help Sonia.

Sonia: It's a piece of cake!

Arisa: Arisa and Teresa, your guides for psychology, signing out!

Nagi: Anyways, good job. Let's do our usual thing.

Arisa: Let's meet again when the fountain of knowledge wells up again!

Sonia: A high-five right? 3, 2, 1..!

Arisa and Teresa: See you again!

Play Ivory MV

Notes:

Sonia has a bit of a lisp so I changed a few words to match her speech

Intelli in Intelli-radio is short for Intelligentsia

dazzle is a social media site in the 18trip universe

PeChat is a messaging app in 18trip universe

GDP stands for Gross Domestic Product.

Cutting flower stems under water prevents air bubbles from going up the stem and helps in keeping the cut flowers fresh for longer.

'Muuun’ is the sound he makes when he’s instilling his happiness energy/thoughts(念) into the flowers, literally.

Flower Language:

Flower Language is important to Nagi's character and a way for him to communicate his thoughts, so I'll always note it down whenever any are mentioned.

Nemophila Lovely, Wish for success, I forgive you, Clear heart

Calla Lily Gorgeous beauty, Purity, Gracefulness of a young maiden

Blue Baby's breath Gratitude, Luck, Innocence, Kindness

Delphinium You spread happiness, Clear and bright, Generous, Precious

Bluestars (Amsonia) Trust in one another, Abundant love

Fun fact: The flower passed around in Ivory is a Delphinium! Meaning Nagi spreads happiness, which is what he does by sharing his happiness 'energy' but also that he brings joy to those around him by simply being himself.

Next -> | Masterlist

[squoxle]

⋆˚✿˖° This Means I Love You ~ YunKi

𐙚𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: bf!jake x bsf!riki x fm!reader | 𐙚𝓌𝒸: 3.6k | 𐙚𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓉: with your birthday coming up, your best friend, Riki, took this as a chance to get closer to you. | 𐙚𝒸𝓌: fluff, drama, and a bit of crack <3 (use of nicknames) oh, and some kissing, i forgot to mention that

ᯓ�� "Still playing Jeopardy with your teacher?" you laughed as you read Riki's text. "If you're referring to my history project, then yes," you responded.

ᯓ★ "Yikes, what a dork. I guess it's better you than me," he replied, attaching a shrugging emoji to the end of the message. "Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better," you joked. "You're welcome," he said sarcastically. "Let me know if you need any more cheering up, m'kay."

ᯓ★ Introducing your best friend, Riki Nishimura: tall, dark-haired, witty, and just about as sweet as a sour patch kid. You first bonded on your shared homeschool experiences and have been friends ever since.

There was a time when you started to like him, but you quickly moved on as it was obvious that he was not interested in a relationship with you. You were more like a sister to him, though the amount of times he called you "bro" or "dude" made you sound more like a brother.

A part of you sometimes felt those old feelings resurfacing, but you just blamed them on the history the two of you had. Especially once you started a real relationship with your current boyfriend, Jake.

With your birthday coming up in five days, you were hustling to get your last assignments done before the weekend. You wanted to enjoy this day without the stress of your instructors. Cramming like this wouldn't be easy, but you knew it would benefit you in the long-run.

"Hey, babe," your boyfriend, Jake sang as you answered his call. you were in the middle of completing a history project that wasn't due until Sunday. "How's my birthday girl doing?"

"It's not my birthday yet," you smiled, closing out your tabs. "I still have to wait a few more days."

"I know, but I wanted to make sure I was the first one to say it," he mumbled, you could tell he was pouting by the tone of his voice. You always loved that cute puppy expression he had. "What are you doing anyway?"

"I was just working on something for my history class," you replied, closing your laptop.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were busy," he apologized.

"It's okay, I was getting ready to take a break anyway," you shrugged. "So, what are you doing today?"

"Well, I was actually just about to head out."

"Oh, really? Where?"

"Ah, I was just gonna go pick up my beautiful girlfriend we can go early birthday shopping."

"What!?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Unless she'd rather keep tickling her keyboard."

You laughed before responding. "Just let me throw something on real quick, okay," you climbed out of your seat, stretching your back as you stood up. "And you don't have to go overboard. It's just my birthday."

"That's a very important day, baby. And we don't have to do too much, but I wanna make you feel special."

"You already do enough for me, Jake."

"Alright, well I'm on my way over there and you better be ready, or else I'm gonna pick your clothes out for you," you giggled, thinking about the last time he put an outfit together for you. It wasn't the worst, but it definitely wasn't the best.

"Fine, fine. I'm going," you smiled. "Byeee~"

"Bye," he chuckled before you cut the call.

You were excited to spend some time with your boyfriend, especially at the mall. You quickly pulled on some sweats and a comfy top before slipping into some sneakers. Luckily you never really took too long to get dressed so you were ready about ten minutes before your boyfriend pulled up.

"That's what you're gonna wear?" he asked as you climbed into the passenger seat.

"Uhhh, yeah. Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"No, I just thought you were gonna dress up y'know? Like wear something nice..."

"Oh," you awkwardly replied as he pulled out of your driveway.

"So, do you know what you wanna get for your birthday?" Jake asked trying to change the conversation.

"Umm, not really. I just wanna enjoy some free time with my friends."

"And your boyfriend," he added in a singsongy tone.

"Of course," you smiled. "How could I forget about you?"

You and Jake spent about two hours at the mall, shopping and eating, before he pointed to a Photo Booth. "D'you wanna take some pictures over there?" he asked as your eyes darted in the direction of the colorful booth.

"Do I have a choice?" you asked.

"Nope," he chuckled, dragging you behind the curtain.

