#so based on that distance i would say it was. considerably big. like i thought it was a hang glider for a sec but

[gender-euphowrya]

?????????????

[wisteria-lodge]

*slightly* exploded bird primary (badger-flavored system) (unhealthy badger primary model) + rapid-fire/actor bird secondary

Hi Wisteria! I’ve been loving your thoughtful and in-depth analyses and no one else in my life is familiar with the SHC system, so it’s been hard to get some outside perspective. English is not my first language, so please forgive my grammar/awkward phrasing at times. For my sorting, I am thinking Bird primary, though I’ve considered Lion and Badger primaries. I think I am not a snake primary. I have never felt there was an intrinsic moral hierarchy when it comes to people I care about. I still care for them, but at the end of the day, I think we are all living conscious beings who deserve equal treatment, rights, and consideration.

Definitely getting Idealist primary here (Bird or Lion, and I see why you're thinking Bird. Your whole position is well-thought out and well articulated.) I will say that 'all living conscious beings deserve equal treatment' is kind of the Badger mission statement,' but when we're in generalities that big, that thought could just as easily be coming from a Bird with some Badger in their System, a Paragon Lion, or even a really expansive Snake.

I also think prioritizing your own group is often dangerous.

This bit here could describe a Snake or a Badger equally well, depending on how we're defining the "group" we're talking about here.

A Loyalist would probably say that protecting the group is the only thing you know for sure you can do well, and when things get too big and Idealistic, they become unreal, hypothetical, and unsafe. But you seem perfectly fine with that level of big-picture stuff, so I'm happy to say Idealist for you. Also, there's an undercurrent of... suspicion, directed at Loyalists.

I guess I could be a snake that only includes themselves, as I do act in self-preservation a lot of the times

That's a human thing. If someone is *struggling* with turning on the self-preservation, that's a problem, and probably a sign of Burning, or a very immature Badger.

and struggle to trust people.

That can also come from a lot of different places.

I sometimes have an attitude of turning people bad in my head as soon as they act against me, or in a way that reveals their “true character”

Honestly, this kind of sounds like it could be a *Badger* thing?

Because Badgers have opt-out morality, they will often do this thing where you're one of their people, until you break the rules (or the social contract) badly enough. And then you're out, because you're a threat to the rest of the group.

(this is often a projection) and then tend to self-isolate.

Hmmm. And now you're back to being philosophical. Distancing yourself from the emotion of cutting people off. Much more Bird.

I thought bird primary because I do change my ideas about the world and morality quite often and refine my worldview as I discover new ideas. I am also very receptive to scientific ideas and do put logic and reasoned morality above intuition.

You also seem very chill about this whole process, which makes me say Bird again. (Not Lion. The process just tends to be a lot messier and a lot more emotional with Lions.)

However, my tendency to prioritize the perceptions of the group, my need to serve a larger purpose and my desire to be useful to society do feel quite badger-y.

They do. "Prioritize the perceptions of the group," especially is a very Badger thing to say. Badgers also like being useful to the group. But 'need to serve a larger purpose' is a big enough statement that it could work for almost anyone.

What Badger and Bird have in common is that they're both External primaries. What the world thinks is important, and you care about that in a way that Lions and Snakes just kind of don't.

As for lion, I do often act based on heuristics, especially if I haven’t thought out a specific issue yet.

Yeah, this isn't lion. For one thing - you used the word "heuristics." For another, you're stressing about the way you only rely on these "well xyz worked in past" mental shortcuts when you haven't "thought a thought out a specific issue yet." Implication being that, in a perfect world, you would have time to think it out completely every time. (Birds hate having to make snap decisions.)

I can also pretend to be more rational than I am, and tend to live life in automatic mode, by relying on assumptions and facts that sound good. I think I do this less than other people, but that is still a flaw I’ve noticed.

You rely on these "automatic" shortcuts less than other people, but think that you should use them less, and feel bad that you use them at all.

I wonder if you're a Bird primary living in a very Badger community. Or the flip, a Badger living with a bunch of Birds.

As for my secondary, I am a little bit lost. I am very much in my own head and not very action-oriented, so I feel like I lack the data to identify my secondary, or I am burned and just using whatever works. I usually just use stress to motivate action and procrastinate until the last minute.

Oh, the neurodivergent special. Save the non-preferred task for the last minute, and then use the adrenaline that generates to hack your brain into getting it done really fast. Definitely not the only person here doing that.

Childhood: As a kid, I was extremely quiet, sensitive, and introverted. From early on, I remember being very artistic and curious. I would dress up and improvise plays in front of my family. I also loved to draw, write poems, walk in nature, and learn about the world (I was especially fascinated with animals). I also loved to get lost in imaginary worlds, and I remember writing fantasy stories, and believing I had magical powers or was an alien/magical creature.

When I was in school, I remember not connecting very well with my peers. I think people could feel I was different. I was soft spoken, sensitive, and I excelled at school.

I mean so far, *I*could have written this. And I'll take it all into account, but this isn't a system for describing personality, so much as it is one for describing method/motivation.

I didn’t like sports like other boys, and it wasn’t acceptable to hang out with girls, so I just kept to myself. I was already doing good in school, so I just kind of developed that aspect of my identity. I didn’t get along with many other kids and ate lunch with my teachers a lot. I still had friends, but few of them were close.

You're describing constructing your identity in a very deliberate, conscious way, which is more Bird than Badger. It's honestly Bird secondary - like this how you get Actor Bird, deliberately developing one 'version' of yourself because it's useful in certain situation. I'm hearing you enjoyed acting and costumes, and (flash forward to present day) you "pretended" to be more rational than you are. I think you might be an Actor Bird.

It was validating to be so good at academics, and to get teachers’ and parents’ approval. Even if some other kids resented it, I didn’t care because it gave me worth.

This hits every child to some degree, but it hits External primaries very hard. This could describe a young Bird or a young Badger equally well, and now I'm wondering if any of these authority figures especially Birdy or especially Badgery?

Getting good grades, being the perfect child, being “mature for my age” were a big part of my personality.

"Perfect Child" is often an Actor Bird construction. "Mature for your age" is something I usually hear said about young Badgers. Are you maybe a Bird primary, with a very Badger-flavored System? It would fit everything I've read so far.

I also knew deep down I was queer

oh thats brutal

but I eventually became really good at self-editing, and I began to embody a version of me that was acceptable. I was the successful, responsible, smart kid, and I eventually started playing football in high school so that of course meant I was straight. I fully made myself believe the mask I was putting on at that time (badger-like?). In high school, I was tired of being an outsider, so I tried fitting in. I became much more agreeable, sociable, and started becoming more popular. Honestly, it felt good to be appreciated by my peers, and I did play into the character I was projecting. I was still hyper-focused on academics, but for the first time, people actually liked me.

Okay, so I do see why you're saying Badger. Badgers (especially young badgers) can just adopt the group's identity, and lose sight of their own individuality in the process. But I don't think that's what's going on here.

