#she might not know what's coming out of her mouth as she's saying it.

[hongjoongscafe]

Angry F*$!

Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut.

Summary: maybe getting angry sometimes isn’t too bad.

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: orgasm denial, pussy slapping, spanking, creampie, spitting kink, face slapping, hair pulling, name-calling, smoking, oral, fingering, panty sniffing (he stuffs his boxers in her mouth, too), unprotected (wrap it up, people, wrap it up or else Namjoon will spank you), cum eating, degradation, daddy kink, doggy style, cuffs, anal, breath play(?), choking, biting, aftercare ('cause I love it).

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist. Unedited.

Masterpost.

“Do you even know how dumb you make me look?” your husband, Jungkook, screams at you. “Fifteen fucking years together and this one bitch comes and you trust that cunt over me?”

“Am I wrong?” you scream back. “A hot, sexy assistant is what you got to know and why wouldn’t you wanna have a taste of her?!”

Jungkook’s new assistant is, to say the least, known for wrecking homes. And somehow that bitch wrapped your naive heart in her fingers and filled you with rumours regarding him and herself accidentally as she didn’t know you were his wife as if you two haven’t been together out on the events and face of every possible magazine at least once.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked as he stood up and walked towards you with a feral look in his eyes. “Taste of her?” he growled.

“Yes, taste of her. Isn’t that right? Wouldn't you want to fuck her; someone sexy, hot, desirable?” you push his chest.

“Why would I?” he yells.

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Fucking-,” he cut himself off and hold you by the roots of your hair and pull you with him to the mirror. “Because I wanna fuck you and love you forever!” he makes you look in the mirror, nowhere being gentle.

“I don’t believe you!” you turn around in his hold and slap him across the face. Your jealousy hitting the skyline.

Jungkook’s face turned dark. Your only warning before he threw you on the bed was “Then let me make you believe.”

You bounced as you landed on the bed. He roughly pulled your legs up, yanked your shorts down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. “Mrs doesn’t believe,” he scoffs. “Now you fucking will and never forget.”

You gasped as he pulled you up by your hair and draped you across his lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He harshly pulled up your thongs, making you inhale sharply as the flimsy cloth rubbed against your clit. He rubbed your ass gently before landing a tight slap across your perfect ass cheek, “fuck,” you groaned.

He dipped his fingers under your g-string and pinched your clit making you moan pathetically. “Be a good bitch and count,” he pinched it harder when you didnt start counting.

“One!” you gasped.

He hummed and landed another smack, worse than before. Your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.”

“Look at your fucking pussy already leaking through his sorry piece of panty,” he pulled and snapped back. “Might as well get rid of this shit,” he growled as he tore it apart and brought the big wet patch to his nose and sniffed it deeply. “Oh,” he moans. “Keep the counting going.”

Like you weigh nothing, Jungkook picked you up and threw you back on the bed. You looked up at him as he removed his pants and white button-up. His hot abs are now on full display. His muscles flexed as he climbed over to you and ripped your tank top off you. Your boobs jiggle free and your nipples tighten with the utter, shameless need for this sinful man in front of you. You looked down at his huge bulge as your mouth watered.

“You want me to agree with you as you claim to cheat allegations on me?” he muttered, darkly. “You want me to agree with you that I will leave my fucking sexy wife and fuck some fucking assistance who is nowhere near as beautiful as you?”

Your heart rammed against your ribcage. As much as your insecurity flared in front of that sexy bimbo, you felt filthily gorgeous as he was looking at you like an animal. Deep down you knew she was getting into your head but your doubt on yourself was too much to argue with her.

“What? Cat got your tongue. Hm?” he snarls. He spreads your legs wide open as he lowers himself between them. He buried his nose between your wet folds and sniffed as he groaned. Look into your eyes.

“Jungkook!” a surprised scream left your lips as he slapped your wet pussy, hard. His palm inflated on your pussy as rubbed it painfully slowly.

“And leave my delicious cunt for someone else,” he bit your inner thigh, leaving his mark there.

You were gasping for air from his harsh treatment. He had never been this hard on you. And now when he is being hard, you crave it more.

Jungkook could feel your clit throbbing against his palm, hotly. “You like that, huh?” he bites again. “You like it when I bite you, huh? Such a fucking whore,” he spits on your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it in his mouth, his tongue flat against your nub, playing with it.

Your back arches and fingers fist his hair and push him flush against your pussy. He works down and thrusts his tongue in your hot cunt, his big nose rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit. “Please,” you don’t know what you are demanding.

“Shut up!” he snaps and slaps your clit, making your whole body shudder. You look at him wide-eyed. Jungkook has spanked your ass plenty of times but your pussy? Your eyes roll back as he lands another one, harder than the previous one. “Count.”

“Three… four,” you whine as he shoves his two thick fingers into your hole.

“Look at that,” he kissed your thigh as he watches his fingers in your cunt. “Your fucking cunt is swallowing my finger like the greedy cunt that it is.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as he groped your tit. He crawled up, his fingers still inside you, and sucks your other nipple. His soft hair brushes your chin. Your breath hitches and let out another moan as he slaps your dripping cunt again. “Five,” you whisper in his ear.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as he thrust them back. Knowing you were cumming, he removed himself from your trembling body.

“No!” you cry out loud at the loss of his touch. You were so close to coming undone but he ripped it apart.

His chest was pumping up and down with his laboured breath. You looked so fucking fuckable as you lay there covered in sweat and that needy fucking look in your sexy eyes.

He removed his boxer briefs and bunched them in his hand. “Open your mouth,” he orders. But you just gape at him like a damn fish. Already running low on patience, he squeezed your cheeks and stuffed them in your mouth.

Your fingers fisted the sheets. Everything was turning you on more and more. It felt like your body was on fire. And he was just fueling it more and more.

He pulled out your favourite pink fluffy cuffs. Pulling you in a seated position, he cuffed your hands behind you and pushed you back all while you shamelessly eyed his long, fat cock swinging with each and every move he made. A pearly bead of precum was shining on top. All you wanted to do was to lick and choke yourself on his length.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking forget that I will only fuck my slutty cunt,” he rubs hot length against your slit, making it wet and ready with your slick. He thrust his thick, angry pink head in your pussy and mercilessly fucks you.

Your bed bangs against the walls and makes a creaky noise. His cock hits deep inside you, fucking your spongy spot, making your toes curl and eyes water.

“Fucking, whore,” he growls. His thumb rubs tight circles of swollen clit and his other hand wraps around your neck. He chokes you just enough to make you lightheaded.

You moan loudly against his boxers as he fucks you into the mattress. You were already going half-dumb under his sinful spell.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “All whiny and dumb for me.”

His fingers were digging in your neck. You could feel all of his angry thrusts in you. He was hitting the spot with each of them. His breath was coming as wretched as yours. The sweat was beading down his hard chest and abs.

Jungkook removed his hand from your clit and neck, still inside you, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. As he took a deep drag, he removed his boxers from your mouth and blew it in your mouth. He smirked as he felt your walls trembling around his length.

“Jung-,” your breath hitched and turned into a moan as he thrust back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed. Your loud moans and his groans filled the room. “Fuck!”

He bent and squeezed your mouth open, “gimme your fucking tongue,” he rasped. You barely followed his order and he spat on your tongue. “Swallow.” Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed. Surprised by his lewd acts, you clenched around his length as you came all over his cock.

You gasp when he lands a slap across your face. It was not painful but just hot enough to make your cunt clench painfully around him. “Did I ask you to fucking cum?”

“N-no,” you whined.

Jungkook pulled out and manhandled you on your belly, pulling your hips up. His large hand pushed your face into the mattress, gripping by your hair.

“Then how dare you fucking come,” he moaned as he plunged back. “Fuck, your cunt is always ready to take my cock,” he rasp, spitting on his cock as he pushes back in.

His other hand holds the cuffs around your wrists, cigarette clutched between his fingers. “Daddy, please,” you moan and bite the sheets.

“Such a fucking slut, my whore,” he pulls your head back and spits on your face, smearing it and pushing his fingers down your throat as you choke on them.

His hand left the cuffs and brought the cigarette to his mouth and clutched it between his teeth and wrapped that hand around your neck, keeping you in place.

The drool was running down your chin to your breasts. He has never been this rough with you but fuck, you would poke him every day if he turned into this demon.

You turned your head to the side to look at his face. His hair was sticking to his face, his lips wrapped around the cigarette. He took a drag and blew it in your face. He was hot.

Your tongue licked his fingers and moved as if giving a blow job. A smirk pulled on his pretty face. He plastered your back to his hard front, removing his fingers, he tossed you back on your back.

“Open your mouth,” he said as he climbed on top of you and slapped your face with his heavy cock. He ran his pink head around your lips. You wrapped your lips around his swollen head and sucked it with hollow cheeks. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his cock. He pushed it all into your throat, making you gag around him. He was all the way down your throat. He pinched your nose and fucked your mouth. You could taste his salty precum in your mouth.

With every second, his thrusts got sloppier. Your lungs burned with the lack of air. You thrashed under him.

“Fuck,” he moaned as the thick spurts of his cum started to hit the back of your throat. He pulled his cock out and pained your face with the rest of his cum.

He sat next to you and smeared his cum all over your face. You were so fucked, and coughing as you were finally able to breathe again. “Would I let myself cover that bitch in my cum? Fuck no.”

He brings the same hand down to your cunt and fingers your hole “or this?” he said and stumped the burning butt on the ashtray.

“Daddy,” you whimper.

“What?” still fingering your quivering pussy. “You thought this was over?” he scoffed and stood up.

From the drawer, he pulled out the lube and unclasped it. Pulling you by your legs, he brought you to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your legs apart, he bent you in half. Your knees were touching your chin. You could barely keep your eyes open. Your body jerked when he poured cold lube on your tight rim.

“Wha-” you began.

“Take whatever I give you,” he rubbed your rim with his fingers and slowly pushed them in. “So fucking tight,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck you so good, y/n, gonna fuck that shitty thought out of your fucking brain,” he scissors your tight hole. “Look at your cunt, I knew you were a fucking whore for me. You are dripping everywhere,” he runs his fingers across your sensitive cunt and bends down to suck your clit in his mouth as he helps you get used to his fingers in your ass.

When relaxed enough, he replaced his fingers with his cock. His blunt head pushed past your back hole. “Daddy!” you screamed at the intrusion.

“Yes, baby. Scream for Daddy. Beg me to fuck your hole full of my cum,” he sank more and more of his cock into you until his pelvis was touching your thighs, growlung. He pulled your legs around his shoulder and leaned down to capture your pointed nipple in his mouth, letting your hole ease around his length. “So fucking tight. Remind me to fuck you more here.”

“Fuck me!” you whimper, letting him know you were ready. Your loins were on fire.

Jungkook found it hard to keep his breath equal. He was just as ruined as you were. He finally pulled his aching cock slightly out then plunged it back inside with a forceful thrust. Slowly, he started to fuck you harder and harder.

Your mouth fell open, hot noises came out of your mouth. Your tits juggled with each sharp thrust. You had no thought left in your brain. If someone asked you your name, you wouldn't remember.

Jungkook looked at your juicy pussy and pushed his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Your back arched painfully and you let out a silent scream, clenching around his cock tightly, you came all over him.

His eyes were wide open as he looked at your cunt squirting over yourself and him. He slapped it, making you tremble with shocks running down your body.

His cock twitched in your hole, finally bursting and filling your asshole with his hot cum. He slowed his thrusts and slumped over your shivering body.

He had never come so much before. His own body was trembling with how hard he came into your hole. Your heartbeat was running wild against his ear, matching his own.

Your sight was to behold. Your face was covered with his cum and spit. Your makeup was running down your face. So fucked and beautiful. Your pussy and asshole was throbbing with how sensitive they were. Your cheeks, both face and ass, were red from the slapping and spanking.

Jungkook pulled his phone and took a picture of you so that he could show you just how fucked and gorgeous you looked when you were not dazed.

“Did you see what you just did?” he asked you, looking at your dazed, cum and spit-coated face. “Baby?” his eyes widened when he saw you breaking down.”

You surprised Jungkook and yourself by squirting. Now once in your whole life, you ever squirted. “Mmm,” too tired to speak. You just wanted to hug him close and cry, not because you were hurt but because you were overwhelmed with strong orgasms he pulled out of you. “Hands,” you whispered.

Jungkook quickly pulled out, making both of you hiss in sensitivity. He took the key and unlocked the cuffs from your back. Your wrists were red and bruised. The sheet underneath was torn by how hard you were clutching them. Jungkook pulled you into his lap and kissed your wrists.

You wrapped your arms around him and silently cried in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry,” kept repeating.

You pulled slightly and took his face between your hands. “I loved it,” you muttered around his lips. “I’m just overwhelmed and overstimulated, that's all.”

Chuckling, he kissed your lips. Your tongue tangled with his as he rubbed your back with a soothing hand. He then picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. “I would run you a bath but I can't wait to cuddle you, baby.”

He helped you under the warm shower and clean yourself. His gentle hands washed every part of your body. You flinched when he cleaned your pussy.

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sitting on the sofa chair in your room as Jungkook changed the sheets.

You both ruined the previous one completely. “Maybe we should keep them in memory of our first filthy fuck,” He joked but you knew he would indeed wash them and keep them in his closet.

Jungkook brought you to the bed and helped you under the blanket. He rubbed the ointment on your wrists, too, and gave you water and a little snack.

Cuddling you close to his chest, he lit another cigarette, kissed your shoulder and then your head. You both shared the cigarette back and forth while talking.

“Baby, never doubt my loyalty for you,” he muttered. “Why would I cheat on you? You are my part. My love. My heart. My soulmate. My freaky partner. My everything.”

You shifted in his hold, “I just— I don't know, she is so much better.”

Jungkook frowned, “the fuck not. She is not. You are! You are my woman, my wife. The most gorgeous, beautiful, magnificent, immaculate, majestic, marvellous woman ever.”

You giggled and hugged him tighter. Your body was still recovering from all the lewd things he did to you. “Promise me you will fuck me like this more often?”

Your husband laughed and tickled your sides. “Aren't you a dirty girl?”

“Only for you,” you kissed his chest.

“If I had known, I would have fucked you like today way before… and made you squirt…” he peppers your skin with kisses. Then he looked into your eyes with seriousness. “Tomorrow, the first thing I will do is to fire her, yeah? I don't want that bitch to work under my name. I won’t accept such behaviour. And she made you cry and doubt my love so she must suffer.”

You would ask otherwise but this one time, you won't mind. You don't want her to work for him either. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby…” he cuddled you even closer and dropped an innocent kiss on your lips as you slowly drifted away, letting the sleep overtake you.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae @demonshauntingthedoves

@jjkkkk15

Have a nice day/night💓

[totalswag]

can you do something with singer!reader having a christmas special like sabrina and when she talks about her boyfriend it’s drew that comes out dressed as santa and everyone realizes immediately.

oh my santa drew ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note if you havent watched the nonsense christmas on Netflix you should hehe. thank you for the request lovie! its a great request since christmas is right around the corner. writing this was so much fun and adding my own little bits in there. there's a couple lines from the actual skit too.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

summary drew coming in as a surprised guest on a nonsense christmas.

warning(s) none just funny humor and drew dressed as santa

A Nonsense Christmas. 

This thought occurred to me one day at the beginning of this year. Christmas is your favorite time to celebrate, it was ideal. You've had incredible artists join you to perform songs and special guests for comedy skits—Tyla, Kali Uchis, Chappell Roan, and so many other talented guests.

It's been an absolute blast filming everything. The whole vibe of this small series is unbelievably funny and gets you in the holiday spirit.

Drew, your boyfriend, dresses up as Santa Claus in this skit. You wanted him to participate in this experience with you. He insisted on being Santa after you told him the final idea. No one knows about it except for the people working on set. Fans and the audience will be surprised.

The past few weeks Drew’s been walking around the house acting like Santa and going into character with his lines—No joke.

It starts off with you sitting on the single chair in front of your two friends, Alice and Max, talking about your boyfriend they haven't met. The living room set is decked Christmas out with a tree decorated behind you along with everything magical. 

"I can't wait to finally meet your man, Debbie, you haven't been hanging out with us since getting into a relationship," Alice asks, giggling at the end of her sentence. 

You quickly chuckle sarcastically, and Max joins in.

"No, I understand. Because we are doing long distance, it's been difficult to mix friend groups," you explain, making a combing hand motion. "You get what I'm saying?" you ask, leaning in slightly, squinting your eyes.

"Girl, I completely understand," Max shrugs his shoulders, offering you a nice nod of understatement, “I promise we will love him” he smiles.

Your face softens, "Aw, thank you both. I promise you, he will not disappoint," you wink playfully. 

Just wait till they see who walks through that door.

Your voice appears promising to them at that point. 

Your phone rings out of nowhere, and you pick it up; a mysterious boyfriend is ready to make his official entrance. "Oh, speak of the devil, he's walking up now," you shriek with delight as you get up from your seat and dance over to the front door—your famous tippy toe dance

Drew walks through the door dressed head-to-toe in a Santa Claus outfit, strode in with a jolly demeanor. His red suit, black boots, and fluffy white beard were undeniably festive.

Max and Alice exchanged puzzled looks, their jaws almost touching the floor. "Uh, is this…?" Alice inquired, her eyes wide in shock.

Debbie please be so for real...

"Is that Santa in front of me, or am I seeing things?" Before taking a close look, Max emphasizes the word "that." He squints his eyes and then turns to face Alice. "Yep, that's definitely Santa," he adds swiftly after reaching his conclusion.

Alice's jaw instantly closes as she tries to contain her composure and confusion over your boyfriend's sudden appearance as Santa.

"Guys, everyone, this is my boyfriend, Nick!" you cheer as you let Nick pass in front of you. introducing him to friends with a broad smile on your face. 

Max's mouth falls open, too stunned to speak. As she raises her eyebrows in amusement, Alice is attempting to piece together how this might have happened.

“I’ve heard nothing but great things about you two, It’s great to meet you” Drew says in character, pointing at Alice and Max. He smiles underneath the white bread.

Drew puts his left arm around your shoulder as you sit on his lap, putting your hands on your knees and grinning. You subconsciously find the Santa impression impressive.