You sat next to your boyfriend as he pushed the quarters into the machine. The booth was illuminated with a bright white light and the control panel was an array of cute colorful buttons that Jake pressed eagerly.

"Smile, babe," he pulled you close to him as you both took turns posing. "You can put these on your mirror," he smiled as he reached to grab the photo reel before handing it to you.

"This would look super cute," you smiled, looking over the multiple headshots.

"I'm gonna print out a copy for myself," he giggled, leaning forward to pay for a copy. "Damn," he swore.

"What?"

"I ran out of time," he sighed. "Oh well, we can just take a few more. I'll keep that set," he said as he paid for another round.

You prepared yourself for another round as he placed a hand on your thigh. "____,"

"Yeah?" you turned to face your boyfriend.

"I wanna give you an early birthday gift," he smiled picking up your hand.

"You don't have to do that," you titled your head to the side. "I just have to wait five more days. It's probably even less now."

"But I really want you to have this now," he smiled, reaching into his back pocket. "I've had it for a while now," he said as he opened the box, revealing a gold chain with your birthstone on it.

"Jake," you hummed, admiring the necklace. "It's beautiful."

"Wait, you haven't even seen the best part yet," he smiled excitedly before breaking the clasp with a click. A picture of you and him on one side of the gold frame. On the other side the words "I love you" were engraved with the day you first started dating sitting beneath it.

"This is so sweet. Thanks, Jake. I love it," you smiled as he reached to secure the necklace around you.

"I love you, ____," he smiled as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Hey, look. The pictures came out,” you pointed as the sheets fell into the tray.

Not to make a big deal out of something so small, but saying "I love you" always felt really awkward. So you never said it. Not one time over the past three months you'd been together.

Luckily, Jake didn’t make a big deal out of it either.

“Wow,” he exclaimed. “These are perfect!” You looked at the sheet to see that it had captured shots of your reactions. Jake was right…the really were perfect.

You wished you could just be a better girlfriend for him. You thought back to the first time he said it. You felt like time had stopped completely as you stood there dazed.

From the moment you started dating you had this feeling. Like something was preventing you from loving him. Yes, you liked Jake. But did you love him?

You, Jake, and Riki were all friends at one point. Jake, being the oldest of the group, wasn’t around as much. But that didn’t stop him from falling for you.

By the time Jake dropped you off at home, the last thing you wanted to do was play “catch up” with your history teacher. So you went to bed. But one question sat in your mind.

Why should you be with someone that you can’t love. We were great as friends, but everything is different now.

To this day, you could only ever say that you truly loved one person…

The next few days practically flashed before your eyes as you submitted your last assignment.

"Finally," you sighed as the words "successfully uploaded" popped up on your submission. You leaned back in your chair, taking in the last few moments before your birthday.

You watched as your digital alarm clock blinked at 12:00. It was the next day. Your birthday. You felt your phone buzz and turned it over to see a long text from your parents and your boyfriend.

You slowly glazed your eyes across the screen as you rested your head on your pillow. Not having much energy left in you, you simply reacted to the messages with a heart and thanked them for their wishes.

The sun warmed your back as rays peeked in through your blinds. The sound of footsteps followed by some inaudible murmurings came from behind your bedroom door. You already knew it was gonna be your parents so you pretended to be asleep and hid under the covers just as they walked in.

"Happy Birthday,____," they hollered in unison. Your dad was holding his phone up to record the whole thing as your mom held a plate of pancakes topped with whipped cream, berries, chocolate chips, and sprinkles.

She slowly approached your bed, careful not to blow out the candle on top as she sang the birthday song. Your dad, of course, was off-key as usual which always made you smile. Sometimes you thought he did it on purpose.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad," you smiled as your dad hollered, "Make a wish!"

"I was going to," you giggled as you closed your eyes to blow out the candle. To be honest, there was only one thing on your mind right now and you hated the fact that it wasn't your boyfriend. Instead it was...

"Riki!" your eyes widened in shock as he grinned from ear to ear. You wondered why he didn't send you a text, but you just assumed he had gone to sleep already. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see your mom," he joked as your dad sneered at him. "It was a joke," he chuckled. "I'm joking one hundred percent."

"Uh huh, you better be," you dad raised an eyebrow.

"Well," your mom smiled awkwardly as she grabbed your dad's hand. "Let's leave them alone, Hun," she suggested.

"I got my eyes on you, buddy," your dad pointed at Riki as your mother led him out of the room. Riki smiled as he raised his hand to his forehead, saluting your dad.

"Okay, so what are you really doing over here?" You asked.

"I wanted to hang out with you for a bit before 'you-know-who' shows up," he rolled his eyes before swiping whipped cream on his finger.

"Hey!" you gasped, pulling the plate closer to you.

"What? It's not like you were eating them anyway," he shrugged, picking up a pancake slice before dipping it in the pool of syrup.

"Well if your gonna mooch off me you should at least ask first," you hummed, poking a fork through on of the fluffy stacked slices.

"Fine. Then can I have some of your pancakes," he smiled sarcastically.

"Sure," you nodded as you held the fork to your mouth. "Hey!" you exclaimed as he grabbed your hand, pinching the pancake off of your fork before plopping it in his mouth.

"You said I could have some," he said with a mouth full of pancakes.

"Ugh," you sighed before dividing the stacks in two. "There now you have your side and I have mine."

"Why do you have more than me?"

"What? No, I don't it's the same on both sides," you said turning the plate left and right.

"Look, I get it's your birthday and all, but I'm obviously bigger than you. So I need more calories for my body size," he smiled, tipping the plate downward.