To me, this sounds like it could only be Actor Bird. I know English isn't your first language, so I'm not reading too too much into the word choice... but you do refer to this "Acceptable Self" as a "character," that you "embody." Building this "mask" was a deliberate, conscious process, and it sound like you lived in this persona for a while. Also, not ignoring the fact that... it worked. Wanting to be more popular, and then building a persona that is more popular... that's not something everyone can do.

This actually makes me think of a sorting I wrote for Blackbeard of Our Flag Means Death, and the Actor Bird-specific angst of building a character, spending a little too long in that skin and then feeling that people only like you/you only have worth because of a role you play... and then becoming trapped, because your character is too simple, and it's stifling.

I eventually came to accept my sexuality and had a friendship that made me confront the lack of authenticity of the mask I was putting on. After that, I explored my authentic self while still enjoying my newfound social skills and ability to attract people.

I love that. You built a "popular" persona, and then realized that you din't have to wear it all the time.

I also started getting interested in social justice, philosophy, and politics, which made me question a lot of preconceived notions and ideas I held true about the world.

Oh that's a very Bird primary list of interests right there.

As I became more informed, ethics and morality became a big corner stone of my interactions with the world. I was always interested in finding the “right” way to be, even as a child,

This almost seems like a version of the "book fantasy," which is something I've heard from several Bird primaries at this point: "When I was younger, I wished that there was a magic book that would tell me the 'right' way to act in every situation."

but this meant I could figure out what that meant in more objective terms, and for myself instead of what adults thought. Paradigm shifts were exciting (and still are).

I absolutely love that for you. Bravo.

Family dynamics:

In terms of family dynamics, I always went along to get along. I was checked out emotionally, especially since a lot of family members would say homophobic things, and I never felt completely comfortable with them. I stuck with easy topics and didn’t go into my personal life, and I was content with the image of the golden child they had of me. Even with my parents, whom I love, I never felt I could completely be myself. This led to a lot of secrets and lies to conceal my real self. I was never that rebellious or troublesome to begin with, and I kind of acted like a little adult.

Okay. That makes sense. Sounds like you built a pretty robust Badger primary model that was useful for keeping the peace with your family. (It also sounds just, incredibly necessary.) This explains why a lot of your descriptions of your younger self read as super Badger primary to me: "little adult" "mature for your age" "farming the approval of authority figure."

I also thought a lot of their views were outdated, although I rarely argued with them. My dad had the idea he had to be strict, which was just not the best fit for me. I learned to be extremely secretive, sneaky, and find ways around the rules. I was not very wild to begin with, but I did value my freedom. I just kind of passively agreed, and then did it behind their backs.

Sounds possible you might have a little bit of a snake secondary model?

Although my dad was very sensitive and affectionate, a thing that hurt me a lot was his inability to deal with others’ emotions. I was not allowed to express negative emotions or cry, and he justified this as him being “old school”.

Ah yes. As we know, boys should only have Cool emotions, like Anger and Science. Wondering if your *Dad* might be a Badger primary, with this focus on Tradition and Rules.

This was extremely frustrating to me, as I never understood how tradition could be a valuable reason for anything, or how sticking with old values and refusing to adapt was acceptable.

A little bit of that Bird primary 'make it make sense' thing.

My mom, though more accepting of my sensitivity, was also very critical. She used the status quo to judge what I did, which was also very frustrating. If something I did was weird or impolite, she would use a kind of circular reasoning (this is bad because it’s not socially acceptable, and it’s not socially acceptable because it’s bad), which was also confusing to me.

I love that you can now identify that as classic circular reasoning.

I just wasn’t super interested in developing a strong connection with anyone in my family. I just felt that it was all too arbitrary,

Definitely don't think you're a Loyalist, because I don't think a Loyalist could do a break this clean. There'd be some sense of something... some guilt, some emotion, some residual thing.

and I was more interested in exploring my friendships with people who understood me more deeply. I felt my parents’ (especially dad’s) rules didn’t make any sense, and I wanted my freedom as soon as possible. Since I moved out, our relationship has been a lot better, though I still hide aspects of my life from them.

Very true that just not needing to be around your family 24/27 makes things so much better and easier to deal with.

Problem solving: In terms of problem solving, I like to think I am strategic, and a good contingency planner. I generally understand things well, and how they work together, and am quick to find a solution. When thinking about solving a small problem, I will usually think of the “goal state” first (i.e., what is the ideal I am trying to achieve in this situation). Then I can break down what I need to do. This usually starts with evaluating resources at my disposal (i.e., time, space, material, or mental resources), and what is in the environment. Then, I can come to a solution implicitly by connecting the dots. Finally, I will mentally play out the situation and see if it works, or if there are any roadblocks. This all happens quickly though. Planning is fun, but so is throwing away the plan or finding a clever way to get out of the situation.

What a fantastic breakdown of how to solve a problem. It's also extremely Bird secondary. If it happens fast enough, and you're comfortable enough with it, it looks like it even gets into Rapid-Fire Bird territory (probably why I was getting a little Snake secondary energy up there, Rapid-fire birds can look extremely Snake.)

Am a little bit side-eyeing your decision to call yourself "not very action-oriented" up there. You seem perfectly comfortable with problem-solving to me.

Whenever the unexpected happen, the path becomes really obvious to me. Priorities become salient, and things that are useless fall to the side. It’s more in situations where I’m forced to make a controlled decision that I’m a nervous and indecisive wreck.

Bird primaries HATE making snap decisions.

I can get stressed out if there is missing information, or if the expectations aren’t clear. Travel is especially stressful because of the number of unexpected events that can affect the rest of the trip.

I mean, no one likes missing information or unclear expectations. But it really gets to Birds. (Both primary and secondary honestly. and I'm really thinking that you're a Double Bird.)

With all the information, even if it’s bad news, I can manage and find a solution. But my brain will keep spinning scenarios if I don’t know for sure. Even at school, uncertainty was always worse than bad news.

I hear this. It really goes back to that classic Bird primary fantasy: "but I want to know EVERYTHING"

Not knowing where I stand with someone, with a group, or with a supervisor also makes me nervous. I like knowing what they think of me and what people need from me so I can provide it (or not bother if they dislike me for no reason).

I do think that you have a Badger model, or a Badger flavor to your system. Honestly, you very likely have bOTH. You took in the parts of your parents worldview that made sense to you: it IS useful to know what people want from you, and to know that you aren't making any social faux pas (that way, if someone is acting weird at you, you know it doesn't have to do with you.) But you also have this much more performative Badger model: this is who my parents expect me to be, I don't agree with it, but I can put it on and let it run.

In terms of interpersonal problems, this is where I am most terrible. I am often an absolute doormat and will not vocalize problems and internalize everything. My issue is that I don’t feel confident that I am right and doubt my ability to argue my point and stand up for myself without absolutely ruining the relationship.

Unfortunately, I can't say I'm *surprised,* since you grew up in an environment where arguing was very frowned upon, and it's not like you can win an argument with someone depending on circular arguments and logical fallacies.

You also built a large part of your *identity* around this Perfect Child, Invisible Badger who just does not cause problems. In the language of this system, you built a very intense Badger primary model as a coping mechanism, and now it's run out it's usefulness... but is still hard to punch through, because old models get sticky.