With a gesture between Alice and himself, Max says, "Aw, same, um, as us..." pausing for a quick moment looking around, "Would you like anything to drink or snack on by any chance?" Curious, Max asks

Nick looks at Max and says, "Oh, um, maybe a warm glass of milk with." He sits down right away. "And a huge chocolate chip cookie topped with shards of sprinkles?" Nick added, highlighting the final phrase. 

"Yuck," Alice responds hastily.

You quickly drop your smile, looking at her. What did she say about my man?

Max frowns slowly and says, "Uh oh, I think we are out of shards." He then slowly turns, side-eyeing Alice—still attempting to take everything in.

When Nick sees that his clothing is covered in soot, he excuses himself to go upstairs to the restroom, leaving the three of you below until he returns.

As he reaches the steps, you watch him closely until Alice says, "Hey, this is actually insane but, um, that's Santa Claus, right?" She points up the stairs while posing mocking questions.

You look shocked in a moment. You respond, "Oh my god," while gazing at her as though she were crazy. You inquire informally, "What kind of messed up thing is that to say?"

The two of them ask you whether you are serious about the relationship or if it's a trick.

Max interrupts, "Debbie, girl, it's not messed up. Think about it, big white scruffy beard?" He was making bread motions with his hands.

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “well he decided to do no shave November, for your information.”

“And he has the classic big belly?” Alice tries putting her point clear.

Dramatically gasping at her comment, “And there it is, the body shaming begins,” throwing your hands in the air, Alice and Max make eye contact with each other wondering if your delusions will come to an end—Max quietly scoffs. 

"What kind of Mean Girls situation is this? You say, "Can't believe this," in an attempt to come seem as offended by their critical remarks. 

Alice mumbles to herself, "Okay, relax," as she scratches the back of her head looking around the room. 

You begin detailing his character and making it quite clear that he is Santa without actually stating so. When Nick came down the stairs, your two friends decided to stop commenting.

Max and Alice thank him for giving them gifts, and Nick flicks his fingers when he realizes he left something in the car and will be right back. "So, how does he make enough money to buy us all these presents?" Max glances in your direction.

You keep telling them that he described his exact job, but you were too preoccupied to pay attention and found it dull at the time. "If I'm not mistaken, toy manufacturer," you shrug your shoulders.

“Uh, Deb, you won’t be happy from what I’m gonna say,” Alice leans in, “that’s what Santa does,” she explains speaking in a high-pitched voice.

"Like I said before, he's not Santa Claus, his job doesn't even pay, and I don't—" You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the rooftop.

Is this girl okay? Max thinks to himself.

"Is your boyfriend on the roof?" Alice asks you a suspicious inquiry.

You laugh uneasily, "He's probably fixing something up there, right? He would have noticed something," you explain, "my partner can actually make something," smiling sarcastically, "like a guy," you swiftly shift your head over at Max, making a remark about what his boyfriend does for a living.

We weren't expecting to hear those words from you.

"Besides, if he was Santa," you pause, "then why is he so good in bed?" You cross your arms together, lean back against the chair, and give them a peculiar look.

The two chuckle in their chairs. "Oh, well, I didn't read that in the text," Alice replies drastically as though your remark had upset her.

A little while later, Nick shows up at the house with two gift boxes for your two friends. Your face lights up when you see him giving your two pals thoughtful gifts. Your words, "How thoughtful of you, my love!"

They had no idea how to find their gifts in front of them when they opened them and saw what they had long yearned for. You wonder how Nick knew they desired those gifts as you point to them. 

Everyone on stage and in the crowd bursts out laughing when Owen, who portrays Max, unintentionally fires the soft nerf bullet, striking Megan, Alice's character, on the side of her face. It was more humorous—Megan was fine, too.

Max and Alice, becoming all sensual in the moment, said they wrote letters to Santa Claus and just wished for them. You sigh softly and stare down at your feet. "Well, if he's really Santa, he would know that the only thing I asked for as a little girl was singing a duet with Shania Twain," you pout.

Is she coming out?

Is it my turn yet?

Suddenly, Shaian Twain enters the home door dressed as Mrs. Claus and asks to see her husband. After figuring everything out, you exclaim, "You are married?!" As you rise from your chair, your voice is full of shock and sadness.

Nick and Shain Twain explain their relationship and being open in sharing. Everyone in the living room is in a state of shock, except for Alice and Max. You quickly point to Nick, “He’s not Santa!” you raise your voice—voice cracking a little.

The audience laughs as they clap once the skit ends.

You giggle as you follow Drew after everyone has left the stage. "You did such a good job doing the Santa impression baby," you say, giving him a playful sideways nudge. 

He replies nonchalantly, as like he didn't need to practice, "Oh you know, gotta show them who the real boss is but it comes naturally."

You laugh, "Dork."

You decide to snap a quick photo of Drew before he can do anything else while he's staring at you from the couch in the dressing room with his bogus beard still on. You suddenly say, "Say cheese, Santa!" and take him by surprise.

You take a close look at the image on your screen, thinking, "Perfect for our Christmas card this year."

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

@chenslucy @whorelaud @drewsephrry @runningfrom2am @diqldrunks @rosezza @rafeyslamb @mymultiveres @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @yanna2coolz @stevesxwhore

[ubeb0nes]

NSFW Sevika HCs

𖢻 ~ ~ ~ 𖢻

A/n: i haven't written any smut in god knows how long so pls go easy yall 😭

𖢻 ~ ~ ~ 𖢻

This is a dom

I love indulging in the bottom!sevika content when i come across it, it's beautiful, showstopping

But bby, you only get to do what she lets you do. Even when she's on bottom, you're never really the one in charge, no matter how you might try to convince yourself

She's a terrible tease, and has an absolutely filthy mouth. Loves watching your jaw drop slightly when she whispers things in public, and how you scramble to gather yourself

Her self-control and patience is absolutely insane. She's not one to jump your pants at the first tease you give her.

She'll let you have her fun, all while running the tip of her tongue across a canine and plotting her revenge

Gets a big head/ego if you call her mommy. Nearly loses her mind and reputation for restraint if you call her daddy

A lot of her turn-ons are things that aren't inherently sexual. I like to think she's attracted to both masc and fem-presenting people, and anything leaning deeper into these characteristics will get a rise out of her.

Ex.'s -> watching you put on makeup in the mornings, specifically lipstick/gloss. Conversely, how your thighs look and your face hardens when you manspread while striking a deal. When you look up at her and rest your hands on her chest. When you lean back and rest your arm over the back of her chair

Particularly masculine and particularly feminine things. She eats up both

Absolutely a bit of a sadist/madochist. We know this from the whole cait thing

She's obsessed with your mouth in particular. The marks you leave, the shapes it makes with certain sounds she pulls from you, how your lips wrap around her fingers when she teases your mouth open with them

She rarely ever has you on your back because she wants to watch your tongue loll and your eyes roll

Goes crazy for certain things you say when you start to reach melted brain levels of fucked out; "baby, it's too much…" "Sevi, i can't keep going" "no, baby, no more…" it's like a second wave. And, (always) only with your emphatic consent, she'll proceed to push your body even more

Her favorite position is missionary i'm sorry lmfao. Vanilla in theory, but definitely doesn't feel like it when she's slinging that shimmerstrap LOL

I HC she's generally pretty gentle with you, at least lovesick!sevika is. In the sense that she's not tossing you around or slapping your ass purple.

Rather, she'll wrap her hand around your throat but not really squeeze. And she'll push her fingers down your throat until you're teary-eyed, but she won't fuck your throat until it's raw and sore.

She prefers using her hands and her mouth, but her strap game is insane. That stroke would be hypnotic to watch.

Her eyes read clearly when it comes to intimacy. The way they darken and narrow when she's about to pounce on you, and how they always get so glossy and self-satisfied (if not a bit smug) as she watches you cum.

Her crows feet crease as she smiles down at you, whispering "good job, baby" and "there's my girl, you're okay. I've got you."

Always insists on taking care of you afterwards, but won't fight you on it if you flip it on her and make her lay back so you can clean her up

In fact, please do this. She'll think about it for weeks

Cuddles you afterward like she's trying to burrow in your skin. Can't get enough of the smell of you post-sex, burying her nose in your neck and your hair

Yeah, she's never sharing you. Everything about you is too precious, too hers.

She demands hickeys/lipstick marks on her chest- over her heart- because your claim over her deepens her own.

[wafflefries13]

Asking Out the Twisted Wonderland Cast (Multi TWST cast X Reader)

Summary: Sometimes, you can't just wait for good things to happen to you. Time to screw your courage to the sticking place and finally ask out that boy you like!

AN: I meant for these each to be like 200 word drabbles. Some of them kind of got away from me, lol.

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Part 2: First Dates

The sounds of the NRC cafeteria clattered around the group of first years. Utensils scraping on plates, sizzling from the open window to the kitchen, a hundred different conversations from all sides. Their small group sat clustered around their table, nestled close together to be heard over the general din. 

“I’m just saying,” Ace said, mouth half full. 

“You’re always ‘just saying’,” Deuce said. 

Ace shoved him. “I’m just saying, if you want to try out for the anchor position on the track team you have to actually ask for it. Get Coach Vargas and don’t stop bugging him until he sees what you can do! No one’s going to just wait for it to happen.” 

“And I’m saying it doesn't do any good to be a nuisance when I don’t even know if I’m good enough yet. I might as well wait till tryouts next semester.” 

“No, no, he’s right,” (Y/N) said, distantly. 

“Yeah!” Ace said. “Wait, right about what?” 

“You can’t just wait for stuff to happen to you. If you really want something you have to go and take it for yourself.” She stood abruptly, face determined. “I need to ask something.” 

Ace:

“Ace!” 

Ace jumped, brushing off crumbs from his jacket. “What? What did I do now?” 

“Do you want to go out with me?” 

Epel choked, Jack thumping him on the back. Deuce looked like she had just insulted his mother. Sebek rolled his eyes as he took another bite. Ortho gasped, leaning forward, eyes wide and excited. 

“I-What?” Ace stuttered, his face rapidly turning red. “Where the heck did that come from?” 

“You were just saying you shouldn’t wait for something you want. I like you, I have for a while now. So, do you want to go out?” 

Ace stuttered out a reply, slapping on his normal cocky smile but decidedly not meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. “I mean, yeah, of course you fell for me! It’s about time you said something. But, um, yeah, I’d like that. A lot.” 

“Well,” Deuce said, rolling his eyes. “It’s about time one of you said something.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

(Y/N) playfully shoved him. “Oh, please, don’t act like I haven’t noticed that you like me too. You’re not subtle about it.” 

“What made you think that?” 

“Ace, within the first week of me being here you asked to sleep in the same bed as me twice.” 

From another table, definitely not eavesdropping, Riddle fainted. 

Deuce:

“Deuce!” Deuce jumped at (Y/N) suddenly shouting his name. “I need your help with something. Can you come with me for a second?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course.” Deuce ignored Ace’s pointed look. Deuce followed (Y/N) out of the cafeteria down the halls. “Where are we going?” 

(Y/N) suddenly turned around, Deuce almost colliding with her. Before he could apologize, she took his hands, looking up into his eyes as he felt blood rush to his cheeks. 

“I just wanted somewhere more private,” She said. “Deuce, I really like you. Will you go out with me?” 

“I-huh?! I mean, yeah, yes! I like you, too!” He rubbed the back of his head and looked away shyly. “Man, I wanted to ask you out first.” 

(Y/N) grinned. “Really? How were you going to do it?” 

“Well, my mom said that when my dad first asked her out he got her this big bouquet of flowers. But he ended up being allergic to them so he kept sneezing the whole time. She took him to the infirmary at their school and he had to write it down since his face was too swollen to talk.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to flowers. Maybe we can skip the rest of that, though.” 

Deuce marched over to the cut out window of the hallway, opening out onto the quad. Reaching over, he plucked a fluffy pink peony from one of the bushes. He came back to (Y/N), suddenly very flustered, and held it out to her. 

“(Y/N),” He began. 

She clasped her hands together. “Yes?” 

“Would you do me the honor of - Ah!” Deuce yelped as a bee flew out of the peony blossom, shooting for Deuce’s face to sting him. 

Turns out, they did spend time in the infirmary. But, after (Y/N) kissed his cheek and gently held the flower, Deuce didn’t seem to mind too much. 

Trey: 

“Ow!” 

Trey paused outside the Heartslabyul kitchen as he heard the exclamation from inside. He was planning on testing out a new bread recipe his parents had sent him and wasn’t expecting anyone else to be using the kitchen that day. He peaked in, seeing (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce crowded around the island in the middle. (Y/N) was blowing on a burn on her hand, Grim rifling through the pantry for various sweets, and Ace and Deuce waving away smoke from a burnt pastry freshly pulled from the oven. 

“I told you!” (Y/N) said. “You can’t just raise the temperature for it to cook faster, it’ll just burn!” 

“Well, sorry for trying to make your confession go faster before you chicken out,” Ace said. 

“I’m not going to chicken out! Probably. Maybe. What if the pie burning is an omen?” 

“I wouldn’t read too deeply into it,” Trey said, entering the kitchen. The first years jumped, (Y/N)’s eyes going wide and she stared at the floor. 

“Well!” Deuce said, grabbing Ace and Grim and hurrying them out the door. “Omen or not, that’s our cue to leave. Good luck, (Y/N)!” 

Silence echoed around the two of them as the door of the kitchen thunked closed. (Y/N) fiddled with her fingers, still not looking up. Trey walked around the island, looking at the smoldering pie. There was a mostly neat lattice across the bubbling fruit, with extra crust cut into letters around the rim. 

“‘Trey,’” He read. “‘Will you-’”

“Ah! No, wait!” (Y/N) jumped forward, covering it with her hands. She jumped back as her palm accidentally hit the hot pie tin, giving her another burn. 

“Oh, wait, hang on.” Trey quickly went over to the sink, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in cold water. He gently took her hand, pressing it to the burn. (Y/N) chewed her lip. “You know, I’d be happy to help if you want to try again. I’ve been wanting to try this new butter pie crust that’s good with custards and-”

“I really like you!” (Y/N) blurted out, face going as hot as the burn on her hand. “Would you want to go out with me? Please?” 

Trey tightened his grip on her hand, careful to avoid the injury. He smiled, laughing. “I was wondering if I should say it first. I guess you beat me to it. Yes, (Y/N), I’d love to go out with you.”  

Cater: 

Cater was relaxing in the Heartslabyul gardens, a can of red paint discarded beside him. He hummed something the pop music club had been working on as he scrolled through Magicam. He took a quick selfie, winking, tongue out with a peace sign, before refreshing his feed. 

He paused when he saw (Y/N) come across his dash. She was smiling brightly, one arm arched above her head and the other held down at an angle to create half a heart. The word ‘Will’ was written in bubbly cartoon letters in the middle. A few posts later, there was a second photo, an almost perfect mirror of the first to complete the heart. The word ‘You’ was written in the middle of this one. 

Cater almost felt like he was solving a puzzle as he searched the rest of his feed for more posts. Each had (Y/N) in a dramatic pose, adding another word to complete the sentence, ‘Go,’ ‘Out,’ ‘With’, ‘Me.’ When he realized it was a request to ask someone out, he couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. He shook his head. Of course (Y/N) would be crushing on someone. With all the adventures she had gone on during their time at NRC, it would make sense to develop strong feelings. He tried to quiet the voice in his head that hoped those strong feelings would go his way. Well, whatever, that just meant he had to keep a close eye on whoever had earned her affections, maybe give them a good threatening to treat her right while he was at it. 

Cater tapped on her name, taking him to her Magicam profile. It felt like just the other day when he was helping her set it up. He sighed at the happy memory. For a second, it occurred to him that the message (Y/N) had been spelling out in pictures didn’t end with a question mark. He thought it was weird. Was it a mistake? Then his eye caught on the latest picture, posted just a second before. 

It was a selfie of (Y/N) holding a large bouquet of yellow and orange flowers, marigolds, daisies, and buttercups. The majority of the frame was over her shoulder, showing Cater himself sitting against the hedges. His name was drawn in the same cartoon font with a question mark, surrounded by a heart.  

Cater snapped up, whirling around. He quickly whipped away the happy tears budding at the corner of his eyes as he saw (Y/N) waiting for him. The flowers were crushed between them as he scooped her up in a tight hug, both of them laughing. 

(They both carefully rearranged the flowers after to be presentable for the mandatory #TogetherForever couple photoshoot after.) 

Riddle: 

Riddle frowned at the commotion building from the Heartslabyul common room. He could make out the familiar rising sounds of Ace and Deuce’s voices. He began marching to the source of the racket, faltering a little when he heard (Y/N)’s voice joining in. Mentally scolding himself from eavesdropping  (it wasn’t eavesdropping, he was keeping tabs on his dorm mates, that’s it) he hovered near the cracked open door. 

“No, wait!” (Y/N) said. “We can’t use coral roses! I said pink!” 

Ace huffed. “What’s the difference?” 

(Y/N) tapped a small dark red book she was holding. “Coral roses symbolize desire, pink roses mean admiration and happiness. I’m not trying to scare him off before I can even ask him out!” 

Before he could even think about it, Riddle threw open the door, shouting, “Just what is going on here?” 

Everyone inside jumped. Riddle swept his eyes across the room, taking in the bundles and bundles of roses in multiple colors carefully poised on every surface. Ace and Deuce were meticulously balancing a bouquet in the chandelier, plucking out the offending coral colored roses. Cater was smirking in the corner, phone poised to capture everything. Trey chuckled behind his own large bouquet of yellow roses.. 

“Um,” She said, startled by his interruption. Taking a deep breath, she set the book down and picked up a bouquet of lavender roses, shoving them in Riddle’s direction. 

‘Lavender,’ He thought. ‘Love at first sight.’ 

“Riddle!” She said, probably a little too loudly. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Cater tried to break the tension with a laugh. “Aww, (Y/N),” He said. “What happened to that whole speech you had?” 