"Yeah, right," you scoffed. "You either eat for your side or leave my pancakes alone."

"Jeez," he sighed. "I liked the person you were yesterday."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Now that you're a year older, you're a cranky old bit-" you pulled the plate out of his reach. "I'm kidding," he laughed.

"Nah, you better go find something else to eat, you moocher."

"Look, I'm sorry," he tilted his head to the side. "See I apologized. And I don't do that often."

"Hmm, that's true."

"So I think I deserve a reward."

"A reward? For what?"

"For showing you a little kindness," you rolled your eyes as he flashed the cheesiest smile he could muster.

"The only reward you deserve is me not shoving my foot up your ass," you mumbled, stuffing a pancake in your mouth as you place the plate between the two of you.

"Thanks, birthday girl," he smiled, nodding his head slightly before picking up a pancake and a strawberry. "When we finish we should probably go help your mom set everything up huh?"

"Yeah," you hummed. "I missed hanging out with you."

"I missed it too. It's just been different since y'know..."

"Jake?"

"Yeah..."

The two of you finished eating, you went to the kitchen to help decorate for your party. Your dad was busy outside grilling and your mom was pulling out supplies. You didn't mind helping your parents set up your party. A lot of times you actually enjoyed it.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out for a bit," Riki waved as he walked over to the door.

"Okay, well since you're gonna be out already, can you pick up the cake too," your mom asked, looking over her shoulder. "They're already paid for."

"Sure," he nodded, twirling his keys around his finger. "Did you need anything else?"

"No, that's the only thing we had to pick up."

"M'kay. I'll let you know when I'm on my way back," he twisted the doorknob.

"Okay, well don't be too long. The party starts at 2."

"I'll be back before then," he said, pulling out his phone to check the time before leaving.

After what felt like thirty minutes you heard a knock on the door. "I'll get it," you hollered, assuming it was Riki.

"Hey, birthday girl," Jake smiled, holding his arms behind his back.

"Jake? The party doesn't start until 2," you raised your eyebrow as he wrapped his arm around you.

"I know, but I wanted to bring you this," he pulled a medium-sized bag from behind his back.

"What is it?"

"A dress for you to wear tonight."

You pulled it out of the bag to see a baby blue dress. "Thanks, Jake. It's really pretty. And it's my favorite color," you smiled.

"I knew you'd like it."

Your dad walked in wiping his hands with a towel that he swung over his shoulder as he extended his hand to your boyfriend. "Hey, Jake. You're kinda early for the party. It won't start for another hour."

Jake shook his hand, "I know, but I want to bring her something to wear tonight."

"See this is why I like you better than that Riki kid," your dad rolled his eyes, looking over to you.

They liked to joke about how much they disliked each other, but you'd lost count of the times you caught them up late hanging out together. Honestly, Riki was right. Even a couple months before you started dating Jake a lot of things had already started to change. Today was the first time in a while you hung out like this.

"Riki? I didn't know he was here," Jake tilted his head to the side.

"Oh, he's not right now. He went about 30 minutes ago to pick up the c-" Your dad was cut off by a knock at the door. Your mom walked over to open it, letting Riki in.

"Got the cake and some throw-away stuff. I didn't know if you had some already," he said as your mom took the cake box out of his hands, two bags dangling from his arms.

"Hey," Riki nodded in Jake's direction.

"Hey," Jake said in a concerned tone.

"I'm almost finished grilling if you want to help me out here," your dad smiled, placing a hand on Jake's shoulder, guiding him through the back door.

The party finally started a little bit around 2:15. Friends, family, and neighbors brought gifts for you. You wondered if they still would've brought gifts if your parents did make it a requirement.

The dress Jake bought for you earned you a lot of compliments, but you were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed so you walked off to your room.

"Riki?" you paused at the door, noticing that he was sitting on your bed. "What are you doing in here?"

"Getting away from the noise."

"You couldn't do that anywhere else?"

"I'm not really in the mood to marinate in your bathroom."

"Fine, well if you're gonna be in here don't talk to me."

"I didn't plan on it."

"Good. Because I came in here for some peace and quiet," you hummed, plopping down on the bed beside him. You felt his eyes on you as you lay there struggling to go into your headspace. "What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head turning away.

"Just tell me," you sighed sitting up. "I can tell that you wanted to say something."

"I thought you didn't want to talk."

"I don't, but I don't like you looking at me all weird either."

"Sometimes I wonder how things would've gone for us if I asked you out before Jake," he mumbled.

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing, just forget I said anything," he exhaled as he stood to his feet.

"Riki," you called his name as he approached the bedroom door.

"What?"

You walked up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders as he stood in front of you. You stood there for a moment before he held your chin in his hands, kissing you on the lips. "What are you doing?!" you spat, swatting his hand away.

"I can tell you don't like Jake as much as want people to think."

He wasn't entirely wrong about that. It wasn't that you didn't love Jake, because you did...or at least you wanted to. As much as you hated the truth, you used Jake to help u get over your feelings for Riki.

"Just think about it, okay," he tilted his head to the side.

"I'm already with Jake."

"He's just your boyfriend, not your husband."

"Rik-" you were cut off by your mom coming into your room.

"Hey, we're about to do cake and presents," she smiled. "Come on,” she huffed, pushing past Riki and grabbing your arm. “Everyone is waiting for you.”

As you walked down the hallway into the kitchen you heard all of the guests singing happy birthday as Jake held the cake.

Riki stood in the hallway, staying out of the way of the many cameras circling around you all desperately trying to catch the perfect moment.

You smiled as everyone took pictures of you.

“Okay, you can blow out your candles now,” he smiled as they finished singing.