If something bothers me, I will mull over it and eventually let it go because it becomes too late.

Okay, *this* is why you thought there might be some Burning going on. There's this aspect of the way you relate to people that just feels very unsafe, and so you... shut it down.

I think the problems here are uncertainty, and lack of control. When I am in a situation where I know all the elements, have resources, and plenty of time, I am good.

That is absolutely Textbook Double Bird. But (as I'm sure I don't have to tell you)... it's also a fantasy. Very often, you will be lacking in either resources, info, or time. This is why a lot of Double Birds build models, or look like Lion secondaries whenever they don't have time to prep.

If there is an unknown, I can’t do anything.

In the language of this system, that's a Bird primary that's Exploded a little bit, this idea that you can't possibly act if you don't have all the information. It's very Chidi from The Good Place.

In social situations, I can’t control the volatility of relationships or other people, so I just control my reaction.

Pretty much all you can control, so good.

Often, instead of doing something when something is bothering me, I will basically force a paradigm shift to see the situation in a better light, and then move on.

Bird primaries are known for the superpower of just being able to *decide* to like something, or *decide* to be interested in something. That is absolutely what you're doing here. It's *a* way to solve that problem, I guess. But it doesn't seem to make you feel free/powerful.

I kind of have an addiction with the process of solving, and an intolerance for doubt. When I was questioning my career choices, I would reflect on all aspects of my personality, of my goals for the future, I would take endless career quizzes, read the descriptions of jobs over and over, would ask my friends what they thought I should do, etc. I would run in circles, never deciding. I even started deconstructing the philosophy of work, to determine if it was even possible to make a good decision.

Very Bird. Very *exploded* Bird. Of course you went from "what job do I want" to "is the concept of work philosophically moral."

Other questions: My future plans is to live a relatively quiet life out of the public eye, surrounded by books, and having plenty of free time to research or practice my hobbies. I want a stable job, with money so I don’t have to think about those things, and I want to be intellectually stimulated and to be able to add value to the world in the best way I can. I want two dogs, a partner who is fine with my need for space. I also want to live in a walkable city that has an interest in art and culture, and access to nature.

That sounds lovely.

Mostly, I want to be satisfied that I am a good person and be able to do what I want with relative freedom. Now, to be honest, I am very unsatisfied about the real world. It seems so monotonous, and I have always had the secret desire to escape into a fantasy realm. Unfortunately for myself, I don’t believe in the supernatural.

It gets better. There are a lot of cool things out there, and it all gets much less linear once you leave school. I would probably say though - knowing you and your tendencies - maybe a little less focus on being a good person (because that's a can of worms) and maybe a little more on doing things that are a net positive to the world around you.

I feel most powerful when I surprise myself. I once prepared for a grad school interview by reading hundreds of questions and preparing answers for them. When I practiced with a friend, it just came out forced and clunky, and I found myself trying to repeat exactly what I had written. I had accepted I just wasn’t going to get in. When I went to the actual interview though, I just went off script and took risks. I told personal anecdotes while maintaining the image I wanted to project to them, which got me an offer.

You are absolutely a Rapid-Fire bird, which is very cool.

When I speak up in class, when I stand up for myself, when I make impulsive decisions, and especially when I do something scary, I also feel this way.

I like it. Lean into that Lion secondary energy. I know a lot of Birds, especially Double Birds, find it extremely helpful.

I also feel powerful when I feel competent. For instance, when I fix issues at work, when I get good grades, when I manage to problem solve in a clever way.

All of this is very Bird secondary. And honestly, a very effective-sounding Bird secondary.

In high school and during the pandemic, I also was obsessed with personality systems and would read and introspect for hours trying to determine my type. But there was never an answer satisfying enough because the process of introspection was the addictive part of it, and even a sliver of doubt would send me into another rabbit hole. There is a kind of poking at it until it becomes mush effect. I literally made excel sheets with my results on different quizzes, over multiple weeks, to see if there was a pattern. By focusing so much on figuring out who I am, and the intricacies of my own psyche, I just end up losing the big picture and not being able to contextualize the information I’ve gathered. Sometimes it even becomes hard to identify anything since I’m focusing on such a tiny part of myself, and the human mind is so kaleidoscopic and changing, so it stops making sense and just becomes a big blob of behaviors and thoughts. I’ve had a hard time figuring out my MBTI and enneagram because of this as well.

I have been there before, trying to navigate the difference between what is useful introspection and what is navel-gazing indulgence. I accept that people are incredibly complicated, and any categorization system is inherently imperfect. I also accept that words to describe your inner workings are extremely helpful, and honestly, necessary. One thing I like about the system is the cleanness of it. So much of it has to do with cutting through the noise and the *presentation* we are presented, and just going - okay, how do we work, why do we work?

Thank you to Lorangutan for such an excellent submission. If you'd like a Sorting of your very own, commissions are open on my ko-fi. :D

If you'd like to read more about the system I'm using, my explanation is right here.

[aziraphales-library]

ok so im not sure if this will make any sense, but i was wondering if you had any recs for like,,,big fics

an example would be "the time before" or "a memory of eden"

fics that are multi chapter, have a long over arching plot, preferably ones that involve the whole season 1 gang (anathema, newton, the them etc.)

sorry if that made no sense!!

(oh also any sort of relationship between aziraphale and crowley is fine. i dont mind. maybe preferably fics with no smut but it doesn't matter really)

thanks!!

You’ll want to check our #long fic and #apocalypse buddies tags for more fics like this. You didn’t specify if you wanted to avoid AUs or not (because there are loads of those), so I’ve stuck to canon-compliant. Here you go...

Earthbound Creatures by IneffableToreshi (T)

In burning Agnes Nutter's second book of prophecies, Anathema and Newt discover a mysterious page that refuses to go up in flame. Atop it is written a poem which neither, at that time, can hope to understand.

Something is happening, wheels are turning, and neither Heaven nor Hell are wont to forgive and forget. An Angel and a Demon are very much in danger of losing one another.

Keep Yourself Alive by Jlocked & The_Lady_of_Purpletown (T)

The Apocalypse didn’t happen, and Aziraphale and Crowley's respective Offices have been dealt with. For now. This should be a time for celebration and enjoying their life on Earth. But it seems Heaven has a different Plan for Aziraphale, and Crowley might not be able to solve this.

Meditations on Domestic Bliss by wordsphoenix (NR)

Everyone is alive. Time for an angel and a demon to start doing some living. Preferably in close proximity and with deeper significance than the friendship previously mentioned, since feelings are very much allowed now that Aziraphale and Crowley are aligned with emotionally-driven creatures, and, more importantly, each other.

Good Endings by WyvernQuill (T)

A Narrative of Certain Events following the Ending of the World (Except Not Quite), as vaguely hinted at in The Slapdash and Not Very Helpful Prophetic Tidbit of Agnes Nutter, Witch (And Matchmaker.)

"Their lives are in horrible, terrible danger that only we can save them from!" Anathema held up the Prophetic Tidbit. "It says so. Right here." Madame Tracy peered at the page. Raised a meaningful eyebrow. "Dearie, as a woman of, well, considerable experience, I really don't think that's what 'the lyttle Deathe' means in this context..."