“He surprised me!” She said. “Oh, wait, hang on, I still have it.” Without thinking, she shoved the bouquet in Riddle’s arms, searching her pockets to pull out a neatly folded piece of notebook paper. “Ahem. Riddle, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to Heartslabuyl with the single objective to see you. I-” 

“Everyone out!” Riddle shouted. As the group scuttled to the door, he pointed at (Y/N). “Not you.” 

The door thudded behind them, Ace and Deuce giving a quick thumbs up and what was supposed to be a confident smile as they left. (Y/N) crinkled the paper in her hands. 

“It gets better,” She said meekly. “The speech. Although I guess in the movie it ends with a rejection too. I should have used the one from the end, or Shakespeare maybe. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more - well, I guess you're not very temperate. Wait, let me try again.” 

“(Y/N),” He said. He held the lavender flowers tightly. “You know what this means?” 

“Oh, the flowers? Yeah, I, um, I’ve been studying.” She picked the book back up, shyly holding it up. Riddle could read the title now: The Queen of Hearts Guide to Courtship and Love. 

“You,” Riddle said, feeling his face heat up. He held up the flowers. “You mean it? Really?” 

(Y/N) took a step towards him, understanding softening the worry on her face. “Of course. I wanted to ask you out and I thought, well,” She waved at the multicolored roses, laughing. “Go big or go home, right?” 

“It certainly is a statement.” Riddle picked up a yellow rose with red tipping the petals and handed it to her. (Y/N) recognized the colors immediately as meaning ‘Falling in love.’ She gasped in happiness, jumping forward to wrap Riddle in a tight hug. 

Leona: 

“Ruggie!” Ruggie paused as he heard (Y/N) call his name. She jogged over to him where he held Leona’s typical boxed lunch order. “Hey, that’s for Leona, right? Do you mind if I bring it to him? There’s something important I have to talk to him about.” Ruggie considered it for a moment before shrugging and handing it over, but not before stealing a couple of chips to pop into his mouth as he strolled away. 

(Y/N) found Leona in his normal spot, a hidden alcove in the gardens in the biodome. He was laying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, and eyes closed as he dozed. He cracked his eye open as (Y/N) approached. 

“Hi,” She said, kneeling down beside him. 

“Hmm,” He replied. 

“I have something important to ask you.” 

“Are you going to try and make me get up?” “No.” 

“Alright, ask away.” 

“Will you go out with me?” 

Leona’s eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare at (Y/N), smiling sincerely at him, and maybe holding his lunch hostage until she got an answer. 

“I really like you,” She continued. “You’re brave and confident and know exactly who you are. Sure, you can be stubborn as hell, but you also really care about people close to you. Don’t make that face, you can’t fool me. You could have easily thrown me out when Grim and I needed someplace to stay when Azul took over Ramshackle, but you didn’t. You didn’t even kick us out when we were making so much noise and annoying you, you helped us break Azul’s contracts instead. You joined the Culinary Crucible because Epel did and you wanted to keep an eye on your team mate. Please, as if you ever need to learn how to cook, I know you can’t even use a microwave. And you pretend not to notice when Ruggie steals your credit card. And there was that time you followed all of us to Playful Land because you were worried we were going to get scammed. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You’ve got a big heart of gold under that spiky exterior. And I really admire you for that. I… I really love you, Leona.” 

“Well,” Leona said, laying back down, tail flicking. “I suppose going on a date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” (Y/N) decided not to point out the content smile stretching across his face. She made a move to stand up, but Leona shot an arm out to hook around her waist, pulling her down next to him with an “Oof.” “Now don’t tell anyone else about all that,” Leona grumbled without any real heat. 

Ruggie: 

Ruggie was in Leona’s room, folding laundry while the house warden took a nap behind him. Ruggie stretched his arms above his head, sighing when there was a satisfying pop in his back. Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open. Ruggie yelped and Leona woke with an undignified snort. 

“Gah, what now?” Leona mumbled. 

“Ruggie!” (Y/N) said, standing in the doorway. She was panting as if she had just run across campus (she had). 

“Uh, what? Yeah? Whatever it was, I didn’t take it!” 

Unperturbed, (Y/N) marched over to him, taking both his hands in hers. “You did take something.” Ruggie frantically tried to remember if he had stolen anything from Ramshackle recently. He tried not to, knowing (Y/N) was pretty much as broke as he was. It didn’t seem fair. And maybe he liked her a little too much to swipe something. “You stole my heart!” (Y/N) continued dramatically. “Will you go out with me?” 

Behind them, Leona coughed to unconvincingly cover up a laugh. 

Ruggie’s ears flattened to his head in shock. He reached back and batted at his tail as if that would get it to stop wagging. “I - what? Are you sure? Me? What?” 

“Of course! You’re resourceful, you work hard, you’re clever, and you care a lot about your family back home. I really admire all that about you and more! Not to mention you’re super cute. So, will you go out with me?” 

“Oh, just say yes already, Ruggie,” Leona said, settling down to continue his nap. “At least then I won’t have to hear you being such a sap all the time.” 

Ruggie let out his signature laugh. He tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hands. “Well, sure then, why not? As long as you’re paying, right?” 

Jack: 

Jack and Vil were out on their daily morning run. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting the Night Raven College campus in a warm golden light. At their halfway point, they took a break, Vil stretching in his cooldown. 

“You sure you don’t want to keep going with me?” Jack asked. 

“No,” Vil said. “I’d rather stay slim than bulk up like you. I have my status to maintain. And besides, it looks like I would be interrupting something rather important.” He smiled knowingly and pointed with his chin a little ways down the sidewalk. 

Jack turned. He felt his tail start to wag on its own when he saw (Y/N) standing by one of the Great Seven statues, drawing circles in the ground with her foot. She looked up, breaking out in a warm smile when she saw him. Vil chuckled under his breath and waved as he headed back to Pomfiore. 

Jack clenched his jaw, willing his tail to stay still as he approached her. “Good morning. You’re not usually up this early, right? Is everything okay?” 

(Y/N) jutted her arms out completely straight, offering up the flowering Chin cactus in her hands. “Jack!” She said. “I really like you. I love how brave you are. I love how you’re dedicated to the people you care about. I love how you can be sweet and kind even when you try to act tough all the time. Would you go out with me?” 

“Yes!” Jack replied, almost before the words had even left (Y/N)’s mouth. He put his hands over hers, cradling the cactus. “I mean, yes, I would like to go out with you. Very much.” 

Azul: 

Azul jumped as (Y/N) slammed her hands on his desk in the VIP room of the Monstro Lounge. He quickly gathered his composer, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Well, Prefect, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I have a deal for you,” She said confidently. 

“Oh? I’d love to hear it.” 

Smiling, she whipped out a sheet of paper and slapped it on top of the other documents Azul had spread over his desk. On the top of the page in an elegant script were the words ‘Contract of First Date.’ Azul felt a lump form in his throat as his heart sped up. He quickly scanned over the rest of the ‘contract,’ outlining the proposed date. 

“Terms of the deal,” (Y/N) continued. “You, me, romantic night out. I know a guy in Craneport who said we could use one of their rowboats and I found this really cool pond with all these willow trees and fireflies. Plus I have this cute picnic basket all set up. Jamil has been teaching me how to cook, you know? Can’t say it’ll be as good as his, if we’re being honest about the terms of agreement. And the contract leaves an opening for future dates depending on the success of this one! Of course, success is not really a super definable term but you get what I mean. So, do we have a deal?” 

Azul covered his face with one hand, trying desperately to ignore how red his face must be at this point. He couldn’t seem to meet her enthusiastic and twinkling eyes. 

“I, uh,” (Y/N) continued, shyer this time as Azul scanned over the contract. “I really like you, Azul. A lot. So, will you go out with me?” 

He looked back down at the contract where her name was written in elegant script at the bottom with space for his next to it. He cleared his throat, bringing back his practiced (definitely not shady) businessman smile. With a sweep of his pen, he said, “It’s a deal.” 

Jade: 

(Y/N) marched across the cafeteria, determination in her eyes. She stopped in front of a table with Jade, Floyd, and Azul. “Hi!” She said, maybe a little too loudly with nerves. Jade and Azul looked up from their conversation, Floyd pausing his efforts in making a castle out of mashed potatoes. “Jade, I really like you. Do you want to go out with me?” 

“Oh?” Jade said, a brief moment of genuine surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into pleasant neutrality. “Well, what a pleasant surprise.” 

Floyd snorted and elbowed his brother. “Shrimpy’s got a crush,” He said in a sing-song voice. 

“I must admit,” Jade said, pouting with one hand on his cheek. “I always did imagine a more theatrical confession. Nonetheless, I happily acc-” 

“I can do that!” (Y/N) interrupted. Holding on to Floyd’s shoulder for balance, she climbed on top of the table. She clapped her hands loudly, shouting, “Attention! Attention, please, everyone! I have an announcement!” She cleared her throat as the room fell silent. “I would like to declare my unequivocal, utter devotion and love for Jade Leech.” She heard a choking sound below her but continued on. “I am hopelessly in love, helplessly enraptured, and absolutely head over heels. And it is my deepest hope that he could return my affections. Thank you.” With that, she hopped down, beaming. There was a smattering of applause and laughter from around the room. Epel whooped from back at the first year table. 

Jade’s hands covered his blushing face, fierce sharp eyes peeking out between his fingers. His mouth was split in a wide smile, sharp teeth glinting in a mixture of bashfulness, excitement, and desire. 

“Congratulations, (Y/N),” Azul said. “I can barely remember that last time Jade was actually flustered.” 

“Aww, look at him, he’s speechless!” Floyd teased. 

(Y/N) winced. “Sorry, was that too far?” 

Jade shot out with lightning speed, crushing her in his tight eel grip. “I should let you know,” He whispered to her. “I expect this level of dedication for the entirety of our relationship.” 

Floyd: 

Floyd darted through the stacks of the library. He could have sworn he saw Goldfish in here earlier, and he was in the mood to mess with the easily angered boy. And, while he didn’t find Riddle, he did pause as he saw (Y/N) between the books. He paused, pushing a few books aside to rest his chin on the shelf, an easy smile crossing his face as he spied on her. 

She was hunched over one of the study tables, a large book propped up and open in front of her. She was diligently working on something in her hands, tongue poking out between her lips (lips that Floyd found himself thinking about more often than he would admit), looking back up at the book in front of her every so often. 

Dropping down low, Floyd carefully made his way behind her, silent on his feet. Rising up to his full height behind her, unsuspecting, he jolted forward, wrapping her in a backward hug and pulling her back so the chair careened back on two legs. 

“Shrimpy!” He said, taking delight in her startled squeal. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“God, Floyd,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand to her chest to calm her raging heart. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she lunged forward to cover what she was working on with her arms. “Ah! Don’t look, don’t look! It’s not done!” 

Floyd grinned again. “Aww, it’s not nice to keep secrets.” His hands shot out, pulling out the thing she was hiding. (Y/N) covered her face as Floyd inspected the object. It was a thick piece of twine, various polished shells, sea glass, and dried shiny scales strung throughout. Although it wasn’t exactly neat, the way it caught the sunlight cast tiny rainbows and simmers around the library. Floyd peered at the open book. It was a cultural history of merpeople in the Coral Sea. The opened chapter described mer courting rituals and marriage traditions. Floyd started cackling as (Y/N) buried her face further in her hands.  

“How old is this thing?” Floyd asked, poking at the book. “I don’t even think my grandparents made courting charms.” 

“Shut up,” (Y/N) mumbled. “I was trying to… Forget it.” 

Floyd slipped the haphazard necklace over his neck, prying her hands away to hold them tightly in his. “I accept!” He said brightly. “This was for me, right? It better be, Shrimpy.” 

She smiled and flicked his forehead. “Possibly against my better judgment, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, Floyd.” 

Kalim: 

Kalim knew he should probably be studying, but every time he opened a text book or looked at the notes Jamil had oh-so-carefully marked and tabbed for him, he felt his eyes start to droop and mind get fuzzy. A good after lunch walk was just what he needed, and he definitely wasn’t just saying that to put off work. 

He stopped when he realized he had wandered outside Ramshackle dorm. Was that on purpose? Did he subconsciously come here, with the hope he might see (Y/N)? Kalim walked up to the front door, knocking before opening the door and calling inside. 

“Hello! It’s Kalim! Can I come in?” 

There was a squawk of surprise from the front sitting room. (Y/N) poked her head around the corner, flustered. 

“Hi. Sure, come on in. Uh, sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Can I help?” Kalim asked, walking over to her. Peering into the sitting room, Kalim’s face lit up. Every available surface, and a few unavailable surfaces, were covered in colored and patterned paper. There were stacks and crowds of tiny paper birds littered between everything. 

“I don’t know if it counts if more people make them.” 

Kalim sat on one of the plush chairs, picking up a flowery piece of paper. “If what will count?” 

“It’s an old superstition from my world. If you can fold 1000 paper cranes, your wish will come true. Or something like that.” 

“Ooh, origami! I’ve made decorations using that before! I’m not super good at it, but I’ll help if you want.” 

(Y/N) smiled and sat next to him and Kalim felt his heart flip. “Yeah, I’d like the company.” 

They lost track of time folding cranes, the sun beginning to set high above the dilapidated house. They talked the whole time, jumping from topic to topic, joke to joke, without any real sense of flow. It was warm, there in the small room, not only due to the crackling fireplace. 

“So,” Kalim asked eventually. “What wish were you wanting to make? If this dosen’t work out, I can help you with it!” 

(Y/N) suddenly went bashful, turning away to pay extra attention to the folds of her bird. “I…” She muttered. She took a deep breath, turning to fully face Kalim. “I was going to ask you out. You have all these elaborate decorations and parties all the time. I was going to string all of these together and hang them in your room then ask you out. But, now that you’re here… Kalim, would you go out with me?” 

Kalim dropped the paper crane, flinging himself across the couch to wrap her in a tight hug. “Yes! Yes, yes yes! Oh, I would love to! Huh, I guess that means I need to cancel that order of doves now. That’s how I was going to ask you out next week. Hey, we both thought of birds! That must mean we definitely belong together, right?” 

Jamil: 

“Be right back,” (Y/N) said, standing from the first year cafeteria table. She walked across the cafeteria until she stopped in front of Kalim and Jamil. 

Jamil was shoving a napkin at Kalim. “Careful, you’re going to get sauce all over your shirt.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll be careful! And besides, it’s a pretty color, right? Oh, hey, (Y/N)!” 

“Hi,” She said, looking solely at Jamil. “Jamil, I really like you. Would you want to go out with me?” 

Kalim gasped, hands to his cheeks as he looked excitedly from Jamil to (Y/N). Jamil sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his hands. “I…” He started. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I can’t.” 

“Oh.” Jamil looked down, but not before he caught the hurt confusion on (Y/N) face. “That’s okay. Thanks for hearing me out. Bye, guys.” She walked back to her table. 

Jamil only looked up again when Kalim slapped his arm. “Jamil! That was your chance!” 

Jamil scowled. “There is no chance. I said no, she accepted it. Drop it.” 

“But you told me you liked her!” 

“I said no such thing.” 

Kalim waved his hand dismissively. “I read between the lines.” 

“There were no lines!” 

“Jamil.” He looked up at Kalim. It wasn’t often the other boy used such a serious voice, or had such a set expression on his face. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy because you feel like you don’t deserve it.” 

Jamil flinched back, standing suddenly. A million retorts zipped through this mind at once, all of them falling flat and dying on his tongue. Before he could say something he would regret, heart thundering in his ears, he fled the cafeteria, ignoring the stabbing looks from the first year table as (Y/N)’s friends gave her sympathetic pats on the back. 

Jamil couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the soft, even breathing of his roommate. Huffing in annoyance, he threw off the covers and left his room. He thought he would just take a walk, just get some fresh air. Without paying attention, Jamil’s feet took him out of Scarabia, across campus, and, before he knew it, in front of Ramshackle dorm. His fist hovered in front of the door, internally debating whether or not he should knock. He startled when he heard talking behind him, spotting (Y/N) and Malleus making their way up the pathway. 

(Y/N) stopped when she saw him. “Oh. Hi, Jamil.” 

“Hi,” Jamil said, limply lifting a hand in greeting. 

Malleus looked down at Jamil, glaring. “Viper.” It sounded more like an insult than his name. 

“Did you need something?” (Y/N) asked. “It’s kind of late. Is everything okay?” 

“I-” Jamil started. “I need to talk to you.” 

Malleus stepped in front of (Y/N), but stopped when (Y/N) put a hand on his arm. They had a quick and quiet conversation, Malleus nodded and walked away. (Y/N) came up to the front door, opening it for him. 

“I’ll make some tea,” She said as they stepped into the entryway. 

“Wait-” Jamil said, catching her hand. Everything tumbled out of him all at once. “I wanted to go out with you. I like you, so much so that it scares me sometimes. That’s why I said no earlier. I just think - I thought you would - should - do better than me, after everything that’s happened. But I -” He paused, only realizing now how out of breath he was. (Y/N) looked up at him and he felt breathless all over again. “I want to do better. I want to be better, for you if not for anything else. I know I probably don’t deserve it but, (Y/N), will you go out with me?” 

(Y/N) laughed, wiping away tears at the corners of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.” 

Vil: 

Something was wrong, Vil could feel it. After all the chaos of his time at Night Raven College, he had almost developed a sixth sense for this type of thing. 

Vil narrowed his eyes, sweeping them over the Pomfiore sitting room. A group of students were sitting around one of the tables, studying. A few others were in front of the fireplace. A couple others were performing some viral dance for a Magicam reel. Nothing seemed amiss here. 

Vil walked down the hall of the dorm, heels clicking against the marble floor. With a missed step, Vil realized he hadn’t seen Epel or Rook in quite some time. That was… concerning. He quickened his walk. 

Vil almost gave himself whiplash as he passed by the ballroom. The door was cracked open ever so slightly so he could peer through. He felt slightly ridiculous, eavesdropping as if he wasn’t the caretaker for the dorm and all those in it. But his thoughts faltered as he observed the scene inside. He found Epel and Rook, as well as several other Pomfiore students, constructing elaborate sets out of painted cardboard and repurposed decorations from the dorm. Was that…? Something about this all seemed eerily familiar. 