You closed your eyes again. Darkness surrounded you as you thought back to your wish from earlier.

You saw yourself with Riki, holding his hand as the two of you sat on the wooden fence that enclosed the nearby lake. The sun was setting as he looked over to you, resting on his shoulder.

He leaned over to kiss you on the forehead. “Why’d you do that?” You asked.

“Because you looked stupid.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That means, I love you,” he smiled, pulling you in for a side hug.

“I love you too.”

Your eyes shot open as the sounds of everyone clapped filled your ears.

“What’d you wish for?” Jake asked.

“If I tell you it won’t come true,” you smiled.

“Hmph. Fair enough,” he smiled before turning back around. “Who’s ready for some cake!” He exclaimed.

After the party was finally over, your mom came into your room. “Hey, I forgot to tell you that Riki left something for you in the fridge when he came over this morning. He told me he didn’t want you to open it until the party was over. And since it’s still your birthday I figured you better hurry,” she smiled before walking off.

“Wait, mom! Aren’t you gonna tell me what it is?!”

You waited in silence as you heard your mom's footsteps trail down the hall before closing her bedroom door.

"Ugh!" you sighed before hopping out of your bed and checking the fridge. At first, you didn't see anything that wasn't there earlier. You bent down a bit to look through the glass shelves before setting your eyes on a brown cardboard box.

You reached to the back of the highest shelf and pulled the small box out. Inside was a red velvet cupcake with a charm bracelet around the bottom and a small handwritten note.

Riki's handwriting was probably the worst you'd ever seen for someone his age, you thought to yourself as you casually opened the note and rolled your eyes, the cool air from the fridge still kissed the back of your legs as the door shut slowly.

You were expecting to see some stupid comment inside the card, but instead, there were two theme park tickets and a little message that read, "These are for you and a special someone." Though you initially assumed he was referring to Jake, your conversation from earlier made you think otherwise.

You bit into the moist cupcake as you thought about who you should take on this little date.

𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎!!! @leejenosworld I made this story just for you lol :) I hope you liked it. <3

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @mimikittysblog @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

[ruegarding]

hello! I hope your having a good day! If you don't mind me asking, what is your opinion on the Cupid Scene in Hoo? And if you could how would you change it?

my opinion on the cupid scene…well, i don't think a traumatic coming out scene is automatically bad. the problem i have w it is that rick capitalized on shock value instead of good writing. rick retconned a bunch of things to make nico alone and miserable so that he could have this scene, and it was completely unnecessary. ppl can have friends without coming out. and, as i’ve repeatedly said, the way hoo is written is literally a repeat of his arc in pjo but worse, because we’re acting like important events in pjo didn’t happen in a series that’s supposed to be a sequel to pjo and rick is inconsistent so the payoff is questionable.

the solution is…good writing. creating a cohesive and intriguing plotline where this scene is either necessary or scrapped if it isn’t.

thus begins an unnecessarily deep dive into all the retcons, inconsistencies, and general what-the-fuckery of nico’s arc in hoo bc i’m the verbose king and we've accidentally stumbled into something i have a lot to say abt.

first retcon. in son, frank explicitly says that nico does not make him nervous and describes nico as mysterious. not weird, creepy, off-putting, or anything similar. and nico is! he is clearly hiding things and shows up infrequently. this is a neutral description, and frank goes on to say that pluto’s powers, and specifically the underworld, isn’t enough to make him dislike pluto or nico.

also this, showing nico is comfortable enough around frank:

but then in hoh, frank thinks going somewhere with nico, alone, is terrifying.

at worst, frank would’ve felt awkward. they’ve never had to talk alone bc nico is at camp jupiter for hazel and doesn’t have any reason to talk to frank by himself. if frank didn’t want to be alone w nico bc of that, it’d make sense. but that’s not what’s said or implied! and nothing has happened! nico got kidnapped, they saved him, and since then he’s been chilling on the boat, exactly as weird as before, if a little more understandably distressed. like, nothing happened to change frank’s opinion this drastically. even the difference between pluto and hades (wealth vs death) doesn’t matter bc nico uses his powers in son. also frank literally summons a skeleton guy in son and hazel is a zombie, like…

(the source isn’t important but i've been quoting these five seconds for years)

oh! and that’s not all, it gets worse!

these scenes from hoh are incredibly infantilizing. why are we treating nico like a feral dog that needs to be domesticated??? yikes. and once again, it’s not true! nico was fine talking w ppl in pjo (if a bit over-enthusiastic). and then in son he was perfectly civil and was fine having the conversation abt the quest. his issue w ppl was that his powers/parentage put ppl off, and, even in son, that he had to keep a secret.

nico is perfectly capable of speaking like a normal person and working as part of a team (see: final botl battle, final tlo battle, the sword of hades). like, nico’s struggle in hoh should be 1) that ppl are calling him creepy behind his back (and therefore has nothing to do w his social skills) and/or 2) that he just survived an incredibly traumatic experience and is understandably withdrawn. neither of these are properly addressed and instead the implication is that nico is hiding himself bc he’s gay and everything will be solved if he accepts himself.

edit: i never actually explicitly stated this, but nico's queer coding and disability coding overlap, which is why this infantilization/ableism is important enough to highlight despite the conversation specifically being abt the queer aspect of it.

second retcon. percy…as i’ve said many times before, percy explicitly calls nico his friend in tlo.

this immediately makes hoo trying to act like they don’t know each other and were never close a retcon. they were friends, they saw each other frequently, nico made silly jokes w percy…and we’re ignoring all of this in hoo.

i've talked abt this previously (in response to tsats), but nico is the one putting distance between him and percy. percy reached out to nico repeatedly thru pjo.

when percy notices that nico excludes himself, percy finds a private place to talk to nico and assures him that percy wants him around and offers solutions to his discomfort (this is not percy’s responsibility. percy is a child). when nico insists that he won’t stay, percy sees it from nico’s perspective and, instead of forcing nico to do something against his will that may totally backfire, says “i hope we don’t have to be enemies,” leaving room for nico to decide whether he’s willing to be friends.

bc percy understands the root of nico’s issue (that no matter the accommodations made at camp, there’s always going to be the implicit message that he doesn’t belong there), he addresses it and uses his wish to make sure that nico has a home at camp.

and when nico tries to prove he’s useful, percy proves he would’ve invited him in whether nico was or not. bc he thinks nico deserves to be a kid.