"Huh." Anathema squinted. Flipped the page. Read another bit. "....huh."

(Or, alternatively: Eight - give or take - matchmakers trying really, really hard, honest; two clueless ethereal/occult beings mutually pining their endless days away; and one witch, who can't leave well enough alone when it comes to matters of the heart, no matter how many centuries ago she died.)

Time is the Longest Distance by Beckers522 (M)

Six months had passed since the world hadn't ended and life was good. Life was more than good. It was more than nice. Life on Earth, here in his little corner of London, here with Crowley by his side was absolutely wonderful. Until the day that it wasn't. Until Aziraphale walked into Crowley's flat to find his best friend mysteriously discorporated with both Heaven and Hell staying silent on the matter. With Crowley trapped in Hell and Aziraphale unable to reach him, the pair set off to find their way back to each other. They will have to fight against Heaven, Hell, and Time itself to make their way back into each others arms once more.

This is a full-length story based off the comic by the wonderfully talented Lei_sam. If you have not seen it yet, you need to go check it out. Link in the notes section.

Love is a Temporary Madness by Beckers522 (T)

"They'll leave us alone, for a bit. If you ask me, both sides are going to use this as breathing space, before the big one." "I thought that was the big one." "No. For my money, the really big one is going to be all of us against all of them." "What? Heaven and Hell against...humanity?"

The Apocalypse has come and gone, but Heaven and Hell aren't satisfied. They'd tried and failed to enact their revenge once. Perhaps it is time to try a different strategy.

And the two you mentioned (I assume--please include authors and/or links as well as titles!)...

A Memory of Eden by ImprobableDreams900 (M)

When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.

The Time Before by M4R4N14MH (G)

The Apocalypse is not long over and Aziraphale is looking forward to a life free of Heaven and Hell and, most importantly, full of a certain Anthony J. Crowley. That is, until reality attempts to set in again. Now Angels and Demons are being murdered, Heaven and Hell are in disarray, and Aziraphale reunites with a friend older than God Herself. Alpha Centauri has never looked so welcoming, in Crowley’s opinion.

- Mod D

[toujokaname]

One Night Spectacle / Episode 1

Author: Kino Seitaro with Akira

Characters: Kanata, Tatsumi, Hiyori, Arashi, Hokuto

"Instead, I have friends I can rely on. I will never stand alone at the top like my father."

← Previous ✧ Directory ✧ Next →

Location: Old Seisoukan Building

Season: Winter

Time: A few days later.

Kanata: I have finished~ Tatsumi.

Tatsumi: Thank you very much. You were right on time, Kanata-san.

Kanata: Fufu. "Communal life" must be based on "respect" for others.

On the first day, I was quite "careless", but...

I realized that "Ohisama"-san and "Chief"-san, who are my usual "roommates", are very "considerate" of me.

Hiyori: Mm~ I just do what I normally do. Rinne-senpai has a different rhythm of life, so maybe he's trying to be attentive.

Kanata: Both "Chief"-san and I come from backgrounds different from urban "perfection"~ Maybe he had his own thoughts about it.

Arashi: Come to think of it, surprisingly, everyone seems to have no trouble with living together anymore. All of us are doing well, or maybe we've just gotten used to each other.

With such a unique group of people, it wouldn't be strange if a problem or two arose.

Hokuto: There are some room assignments that make you wonder "why would you put those two together?", but I haven't heard of any big trouble here. Maybe we got into a better place than expected.

Kanata: Anyway, Tatsumi~ I went out of my way to leave the bath "on time". How about you enter soon?

If you don't get in soon, all my efforts will be for "naught".

Tatsumi: Oops. My apologies, the talk went on for too long.

Then, I'm off to take a bath as well. I must warm myself up to avoid catching a cold.

Arashi: Ufufu. I should also get ready for bed soon.

Hokuto-chan, don't stay up late today and go to bed early.

Hokuto: Of course. I've decided to get up earlier than usual this week.

The commotion of the first day has completely settled down, and I've been able to prepare for the reading drama with plenty of time to spare these days. It looks like my wish will come true soon.

Arashi: It's great that your "wish" is tied to the success of the show. I hope you'll help me with my "wish", too.

Hokuto: As much as I'd like to, the costume designs Anzu showed me yesterday were based on Princess Kaguya.

Isn't that something Narukami would call "cute"?

Arashi: But that's so not the same thing. Wearing a specific outfit for work and wearing matching outfits are two very different things.

Hokuto: That's true, but...

As I thought, I still can't say it's going to be the "best broadcast" yet.

Arashi: Really? I think we'll get a passing grade.

Hokuto: Of course, it won't be bad. But, with Tomoe-senpai's retirement...

Hiyori: Hmm. Are you getting all worked up because of me? You're a good junior, aren't you?

Jun-kun also used to be more junior-like when we first met, and he used to be all cute. But recently, he has grown to be rougher towards me!

Hokuto: That's it. That's what we're lacking.

We're playing the roles of a group of classmates, but since we're usually in the positions of seniors and juniors, we haven't been able to close the distance between us when we get into character.

At the rate we're going, we're still far from reaching the end that Tomoe-senpai desires... I feel such a sense of crisis.

Hiyori: Fufu. You're rather hot-blooded. I thought you were the type of person that can firmly draw a line on their emotions, like Hidaka-sensei.

Hokuto: My father is a good example of what not to be. I'm not the kind of great man who can do everything by himself.

Instead, I have friends I can rely on. I will never stand alone at the top like my father.

Hiyori: Fufu. Your family's story is very interesting, but I'm not going to ask you about it.

Either way, I understand Hokuto-kun's point—

We haven't been able to get inside each other's hearts yet. We need time to laugh and grieve more and more together!

Tatsumi: ...Then, our next task is teamwork.

Arashi: Oh my. You've finished bathing already, Kazehaya-senpai?

Tatsumi: No. I will do so afterward. I was just in the dressing room, and I heard talk of something very interesting.

I could sense Hokuto-san's anxiety, so I hurriedly put on my clothes and came back.

Hiyori: Tatsumi-kun sure has a hell of an ear. You also seem to have been eavesdropping on my phone calls.

Tatsumi: It's far from being hellish[1]. I just happened to be there.

Arashi: Ufufu. It's just like "Kazehaya-senpai's Confessional!"

Kanata: Confessional...?

Tatsumi: Yes. It's a radio show in which I serve as the host.

It's a program in which I answer the questions and concerns of listeners and guests, and it seems to be getting a good response.

Kanata: I see. If that is the case, I would like to hear how Tatsumi would respond to Hokuto's "concern".

What can we do to make our relationship more "familiar"?

Tatsumi: Very well. Paradoxically, I think it would be good for us to take a break from practicing.

Kanata: Do you mean taking a "day off" from practice?

Tatsumi: Yes. As I interrupted to say just now, I consider this matter to be a teamwork issue.

How about an increase in the number of casual interactions that are seemingly unrelated to practice?

For example, fulfilling "wishes" outside of practice—Kanata-san's and Arashi-san's desires are of that kind.