“Wait, wait! You’re early!” (Y/N) said. She appeared in front of him, waving her hands to try and block his view. She grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room. “Don’t look!” She pushed him back into the hall, disappearing back into the ballroom. A second later, she emerged with a chair, setting it down and waving to it. “Just another few minutes.” The door clicked closed behind her before Vil could say anything. He thought about barging in, demanding an explanation. But his curiosity got the better of him. And besides, he always loved to see what (Y/N) got up to. Huffing in amusement, he sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. 

A while later, Epel, Rook, and the other students fled the ballroom, giving Vil knowing looks as they passed. With skepticism, Vil stood up and made his way inside. Standing in the doorway, he was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. Taking a better look, he recognized the replica set. It was from one of his first ever movies, a children’s adventure called The Heist of the Everlasting Rose. This particular scene was set in a museum where the Everlasting Rose was kept. It had been a supporting role, where, ironically, he had played a child actor in part of a crew to steal the titular Rose to pay for the main character’s sister’s surgery, or some other such justifiable nonsense like that. It was his first big screen production, although it was a relatively low-budget and minor movie. He remembered after the film had come out he and his father would pour over reviews praising his performance. At that moment, he felt like he was on top of the world. 

Vil was brought out of his reminiscing by (Y/N)’s voice. “Hello, sir!” She said. She had put on a tour guide’s jacket, once again modeled after the one in the film. “Welcome to the museum! We have our prized exhibit right this way.” Vil smirked, humoring her, if nothing else than to see where this was all going. Linking their arms, (Y/N) brought him through the makeshift museum. “Legend has it that this rose was given by a cursed prince to his beloved, who saved him from the brink of death with its magical powers. Since then, it has been a symbol of pure and everlasting love.” She carefully lifted the cloche from the silk flower, tiny fairy lights arranged around the base. She held it out to him, one hand dramatically pressed to her chest. “And now, I’d like to give it to you, Vil, to profess my everlasting love. Would you go out with me?” 

Vil couldn’t help it, it was all too much. The extravagant set, (Y/N) memorizing specific passages from such an old and now obscure film, the entire production. He burst out laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed. “Well,” He said, catching his breath. “After such a wonderful effort, how could I possibly say no? Yes, my dearest (Y/N), I would love nothing more than to be with you.” 

Rook: 

“(Y/N), you’re gonna shoot your eye out.” 

“No, it’ll be fine. You have to take risks for the sake of love.” 

“Oh, Seven, we don’t need two of you.” 

Rook’s ears picked up, hearing Epel and (Y/N) talking in the back gardens of the Pomefiore dorm. Smiling, he crept around to (definitely not) spy on them. (Y/N) was struggling with a large bow, an arrow flopping around as she tried to aim it. Pomfiore had a small target practice area set up in the back of the dorm. (Y/N) was trying, emphasis on trying, to shoot arrows at one of the red and white round targets. After her latest arrow struck the ground in front of the target, Epel sighed and walked to the target, collecting other fallen arrows. He stabbed them into the target in the shape of a heart, a letter with Rook’s name pinned to the bullseye. 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Epel said. 

“Oh? And what favor are you performing, Monsieur Pommette?” Both of them jumped, Rook smiling wider at the surprised squeak (Y/N) made. 

“You’re on your own, (Y/N)!” Epel said before rushing off. 

(Y/N) huffed. “Traitor,” She said under her breath. She turned to Rook. “Hi.” 

“Bonjour, Trickster.” 

“You’re, uh, early. I thought you were going to be at your club for a while longer.” 

Rook waved a hand. “There was an unexpected explosion and we had to evacuate. But I am much more interested in what you’re up to here.” 

“Ah, well…” She trailed off, limply pointing to the letter stabbed in the target. She covered her face with her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks as Rook elegantly plucked the letter up and began reading. 

(Y/N) could basically see the hearts forming in his eyes as he finished reading her confession. He dramatically clutched the love letter to his chest, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, mon amour le plus cher! Comme c’est merveilleux de lire vos sentiments les plus caret! Je n’ai jamais vu quelque chose d’aussi beau!” 

“So,” (Y/N) asked nervously. “Is that a yes?” 

“Oui, oui! One thousand times oui!” He cheered as he gathered her in a swinging hug. 

Epel: 

Epel found the first note the day after (Y/N)’s announcement in the cafeteria. Whatever she had wanted to do was apparently pretty important, as she had grabbed Grim and they left immediately. Epel hadn’t seen her the rest of the day, but he would recognize that handwriting on the paper wrapped around his dorm room handle anywhere. 

He looked around to make sure no one was watching before unfolding the paper and reading. ‘Epel, I have something important I need to ask, but before that I have a simple task. Take this first note of the set and go to the place we first met. Love, (Y/N).’ Epel tried not to think too much about that ‘Love’ part. Where did he and (Y/N) first meet? At this point it almost felt like they had known eachother forever. 

Would that be, maybe, the well in the quad? Epel remembered meeting her, Ace, Deuce, and Grim there when he was rehearsing singing, using the well’s acoustics. But, no, they had seen each other somewhere else first. Epel blushed in embarrassment at the memory. He had been crying, frustrated to hell and back with Vil’s lectures right after coming back from winter break. He’d run into them at the Great Seven statues. 

Epel went to the statues, deciding if he didn’t find anything there he would try the well. But, lo and behold, another note was waiting at the base of the Fairest Queen’s statue. He read, ‘Epel, Congrats on finding your second clue! By now you have an idea of what to do. For the next place I want you to go, think of the place we lived side by side before the show. Love, (Y/N).’ 

That one was easy, Ramshackle dorm. As Epel sprinted across campus, both notes held tightly in his fist, he reminisced about spending his days training for the VDC in Ramshackle. Most of the time there seemed like torture, running endless dancing drills, feeling constricted by Vil’s lessons whose purpose he still didn’t fully understand at the time, worrying about the whole dorm falling down around his ears at any moment. But there were plenty of good moments too. (Y/N) making them - Vil approved - breakfast in the morning, her encouragement at each of their rehearsals, how she would slip them treats when Vil and Rook’s backs were turned to help boost their mood. 

Sure enough, Epel found his next note on the Ramshackle front gate. There was another rhyme instructing him to go to another location, also connected to his and (Y/N)’s relationship and past. That lead to another and to another and another, each unlocking a precious memory between the two. Eventually, he unfolded the final note, the sun just starting to set, casting NRC in beautiful golden light. ‘Epel, I hope by now you get to see exactly how much you mean to me. We’ve been through a lot and I’ve enjoyed every and I’ve enjoyed every second, and… Okay, I can’t come up with any more rhymes. Just turn around!’ 

Lowering the paper, Epel turned, opening his arms just in time to catch (Y/N) in a big hug. They spun around each other for a second with the momentum, finally coming to a stop and looking to each other's eyes. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said. “Did you like my scavenger hunt?” 

“You’re bad at rhyming,” Epel said with a crooked smile. 

She wacked his shoulder. “Hey, I meant what I wrote, though. I really like you, Epel. Would you go out with me?” 

Epel squeaked her tight. “Only if you promise not to write any more poetry.” 

Idia: 

Idia was holding out in his room, huddled under a blanket, his phone clutched tight in his hand. He was watching a live stream from his favorite idol group, Premo. He smiled as the group answered fan questions, talked about their upcoming tour, and demonstrated how to perform some of their most famous dance moves. 

The viewer chat scrolled across the side of the screen. Donations and chat reactions popped up in various animations across the screen. Idia hit the donate button, sending a flurry of roses blooming along the edges of the screen. He smiled as the idols thanked Gloomurai for his support. 

One of the idols leaned over, checking the chat feed. She gasped, flapping a hand at the others and enthusiastically pointing at what she was reading. They all started smiling and giggling, whispering to each other. Idia shuffled closer, as if that would let him read whatever message they had gotten. 

“Hey, everyone!” One of them said. “We’ve got a super special shout-out! This is from (Username) to… Gloomurai!” 

Idia’s heart raced as he sat up in bed, blanket draped over him. (Username), (Username)... Wait, he recognized that. That was your username! He had helped you set up your account to the MMO he played a while ago. He remembered helping you through the intro stages, stumbling over the tutorials. He had laughed at your frustrated frown as you died on the same boss for the third time. 

“Aww,” The second idol said. “This is sweet. It says, ‘Gloomurai, I thought about telling you this in person, but I wasn’t sure when that would actually be. And sometimes big feelings require big gestures. I like you, I really, really like you. I think I have for a long time. I love your smile, I love your hair, I love your brain, I love that you’re such an amazing big brother. Will you go out with me?’ Well, Gloomurai? Tell us your answer! We’re waiting on pins and needles here!” 

“Oh, wait,” The third idol said. “There’s more. It says, ‘PS, check your door.’” 

Idia yelped as he shot up, the blanket falling to a heap on the floor. Heart thundering in his chest and head starting to go fuzzy. He almost felt like he was in a daze as he walked with trepidation to his door. Slowly opening it, Idia saw a basket placed just in front. It was filled with his favorite snacks, small acrylic standees of characters from his favorite games and anime, and studded with bluebells, irises, and blue asters. A large paper heart was pinned to the front with her and his initials drawn in the middle. Hair flaring pink, he quickly brought the basket back into his room before any of his dorm mates would notice. 

He heard commotion from his phone, Premo and the chat all eagerly awaiting his response. He sent in another donation with a simple, “Yes.” The idols cheered and squealed. 

He swiped out of the livestream, opening his messaging app. (Y/N)’s name popped up with a new message, a cheering emoticon with three blue hearts. 

He subconsciously covered his face as he smiled wide, typing back, “You’re so cringe. Can’t wait for the date.” 

Silver: 

(Y/N) sprinted across campus, heading whipping around to try and catch a familiar shimmer of silver white hair. She skidded to a stop when she saw a black Diasamonia coat draped over a low tree branch, a pair of shined boots sticking out behind the trunk. 

(Y/N) rounded the old oak tree. “Silv-! Oh, sorry.” 

Silver was reclining against the tree, hands folded across his stomach, chest rising and falling with deep even breaths, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept. A few songbirds and a pair of squirrels congregated around him, looking up with big eyes at the newcomer. 

(Y/N) shifted her weight from foot to foot before screwing up her courage and sitting down next to Silver. She shuffled down so she laid next to him, still leaving enough room to not cause too much of a scandal if anyone walked by. She settled down, closing her eyes and relaxing, taking in the sounds of the woodland animals around them, the talking of other students in the distance, the wind whispering through the trees. 

A short while later, she heard stirring next to her. (Y/N) blinked awake quickly, propping herself up and leaning back on her hands as Silver woke up beside her. 

“Hi,” She said. “Would  you want to go out with me?” 

Silver blinked the sleep out of his eyes, looking up at her. “I must still be dreaming,” He muttered. “If I am, then…” He reached forward, cupping the back of her head and pulling her down. She gasped as their lips brushed. Silver’s eyes suddenly shot open and he jerked back from her as if burned. “I- uh-” He studded, pale skin turning a ruby red. 

(Y/N) giggled at his embarrassment. “Well, I guess that’s a yes, right?” 

Sebek: 

“Be right back!” (Y/N) said as she suddenly stood from the first year cafeteria table. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, she was off like a shot. 

“Any idea what that was about?” Epel asked. The others shrugged. 

Grim reached over to snag half (Y/N)’s sandwich from her discarded tray. “Probably going to go ask out that boy she keeps talking about,” He said nonchalantly, mouth full. 

Sebek choked, standing fast and slamming his hands on the table so all their plates and cutlery clattered. “What!” 

“Chill, man,” Ace said, waving him down as people across the cafeteria turned to stare. Ace smirked. “Unless you’re particularly invested in (Y/N)’s love life?” 

Sebek blushed and slammed back into his seat. He picked his knife and fork back up and started sawing at his Salisbury steak. “No,” He snapped. “(Y/N) can do whatever she wants. What do I care?” 

“Sure,” Epel said. 

(Y/N) reappeared in the cafeteria a short while later, Malleus in tow. She was talking with him, gesturing with her hands. Malleus had a wide, amused smile, nodding along. 

Sebek stood again, at attention for his prince. “Good afternoon, Lord Malleus!” He said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” He scowled at the other first years rolling their eyes at his formality. 

“Hello, Sebek. I’ve come to give my blessing.” 

“Blessing?” 

“Sebek!” (Y/N) said brightly. She took both his hands in hers as he sputtered and blushed. “I really like you. Would you go out with me?” 

For once, Sebek was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. (Y/N) squeezed his hands tighter as Malleus chuckled next to them. “Well, Sebek? It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.” 

Life seized back into the knight. He tightened his grasp on (Y/N), pulling her closer. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean, ahem, I accept your offer of courting, since you went so far to get my lord’s blessing, after all.” 

Lilia: 

Lilia wouldn’t call what he was doing skulking, exactly. More like surprise chaperoning, keeping an eye on the youngsters of Night Raven College like a good upperclassman should. And, if he just so happened to pop out and scare the living daylights out of whatever unfortunate student happened to be nearby, well, more fun for him. 

So it wasn’t especially surprising when he heard Silver and (Y/N) talking to each other in the courtyard. As a sly smile stretched across his face, he floated to a hiding place in the shadows of the flying buttresses, resting on his stomach to kick his feet, chin resting in his hands, as he observed the two. 

“You want my permission?” Silver asked, an amused smile on his face. 

“Of course!” (Y/N) replied. “I wouldn’t want to make it weird by dating him while we’re all still students together.” 

Lilia faltered. That was the problem with spying, sometimes you heard things you didn’t want to. So the Prefect was romantically interested in someone, eh? And if they were asking Silver for permission, it must be someone close to him. Sebek, maybe? Or, oh dear, Malleus? Lilia knew for a fact that both of the boys thought of (Y/N) as a close and dear friend and nothing more. His heart panged in sympathy at the idea of rejection. And, if he was being honest with himself, it panged with something else as well. 

“You don’t think he’s a little old for you?” Silver asked teasingly. 

“Maybe I like a silver fox,” (Y/N) teased right back. 

Silver laughed. “I don’t think I ever want to hear my father described as a silver fox ever again.” 

Lilia lost his concentration, falling with a yelp against one of the chandeliers hanging in the hallway. 

“Lilia?” (Y/N) asked with a gasp. 

Lilia smiled, trying to regain poise as he floated down to them. “Looks like I’m not as slick as I used to be. Now, what were you two discussing just now?” 

(Y/N) look startled. Silver gave her shoulder a reassuring pat and left with a wave. Just the two of them now, (Y/N) took a deep breath, building up her courage. 

“Lilia!” She said, probably a little too loudly with nerves. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

Lilia chuckled, leaning close to enjoy the shy and flustered look on her face. “Well, if you have my son’s blessing, how am I to refuse? Besides, I think I rather like being called a, what was it you said? A silver fox?” 

Malleus: 

Malleus looked up from his book, looking around his room for the source of the noise that disturbed his studying. There, another sharp ‘ping’ from across the room. He looked to the window, noticing a small pebble hitting the glass. He walked over and opened the window, dodging just in time to miss another pebble. 

“Oops! Sorry, Horton!” He looked down, a smile automatically crossing his face at (Y/N)’s voice. But his expression quickly changed to puzzlement as he looked down at her. (Y/N) was standing in the courtyard of the Diasomonia dorm, inside a giant heart made of dozens of tiny tea candles. 

In a swirl of green light, Malleus appeared next to her on the ground floor. She jumped a little bit at his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered herself and beamed up at him. He felt his heart flip in that pleasant way it always did when he was near her. 

“What’s all this?” 

She cleared her throat dramatically, dropping to one knee. “Dearest Horton, you have bewitched me body and soul. I would like to officially court you. Would you do me the absolute pleasure of accompanying me on a date this weekend?” 

Malleus blinked down at her for a moment, basking in the admiration and adoration filling her eyes. He laughed, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to standing. “My, how formal,” He said. 

She smiled, shrugging. “I wanted it to be memorable. Couldn’t manage the fireworks, though. Sorry.” 

“I can rectify that.” With an elegant sweep of his hand, sparks erupted from Malleus’s fingertips, shooting into the dark sky around the dorm to explode in fantastic colors. Students from in the dorm leaned out windows to admire the impromptu show. 

Malleus drew (Y/N) closer to him, admiring the multicolor flashes playing across her face. “I would adore being anywhere with you.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtySix

Prompt from @travelingtwentysomething

“I want to try it.”

Steve is...ambivalent about the idea, to say the least.

“But what if it...hurts you. Or is poisonous?”

“Eddie has eaten and drunk loads of stuff, I don’t think it’ll hurt him, Steve,” Robin volunteers from the couch. She’s already a little drunk, her and Chrissy cuddled up next to each other.

“It grows out of the ground man, it’s practically a vegetable,” Argyle adds, really unhelpfully.

Jon, who Steve’s pretty sure was wasted before they even got here, adds, “that means it’s good for you. It’s green,” and then he starts giggling.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with big pleading eyes right now, but in a minute he’s going to turn stubborn about it, Steve’s sure, “you haven’t had a beer yet tonight, have you?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no.”

“Well, good, we’re not getting you cross faded right out of the gate, and just a little to start okay, share one with me?”

Eddie agrees immediately, and Argyle is already producing a pre-rolled from a little baggy, “this isn’t the hard shit bro, don’t worry. Baby steps for the little fishy,” Jon is set off giggling again.

They’re sprawled around on the lounge floor, a Christmas record playing, much to Eddie’s vocal disgust. It’s been forgotten now though, and only Nancy thinks to get up and flip it over.

Steve lights it and takes the first drag, holding it. Eddie watching him closely, “okay, go easy yeah, just a little breath in.”

Eddie nods, trying to copy Steve, but inevitably he ends up having a coughing fit, eyes watering. Steve takes it and rubs Eddie’s back, “is it supposed to be like that?” Eddie chokes out, voice a little fucked.

Jon starts giggling again, “he sounds just like great aunt Enid, she smoked a hundred a day.”

“It is to start with,” Steve tells him, “you still want to try?”

Eddie nods, taking the joint back from Steve. He’s more cautious this time, and knows what to expect, so he keeps it down a little better until he lets out a cloud of smoke on a mighty cough, Steve laughs, handing the last of the joint off to Robin’s questing fingers.