“i wonder if [nico] had ever had a birthday party,” percy thinks at his own birthday party where he didn’t invite his friends bc he felt it was too much of an inconvenience, in a story where he never had friends prior to these ppl he didn’t invite, and the only person he had for twelve years of his life was his own mother. and percy uses his own loneliness to empathize w how lonely nico is.

percy is not some distant figure nico is idolizing. he's a kid trying his best to care for another kid at a time where no one else did, while experiencing his own trauma. all of their hang-ups exist bc of that.

going back to their relationship in hoo, even trying to make percy uncomfortable w nico’s powers (and therefore not wanting to associate w nico) doesn’t work bc percy has gone on record and said he thinks some of nico’s powers are cool and has neutral responses to others, not to mention percy is also a big three kid who makes other ppl wary (i could write a whole meta on how what percy finds disturbing w nico’s powers is directly tied to what percy finds disturbing w his own powers, but i’ll restrain myself. please clap).

and if that wasn’t enough, the entire reason percy stood up to hera in botl is bc she was willing to let nico die specifically bc he doesn't fit in bc of those powers.

this plotline was tired before it even began.

you could argue that all of this changed w nico’s betrayal in tlo. but then why didn’t percy tell anybody when it happened in tlo (annabeth would’ve reacted to it if he had)? why did percy trust nico to come when he called? why didn’t any of percy’s animosity come out afterwards at camp? and in the throne room, percy didn’t have to single nico out w his wish. he didn’t have to watch nico to make sure he was settling in. but he did. and because he did, any writing that suggests percy doesn't trust or care abt nico bc of that is bad writing. maybe rick forgot this, but u can be angry w and hurt by the ppl you love and still love them.

even the justification that nico lied in son isn’t good enough to completely change their relationship, bc it’s pretty clear why nico lied and percy says he can’t stay angry at nico when they rescue him, and let me remind u, anger is a core part of percy's character. while nico lying might be enough for characters like leo and jason, who have no rapport w him, to doubt him, it’s not enough for percy. and why are we so obsessed w dismantling percy and nico’s friendship anyway? why is that necessary to the story? like i said before, ppl can have friends without coming out. isolating the only queer character (at the time) isn’t necessary.

this conflict doesn’t even work in hoo bc their distance is still one-sided…

when did percy not give nico a second chance in hoo? the only times they’ve interacted prior to this was when percy remembered nico in son and tried to talk to him and then when they saved his life. and then nico brushes off percy's gratitude and tells him to back off. this is not nico idolizing percy who doesn't care abt him. this is percy reaching out and yet again nico putting distance between them.

and, obviously, this doesn’t work at all w pjo when the entirety of botl exists, you know, where percy chose to trust and protect nico and then went out of his way to make sure nico knew percy held none of nico’s anger against him. it’d be one thing if nico was supposed to be wrong, but considering how there’s an entire arc in hoo abt jason being the first person to trust nico, and tsats seriously acts like percy only ever talked to nico when he needed something, it’s safe to say this comes from a place of stupidity.

ok. this sections getting long, so i moved the it was stupid to have percy give jason a reason to doubt nico section to a new post. but know that i'm aware and i think it's stupid.

back to the point of all these retcons w percy. there's nothing in hoo that necessitates changing percy and nico's relationship from pjo. while percy in hoo is never cruel to nico, they act like strangers for some reason. so, it's changed for no reason and it's written poorly.

sigh. and then all of chb is retconned (or recycled if you’re feeling generous).

the ppl at camp accept him while his cabin gets built. pretty nice. then in boo nico reveals they got tired of him after a week–which is still summer–despite there being an influx of kids from all descents, some of whom would be weird or uncomfortable or whatever this justification is. that’s not even mentioning how percy’s own experiences (remember how he was ostracized…multiple times…) should have made them more accepting of nico.

why…was this necessary at all…? especially when u have an entirely different camp that treats nico as weird bc they didn’t have that good experience w him? this is really what gets me. if rick wanted to be lazy and repeat nico’s arc, he could’ve done so without retconning things.

for example, with the seven, leo, piper, jason, and maybe annabeth (she doesn’t have much to say abt nico in pjo), i could understand having animosity towards nico, as well as camp jupiter, but retconning established relationships to make ur only (at the time) queer character isolated and miserable only to then have his coming out be violent and traumatic is. well. bad! especially when the person who is w him for that experience is not someone he has built any sort of camaraderie w. nico isn’t choosing to trust jason, he’s being forced to.

and the whole nico-needs-to-learn-to-trust-ppl plot doesn’t work anyway bc of rick’s inconsistencies.

jason has a moment much like frank where he doesn’t want to go anywhere w nico bc nico is so weird and scary. nico has every right to pull himself away from ppl who treat him like he’s got something contagious. and there’s more:

“since when does jason defend nico,” as in they have shit on nico before and jason has not, in the past, defended nico. as in nico had every reason to not trust jason prior to this bc everyone, including jason, were talking shit behind his back. why are we acting like nico is being unreasonable? oh no, y’all are talking behind my back…clearly it’s my fault bc i push everyone away and that has nothing to do w ur behavior or anything…yes this is good writing.

and we’re supposed to believe that jason (and reyna and hedge and will) is the first person to be kind/reach out to nico, but we have this scene from botl where percy comforted nico and gave him a piece of his childhood back:

and this is after percy cleared the air to make sure nico knew he didn’t hate him and offered to make accommodations for nico at camp and then respected and understood why nico wouldn’t want to. like,

woah, you’re telling me that a character reaches out to nico after a traumatic experience in an act of kindness and this helps nico grow as a person? and it happens multiple times?! yeah, apparently rick and fandom have completely forgotten abt this (also hazel exists???). they’re even phrased similarly! “maybe it’s time to take a risk and embrace something you’ve pushed away.” furthermore, they both support their point by helping nico, percy by inviting nico into his home to enjoy cake and ice cream, jason by drinking from the chalice. once more w feeling: nico has been loved the entire goddamn time!

i get what rick was trying to accomplish w the whole cupid scene concept. which is that it’s okay to be gay and that it can feel very “othering” to be gay. nico has to accept himself in order to make friends. that’s what this

and this

are trying to say, right, but this doesn’t work when you’ve blatantly retconned established relationships to have characters push nico away for his powers/parentage/whatever. nico’s struggle is not an internal issue that can be solved by accepting himself, it’s an external issue caused by how other ppl treat him for his powers/parentage (which he has never been shown to reject btw).

the thing is, the powers-as-queerness metaphor only works when you don’t have, you know, characters who aren’t queer going through similar ostracization. not only was percy ostracized at chb in tlt for his powers/parentage (very similar to nico!), percy has a moment in this same book where his powers terrify annabeth, and then piper in the next book, in which he, you know, lets himself almost die to poison bc he feels like he “deserved it” for using those powers. again, this is not queer-coding for percy (unless…?). moreover, like i said, nico doesn’t reject his powers, so the whole queer-coding w powers and needing to accept himself is already iffy (...rejecting powers...hold the fuck up…percy isn’t…unless…). even the out-of-time metaphor doesn’t work bc it’s something he shares w hazel, who is not canonically queer (unless…?!). so, already, we’re on shaky metaphorical ground. all of this could work, theoretically, if combined w strong writing, but combined w the retconning and inconsistencies, this plotline makes no cohesive sense.

we’re supposed to believe that nico is the one pushing everyone away while they are secretly super supportive while simultaneously being shown that everyone talks and thinks shit that affirms nico’s thoughts abt them that makes him want to pull away. and then in boo we completely ignore that these ppl have been pushing nico away and suddenly everyone (reyna, hedge, will, etc) is supportive.

pick a struggle!

also nico’s coming out scene in boo sucked (yeah this is the segue).

this is the culmination of nico’s arc in hoo. he’s finally accepted himself enough to speak the truth without pressure. we ruined percy and nico’s established relationship for this. and they don’t even have a conversation. then nico walks over to will bc percy, “regular guy” percy, is “not [his] type.” don’t look too deep into that.

so, how would i fix the cupid scene? well.

there were a million different ways to write a better arc for nico and earn that cupid scene. for example, rick could’ve stuck to a plotline.

the trust plotline could’ve been good. bc this exact thing is what causes the accidental kidnapping situation in tlo. nico doesn’t trust percy enough to tell him the truth and chooses to manipulate and lie to percy instead. this choice is what sets up their conflict bc percy views this as betrayal (something that’s important to a guy who’s fatal flaw is loyalty).

it’s also interesting bc nico does choose to trust ppl in hoo; he eats the pomegranate seeds despite not knowing that someone is coming for him, he just trusts that someone will (we’re ignoring what boo says abt nico’s tartarus experience bc fun fact! that is also retconned). and it pays off, bc not only does he get saved, we see hazel and percy even willing to challenge the other members of the seven to make sure he gets saved. so, it’s not a lesson he’s already learned, it’s a lesson he’s learning. but, going back to the main question here, would the cupid scene still be necessary? was being dragged into tartarus and almost dying not enough spectacle?

regardless, my biggest problem w the cupid scene in all of this is that it gives the impression that u have to come out in order to have ppl love u and trust u. a much better message to send is that the ppl who love u will love u before and after u come out. no isolation necessary.

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props!

summary: your one-sided beef with Miles morphs into a full-on rivalry until unforseen circumstances force you to call a truce. wc: 789 a/n: drabbles when left to cook in the brain for too long turn into mini-series. watch out ! also yes i am doing another enemies-to-lovers thingy don't look at me 01 02

Snap!

You sucked your teeth in the middle row of Mr. Sanchez’s classroom when the tip of your pencil broke in the middle of your rapid note-taking. 

It broke just as you were forming the tilde that was meant to float above the letter ‘n’, creating an odd downward stroke instead that looked like lightning striking a tree. 

You zipped open your pencil case and took out a tiny metal sharpener, the shavings bound to make a mess of your desk.

“Yikes. That’s why I use the mechanical ones,” remarked the boy sitting beside you. 

A friendly grin spread across his freckled, golden-brown face with round eyes that seemed to ask if you thought his comment was funny. 

You shot him a hard glance to let him know that no, it was not funny that your pencil broke whilst you were in the middle of getting down key grammatical rules. 