Arashi: So that's it. I'm a little worried about missing practice at this stage, but... If we can take the time, I wanna enjoy it ♪

Kanata: I want to "bathe" with everyone too ♪

Hiyori: Mhm, mhm. Then it's decided! It would be unfair to just listen to Hokuto-kun all the time, wouldn't it?

Hokuto: It's both my "wish" and Tomoe-senpai's. Don't make it sound like I'm the only one benefiting from this.

Hiyori: Ahaha, I don't care about the details!

Tomorrow is a day off from lessons! It's our last chance to freshen up before the show—let's go out and have fun ♪

Maybe we can find the last piece we need there. We may be able to dream of an amazing spectacle...✩

Hiyori uses the term 地獄耳, literally meaning sharp ears. It often refers to a person who is eager to hear about gossip and remember it. It contains 地獄 (jigoku) in it, which means hell. Hence, Tatsumi's reaction.

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[imakemywings]

Who is close among the Feanorians

This is entirely headcanon based.

Amrod and Amras: Twins. Goes without saying. They finish each other’s sentences and invented their own language as children that no one ever figured out. Eventually they shifted that language into a crude form of sign language that allowed them to talk in front of others without being noticed.

Maedhros and Maglor: Second only to A/A in closeness. Not only are they close in age, they just get along well. Maglor always admired his older brother and so was willing to support/assist in most of Maedhros’ schemes, and once they arrived in Middle-earth, Maglor really became Maedhros’ lieutenant in some ways because he was so willing to go along with whatever Maedhros proposed. Maglor is also the one of them Maedhros is most likely to trust with thoughts he doesn’t want to share broadly, while Maedhros becomes the receptacle for all of Maglor’s melodrama. This relationship becomes detrimental at some point, when Maedhros’ mental health is spiraling after the Second and Third Kinslayings, but Maglor is unable to distance himself, and views Maedhros’ suicide partially as a form of abandonment.

Celegorm and Curufin: Obviously backed up by canon, but I tend to think they got a lot closer after the Flight of the Noldor. However, because Celegorm and Maglor don’t get along at all, and Celegorm shares very few interests with Caranthir, it was perhaps inevitable he then turned to Curufin. Being a fair bit older, he could answer a lot of questions for Curufin growing up, and Curufin learned well how to read Celegorm’s true moods, beneath the cheerful or blase facade. They’re both very ambitious and take a very similar view on life and morality, which leads them down the same dark path in Middle-earth, buoyed and supported by one another.

Maglor and Caranthir: As noted, Maglor and Celegorm do not get along (no one fights more among the Feanorians that these two), so he didn’t get much “big brothering” in with Tyelko. However, Caranthir was much more inclined to “playing quietly inside,” a favorite pastime of Maglor’s as a child. Sometimes, he would let Caranthir play in his music room as long as he stayed quiet about it, and Caranthir was happy to feel that he and Maglor had a special relationship. Older, he’s far more tolerant of Maglor’s theatrics than his bellyaching about it might suggest, and he often showed up for Maglor’s performances. Caranthir also offered considerable support to Maglor during Maglor’s brief 30-year reign as high king of the Noldor in Middle-earth. Maglor, perhaps owing to their early closeness in Moryo’s childhood, feels fairly protective of him, and so he took Caranthir’s betrayal by his Mannish allies very seriously.

Maedhros and Celegorm: Philosophically very different, but equally driven when it comes to things they see as important. Maglor is a houseplant, so if Maedhros wanted a companion for outdoor activities and Fingon was not available, Celegorm was his next choice. While Tyelko could be obnoxious, Maedhros could see how attentive he was to the natural world and how well he could succeed when he really tried. Celegorm enjoyed the thought there were things Maedhros wanted to do with him that he wouldn’t do with Maglor, and he was happy to show off his woodland skills whether they were hiking, hunting, or looking for specific wildlife or geological specimens. While the Flight of the Noldor brought Celegorm closer to Curufin, it drove him apart from Maedhros. Their philosophical differences began to open a chasm between them, most notable in Celegorm’s anger over Maedhros surrendering the line of succession to the Nolofinweans.

Curufin, Amrod, and Amras: These three being the youngest meant there was some natural solidarity. While A/A had their own special relationship, Curufin often ended up accompanying them. By the time the twins were born, Maedhros and Maglor at least were adults, and so effectively more parental than brotherly to these three, which meant for playmates they had to turn to each other. A/A could make Curufin feel like an outsider at times, but they were also often happy to include him, and while they certainly got into more trouble, Curufin provided valuable help in getting them out of it. If they found themselves in a tight spot, Curufin was usually their go-to, and Curufin maintained a soft spot for them up until their long separation in Middle-earth.

[heytherejulietx]

suspect - richie tozier

↳ based on a headcanon that me and @violetblvd came up with because we have big brains :)

↳ content warnings - swearing, brief depictions of depression, aged up losers, mostly just fluff though

↳ 2.6k word count

masterlists

@bucky-j-barnes @mikewheelerc @whaddyam3an @justanotherkpopstanlol join my tag list

“are you okay? you weren’t at the clubhouse earlier, i missed you.” y/n could practically hear richie’s pout through the phone as he spoke. he always spoke in the same almost-whining tone whenever he pouted. it was adorable, really.

it wasn’t often that she skipped out on spending time with the losers. most of the time they were the reason she left the house, aside from school. they were found family and she spent as much time with them as possible. and richie, she could barely ever resist time with him. they had been dating for well over a year, and basically spent every day together. and most nights, when richie snuck in through her window.

though y/n had been feeling off recently. she had times when she’d distance herself from others, not because anything had happened, but because she just felt down and unhappy. and over the past few days she’d been feeling worse and worse. really, she knew that even if she just saw richie it would make her feel so much better. but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the house unless she had to. it just seemed like too much effort that she didn’t have the energy for.

“sorry, i meant to call and say i wasn’t going. i didn’t really feel like it today.” y/n responded, and leaned back against the wall beside the phone.

“are you okay?” richie repeated, and she could hear the worry in his tone.

“i’m okay, rich, i promise. i just needed some time alone today.” she said softly, twisting the phone cord between her fingers as she spoke.

“alright, but you know you can call if you need anything right?”

“i know,” she smiled softly at his thoughtfulness. “i’ll call if i need you, I promise.”

“alrighty. i gotta go, stan is glaring at me to get off of his phone,” richie snickered and she could then briefly hear stan complaining in the background. “i love you.”