“It’d be easier on him if you shot gunned it-” Argyle starts, raising a lewd cheer and plenty of wolf whistles.

“What is shot gunned?”

“I’ll explain when you’re older,” Steve responds reflexively, everyone in the room promptly ‘boos’.

Steve takes a pillow to the face from Chrissy, “come on Steve, he never got to do the high school party thing. Go make out with him in a closet or something.”

Eddie immediately perks up, but then frowns, “why in the closet?”

Chrissy reaches over to smooth Eddie’s curls, clearly pretty trashed herself, “just dumb high school kid stuff baby. Pretty sure you wouldn’t want to play spin the bottle.”

“Spin the bottle?”

“It’s a game,” Steve explains, leaning into Eddie’s side, Argyle might think this stuff isn’t strong, but Steve hasn’t smoked anything for quite some time because of Eddie being around, and Argyle’s judgement on the strength of weed is clearly skewed by his monster tolerance, “say I spin a bottle, like, on the floor. We all sit in a circle around it, and whoever it lands on, we gotta’ kiss.”

Eddie’s face is an almost comedic scowl, “no.”

“No I know, none of that, I promise.”

Steve leans further, looking up from his new place in Eddie’s lap. He blows, making Eddie’s fluffy bangs fly about, giggling. Eddie’s eyes look a little bloodshot, but they crinkle at the corners just the same as he starts giggling too, tugging Steve’s hair in return.

Eddie’s sharp nails feel incredible on Steve’s scalp, “Stevie love, what is shot gun?”

Steve sighs, “someone hand me-” but it’s already there, and lit, Robin must have sourced another from Argyle in the meantime. Steve gets Eddie around the back of the neck, and he leans down easily when Steve pulls on him. Steve takes a deep drag, handing the joint back off to Robin, pulling Eddie down the rest of the way for an open mouthed kiss.

Steve breathes out his lungful, letting his tongue slide across the top of Eddie’s, Eddie gets the idea, breathing in deep, before turning it into a proper kiss and briefly sucking on Steve’s tongue in return.

Steve’s vaguely hopeful that they’re mostly hidden by Eddie’s hair and their position, but it doesn’t stop a dirty cheer being raised by everyone. Steve can’t really find it in himself to care that they’re being watched. The smoke still feels warm when Eddie exhales again, giving Steve slow, soft kisses as they break apart.

“What?” Eddie asks, looking around and, yup, Steve does too, confirming everyone is absolutely staring at them.

“It was hot,” Chrissy says, deadpan, and Robin snorts a laugh so long and ugly she ends it curled up, her forehead pressed to her knees.

“You’re just not...that publicly affectionate,” Nancy explains, probably the only sober person in the room, “it’s just...still new, you know?”

“Well it’s been like, a year?” Steve’s pretty sure that’s the right thing to say, but his thoughts are kind of syrupy.

Eddie’s playing with his collar now, tugging a little on a bit of chest hair he’s uncovered, “Stee. Eddidie...hungry.”

Steve hums, “yeah, I could eat, come on.”

There’s plenty of snacks laid out in the kitchen, and Steve follows Eddie as he immediately gravitates towards the chocolate cake, cutting himself a really fucking massive slice. Steve snorts a laugh at the size of it, watching as Eddie shovels in the first mouthful, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure as he chews; Steve grabs a fork and helps himself to some of Eddie’s.

“Stee,” Eddie says, kind of plaintive.

“What baby?”

Eddie frowns down at the cake, shaking his head, “good bad.”

“Oh? You want something different?”

But Eddie’s already put the cake down, rummaging in the fridge, he comes back with ketchup. Steve watches as Eddie dollops the ketchup, forks up some cake, dips, and eats.

He’s not entirely sure what to do, but Eddie lets out a quiet sigh of contentment and goes back for more.

Steve caves pretty fast, “that is...actually not that bad.”

Part ThirtyEight

[peppermintquartz]

Hondo comes into the locker room just as most of the others are going, and deliberately catches Deacon's eye. In case Deacon wants to play dumb, Hondo says, "Can we talk in private?"

Hondo sees the moment Deacon braces himself; he doubts anyone else but Luca might have noticed it. "Sure."

They find themselves someplace out of the way. Hondo steps closer and keeps his voice low. "Annie called Nichelle yesterday, crying. Deac, tell me it's not true what she said."

"Depends on what she said," Deacon replies. His face is blank; he knows how to play this game as well as anyone. It's going to be an uphill battle for Hondo, apparently.

Hondo glances around and, seeing no one else nearby, whispers fiercely, "Are you asking Annie for a divorce?"

"I told her I want a divorce, yes."

"Why? Deacon, the hell is going on? You and Annie are so great together," Hondo hisses, keeping an eye on possible eavesdroppers. The last thing he needs is this sort of gossip to spread, but he can't guarantee Deacon won't avoid him after work.

A bit of light sparring has started in the ring. 50-squad and 20-squad are both on shift, and Stevens and Tan are exchanging some good punches. Playing referee is Rocker, dancing around the combatants. Hondo looks over his shoulder and tugs Deacon a little further into the shadows.

Deacon sighs. "With all due respect, Hondo, that's my private life. And it's none of your business."

That's not wrong, but they've always been open about their family struggles since Deacon had money troubles.

"We're family, Deac. I'm not gonna judge, but I want to know what's going on."

"That's between me and Annie," Deacon replies, a note of warning in his tone. "It won't affect my work and it is of no concern of yours."

Hondo wants to press further but Hicks comes down the stairs at that exact moment with a furrowed brow and news of a jewelry heist gone wrong.

During the op, Deacon is his usual self: calm, cool and collected, his focus on the task at hand. Hondo has to force himself to do the same.

It feels strange to trust Deacon to have his back, while knowing that there's a wall Deacon's thrown up between them.

---

It takes Hondo six more days before he finds out the truth, by complete accident.

He's out buying fruit for his mom and pop when he sees Deacon crossing the road ahead, dressed in a dark jacket and a pair of light washed jeans. Hondo almost calls out to him but something gave him pause. Instead, he pays for the Asian pears and pulls on his shades, following Deacon from the other side of the road.

Deacon isn't looking around him but checking his phone. Then he enters a cafe. Hondo debates going in after him, but settles on waiting outside to the bakery opposite. Pretending to wait for someone and checking his watch now and again, he keeps an eye on Deacon, who is sitting at a window, smiling to himself. Then a familiar tall figure walks to the entrance of the cafe.

Rocker? Hondo hopes that Rocker's presence won't startle Deacon.

And then he sees Deacon standing to greet Rocker.

Maybe they're meeting for a security gig, Hondo thinks, starting to doubt himself, and then does a double take. Wait. Is Deacon kissing Rocker's hand?

The two men are gazing at each other, Rocker's left hand in Deacon's right, and Deacon has just pressed his mouth to the knuckles in a clearly romantic gesture.

His mind goes blank. Hondo doesn't know what to think.

All he sees is the happy, relaxed expression on the face of the man he trusts most in the world.

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 36 BRUTAL CLARITY

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing (shocker but no sexual innuendos in this chap !) , lwk abandonment issues, blame shifting, lots of nervous habits too (?)

NOTES | first fully written chap, some of you guys will hate me for this, also, I was initially going to post this yesterday, but I got lazy and didn't write anything 😭

Now, Jaemin wasn’t one to believe in fate, but if it had somehow led him here, he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.

After 10 minutes of trying to pry the door open and too many failed attempts at picking the lock both captains had finally given up, too worn out from the game to actually bother trying to get out of the room they found themselves locked in.

Jaemin stood near one of the benches, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes occasionally darted to Y/N, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back to him. Not a word had been exchanged between them in the past week, let alone during the last ten minutes. The silence between them felt heavy, far more suffocating than the game they'd just played.

There was so much to say—too much, in fact, and he had no idea where to begin. But Jaemin knew he had to start somewhere.

"Don't go on that date with Jay." He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. His body practically froze in the second it took him to process the words that had actually left his mouth, but Y/n sat still, unmoving. Of all the impending conversations, this was the last one he'd intended to start with.

He felt like an idiot.

When she didn’t respond, Jaemin felt a pang of uncertainty, wondering if she hadn’t heard him. He hesitated, the words stuck in his throat, but instead of repeating himself, he added, "Can we talk?"

Nothing. But he was certain she'd heard him.

"Come on, Y/N," Jaemin’s voice was quieter now but edged with desperation. "Talk to me"

Y/N’s shoulders stiffened, not turning around. Her gaze was fixed on the rough floor, the sting of old memories too sharp to face him directly.

Something about this moment felt too nostalgic, too tender, reminiscent of a past she desperately wanted to return to. And looking at Jaemin— she just couldn't do it.

Not now. Not when in this past week, she'd relived every moment she once knew Jaemin, through photographs and teenage diary entries,now buried somewhere at the back of her wardrobe.

Still, Jaemin took a step forward, and she bowed her head, refusing eye contact. His heart clenched. Her glossy eyes weren't difficult to miss, not for him.

"I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know why he's here, " Jaemin continued, his words rushed. "I just want to fix things. Please." He knew his words were jumbled, mixing pieces of conversations they should’ve had long ago, but if this was his only chance, he wouldn’t blow it. “Look at me, peach.”

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and for a moment, it seemed like she might just give in. Instead, she pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if to shut herself off completely. Cocooning herself.

Jaemin let out a frustrated breath and sank onto the bench across from her, his voice quieter now. Defeated almost.

"I swear, he came onto me first," Jaemin defended himself, trying to take a different approach to the situation, a dry, soulless laugh rolling off his tongue. "That's a lie, but he was pissing me off." His hands were up, raised by his head in full defence after he'd caught the way y/n snuck bitter glances at him in the mirror across from them.

God, she almost wanted to laugh. And she hated that she did, hated how jaemin always knew what to say and when to say it, how to get her to laugh in her worst moments, how to get through to her when nobody else could. After all that, she didn't understand why he was the same person to turn his back on her so quickly.

In all honesty, she could've cared less about what Jaemin had done to her father. He probably deserved it, hell she was ready to blow up at him herself— the man who had never once shown up to a single one of her games in support, coming to one of the few that meant the most. He did it on purpose. He was trying to throw her off and it was clear as day. He could be dealt with later she supposed, trying to process everything Jaemin was saying instead.

But it still didn't make sense. Nothing seemed to match up. Why would the Jaemin who'd walked out of her life so easily put so much at stake for her, the Jaemin who once couldn't care less about her, now begged her just to look his way. Her mind raced, a swirl of emotions, but behind it all, a lingering sense of confusion.

"Can we talk y/n? You've been ignoring me for days, and I have no idea what I did." He pauses, hoping she'll finally break. She doesn't, not yet.

"If anyone should be mad at someone it's me. I should be angry, hell I should be enraged, but here I am making an effort and you're giving me nothing." he tries again, hopeful. His voice raises, louder, more hoarse when he continues, a sign of his slipping patience.

"Work with me here because I'm trying to salvage our friendship after everything we've been through, I'm trying to save us, and somehow, it feels like you've already given up"

She finally spoke, her voice flat.

"I have."

Jaemin felt the way his eyes widened, the spark of hope in his eyes vanished, confusion flooding his expression instead.

"What."

"Why would I fight for something I know won't last?" She spoke like she had all the certainty in the world

Jaemin's expression faltered. "What do you mean?"

The question is simple but comes with such sincerity that for a moment, just for a second, Y/n wonders if she's gone insane.

"What do I mean?" she laughs, sarcasm dripping through her tone, "You know damn well what I mean Jaemin." His innocent act is enough for Y/n to rise to her feet, fists bundled at her side, jaw set in a hard line.

"You don't just get to walk out of someone's life, my life Jaemin, and pretend like you did nothing wrong. You don't just get to throw away relationships like that, not what we had. You want to talk about fighting, huh Jaemin? I fought, so hard. " her voice was sharp, coming in bursts of irritation, struggling to catch her breath as she hiccuped, tears welling in her eyes and already rolling down her cheeks " I fought so fucking hard, and I fought alone, because I thought you, I thought we, were worth fighting for."

She takes a second to wipe her tears, Jaemin taken aback— he'd never seen her like this, never so raw, so vulnerable.

Nothing she had said made any sense, nothing she spoke of aligned with anything he knew, and yet it seemed nothing short of the truth.

"You disappeared, and you never even told me why, and you want to talk to me about giving up on us? How do I know you won't do it again, huh? How do I let you back into my life, accept you with open arms and a smile, when I don't know if you'll do it again, if you'll leave again." At this point, Jaemin watched the girl's sentences disintegrate in their flow, broken sobs punctuating her words in some places, shallow breaths in others.

"You say want to talk about us, but the first thing you asked me was not to go on some stupid date that really shouldn't be any of your concern in the first place. Is this really even about us? Because it feels like you say all this shit about fighting for us when really, you don't care at all."

Her words were coming out jumbled, a disorganised mess of all the things she'd been meaning to get off her chest in years, and yet the weight on her shoulders didn't seem to lighten even when she spoke.

"I called a thousand times, texted a million more, I begged to talk to you, I sent you letters, I even sent emails, emails Jaemin, and you never responded, not once. I was trying so hard, and you, you weren't even trying at all."

Jaemin felt a knot tighten in his stomach, uncertainty coursing through his veins. The anger he thought he should have felt was replaced by a deep concern, making him question everything he swore he had known for so long.

"You think I cut you off for no reason?" perhaps he should've made a more conscious effort to soothe her worries, but Jaemin felt it, his clammy palms, his shaky hands, he was on the edge— ready to spiral if he had to listen any further. The need to defend himself, and perhaps, to really get to the bottom of this, was compelling.

Everything he did, blocking her number and her contacts, ignoring her countless knocks at the door and her shouts for him across the street, all of it, came flooding back into his mind.

For a moment, he wondered if she really deserved it at all?

"You were all I had y/n, all I needed really, and you think I just did this all for no reason. I know you're not stupid enough to think that." He chuckles— sourly. "You left me," he corrects. "Broke every promise you'd ever made to me and never turned around once to apologise"

It felt like he was speaking gibberish, like his words didn't make sense, and his emotions came out of nowhere, a throbbing now making Y/n's head spin. This act Jaemin was putting on was good, too good.

"Stop speaking in riddles, what do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't get to stand there and pretend this is all my fault," he snaps, sharp and honest. "You left me at regionals, after promising you would be there, you left me to fend for myself after knowing what I would've had to give up if I competed, what I did give up. Y/n you left me, betrayed me in fact, so don't you dare make this my fault."

You left me— the words rang in her ears.

But she didn't.

Y/n didn't remember much, not from that point in her life, after she'd made every attempt forget it, but she remembered this, and she remembered it so vividly. Regionals hadn't gone ahead that year. She was certain. They were cancelled, she tried desperately to recollect. And then it hit her.

As Jaemin stared at her, the pieces began to fall into place. Y/n felt her heart drop. Just how stupid could she be?

"They didn't cancel the competition?" she asked, each syllable thick with a newfound shame.

"Of course not" he scoffed, "Why would you think that"

Jaemin almost rolled his eyes.

But then he saw it, the way her skin had drained of its colour. Y/n's lips trembled, she fidgeted with her fingers, picking at the skin that surrounded her nail beds, flicking the hair tie against her wrist. Something wasn't right. Y/n finally realised what she had done, and god, she felt like such a fool. The truth hit hard, and it hit fast.

"I'm so sorry, jaem," her head hung low with embarrassment, but her stare still held his, as if she could only convey the sheer sincerity of hers through her eyes. The weight of her words hung between them, and Jaemin could feel the atmosphere shift around him, the heat that rushed to his head before was now replaced with a harsh knocking against his ribs, cold feet and constricted air.

He wanted answers. He needed to know.

"Y/n what happened that day. Tell me."

The signs, they'd had been clear as day, and now, she wondered why she'd believed him, after his constant let downs and disapproval for her sport, his constant attempts to sabotage her and her career.

The organisers had all gotten into a car crash on their way to the competition, that why the competition didn't go ahead— that's what her dad had told her.

Regret settled in her chest as she fought to intake enough oxygen.

Her head shook, frantic and fevered, there was no way.

She couldn't believe it.

Her father lied to her, and she'd been naive enough to believe him.

It was all her fault.

Her stupidity had cost Jaemin so much. It had cost them so much. Everything.

But she didn't know how to tell him.

Her eyes focused on Jaemin, but he seemed blurry and hazy. In fact, soon enough, he was spinning.

Y/n struggled to keep her footing, her legs wobbling beneath her. It was as if the ground was shifting, and she couldn't find her balance, her mind racing with thoughts that only fueled her anxiety. The bitter taste of guilt residing on her tongue, harsh and unforgiving.

"I need you to breathe for me, peach. I'm right here. Just breathe."

But she needed to get it off her chest. She had to.

"He said they cancelled the competition. He lied."

"Who did?" Jaemin was beyond confused, her sentence too short and vague for him to understand what she was getting at. Still, his heart skipped a beat, panicked.

"My dad."

It was as if a fog had lifted, and suddenly, everything made sense. Really and truly, it felt impossible. A brutal clarity.

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST: @jenobubbles @justalildumpling @nanawrlds @222brainrot @sungookie @pepperedthot @dinonuguaegi @haechansbbg @90s-belladonna @bath1lda @jeongintwt @daegalfangirl @ahnneyong @jammingjaem @paper-boats-rose @iraa567 @errrrrat @kyusqult @suzayaaa @jising-jisang-jisung @soonyoonswoo @nctrawberries @wonbin-truther @sunghoonsgfreal @lotties-readings @onlyhyunjin @swee7dream @natokkiz @beomgyusonlywife @nanaxwi @nosungluv @tommina @sinisxtea @20sdiary @otblous @p-d1ddy @lostinneocity @soobs-things @odxrilove @buns-inhiding @busy-daydreaming02 @starfilledgaze @papichulomacy @grassbutneo @iwilleatyourgod @jeeluv @mystverse @meowtella

[jelzorz]

201.

Terry doesn't have siblings. He's always wondered, quietly, what it would have been like to grow up with one; someone to get in and out mischief with, someone who's supposed to be on your side despite everything else.

Claudia had been bitter about her brother.