The boy’s face fell at the implied rejection. Somehow, the wounded look in his eyes irritated you more than the grin. It made him look like a lost deer.

“Morales, silencio, por favor,” Sanchez said, peering over his glasses at your shoulder partner. “Unless you’d like to explain how direct object pronouns work instead.”

“No, estoy bien.”

There was no sign of panic or apology on Morales’ face as he replied, despite Mr. Sanchez being known to seek out inattentive students to cold-call later. He smiled awkwardly at the bearded man, and again when he was caught a bit later doodling in his notebook.

“Miles Morales, can you translate this sentence for us please?”

“Fui a Madrid el verano pasado,” Miles answered, without missing a beat.

The man shook his head, then moved on.

“Correct. Now, who would like to take the next sentence…”

You would soon learn over the coming weeks since your transfer to Visions that this was a daily routine for Miles: he’d come in late, or get caught scribbling away in the margins of his worksheet. Then he’d get that panicked “help me” smile on his face before making a pun or quip that made you cringe so hard that your back hurt. 

Still, Miles’ answers were never wrong after the fact.

He blended into the crowd otherwise, but the second-hand embarrassment made him hard to forget. 

“Quiz grades were surprisingly low,” Mr. Sanchez announced one Wednesday morning as he walked around, handing out one-page sheets face down. “I would highly suggest going over this unit at home over the long weekend.”

Almost immediately, kids began passing each other’s quizzes back and forth, giggling at how their results all seemed to be floating just under fifty percent. Part of the ease in their laughter came from the assumption that Sanchez would “just curve it anyway.” 

Not that it would make a difference to you. 

You frowned at the eighty-five circled in red at the top of your quiz. Just a couple of points away from a nice, even ninety that would’ve finally bumped your grade up to an ‘A’ instead of an ‘A-’.

Even worse, some of the circled questions were points lost just because you were missing an accent on a letter or two, and a couple of vocab words had slipped your mind. You should’ve answered the bonus questions…

“Wow, you’re the only one without a forty so far,” a familiar voice complimented you. “Good job.”

Miles was offering you another friendly grin, with those same expectant eyes. Please like me, they seemed to plead. 

No thanks.

You replied flatly, “I actually studied.”

It felt like an insult for anyone to be impressed with you in a class full of failing grades.

His grin faded. You expected it to be replaced with disappointment, but he just shrugged and pressed his lips into a thin line before turning away. 

Sanchez returned to where you were sitting to hand Miles’ test back.

He spoke solemnly, “You and L/N were the only passing grades in this class.”

You caught a glance at the number marked atop the page once Miles flipped it over:

‘100%’. With five points as extra credit. 

He looked down at it and hummed quietly in approval before flipping it back over, and suddenly that ‘A-’ felt like a ‘C’. 

It was only logical that the guy who never got an answer wrong would perform similarly on a quiz. But he didn’t deserve it; he didn’t even care. 

“How many hours did you study for that?” you scoffed quietly, like an accusation. 

Miles gave you a sidelong glance, and you could’ve sworn there was mockery in his eyes. 

“I don’t study.”

If you could go back and pinpoint the exact moment where irritation boiled over into disdain, it would be this one.

[py-dreamer]

Rant about shadowpeach (WARNING! Mac slander)

I'm sure you've all heard this time and time again but you know what screw it I'm tossing my 2 cents into the ring

I think my bias for Wukong definitely has a part in this but I will try to be as neutral as possible which is impossible. My personal opinions will absolutely shine through but it is just that: a personal opinion

I love my trio of gay monkeys, I really do.

Is Macaque a good character? Yes

I do think he's a genuinely interesting character, with cool mystery ,interesting backstory, cool powers, he's fun to watch, has a kickass theme song and aesthetic and I can see why a lot of fans attach themselves to them.

Do I love seeing him with Wukong? Yes

Their banter is fun, past shadowpeach can be sweet as sugar (or spicy, I don't judge) and their angst is real yummy.

What I don't like is when the angst is all Wukong's fault. And everyone and their grandma will harp on the Monkey king and just ignore all of Mac's bullsh!t. Especially in fanfics.

Like don't get me wrong, keep writing that good stuff! But like...jeez

The amount of smack that the golden monkey goes through in this fandom is like...yikes.

Look, I know we're all hung up about the bloody murder thing.

(Personally I'm on the theory that Wukong didn't actually kill Mac, if they were really that close he wouldn't have acted so casual upon their battle after he murdered him, but I digress)

And Wukong should be called out on that BUT.

Mac also isn't blameless here.

(If you like toxic shadowpeach, fine. But this is for peeps who think that Wukong is the only toxic one and Mac was just a victim.)

Take it from this perspective:

The two were really close during the brotherhood era. Wukong kept doing stupid things to gain power and getting them in trouble and in the final battle did something astronomically stupid and they all lost.

Then they all ditch him...leading to his imprisonment (five phases mountain) and torture (furnace and also being fed iron pellets and hot mercury)

Fair, Mac probably shouldn't have been trapped too but he visited once out of 500 years, had a fight and never came back by the looks of it.

He assigns himself the role of the warrior who always stood by his king's side.

And then ditched him in his time of need.

Mans really failed at his own self proclaimed job.

Fine, he probably should've taken a break, none of them were in the right state of mind and Wukong was being very bratty.

BUT

IF HE TRULY VALUED THEIR RELATIONSHIP (from the looks of his lil gay play, he did) HE WOULD'VE Y'KNOW. COME BACK AND TALK?!?!

If he really valued their relationship, outside of calling him a coward and LEAVING, never to visit again. Would that not be a perfect opportunity to communicate?