“i love you too, rich.”

once she had hung up the phone y/n sighed, frowning a little. she knew that richie could tell that something was up. he was the only person she saw when she felt like that, and he could easily tell the difference in her behaviour. on days when he’d see her feeling down he would be sweeter and more gentle. richie would run her a bath and wash her hair or order her food (he tried cooking for her once but almost set fire to her kitchen), or he’d just lay with her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. she really appreciated how much he cared for her, especially when she needed him the most. the thought of how much he cared for her made her want to see him more and she frowned, knowing that she’d have to wait until tomorrow.

y/n found herself back upstairs in her bedroom after she had something to eat. it was nearing seven in the evening, though despite the time she decided to just try and sleep in the hopes of feeling better when she woke up. she stripped off her clothes and pulled on one of richie’s many t-shirts that she kept at her house. originally he had brought them there in case he ever wanted to stay the night to wear something else in the morning, but most of the time she wore his clothes for bed. when richie first noticed her wearing his clothes he seemed pretty fond of it himself, which only encouraged her to do it more.

the weather had started warming up recently so y/n kept her window open as she climbed underneath the covers of her bed with a sigh and settled herself against the pillow, attempting to get comfortable. she just started drifting off to sleep half an hour later when she heard a tap at her window.

y/n scrunched her eycbrows together a little, at first thinking maybe she’d just made the noise up in her sleepy state. like when you think you’re falling right as you start going to sleep. though at the next tap, which was considerably louder than the first, she rolled over to see what it was and was met with doe eyes and a goofy grin. of course.

his grin grew as he reached his hand out to pull her window all the way open so he could climb into her bedroom. y/n couldn’t hold back a quiet giggle as he did a stupid somersault across her windowsill which caused him to land on her floor with a thump, and narrowly missed whacking his head on her bookshelf.

“rich,” she giggled, as she propped herself half-up on her elbow. “what’re you-“

“crrch,” he cut her off by mimicking the static sound of a walkie talkie, not rising from the floor. “i have snuck into the suspects bedroom, i repeat i’m in, crrch.” he held his hand up to his mouth like he was actually holding a walkie talkie, and with his free hand he slipped his backpack off of the one shoulder he had it slung over. it landed on the floor beside him before he started slowly moving across her bedroom floor, like he was making a very poor attempt at not being seen by her.

“crrch, suspect has a very pretty bedroom, safe to assume she’s also very pretty, crrch.” y/n giggled quietly as she leaned up a little to see him.

as she laughed he almost theatrically whipped his head up to see her and his eyes widened, feigning shock as he stood up so quickly that he almost lost his balance altogether. she could see in his eyes that he wanted to laugh. he always wore the same exact expression when he was truly entertained; to be honest she was surprised he hadn’t burst into laughter yet.

“crrch she’s seen me! oh god i’ve been caught!” she started laughing as he shouted, holding his free hand out with his fingers out like a gun. “crrch oh god! she’s so adorable it hurts! she’s giggling! oh she’s so pretty!” he gasped and she held her own hand out like a gun as he did. “fuck she’s armed! she has a gun crrch!” y/n laughed as he groaned dramatically, his hand flying to cover his chest as he attempted a poor act of being hurt. “i’ve been shot!”

richie dramatically stumbled over towards her bed where he finally toppled over right on top of her and fell with his back against her stomach, groaning again with his hand still clutching his chest.

“i have a wife and kids and you shot me-“ he started shouting dramatically before she clasped her hand over his mouth to get him to shut up, still laughing herself.

“you’re gonna make my parents hear you asshole.” she giggled, and sat up to see him better which left him laying across her thighs instead.

“hey, you’re the one that shot me,” he mumbled underneath her hand, and when she removed it he was grinning despite still trying to feign hurt. “you’re lethal.”

“do you want me to kiss it better, richie?” y/n raised her eyebrows, amused.

“oh please my darling that would be delightful!” he grinned up at her as he spoke in his terrible british accent, and she laughed again as she looked down at him.

“okay,” she giggled. “where are you hurt?”

“right here.” he smirked up at her as he pointed to his lips.

“in the mouth?”

“yeah, you’re really violent.” he snickered.

“if i shot you in the mouth why were you holding your chest-“

“oh just shut up and kiss me.” richie complained and y/n giggled as she leaned down towards him, smiling against his lips as they met. she felt his hand lift to rest on her cheek and his touch felt warm against her skin. she practically melted into him with a quiet sigh against his mouth. y/n seriously underestimated how much she needed to be with him earlier.

when she leaned away from him he was grinning up at her still, and his hand was no longer resting over his chest.

“all better?” she teased, and lifted her hand to reach down and ruffled his mop of curly black hair.

“yep, good as new toots. you should be a nurse,” richie leaned up to leave another kiss against her lips before he sat up completely so he was no longer laying across her. “now that i’m all better, i guess i have to finish what i came here to do.” he sighed dramatically, though he had his up to no good smirk on as he turned to face her.

“kill me? rich i don’t-“ y/n started, though cut herself off with a laugh when he turned and slipped his hands under her shirt to tickle his fingers across her ribs.

as she started to squirm away from him he moved to kneel over her, and as his knees bracketed her thighs she couldn’t go anywhere. asshole.

“richie-“ she gasped through her laughter, her attempts at pushing his hands away doing nothing. “okay okay you got me! you got me!” she laughed, and still kicked her legs even though it did nothing with where he was sat over her.

richie was grinning down at her, wearing his smug look that made her want to either smack him or kiss him, depending on what he was doing. after another moment of y/n’s attempted complaints through her laughter richie moved his hands from her sides, and instead held her hands down against her pillows as she giggled with the ghosting of his tickles.

“you’re an asshole,” y/n giggled, her face flushed red as she looked up at him. she felt his fingers interlock with hers as he pushed hers down against her pillow and she squeezed his gently, despite still lifting her leg to knee him in the back. “that was mean.” she pouted, poorly holding back her smile.

“i just wanted to make my best girl laugh,” he sighed dramatically. from where he was kneeling above her his hair had fallen in front of his eyes, curly black strands laying across his forehead in a way that made him look so pretty. richie was hot, everybody knew richie was hot, richie knew richie was hot. so usually if she complimented him it didn’t seem to phase him. though whenever she called him pretty he’d go a little pink, almost bashful. it made her always want to call him pretty. “plus i missed you today, i needed to make up for not annoying you earlier. i took it out on stan instead, i think he even grew some grey hairs.” he snickered.

y/n rolled her eyes, though found herself smiling softly again when richie had leaned down to kiss her. his hands squeezed hers, still pressed up into the pillow, and she felt him smile against her lips that time. he pulled away only for a moment, his eyes meeting hers as he smiled, before he leaned back in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. and then to her other cheek. and then her nose. he was relentless, pressing kisses all over her face until she had scrunched up her nose and giggled, shaking her head to get him to stop when his hair started tickling her face.

“you’re so pretty.” richie smiled down at her when he leaned back again, and y/n flushed pink as he left a more gentle kiss to her lips before he pulled back, and let her hands go as he sat up properly.

“you’re not so bad yourself.” she mumbled, and giggled as he poked her sides.

“is this mine?” richie tugged on the shirt she was wearing, and his hand smoothed it out across her stomach to see whatever pattern was printed over the front of it. “i’m flattered that you find my fashion sense so inspiring, sweets.”

“if you leave your stuff here i’m going to wear it.” she pointed out, and he chuckled against her lips with the next kiss he gave her.

“hey, i brought you some stuff.” like a lightbulb switched on in his head to remind him why he was there, y/n watched as he jumped off of her and went over towards his backpack on the floor. richie lifted it up and sat it on the bed in front of her, and after fishing around in it for a moment (richie had tons of junk and trash in his backpack since he could never clear it out) he pulled out two cans of coke, a chocolate bar, and some trampled flowers that looked suspiciously like the ones her mother grew in their front garden.

deciding not to comment on the flowers, y/n smiled softly as she looked up at richie and sat up properly. “rich you didn’t have to get me anything.” she said softly, and reached out to take his hand.