Terry had wondered if he'd misunderstood what siblings were supposed to be.

Then he actually starts hanging out with Soren and Corvus, and well. Now he knows.

They are both older than him and decidedly more adventurous, and it's been a tough couple of months, y'know? Things are getting better—Evrkynd is almost self-sufficient, and Katolis Castle is still being fixed up but the builders have declared it livable again, and the refugees at the Banther Lodge have slowly started to move back in. Soren is not... irresponsible per se, but he does do a lot things because he thinks they would be funny, and Terry gets dragged into it because he's dragged into everything Soren and Corvus do nowadays, and that's how he ends up in their High Cleric's newly rebuilt office dressed for burglary and feeling like a child caught red handed with a cookie jar he's not supposed to have.

"Tell me again why you were sneaking into the wine cellar dressed like thieves."

Terry looks away. Opeli is nice enough and Soren and Corvus both promise that she's not as stiff as he thinks she is, but she is a formidable woman when she's annoyed, and she is, frankly, pretty damn annoyed. Corvus, for his part, looks like he's got a headache that matches hers, and Soren looks sheepish but mostly unapologetic, but Opeli isn't asking them—

She's asking Terry.

"Uh..."

Soren nudges him. Testing the security, he mouths obviously, so obviously that Corvus sinks further into his chair and hides his face by pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We were—uh—t-testing the security?" He parrots.

"And that involves sneaking a cask of wine out through the window, does it?"

Terry actually squeaks. "Yes?"

Opeli purses her lips. Terry falters under the pressure.

"Soren just said we were going for drinks! I thought he meant we were going out, I didn't think we'd be breaking into the castle—"

"You live here," she snaps, rounding on Soren and Corvus. "If you wanted a drink, why not simply walk to the kitchens like civilised members of society?"

"To his credit, High Cleric," says Corvus tiredly, "he really did make it sound like a security test."

"The fact that there was wine involved didn't raise your suspicions."

"He didn't mention the wine to me."

There's a pause. Terry wonders if she might want a drink herself.

"Come on, Opeli," says Soren at last. "It was just a little fun. We didn't even get a drink before we got caught, and we were gonna offer you some anyway."

"Why on earth would I partake in your stolen wine?"

"It's not stealing if it's our wine," he points out, flashing one of his more charming smiles at her. "It's all fine, no one got hurt, and y'know, the maids who caught us might have freaked out a little, but now we know there's a blindspot there! You can let us off just this once."

Opeli scowls at him, and then at Corvus, and then Terry. "I expected better from you two," she mutters at them. "Soren's been doing this for years, but you two..." She shakes her head. "Just go. Walk to the kitchens in future, if you please, and dress for the stations you occupy rather than scaring the maids by dressing as burglars." She dismisses them with a wave of her hand and they file out, but not before Soren reveals one of the two bottles he had stolen and leaves it on her desk. The other he uncorks as soon as Opeli's office door shuts.

"So maybe we approach from the South Wing next time?"

"Soren!"

"Are you serious?"

He laughs and raises the bottle. "Cheers to you guys," he says taking a swig before offering it to them. "Brothers in arms, right?"

In spite of himself, Terry snorts and hides his smile behind the lip of the bottle. Brothers in arms indeed.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Right Where You Belong

A little semi-festive one shot, because it is almost Christmas, after all.

*~*

You’ve been to the Howard’s home before with Melissa, but this is the first time you’ve stayed over.  It was, however, an annual event in the Howard household.  Each year between school breaking up and Christmas Melissa would have dinner and stay overnight with her best friend.  It was their little chance to celebrate out of school and for Melissa to catch up with her God daughters and enjoy more than a five minute conversation with Gerald, who she otherwise only often seen while he was dropping off or collecting this wife.

This year, there was one big difference to the annual event; you were invited.  You and Melissa had been dating for just shy of two years, but even so, it was something you never expected.  Her friendship with Barb was something you were always very respectful of.  You had always been careful not to step on any toes and not encroach on the pair’s time together or interrupt the traditions they had built up over the years they had known each other. 

The invitation had been issued so casually you weren’t quite sure how to react.  You had been out Christmas shopping with the red head when she had motioned at a dress in a store window. 

“You’d look knock out in that,” she’d smiled.  “You wanna try it?  You could wear it to dinner next week?”

“Dinner? You’d frowned. 

“Yeah,” nodded Melissa.  “At Barb’s.”

Your frown had only deepened.  “I hardly need a new dress to drop you off.”

“What d’ya mean drop me off?  You’re coming.”

And just like that you had a new dress and an apparent invite to the Howard’s.

*

You’d been nervous, though as Melissa had assured you, you had no need to be.  Barb had been delightfully Barb, Gerald had been as warm and welcoming as you’d always found him to be and the girls had taken their God mother’s warning, complete with raised eyebrow, that to mess with you was to mess with her.  Her words had been met with a variety of reactions around the table.  Your own had been to blush profusely and try to hide behind your drink. 

*

“I wish you’d told me Barb’s house is like an oven,” you say as you shake out the pyjamas you’d brought.  They’re fluffy and perfect for winter but not for sleeping in a sauna.  It’s not that you’re complaining that the woman keeps the house warm.  You’re all for that given your tendency to run cold, but the spare room seems to be even warmer than the rest of the house.

“It’s not usually this hot,” replies the red head.  “I think she turned the heat up because she knows how cold you get.”

You can’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness.  Still, that thoughtfulness doesn’t help the fact that you’re now going to melt n your fluffy pj’s. 

“Just don’t sleep in them,” says Melissa, like it’s obvious.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead at the suggestion.  “I’m not sleeping naked in Barb’s house!”

Melissa just laughs.  “Why not?  She’s hardly going to come in and do a bedtime inspection.”

“That’s not the point!” you hiss.  Sleeping naked at Melissa’s house is one thing, but at Barb’s with her whole family here?  Not a chance. 

“Here,” says the red head, holding out her oversized sleep shirt.  “Wear mine.”

“Then what will you wear?”

You watch as she gestures to her practically naked self, where only her panties keep her from being fully nude.  “Pretty sure you’ve seen this outfit before.  You might even have said you liked it,” she smirks.  “Besides, Barb’s known me long enough it’s nothin’ she ain’t seen before, Ger’s too much of a gent to come in without knocking and the girls are past the age where they’re likely to sneak in for a sleepover in the middle of the night. 

“Why has Barb seen you naked?”  The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

Your question earns a raised eyebrow and an amused quirk of lips.  “We’ve shared enough hotel rooms and I’ve had enough wardrobe disasters she’s seen it all at some point.”  She pauses.  “Why, jealous?”

You catch the sleep shirt she tosses in your direction.  “That she got to see you in all your naked glory before I did?  Yeah, maybe a little.”  You pull the shirt over your head, hearing her chuckle in response to your words.  When you pop your head through the neck hole she’s in front of you, leaning in to kiss you.

“Just FYI, I’m not having sex in Barb’s house either, no matter how jealous I am,” you tell her as you free your hair from the shirt before pressing a further, chaste kiss to her lips before grabbing your wash bag and heading for the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Melissa smiles and makes to follow you, pausing only to stick her head around the doorframe and making sure the coast was clear before dashing across the hall to join you in the bathroom.  She wraps her arms around your waist as you go about your quick nighttime routine, just enjoying the closeness and the way you instinctively lean back into her.  She stays that way until you’re done, smiling as you turn in her arms to kiss her, your breath minty fresh. 

“Want me to keep watch and make sure the coast is clear for you coming back?” you ask.

“Trying to keep all this to yourself?” she asks with a smirk.

“Damn right I am,” you grin.  “Not that I don’t think your body should be appreciated on a grand scale, but what can I say, I guess I’m a little more possessive than I first thought?”  You lean in to kiss her again, this one oh so soft and lingering.  “And when we’re not in a room where we might scar your best friend and her children, I might show you just how much.”

“Is that a promise?” she asks, her voice a low.

“One I’m looking forward to keeping,” you tell her, giving her a final peck on the lips before heading back across the hall.  If you stay you’ll only get distracted.

Melissa finds herself grinning as you close the bathroom door, leaving her alone in the small room.  She busies herself with her own little routine, catching the red flush to her cheeks in the mirror as she thinks about just what you might do to make good on your promise.  As she brushes her teeth she turns this way and that, taking a moment to take in her reflection.  There are still a lot of things about her body she struggles to like, but you’ve definitely helped.  There’s not an inch of her you haven’t kissed and you’re not shy in your compliments either.  Finishing up, she gives herself one final appraisal in the mirror.  Make-up free and dressed only in a smile and her knickers, she shakes her head.  If you’d told her when you first turned up at Abbott this is how things would turn out, she’d have laughed in your face.  Now, she wouldn’t want it any other way.  Turning off the light to the bathroom, she pokes her head out into the hallway once more before making the dash across the hall.  Familiar enough with the room she’s stayed in many times before, she flicks off the bedroom light too as she enters, slipping into bed and automatically settling in behind you.  She slips an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your clothed shoulder. 

You smile in the darkness at the familiar feel of Melissa’s body close to your own, covering the arm around your waist with your own and keeping it in place.  “Thank you, for bringing me tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies, her voice quiet in the darkness.  “Course I brought you.  Why wouldn’t I?”

“No, I know this is a work wives thing,” you say.  “So I want to say thank you for sharing it with me.”

Melissa pauses before replying.  “It’s not a work wives thing, it’s a family thing.”

“I know, it’s your night with the whole Howard clan.”  You feel her pull you more tightly to her, able to feel the motion of her shaking her head behind you.

“Like I said, hon, it’s a family thing.  So you’re right where you belong.”

[it-was-summer]

... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9.781

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead. 

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside. 

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say. 

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander. 

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head. 

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?” 

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you. 

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression. 

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” 

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot. 

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,” 

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.” 

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?” 

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey. 

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at. 

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.” 

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again. 

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one. 

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?” 

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.” 

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.” 

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question. 

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.” 

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin. 

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?” 

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,” 

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.” 

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger. 

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps. 

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar. 

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,” 

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,” 

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit. 

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.” 

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.” 

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you. 

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,” 

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile. 

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?” 

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.” 

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?” 

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.” 

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction. 

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.” 

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,” 

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.” 

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years. 

“Did he even like trail mix?” 

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer. 

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?” 

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.” 

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.” 

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you. 

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.” 

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat. 

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm. 

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,” 

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here. 

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up. 

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat. 

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone. 

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”  

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it. 

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice. 

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free. 

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up. 

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction. 

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone. 

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange. 

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons. 

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself. 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway. 

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away. 

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous. 

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes. 

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes. 

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?” 

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders. 

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”  

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile. 

“Bills?” 

“Bills.” 

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.” 

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,” 

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.” 

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal. 

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.” 

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary. 

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?” 

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.” 

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.” 

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in. 

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–” 

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.” 

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.” 

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office. 

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair. 

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.” 

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee. 

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?” 

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze. 

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…” 

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look. 

“I’ll text the rest of the group.” 

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.” 

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them. 

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel. 

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?” 

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?” 

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you. 

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–” 

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’ 

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?” 

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—”  he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are. 

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you. 

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,” 

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran. 

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.” 

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard. 

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly. 

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,” 

“You don’t… know?” 

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly. 

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?  

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you. 

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it. 

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.”  Is what you settle on. 

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something. 

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.” 

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.” 

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.” 

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly. 

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’. 

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful. 

Wanting more than that was greedy. 

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,” 

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said. 

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?” 

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,” 

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.” 

“Care to take a guess?” 

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?” 

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?” 

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.” 

“What were you expecting?” 

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.” 

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.” 

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours. 

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly. 

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot. 

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?” 

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather. 

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf. 

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,” 

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer. 

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,” 

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again. 

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew. 

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal. 

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

 Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?” 

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.” 

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–” 

“You didn’t even know him!” 

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.” 

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer. 

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.” 

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,” 

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner. 

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up. 

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.” 

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?” 

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen. 

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.” 

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—” 

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.” 

“I am paying?” 

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.” 

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—” 

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.” 

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears. 

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours. 

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.” 

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,” 

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.” 

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.” 

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?” 

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain. 

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.” 

“Then make it up to him,” 

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him. 

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk. 

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket. 

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then. 

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer. 

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd? 

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again. 

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point. 

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose. 

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company. 

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low. 

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought. 

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?” 

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees. 

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?” 

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.” 

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.” 

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,” 

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,” 

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.” 

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.” 

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,” 

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,” 

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.” 

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,” 

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you. 

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—” 

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again. 

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.” 

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response. 

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft. 

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,” 

“I like slower.” 

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?” 

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street. 

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last. 

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

[ynmnrmt]

The book hits me in the chest. It doesn't hurt, not really, I don't suppose I can complain about this anyway since I always knew it might turn out like this.

"You do not get to do this to me!" says Rachel, all fiery, as she tackles me to the ground and sends a swooping, weightless sensation down my spine. My heart starts to beat out of control, in fear I expect. "Nobody gets to do this to me! What, did you think I was going to be your good girl?"

This is the wrong response for that teeth-clenched scorn, but I fumble out "Well, not that exactly." I don’t think there really was a right response there, it just makes her angrier. Her nails dig into my arms, it makes whatever nonsense I was going to say next catch in my throat. If she were anyone else I would be thinking of all the ways I could use my bugs to disable them or otherwise get them off me, but this is different, because it is Rachel.

"I fucking hate you, Taylor," she snarls, so close I can feel the heat of her breath in my mouth. "I fucking hate you."

"I don't hate you," I tell her, trying to suppress the tears.

Rachel slumps slightly. For some reason the feeling of her big, sinewy body on top of me makes me think of the time I had sex with Brian, although I don't know why. "No," she sighs, "I don't hate you either." My tears dry up instantly.

"I probably shouldn't be trying to use some stupid book to relate to you better," I confess, it was one of those situations where it would either make everything okay forever or completely ruin things.

"No, well, I probably overreacted, its the sort of thing you do, you – you nerd." Her grip on my arms gets a little looser, but she's still on top of me, weighing me down, my heart's still going like a drum. "There's just something about you that, ugh, you pissed me off so bad, I was about ready to bite you."

"Maybe you should." That just comes right out, she looks as surprised as that as I am. "I mean, this isn't from the book now, but it makes sense, if I did something that pissed you off that much then obviously you'd be tempted to respond that way, so, um, maybe you should. To show there’s no hard feelings. I wouldn't mind."

Her eyebrows narrow, again there's that wonderful swooping feeling where my legs turn to jelly. "This isn’t a trick, is it? You won't go running off and tell the others 'boo hoo, Bitch bit me'?"

"No! No, I would never, this can just be between us."

She grabs my right arm with both hands now, and raises it to her mouth, slowly and methodically as if she's waiting for me to object. Then she sinks her teeth into it, those hard points, her soft lips, I whimper. Then I gasp when she immediately releases me, the relief from a pain I didn’t really feel, and she asks "Are you okay? That wasn't, like, too much?"

"No!" I insist, again it just tumbles out of my mouth with no conscious thought, though I mean it very sincerely. "No, that was great, I mean, fine. I - I think I liked it."

"I, uh," Rachel looks wrong-footed in a way I've never seen her look before, and I yearn to reach out and caress her and hold her in my arms and tell her it's okay, she is my friend after all, but the way she's straddling me I cant get off the ground. I think I like that, too. "I don’t want to hurt you, Taylor. I know sometimes you piss me off, and then I get pissed off, but I don't want to hurt you, not really."

"You're not hurting me, Rachel," I say gently, still doing my best to get across how I want to hold her and caress her and everything. I smile up at her, carefully not not showing my teeth, even though I doubt she'd find that a threat to her dominant status. "Not in any serious way, you're not. In fact, maybe, maybe this could be a relatively healthy way of dealing with it, if I piss you off again. You can just take me aside and give me a little nip," and here she does, playfully, her front teeth pull at the skin of my arm and I wriggle with a deep and heartfelt satisfaction, "and I'll know exactly what you mean and then I'll know not do the thing that upset you in future."

She shakes my arm lightly, with a little "RR-rr", then adds "I don't know, Taylor." Suddenly I realise that yes, she's right to be concerned, this sounds like an incredibly abusive dynamic on the face of it even if from where I'm laying - still trapped between her thighs - it sounds absolutely perfect, and makes me glad we can be such good friends. "Because, the thing is, I'll probably end up biting you a lot."

"That's okay!" I definitely just let that fall out of me without thinking, but even after some consideration I conclude that yeah, it's absolutely fine.

"Just thinking about that book - I'm sorry, it's pissing me off all over again." The colour rises in her cheeks, I desperately hope she will work this out by biting me, maybe a little harder this time. For a moment there is a little struggle, I do not really want to get free of her grasp and she does not want to let me. "Seriously, what was your plan there? Were you going to," for a little moment, the words catch in her throat, "put a collar on me, and tow me around on a leash?" Oh God, that probably is what it would all have been leading up to, I'm about to messily sob out another apology when she says "How would you like it if I did that to you?"

How would I like that? Immediately my heart flutters as I imagine her strong fingers pulling the collar tight around my neck. Not too tight, I'm sure she wouldn't do that, just tight enough so I really feel it, usually I really don’t like those sorts of sensations but I’m mysteriously convinced this would be different. "I don’t know," I whisper, already feeling the tightness, my throat closed up further than I'm completely comfortable with. "Maybe we should try that."

Rachel says nothing, but she immediately gets off me, which is slightly disappointing, and goes rooting about in a chest of drawers. I cling on her elbow, to look through the drawers as well, to help, obviously I would help her do that, she's my friend. "Most of these are flea collars," she says apologetically, "and the chemicals on those would really mess up your," I flush a little, feeling her eyes on my throat, and then she realises what I'm doing and she flushes a little too, "you wouldn't want that, anyway."

"Oh, what about this one?" I say, and pull it out into the light. Its made in old green leather with brass studs, it looks quite classy. If it was black leather it would just look like something from a kinky bondage dungeon, which of course it isn't.

Here it is, a million times more exciting than I could possibly have imagined, as she brings the ends together under my chin. Oh dear, now I think I am showing her my teeth, but she doesn't seem to mind. "You need to say, if it's too tight," she warns me.