Like, my dude. He's stuck in the rock. He can't run. Could you not find the roots of the problem and solved it?

But lets say "He was too busy taking care of flower fruit mountain"

(despite him literally EATING one of the monkeys in JTTW, but that was JTTW and I don't think its canon in Lmk. But still, interesting to note.)

I'm sure his subjects were worried about their king? Did he never answer them? If he really valued their bond, could he not have I dunno, shadow portaled some monkeys to see their king or like put time aside to communicate and update the monkeys?

But lets say "He was too traumatized from the burning of his home and was too angry"

500 gosh dang years seems like a long time to take a break.

I feel like at that point, he should've let go of Wukong

BUT NOOOO HE DOESN'T NOW DOES HE.

We establish that their relationship is kinda wrecked.

They don't communicate.

He ditched Wukong for 500 years.

But when he see's the pilgrims decides that Wukong ditched him and the brotherhood..?

So by his logic, Wukong has abandoned ffm the brotherhood and him, after they ditched him under a mountain for 500 years, never visited, never talked, never tried to rebuild their relationship.

Sees the circlet being used, sees the pilgrims not trusting him, sees him go on this journey unwillingly, not allowed to leave the monk unprotected, and comes to the conclusion that Wukong is a traitor...?

But plans to free him because he's being abused and forced to do it?

Pick a lane my dude. Did he abandon you or not?

BUT THEN.

He impersonates him, destroys what little trust the group had

WHILE TRIPITAKA STILL HAD EASY ACCESS TO THE FILLET MIND YOU

hurts Wukong multiple times, till he gets banished. And tries to kill Tripitaka as he still had the bloody circlet?!

This isn't sad lover getting revenge at being abandoned.

This is bitter jealous ex getting petty revenge and still expecting to get back together like this.

Also he says he watched as the pilgrims tortured him with the fillet. If he watched them, he'd know that Wukong is also obligated to fight and most of the time he does kill them, despite the pacifist monk.

He's required to PROTECT THE MONK AT ALL COST.

So tell me...

WHAT THE HELL WAS HIS PLAN?!

He does realize that like this was mandated by heaven right? And there'd be huge consequences to killing the monk right?

So basically:

Mac: yea so my plan is to impersonate you and commit crimes you didn't do, get you in trouble and inadvertently hurt you severely, traumatize you even more then kill the monk so we can go back to flower fruit mountain like we wanted to right?

Even though there will probably be astronomical consequences for you, me probably the rest of the monkeys for letting me kill this monk on the trip mandated by heaven. By failing to protect him, redeeming yourself and also losing a close friend heaven might probably put you under another mountain again probably forever this time, and I will probably use my powers to get out scotch free and we'd all blame you even though I killed him.

But you're still to blame for abandoning me, the brotherhood and your subjects even though I never visited you after our fight, calling you a coward, immediately leaving never to come back and update you on what happened. Its your fault the mountain is like this even though I never asked you for help or advice or even contacted you to let you know our home was destroyed.

Meanwhile I'm the victim and you never valued our friendship.

.

.

.

This idiot-

In summary, he abandons his king, accused him for ditching them all comes back claiming to help him by antagonizing him, hurting him and puts himself in a position where he kinda has to do something?

Because Mac was set on killing the monk.

Everyone acts like he just visited, said something mean and Wukong played the stab game bit too hard.

But he tried to kill him and wouldn't back off?

Seriously what did he expect Wukong to do?

The fandom acts like he was given a pass to not die when he's already broken off the relationship and put Wukong in an impossible situation where Mac wouldn't freaking leave or let go about killing the monk.

I'm not saying that Wukong should've killed Mac on the spot. But I just wish that everyone stops acting like he was being such an asshole and killing him out of nowhere.

(for someone with six ears and is meant to be all hearing he sure is bad at listening)

Then he gets revived by the lady bone demon and let me check:

steals all of Mk's powers

tries to kill the kid despite having no bad blood with him

antagonizes Tang, ridiculing him and calling Wukong a coward despite ditching him under a mountain

makes a copy of the TEA van to kidnap and traumatize Mk even more

Traumatizes Mk AGAIN in the shadow play and steals his friends souls

Hold Mei and Sandy hostage for the rings and tries to squeeze the life out of them

Shooting the airship down (OOOHHHH WUUUKOOOONG this ape is down bad.)

Chokes Mei and uses her as a hostage again for the samadhi fire ritual

Immediately leaves after Mei's firey outburst

Wants to leave possessed Wukong to the clutches of LBD

never gives Mk the full story in the ink scroll that he tried to kill Sanzang or how he never came back.

NEVER APOLOGIZES

I don't even think Macaque has apologized for any of his bullsh!t.

Some of his acts were necessary but he just makes it uneccessarily cruel and revels in their pain

And the fandom makes them all buddy buddy at the end, excuse all his actions and collectively hate Wukong?

Yes he does help Mk in fighting possessed Wukong but like LBD's reign would end the world as he knew it. What else could he do? DBK would probably do it in his position.

But he never apologizes to any of the cast.

I've seen fics where he does apologize which is good.

But he also never apologizes to monkey king?

But that will be in pt2. Yes there will be a goddamn pt2 cause I've not even scratched the surface when it comes to fanfics.

But I will take this chance to share a fic that does tackle this issue really well:

Fractured Pieces make a mosaic by @furornocturna

Cause this fic is genuinely so good I am vibrating at the seams, its one of my favs (also furornoctura's writing is good in general)

One of the only fics I've seen where the characters all call out Mac being a jackass and in an interesting way.

One day I will make some fanart for this but till then this will do

Their writing is so yummy go check it out