“i know, i just wanted to get you something since you seemed a little down on the phone.” richie smiled softly as he gently squeezed her hand.

he probably knew that she felt more than just a little down, and he probably knew exactly how she was feeling as he’d witnessed it before. but y/n appreciated his thoughtfulness nonetheless. she appreciated that he didn’t make a big fuss of it like some other people would, and was just there for her instead.

leaning over the pile of things on her bed y/n let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his middle, murmuring a “thank you“ before she kissed his cheek. his arms wrapped tightly back around her, and y/n almost relaxed completely when she felt his lips press a kiss to her temple. soft moments like that where richie didn’t feel the need to be loud and brash meant so much to her. it was lovely to be with him in such a soft and vulnerable way. she got to see a side of him that nobody else did.

once they had moved the gifts from richie onto her bedside table and his backpack returned to its place on the floor, richie slipped his shoes off and got into the bed beside her with y/n tucked against his side. one of his hands were on her back underneath the shirt as his fingers traced delicate patterns across her back, and his other was clasped with one of hers resting on his stomach. y/n had her eyes closed with her ear to his chest, and as she listened to his heartbeat she could’ve sworn that everything was perfect for one shining moment.

“thank you.” she whispered after a moment, and squeezed his hand lightly with his own.

“it’s no problem, angel. i just thought you’d appreciate some chocolate-“

“no, not for that,” she shook her head as she smiled softly. “for making me feel better.”

richie didn’t say anything in response at first, and instead she felt his lips press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. she smiled softly, growing more tired the more relaxed he got her.

“all in a days work.” he mumbled along with another kiss and she smiled briefly, though was on the verge of falling asleep. completely relaxed in richie’s arms, she drifted off with a smile on her face feeling the best that she had in a week.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Speak Now | Quackity

Requested? Never

Warnings? None?

Summary: You have to watch your best friend and secret crush get married. (Based off Speak Now by Taylor Swift!)

Word Count: 1,581

Alex holds the velvet box out to you, flipping it open to show an elegant wedding ring. Your eyes flip back and forth from the ring to Alex, a nervous smile spread across his lips.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

Honestly, you didn’t know. You didn’t know if you liked the ring, didn’t know if you could tell Alex through tight lips and locked jaw that his girlfriend would love it. You didn’t know if you could lie straight through your teeth.

Instead, you wanted to tell him that the ring was perfect but he was giving it to the wrong girl. That he should be showing you the ring while asking the question you had dreamed of for so long.

But unfortunately, that’s not how things work.

You had been in love with your best friend for years now and while you never took Alex for someone who was clueless, he certainly challenged that when it came to your feelings. It was like he became blind to your compliments, your loyalty, your selflessness, your attention, your physical touch, everything. You swore he just thought of it as being “good friends”.

So, the minute he pulled out a diamond ring for his girlfriend, your heart couldn’t help but shatter the little bit left holding out for Alex.

“It’s gorgeous,” you tell him and relief visibly floods through him.

“I’m so excited,” he says, leaning forward and wrapping you up in a hug.

“Me too,” you say quietly into his shoulder, holding back tears.

In the days following, you watched as Alex announced his engagement to you, your friends, and all of his fans. When the notification graced your phone, you couldn’t help but cry. You had become used to Alex not returning your feelings but this? This was permanent and real, and a reminder that Alex didn’t love you the way you loved him.

However, as all best friends do, you put on a smile. You accepted when he asked you to be a part of his wedding party and excitedly planned along with him, taking a piece of your heart out and giving it to Alex every chance and him walking over it unknowingly.

The months leading up to the wedding were excruciating. And you were shocked when they only got worse.

“(y/n)?” Alex asks one day.

You look up at him, nerves coursing through you as he looks at you with worried eyes. Your heart falls, somehow knowing and having no clue what the next words out of his mouth would be.

He sits next to you, his focus on the carpet before him, toeing at the fabric with his foot nervously. He glances at you for a moment as his hands come together in front of him. Everything about him screams anxiety, and you want to rub his back and tell him that everything is going to be okay.

“You,” he hesitates and for a moment you think he’s crying, but convince yourself it’s the terrible lighting in your apartment.

“You can’t come to the wedding,” he finally chokes out.

Your head tilts, and for a moment it feels like someone wrapped a hand around your heart and squeezed.

“Wha-“ you start but Alex talks over you, word vomiting like no tomorrow.

“Claire said she would feel uncomfortable with you there and wants me to take a step back from our friendship.”

Alex’s eyes flicker from the ground he’s so fixated on, to your blank expression. You felt like this was one big prank. That it had to be a joke being uninvited to your best friend’s wedding. While you knew your heart would be cracking and falling to pieces at the altar in front of you when you saw Alex get married, you still didn’t want to miss your best friend’s big life event.

You’re utterly speechless, as Alex apologizes once more, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head and leaving. You sit in the same position, rethinking the conversation for what feels like hours.

Alex felt like he left his heart in that apartment with you. He felt like he had severed a limb, and it was missing after telling you the news about his wedding. Truly, you meant everything to him. You were the girl who had captured his heart and would entrust you with it forever, knowing you’d never do anything to hurt him.

And yet that’s all he was doing to you and himself. He wished all of those years ago he had said something, done something, manned up, and just admitted it to you. But here he was, feeling like he needed to go through with this to hold a semblance of happiness in the future.

You had finally snapped yourself out of the shock, your body moving without really thinking about the motions. You find yourself calling Karl, your best friend who knew everything about the situation between you and Alex. He was even the one to introduce the two of you.

You explain what happened in quiet sentences, Karl insisting he’ll be over in a flash. It’s true, it feels like you’re up and answering the door in the next few minutes to a pity-stricken Karl.

“Honey,” he frowns, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I don’t want to see him get married but I don’t want to miss it,” you whine and Karl’s frown deepens.

“They gave me a plus one, just come with me,” he decides and you look up at him, hope in your eyes.

“I’m sure as hell not going alone and definitely not going without you there,” you giggle lightly and lean up to press a kiss to Karl’s cheek.

As the day of the wedding approaches, you and Alex talk less and less. He had distanced himself ever since breaking the news to you and you had half hated it and half appreciated it. You were able to nurse your heartbreak and prepare yourself for one of the hardest days.

On the day of the wedding, you get ready with a hint of nerves. Your hands shake putting your earrings in, and it’s practically impossible to fasten your heels. Just as you’re attempting to put on a necklace, the doorbell rings. You sigh, heading over and swinging it open to see Karl standing before you.

You take in his appearance, a soft smile crossing your lips as you hold out the necklace in front of you.

“Can you help?”

Karl doesn’t respond at first, scanning your body up and down in awe. You had picked out a pale pink dress, white heels, and scarce jewelry but you look stunning nonetheless.

“Holy smokes,” he breathes out.

“Oh shut up,” you joke but smile wide at your friend regardless.