"I trust you," I say, it sounds stupid now I've said it, we've spent a few lovely bites establishing that. When she pulls it closed and buckles it on it's perfect, there is just the tiniest amount of pressure, the awareness that it is there and she has done this to me, but I can breathe comfortably and there's no awkwardness with the blood thundering in my jugular.

Rachel slips a finger through the ring on the collar, I don't even think she's very much taller than me but this jerks my head upward anyway. "Maybe we don't need a leash, maybe we could make it work like this," she says, so tenderly, her other hand grasps my arm again and she has me completely under her control, she might have a point. But then she lets me go and goes back in the drawers, and before long, there it is, she clips the end onto the collar and she officially has me leashed. "So," she declares, all boisterous again in a way that makes me weak at the knees, I like her so much and she's such a good friend, "what did your stupid fucking book say to do now?"

"I don't know," I say. "I haven't read it, I wanted to be sure you were okay with it before I seriously tried to use any of its ideas on you. I thought it would be incredibly disrespectful if I didn't do that."

Rachel's hard eyes turn liquid. With one hand holding the leash steady in place, her other strokes my cheek. I am so incredibly glad we are still friends, after all this, and suddenly I realise what it is, I'm not in control here, I have given her control and I've done it willingly and I feel good about it. Then she says "Give me a woof."

"Woof! Bark!" I say out loud, and drop to my knees, if there was any possible way that I could wag my tail I would do it now. Rachel laughs, I rub my muzzle, or rather my mouth, against her hand.

"Good girl," she intones, and for her to say that makes me feel so wonderful, I know how she feels about cutesy expressions like that, and to have her say it to me, so light-heartedly, it doesn't even matter how I feel about it, I am only glad I can make her happy.

"Did you think I was going to be your good girl?" I repeat her words back to her, I think we're at a point where that can be lighthearted - and it is, she laughs again, after having seen her so angry it is indescribably wonderful that she is so happy. I wish there was a special button I could press to do this for her, but then, I try and calm myself down, this is what it is to interact socially and to have a friend like Rachel. There isn't some simple solution for this, it is a constant ever-correcting ballet, showing her again and again that she is my friend and I trust her and I want her to be happy. Then she presses the button to retract the leash, and it jerks me upward out of my dog act, straight up against her. I worry I have overstepped a boundary, I can feel her heart throb in her chest, the taste of her breath in my mouth again. For some reason I want her to press the button again and drag me in closer. "Woof," I say again, not even sure what I mean by it.

"Yeah," she exults, so smug and satisfied I could melt right here, I would be a puddle on the floor if she wasn't practically holding me up. "Keep woofing for me."

"No, you'll have to train me," I have absolutely no idea where this has come from, but how bad could her training process possibly be? Her giving me treats, and telling me no? Oh no, I think I want her to train me to woof when she says more than anything else in the world. I want to woof for her, I want her to make me woof, and just as that too is about to slip out of me like an oyster suddenly she tilts her head slightly - Oh God, something gives way in my underwear, it doesn't seem like I've peed myself but that is the only possible explanation for how wet I suddenly feel – but instead of what I thought would happen there she draws me in close and throws my hair aside so she can give my ear a little nip. I squirm, my vision blurs, I never want it to end.

When she lets go I feel the urge to chase after her, as if she’s a stick thrown for me, a magnificent red-haired stick. Fumbling over the words, clearly brute-forcing out a sentiment that doesn’t quite come naturally but is clearly there, she tells me.“You taste good.”

"You feel good," I insist, unsure how to deal with that lovely compliment except by turning it straight back onto her. "And, if this is what's come of me getting that stupid book, I'm sort of glad I did." I just keep pressing the sore spots, don't I? No wonder she was tempted to bite me, and yes, now she does again, on my cheek, my ear, my shoulder, every time it makes me that little bit weaker in the knees.

“Pff! God, you have too much hair,” Rachel growls, when she spits out multiple tresses I see what she means. But once she’s gotten them out of the way she squeezes me between her teeth and I hope it leaves a mark, and then that turns into "I probably should have known you just wanted to be nice to me. For whatever stupid reason you have."

"I'm glad," oh God, I can feel myself starting to well up, it's just too much, "I'm glad I've got you, here, to tell me where I went wrong."

"Well,” she says, pondering over it, "probably no harm in pointing out that normally my dogs wouldn't be wearing clothes."

"Oh! You're right! Woof." I gladly raise my arms and Rachel lifts my shirt, I giggle when it has to go over the leash as well. As it comes free it knocks my glasses askew – I raise my hand to fix them, but Rachel’s doing that already. Then I undo my trousers and they fall down as if lubricated. Normally I'd feel incredibly vulnerable being in my underwear in front of someone fully clothed, and I do, but I also feel completely safe and strangely contented, if a little cold, just a little.

"Those too," Rachel inclines her head at me. If we weren't such good friends I'd have said her tone was permeated with a kind of hungry desire.

"I'm shy," I tease, it's not really a lie.

With one sharp motion she pulls me in close again, yes, I'm not cold any more, and as her teeth close gently on my neck I feel her reach up my back and fumble with my bra strap. I'm quite glad she didnt unhook it in one go, I'm enjoying the process and would like it to last as long as possible. Perhaps she gets that too, because when she has uncooked it she doesn't pull it off immediately, just stands there holding it open, and stops biting me to say with desperate awkward sincerity “You – are comfortable with this?”

“Yes!” Even the words are starting to sound like little barks, but it’s so incredibly, gloriously refreshing to be able to be completely honest with her – with anyone, although especially with her. Suddenly buying the book seems so stupid, stupider even than when I was worried it would make her never want to speak with me again. Why learn about dog psychology when you can just be the dog? “And I hope you’re comfortable with it, too,” I add quickly.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly baffled. But that just lasts for a moment, and then she smiles at me again, and it’s like the sun coming up. I shrink down in the face of all that warmth, my knees haven’t completely gone but something about having her tower over me seems so natural and wonderful, and then I hug her around her waist, feeling the dog hair on her t-shirt up against my cheek. She pets me and really shakes my head around as she does it, rougher than she was with me before, it makes me feel like part of the pack.

“I know what else a dog would do,” I say, slightly breathlessly.

“Yeah?” says Rachel – and then I scamper behind her, the leash laps around her legs, and I start sniffing. This probably would be a bit strange in any other circumstances, but right now, I’m basically just saying hello. Oh God, that’s it, her wonderful smell, wet dog and pine needles and that little tang of her sweat. A dog probably wouldn’t have their hands up on her hips to do this, but I don’t think that matters.

“Your jeans fit really well,” I tell her. It’s quite hard not to notice.

“Thanks. They’re from, uh, Goodwill.” I keep sniffing at them, I’m fairly sure she had them on yesterday too, which is good, she’s started to permeate them a bit, I’m smelling her and not just her clothes. I end up enjoying the experience so much that before I know it my face is resting on the denim, and I feel her underneath it, all that muscle but still so soft.

“Taylor…”

I jerk out of this stonewashed blue reverie. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, if you were a dog I’d say you were being very friendly.”

“Well, good.”

“I bet your book didn’t even think of this.” Then I pad back around in front of her, and look up obediently. For a moment, her face tightens up – then she lets out a burst of uncontrollable laughter, and I’m really glad to see her suddenly get so loose and carefree like this. This is exactly the result I had hoped to get. She gets down with me, onto one knee, and says “Sorry,” as she fusses my hair, I close my eyes and lean into it, “you looked really funny.” Would that be wounding, in some universe? It’s hard to see how, objectively crawling around on the floor being a dog does seem quite funny.

“Woof,” I say. Rachel immediately tenses up with a suppressed giggle. “Don’t worry about it. I like having you training me.”

“This isn’t so much training you, it’s more like I tell you what to do and you do it.” When Rachel says this, I panic slightly at the thought I’m doing it wrong. She fusses my hair with both hands, which does reassure me. “No, it’s okay. Oh, I think I might have something for this.”

Rachel goes back to her drawer, I follow again, although down on all fours this time I can’t see what she’s after.

“I got given this,” she explains, “I’d never actually use it for training dogs, but now seems like the perfect time.” And she spritzes me with a squirt bottle, square in the face. I squeal, I should probably try to communicate dismay but really I’m just laughing. I go to back away, but since that’s absolutely the last thing I could possibly want I simply drop to the ground. Rachel stands across me, spraying me over and over, and as I look up at her square face and broken nose from below, as well as catch a little splash of her bare tummy under her shirt, I realise what I’ve been feeling all this time – it’s jealousy, that’s it, I’ve been feeling jealous of how heartbreakingly beautiful she is. “Bad girl! Bad girl!”

“Woof! Bark!” I get slightly more frantic as she coats my face with moisture, without even meaning to I grip her legs, to make absolutely sure I don’t somehow fall away. Finally, at long last, Rachel really seems to be enjoying herself, and I try not to feel too pleased with myself for having brought that about – I don’t care anyway, not really, the more important thing is the connection I’ve made with her. Not too long ago I wouldn’t even have thought something like that was possible.

The door handle rattles, it startles me but I am very secure where I am here. Rachel jumps a little too. Suddenly Lisa is framed in the doorway, absolutely astounded, her eyes flickering back and forth between us. “What’s going on?” she asks.

Rachel hesitates. I understand that all too well, it seemed so obvious and natural between the two of us, but having to explain it to someone else is strange and awkward. So I pick up the cue, and explain to Lisa, quite simply, “She’s making me wet!”

i'll say it. if wildbow wasn't a fucking coward he'd have made Taylor trying to train Rachel into being a Good Dog a central plot point but instead we were just straight up robbed and this book never comes up again

[novasintheroom]

068. Lie

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.8k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: You ask about Vash's family. He asks you the same.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

“So where are you from?”

The question comes on a Tuesday afternoon, under the awning of a shop in a little town you haven’t found the name for yet. Vash is sat to your side, the creaking, rusted metal bench beneath. You pause in chewing your foil-wrapped burger. Vash’s eyes are on you, watching.

Not that there’s much to look at. You blink and shrug. “Podunk town like this. I can barely remember its name anymore, it’s been so long, and I’ve been on the move so much with the librarian stuff.” It’s a lie. You remember the name very well. But, taking another bite of burger, you’re not going to reveal it. Some old, old maps in the archives still have its name printed on them, and you won’t take the chance. “Where are you from?”

Vash laughs quietly, looking off to the side. “Same, I guess. I don’t remember the town, just my family.”

Well now, that’s a new topic. You lean back and look at him. “What was your family like?”

A solemn air surrounds him suddenly; his eyes crinkle, like he’s been pinched. You wonder if you’ve stepped over some line asking about it. But he opens his mouth and says, “I had…my adoptive mom, and my brother.” His hands come together before him, clasping. “My brother and I are twins.”

Are. Does that mean his brother is still alive? Funny that he’s never mentioned him or wanted to visit. You hum, feeling out how to approach this. “Adoptive?”

Vash nods. “Yeah. Our bio mom couldn’t really take care of us, so she – Rem, I mean – she took me and my brother in and raised us.”

A tomas-pulled cart trundles by, kicking up the dry dust of the hard road. You take another bite of your meal. Vash’s hands are empty. He said he wasn’t hungry. Your mind reels, wondering what to ask, how to make this a little less awkward. “What’s your brother’s name?”

Vash takes a breath in, then out. “Nai.”

You swallow and look at him odd. “’Nai?’” You pause. “Was it short for, like, ‘Niles?’”

He barks out a surprised laugh. “Uh, no, it was…just Nai.”

“Uh,” you realize you might be heading into ‘rude’ territory. You’ve only known Vash a few months; it isn’t time to make fun of his maybe-alive-maybe-dead brother’s name, “okay.”

“It’s no more weird than ‘Vash,’” he defends.

Your brows twitch up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you thought it,” he laughs.

You smile, hiding behind what’s left of your burger.

Vash brushes a hand through his hair, then turns to you. “What was your family like?” He nudges his shoulder against yours, and his strange, carefree smile is back.

Hm. Should have expected that question. Still, you feel a distant sadness in your chest. “I had a mom and dad. A sister. That was it, really.”

Vash waits for more. When nothing comes, he ducks closer. “What were they like?”

You sigh, finishing the last of your burger and crumpling the foil in your hands, letting them hang between your legs. “My mom was an amateur scientist, Dad was a farmer. My sister’s still alive, somewhere, but it’s been a few years since I’ve seen her, so that might be up in the air.” There. Half-truths are still truths, aren’t they?

He nods, accepting it all. “You ever want to go see her?”

Your lips thin. “Not really. We don’t…have the best relationship. Had a bit of a falling out. You know how it is.”

He sighs and puts his chin in his hand, leaning on a knee. “I do.” A forlorn, empty look overtakes his blues, something you can only see from the side with his glasses on.

Well, this isn’t fun. You feel bad, like you’re the one who brought down the mood. So, you try to fix it. You throw your foiled ball at him, hitting him in the cheek. “I know you’re hungry enough for a donut, right?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, but he hides it in a bewildered look. “Do you have any?”

“No, but we can go find some.”

He deliberates. You see it in his eyes. Do I want a donut? Do I want to spend the double dollars for one? Do I want to try and find some? Eventually, he agrees. “Alright. Yeah, let’s go find a donut.”

You slap your knees as you stand, bending down to pick up the foil ball and dispose of it properly. “Maybe we can check the post office while we do. See if there’s any packages need delivering.”

That perks him up more. Always looking for something to do, some way to help. Vash stands with you, and, following the dust of another wagon, you start your walk through town.

[ghostgirl-22]

a mistletoe artrick story? 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt my lovely 💜 This ended up being completely SFW so I’m either very sorry or you’re welcome. Either way I hope you like it <3

—-

It happened once last year at the winter formal. Patrick won prince or king or something like that so he already had a lot of attention on him which meant people were watching when he pulled Art to the side to ask about something… Art barely remembers what it was. What he remembers is that they ended up under the mistletoe.

“Guess what? Now you have to kiss.” Someone shouts followed by a lot of laughter and chatting.

Art isn’t used to being the center of attention and as embarrassed as he is there is a small, small distant part of him that likes it. Still he doesn’t want this kind of attention. He wasn’t even going to do it but someone said it’d be bad luck not to. Come to think of it that someone was probably Patrick.

Art doesn’t need anymore bad luck. So he lets Patrick pull him closer, wearing one of his goofy grins.

“It’s the kiss you’ve all been waiting for,” Patrick announces to their classmates. Most people are laughing but some are actually cheering. Patrick’s girlfriend Madison rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.

It’s theatrical, Art knows that. And Patrick knows how to put on a show. Still, Art shivers a little as their lips touch. It’s probably nothing. Patrick has soft lips. But it’s nothing. Everyone laughs it off makes the obligatory vaguely homophobic jokes and they continue to dance all night.

None of that’s the weird part actually. What’s weird is what happens the next month. Patrick does well on an exam he was dreading. “I got a B+” he exclaims and he kisses Art straight on the lips.

Art rubs his mouth idly but Patrick looks like he’s already forgotten about it and he runs to call his mom. So Art forgets about it too.

And then in February. Valentine’s Day, actually. Art got a bunch of Hershey’s kisses from his new girlfriend Christina. Patrick sneaks one off his desk and later says, “I guess I owe you.” And he cradles Art’s head and plants a kiss right on his mouth. He grins after as Art stares at him dumbfounded and shrugs. “Kiss for a kiss.” And without another word he leaves to go wash up for his date with Madison.

It gets to be normal after that. Their first doubles win of the tennis season. Patrick kissing him right on the court. Just so quick you wouldn’t think twice about it. But Art can’t stop thinking about it.

He gets a kiss on his birthday. Twelve midnight Patrick crawls into his bed while they’re finishing homework.

When he gets his acceptance letter from Stanford. “I don’t think you should go but good job.”

When Christina breaks up with him for Tim Lyons because “he’s just a better player.” Patrick’s making a face, “Tim? Really?”

On the Fourth of July. Hidden away in the boat house on Patrick’s family’s estate.

And the kisses are changing too. Sometimes it’s short and sweet. Other times it’s slow and intimate. Sometimes Art thinks he might have feelings all tied up in this.

They kiss like that, in front of Tashi Duncan. Just the most beautiful girl Art’s ever seen. She seems to be into it— the kissing. And poor Madison is history after that.

He hates Patrick a little bit after the junior US Open final. But that doesn’t keep him from letting Patrick kiss him something quick before they go out to search for beer.

By September they’re kissing in Arts bed just because it’s Tuesday.

On Halloween Art can’t recall what it was like before the kissing became normal. Patrick visiting Tashi at Stanford but staying in Arts room and before they all go to some dumb Halloween Party. Patrick kisses him. They meet Tashi for drinks and he kisses her.

Art’s in this weird place where he doesn’t really know who he’s more jealous of.

It’s December when they go out to eat at some themed restaurant to celebrate the end of their first semester. Patrick’s ordering drinks with his fake ID. Art leans next to him on the bar. Tashi taps his shoulder and points up at the feature where wineglasses are hanging and she’s smirking at the mistletoe draped just above them. “Guess that means you two have to kiss right?” She says.

Patrick grins at Art and Art feels his skin heating up. It’s some kind of kismet obviously.

“Oh come on,” Tashi teases, gently rubbing Art’s shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal. Cause I know for a fact you’ve done it before.”

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part Two)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️)

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. The beginning takes place when Jason is still Robin but he’s no longer apart of the titans. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad)

Part Two: Fear and Love

You stood in Dick’s bedroom as he packed. “You can’t just leave me here,” you said.

“I have to go find Jason and you can’t come with me,” he says.

“You know I can help.”

“I also know joker is after you, if you came to Gotham we’d be giving joker exactly what he wants,” Dick says. “Come on I’ve gotta wake up the others before I leave to let them know Jason’s off to get himself killed.”

“Dick!” You say. He looks at you with that cold glare you’re oh so familiar with. “You need to promise me something,” you say seriously.

“I’m listening,” Dick says.

“And you can’t tell anyone I’m asking you to do this, especially not Jason,” you say. You and Dick were inches apart now, making eye contact so intense you could feel a shift in the energy of the room.

“What is it Y/N,” Dick says softly.

“I need you to protect Jason,” you begin saying.

“Y/N, you know him he’s impulsive and if he wants to do something nobody can-“ you cut him off.

Teary eyed you say, “I know, but if anything happens to him I won’t forgive myself…and I won’t forgive you. Just promise me you’ll do your best.”

“I promise Y/N” Dick says. His voice is cold yet soft, almost like he wants to say more but is stopping himself.

Dick woke everyone up and told the team Jason had gone to Gotham.

“Idiot,” Kori said.

“Literally took the words out of my mouth but unfortunately he’s my problem,” Dick glances at you, “Our problem.”

“Should anyone go with you?” Gar asks.

“No, I want you guys to stick together,” he says to Kori, Gar and Rachel. “And keep an eye on Y/N.” Dick adds.

That sentence pissed you off. He starts to leave and as he walks past you say, “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” This was one of the times Dick realized why you got along with Jason so well. Dick leaves and you immediately head for Jason’s room.

You start searching for any note he might’ve left you. After you look in his room you go tear apart your own trying to find any message or hint Jason left you. Ten minutes later you find a folded piece of notebook paper under your pink baseball cap that says “Chicago”. Jason had bought the hat for you after you found out he was Robin.

Y/N, I’m sorry for leaving you alone but right now you being as far away from me and Gotham is the safest thing for you. Stay at the tower, even though it pains me to say it, I know Dick will keep you safe, and hell if he fails then pretty sure our friends with sunlight, darkness and animal transforming powers will be enough to protect you. Don’t come looking for me, I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I’ll be back in no time.

With love -Jay

You called Jason…he didn’t answer. You called Dick…he answered.

“What’s up,” Dick said.

“I will stay at the tower on one condition,” you say.

“Let’s hear it,” Dick says.

“Call me with updates and if anything drastic happens don’t wait till everything’s fine to tell me, I don’t care if it’s bad news or good news I just can’t be in the dark,” you say.

“Of course,” Dick says.

It had been three hours, no calls from Dick, radio silence from Jason, Barbra had no news, even Alfred knew nothing. You had exhausted everyone you possibly could have asked when suddenly you remembered one more person. Jason’s best friend, not you, not Gar, Roy Harper. You didn’t have his number but you had his girlfriend Thea’s. Thea Queen also known as a close friend of yours who happens to be the sister of Oliver Queen, the arrow.

“Thea hey I’m kinda having a crisis,” you say.

“Oh? What’s going on?” She said with a mixture of valley girl and New York accent.

“Jokers been leaving threats against Jason and I around Gotham and he’s gone without me and nobody can find him…so I was wondering if Roy has heard anything?” You asked.

“Oh my god, I have no idea but here I’ll put him on the phone,” she said.

“Hello?” Roy says.

“Hey do you know Jason’s missing?” You say.

“I do now, what’s going on?” He says.

“Jokers been leaving notes around Gotham threatening Jason and I, Jason left last night to go by himself even though him and Dick were meant to go together. He doesn’t have a tracker but we’re positive he’s gone to Gotham to try and find joker alone.” “So he’s not called you or anything?”

“Wow…no this is the first I’m hearing any of this, so where are you now?” Roy asks.

“Titans tower in San Francisco,” you say.

“Okay I will try to get ahold of Jason and actually if he has the wallet I gave him there’s actually a tracker in there…I didn’t know it was there when I gave it to him, courtesy of Oliver’s failed attempt at tracking me but I’ll try to see if I can find him.”

“Okay thank you so much, call me back as soon as you can,” you say. Twenty minutes pass and you hear a knock on the door. You open it to see Rachel with a plate of food.

“Can I come in?” She asks.

“Course yeah,” you say.

“So how are you doing…sorry that’s a stupid question” Rachel says.

“No it’s okay, I’m doing umm…I mean I’ve been better,” you laugh nervously. “I just wish he accepted Dick’s help and didn’t go off by himself.”

“Yeah,” she says to let you know she’s listening.

“And I understand why he did it you know it’s not because he’s got anything against Dick or Bruce or titans despite what everyone thinks, he just wants to be good enough. I wish he understood getting help and working with others doesn’t mean you’re weak and incapable.” You say. Just as Rachel’s about to say something your phone rings. It’s Dick.

“What’s happened?” You say quickly.

“The cops are all here, we’re at that abandoned amusement park near the pier. Jason’s not here but we think he was. There’s blood, it’s not a concerning amount…we’re sending it over to the lab. We pretty much know it was him though cause said blood is on playing cards,” Dick says.

“Shit,” you say. “Okay wait so I called Roy and he said there’s a tracker in Jason’s wallet so if it’s on him and it still works he’s gonna call me,” you say.

“Okay call me when-“ Dick gets cut off when Roy calls you. You pick up quickly.

“The wallets at some random street in Gotham…” when Roy gives you the street name you immediately recognize it as where Poison Ivy kidnapped you a couple years ago.

“Okay thank you I’m gonna call Dick,” you say. You call Dick and put him on speaker.

“The wallets at 345 Ribbon St,” you say.

“We’re on our way,” Dick says.

I hope you guys liked part two🫡🩷 Please like the fic if you enjoyed it and want to see more cause I’ve got a whole storyline and backstory and many more ideas and want to know people are enjoying my writing.

Here’s my Masterlist so you can read the other parts.

Masterlist

[sgt-scottymoreau]

Christmas Present - COT

Summary: Ghost runs into Soap and Scotty and spoils his christmas surprise.

Warning: 18+ (don't really want to say it's a warning but a heads up it has gay action my pals)

Words: 2.2k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: Started this earlier this year kind of hope to indeed post it around December. Turn out I finished yesterday because inspiration when by the window a few months ago. It was a little challenging to write because... I never really wrote two men doing the deeds and... I'm not really into butt stuff so... Hey I made it!

It wasn’t planned. They had not talked to each other before buying their gift and only when Soap asked what she got for Ghost, did they realize they were about to offer him the same thing. Which was funny to say the least. What were the chances? 

“Should I show you what it looks like and you show me yours?” Scotty smirked. 

“Depends. On you or not?” Soap returned the smile. 

“He is the one to be surprised, not us. So let's have ourselves a little dress up show.” With a laugh and not a care in the world, they removed their clothes before putting on the lingerie they bought for christmas. To keep it secret still they faced away from each other. On three, they turned around to reveal what they had chosen. Scotty snorted. “It’s all black, really?”

“Oh no the best part is behind.” Soap turned around, revealing two skeleton hands that mimicked grabbing his butt. “And it glows in the dark!” 

“I’m not surprised anymore that you went with that. I think he will like it.”

“You on the other hand.” He let out a whistle. She had a classic white laced lingerie. The middle being tied with a red ribbon that went all the way to her neck ending in a little bow. “He is for sure going to love it, because I know I do. But… we could make it better.”

She frowned. Soap approached her, gently undid her braid and brushed her loose hair with his fingers placing them on her shoulders. “Much better.” He gave her a quick kiss, she chuckled. “Now to put this away before he sees it.”

“Before I see what, Johnny?” Ghost asked as he came into the room. The small scream they both let out made him figure he might have interrupted something. They stood there like deers in the headlights, unable to move. Ghost raised an eyebrow curious as to why they were wearing almost nothing. He leaned against the door frame with a smug smile. “What the hell you two were about to do in these clothes? Wrestle?”

“Funny, Simon.” Scotty replied. “This was supposed to be… your christmas present.”

“Part of it.” Soap chimed. He pointed towards the bed saying that the rest of the gift was there. It didn't take much for Ghost to connect all the dots, it was pretty obvious what their plan was with their highly revealing outfit. To say it didn’t work would be a lie. Soap then turned around to go crawl on the bed, making sure that his rear was in perfect view of the Brit who let out a chuckle when he saw the print on it. Ghost felt much obliged to grab his butt exactly where the pattern was, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was rather amused to see that his hands fit perfectly on the print. He then turned to Scotty, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in bed with them. He had his two sergeants under him, they looked so beautiful.  One hand on each, they ran up their chest to their face and he leaned to press a kiss on their lips. 

“Do I get to choose how I play with my presents?” Ghost smirked, pecking more kisses on Soap’s neck. 

“That was the idea.” She replied. She tugged on his shirt to get it off. “But you weren’t supposed to get it now, so… what do you think Johnny?”

“I say, we tease him a little. Not allowed to touch, only watch.” He gently pushed Ghost back. Him and Scotty sat up and he held her by the neck. “Tongue out sweetheart.” 

She did as told, knowing exactly what was coming. Her eyes looked at Ghost, a faint smile drew on her open mouth. He was devouring them from a distance. Soap started with a soft kiss, half on her lip, half on her tongue. Then gave a long lick on her tongue, sucking gently on it. By reflex, Scotty kissed him in return, pushing her tongue in his mouth. He did the same when her jaw opened again. Between their lips licking each other, they sucked on each other's tongues like it was the last time they would taste it. Scotty was the first to let out a faint moan, Soap chuckled before he let out one himself. All the while, Ghost was sitting at the edge of the bed watching them, his breathing got heavier, his throat was dry, his fist clenched on jeans. He kept watching with such intensity as Scotty’s hands were restless on Soap’s chest and thighs. The very fitting boxer he was wearing was slowly rising from all that touching. The lieutenant felt the same sensation in his jeans and without a second thought, undid his belt and zipper to let out his cock that was begging him for more. His fingers wrapped around it, but didn’t move yet. 

Soap stopped the deep kissing, drool all over her chin, that he gave quick lick to clean the mess he made. Scotty glanced to Ghost again. She chuckled. “Should he keep watching, you think we can let him play with his toys?” 

The Scots leaned in her ear and whispered something. Ghost saw the surprise and then the smug smile; what these two had had in mind now? She crawled to him, pulled him by the shoulders to get him back onto the mattress, between them. He sank into the pillows behind him. His eyes didn’t let go of theirs as they both laid next to him, their heads right at the height of his waist. Scotty wrapped her hand around his cock and gave a slow stroke. Soap leaned above it. He gave a gentle kiss on the tip and then a lick. Her fingers lowered closer to the base as the sergeant lowered his mouth on it. Ghost took a sharp breath, his fists gripped at the bedsheet. Soap pulled out, only for Scotty to return the same attention to it. They had fun alternating like this while Ghost desperately did his best to keep it together. He could feel their drool dripping on his balls, wetting his happy trail. Scotty went to steal a kiss on his lips, lay next to his chest watching with him as Soap was attempting to take more. 

“You have to relax your throat a little more, sunshine.” She smiled. “Don’t forget to breathe by the nose, deep breath.”

He followed her instructions, and with a little bit of time, Soap was able to have Ghost’s full lenght in without gagging. His nose touched the base and Ghost moaned loudly. “Fuck Johnny!” His hips bucked up slightly. “You two are going to kill me with these jobby. Fucking hell…”

“I teached him well.” Scotty hummed. 

“Aye you did.” Soap breathed as he removed himself. “Alright, now we can let him decide what happens.” 

Ghost’s pupils grew even bigger at this statement. His hunger for the two sergeants had just reached a peak that could only be described as feral. His cock twitched thinking of all he wanted to do to them. For a starter, he told Soap to get on with the sucking. But not before shifting position. Then he ordered Scotty to remove her panties and take a seat above him. Her cunt aligned with his mouth, his tongue worked on it like a starved man. She had to hold herself on the wall. She couldn’t even grind on him as his larger hands held her by the thighs, keeping her in place. Between his lapping, Scotty felt the hums and moans coming from him. Ghost had her legs shaking in a matter of minutes. “Simon, wait….fuck… that’s too good!”

He did stop, a smirk on his face. “Soap, what do we do with the lady?”

A small sloppy pop sound came from behind. “She knows she is the only one who can cum many times. So be it. Come on sweetheart, let us hear these cute noises of yours.” He returned to his task which made the lieutenant moan. Ghost doubled down on his own, making sure he had her shaking even more and crying. Scotty did her best to keep her first climax in check, but it didn’t last long. With a loud moan, she came shaking on his face. Soap let go of Ghost’s cock to move her back and plant a kiss on her lips. This gave time to Ghost to sit up. He watched them makeout once more, stroking himself. Soap’s hand ran down her chest to her inner thighs, fingers seeking her wet cunt. He slid two at first, then three, by the end he had her lay down on the best, his fist deep inside. Scotty started to move her hips down, desperately trying to push him deeper, her moans sounding just as desperate between her heavy breaths. Her hands clenched on the bedsheet as she could already feel sensation building up. 

“Love.” Ghost called out. Scotty turned her head to look at him. She whimpered a weak yes between two breaths. “Cum for Johnny would you?”

She nodded and did her best to follow the order. Scotty didn’t want him to repeat himself even though he did after a few minutes. She whimpered loudly as her mind focused only on Soap’s hand and the climax that was slowly reaching it’s breaking point. “Camille, I want you to cum now. Don’t make me repeat myself, again.”

“N-no sir.” He didn’t had to. A few more thrust and twist from Soap had her clenching around him. She came so hard, her eyes watered. The Scotsman gently removed himself and gave her a break. 

Ghost climbed back on the bed, grabbing Soap’s rear right where the bone hands were. He tugged at waistband, his hand slipping in, his chin resting on Soap’s shoulder as he told him to relax. Still with a hazed mind, Scotty quickly catched on to what was about to happen and grabbed the bottle of lube in the nightstand, handing it to Ghost with a smirk. Soap let Ghost do what he had to do, a soft moan escaped his lips when his fingers worked him. Fingering him till he was loose enough for something more. Soap’s cock was already so hard and throbbing since it all began. The lieutenant looked at Scotty. “Legs open, love. Johnny, I want you to fuck her.” He plucked a kiss in the crook of his neck. 

Soap positioned himself and slid gently inside her, but didn’t move yet. They both had an idea of what was about to happen. Ghost rubbed his cock against Soap’s ass, pouring more of the lube on it. Carefully and gently he pushed himself inside.

Soap’s head arched back against his shoulder, a silent moan hanging on his lips. Ghost gave a gentle thrust at first which pushed him on Scotty who would feel Soap’s cock sliding in deeper. Her hand grabbed into the lieutenant’s forearm. The Scotsman moved his hips to find the right angle. It wasn’t the first time this happened but he always couldn’t believe the amazing sensation. He was being stimulated by all sides and oh he loved this. Despite Ghost’s weight pressing on his back, Soap slammed his hips on hers. Scotty let loose completely at this. She was being pressed so deep in the mattress by the men above her, his cock buried so deep, his balls slapping on her skin, his heavy breath on her chest as he rested on her. Soap became vocal as well. Soft whimpering at first, however as Ghost picked up the pace and force, he turned into a moaning mess as well. 

“Oh fuck!” He breathed in Scotty’s neck. “So fucking good!” His moans grew louder just like hers. Ghost’s cock twitched, shivering of pleasure at hearing them be completely wild. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this. He had been on the edge for a while and his body was aching for his climax. His hips slammed harder and faster, chasing it. The three of them didn’t even exchange a single word, their mind in a hazed state that left place only for lust. 

Ghost was the first one to cum with one last hard thrust. Which pushed Soap harder on Scotty who came for the third time that night. It took Soap two more sloopy thrust to finish. With a ragged breath both men let themselves fall on each side of Scotty. Ghost’s hand trailed on her stomach, Soap’s fingers found their way to it intertwining with his. Out of breath and smiling, Scotty kissed them both. 

“It’s been a while since it was this intense.” She gave a sigh of bliss, her thumbs gently circling their hands. 

“A full workout.” Soap added. “It’s a shame though, now we don’t have any gifts for christmas.” 

Ghost chuckled. “Promise me we will have a calm evening, just the three of us and that will be perfect. I don’t need more.”

They knew what he meant; for once no big family reunion or anything of the sort. It would be nice for once to have a simpler holiday. The three of them stayed in bed a bit longer, cuddling, appreciating the down time and the gentle intimacy and closeness. They had nowhere to go, might as well laze around.

[aidanchaser]

My very first year participating in a Big Bang, despite my many years writing fic. Thank you to @mlbigbang2024 for organizing a lovely event. Thank you @yellowbullet100 for beta reading, and thank you @jademoon2u , @saotomexmary, and ShittyLB (on X), for volunteering to do artwork and just being great soundboards as I work through the story. Y'all have been a delight to get to know. <3

Without further ado, enjoy this sneak peek of A Young Witch's Guide to Cats, Curses, and Courtship!

“I—” He started and stopped suddenly, like he was running out of air. He swallowed and tried again. “I did have an idea. Or a thought.” He glanced nervously at his cat, like he worried his cat might not like the idea. The cat merely stared back, face blank.

Marinette waited for him to explain his thought, but no explanation came. “Well—congratulations, then. Was it a particularly complex thought?”

“No—it—it’s quite simple, actually. I saw this notice when I walked into the market about a public dance coming up, and I thought it might be a nice way to—to practice.”

She laughed. “You want to attend a public dance?”

“Is that funny?”

“Well—you’re—you know… It’s not the sort of thing you go to.”

“How do you know what sorts of things I go to?”

“People who go to dinner parties with Lady Tsurugi—whoever their fathers are—don’t go to public dances. I think she’d officially disinvite you from all future events if she knew.”

“Are they so scandalous?”

“Not to me, but to you—”

“Will you be there?”

“What?”

“If you’re there, then it’s the sort of place I want to be.”

Marinette didn’t know what to say to that. Just days ago, he’d been so eager to get out of her sight he hadn’t even thanked her for her work. Now he wanted to go to a dance with her?

“I can’t go,” she said, her heart skipped a beat as his face fell. “I promised my parents I would help with the delivery order for Lady Tsurugi’s party that night. I think it’s her daughter’s engagement celebration. Were you not invited?”

The disappointment on the boy’s face turned into a grimace. “I was invited. You know she hasn’t even been proposed to yet?” As the words left his mouth, he swallowed suddenly, like he might take them back. “Sorry—that was rude. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—it’s a party in expectation of an engagement but I can’t imagine anyone wants that rumor spreading.”

“Who does she expect to propose?”

He stared glumly at the cluster of silver coins that still rested between the two of them. “Monsieur Agreste’s son,” he finally said, as if it were a confession.