Karl finally takes the necklace from your hands, pulling it around your neck and fastening it till it sits just right. His hands trail over your shoulders, squeezing them lightly before dropping his hands.

“Ready?”

“As I ever will be.”

The venue is gorgeous, nothing less for the bride. You and Karl make your way in, your eyes wandering about the room and taking in the details. You find her family sitting in the front row, annoyed looks matching their obnoxious outfits. You try not to frown as you see people greeting each other fondly, speaking fond words about the future husband and wife.

You find seats together and Karl watches you as your face falls, hearing the sound of the wedding march. The music is grating on your ears, another reminder that you never wanted to be here in the first place.

Everyone begins to stand, and you turn to look at the girl who had stolen your best friend’s heart. She floats down the aisle like a pageant queen, her dress flowing behind her. You risk a glance at Alex and find he’s already staring at you.

Alex was shocked when he saw you sitting with his best friend at his wedding. His heart seized at the sight of you in a beautiful dress, and his mind wanders to how you would look in a wedding dress, walking towards him now.

It feels like the wedding goes by in a blur, your heart shattering slowly, piece by piece as vows are exchanged.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace,”

It’s dead silent as the preacher looks over the crowd, and without a second thought, you stand. From next to you Karl’s eyes widen and you feel your hands shake as you look at Alex. The rest of the crowd stares up at you with horrified looks, and you half expect someone to yell at you to sit back down.

“I am not the kind of girl who should be doing this,” you start your eyes never leaving Alex’s.

“But you are not the kind of boy, who should be marrying the wrong girl,” you finish.

The entire crowd is in an uproar, the only person on your side being Karl who cheers loudly at your proclamation. Alex steps towards you and you make your way out of the aisle. He approaches you, uncertainty is in his eyes.

“Don’t say yes, run away with me, make the right choice,” you whisper, and his look of uncertainty falls into one of careful consideration.

“Okay,” he says and a smile widens onto your lips.

“Let’s go.”

[restlessfandoming]

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!” 

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt. 

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air. 

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked. 

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze. 

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.” 

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.” 

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering. 

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it? 

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed. 

Of course. 

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon. 

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak. 

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him. 

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more. 

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow. 

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose. 

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up! 

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed. 

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically. 

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin. 

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist. 

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing. 

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there. 

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response. 

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity. 

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her. 

An Abyss Mage! 

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it. 

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us. 

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably. 

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake. 

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground. 

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body. 

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!” 

Lumine looked past the mage. 

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief. 

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe. 

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm. 

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle. 

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully. 

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage. 

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling. 

“Childe!” Lumine screamed. 

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion. 

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air. 

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered. 

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured. 

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod. 

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest. 

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier. 

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface. 

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained. 

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.” 

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.” 

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.” 

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. 

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world. 

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand. 

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them. 

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth. 

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking. 

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

[maxwell-grant]

You have done an (excelent) post on how to reinvent Batman as a Pulp Hero. Do you think you could do one to Superman as well? Or do you think it is impossible to do this with the progenitor of the Super Hero genre without transforming him in a totaly diferent character?

Well, you saying it as impossible only makes it seem ever more tempting of a challenge, but yes, it is a bit harder. I'm gonna link my Batman post here as a reference point.

Partially because Batman's a franchise I've thought extensively about for a long time in regards to what I like about it or how I'd like to approach if given the opportunity, which is not something I can really say for Superman until more recently the Big Blue to start orbiting my brain. I don't have years worth of redesigns or fan concepts saved on my galleries and files to comb through to pick and choose here, and my experience with Superman as a character is considerably different, in some aspects more deeply personal, and not really something I'd like to go into in this blog, at least not now.

Part of the reason why it's harder is also because Batman and Superman have very different relationships with their pulp inspirations. Batman was, ostensibly, a pulp character adapted to comics, a dime-a-dozen Shadow knock-off who picked up and played up diverging traits from other characters and gradually ran with them to gradually forge a unique identity. Superman right from the start was rooted in a much stronger conceptual underpinning: the Sci-Fi Superman and Alien Menace who, instead of being a tragic monster or a tyrannical villain, becomes a costumed adventurer and social crusader. Even the name Super-Man was taken from an early story of Siegel and Shuster about a telepathic villain who ends the story lamenting that he should have used his powers for the good of mankind instead of selfishness. I hesitate to call what Siegel and Shuster were doing “subversive” because that term's picked up a real negative connotation, and it's not like Siegel and Shuster were out to upend their influences (they were pulp aficionados themselves), but rather putting a more positive, new spin on them.

Which is why it also becomes a bit harder to do what I did with Batman and align Superman with some of his pulp-esque inspirations, like John Carter, Flash Gordon or Hugo Danner, without just making it "Superman but he's John Carter", "Superman but it's Flash Gordon", and "Iron Munro / Superman but everything sucks" respectively. It's harder to create a character that wouldn't feel reduntant and derivative at best, and actively contradictory to Superman at worst.

I guess if I had to come up with a "Pulp Hero Superman" take I liked, well first of all I'd have to take steps to distance it from the likes of Tom Strong or Al Ewing's Doc Thunder, those two are as good as it gets in regards to Pulp Supermen. I stipulated for Batman a "No Guns, No Murder, No Service" policy partially to distance my takes on Batman from all the "Pulp Batmen" that just add guns and murder and take Batman back to the barest of basics. Likewise, I'm adding a "No Depowered Science Hero" rule here, which means it's a take that's likely going to veer off a lot more into fantasy and probably enough tampering with Clark's character that it does risk becoming a different character.

Frankly I don't think I'm gonna succeed at doing these without just making it a new character entirely, because with Batman you can get away with just upending the character's aesthetic and setting and even origin and still keep it recognizably Bruce Wayne (in fact Batman does that all the time), which isn't really the case with Superman, who needs those to remain recognizably Superman as he goes through internal changes and character shifts. I guess what I'm gonna do here is more taking the building blocks of Superman/Clark Kent and see a couple new ways I can rearrange them to create a Pulp Superman

Perhaps something we can do is to scale back or recontextualize the "superhero" parts without diminishing Superman's role as a superpowered fantasy character.

One way we can start is by picking on that connection between Superman and the sci-fi supermen/alien monsters of pulps I mentioned earlier and play it up further, to create a Superman who's deeply, deeply alien in a way that no mild-mannered disguise or colorful outfit can really disguise, something so dramatically powerful and alien, that instead you could get tales about the kinds of ensuing changes and ripple effects this has on the world upon the The Super-Man's arrival. And for that I'm gonna have to quote @davidmann95's concept for Joshua Viers' absolutely stunning Superman redesign on the left side of the image above

The red, the goldish-orange and white, the alienness, the angelic, sculpted feeling, the halo, that innocently curious expression: it’s genuinely beautiful. Superman as a redeeming science-angel from beyond our understanding, as much past the uncanny valley of limited human comprehension as a Lovecraftian monster but tuned to the opposite key - you could spend an endless procession of human lifetimes trying and failing to understand this being, but all you’ll ever know for sure is that it is beyond you, and it knows you, and it loves you.

Superdoomsday from Earth 45, healed and transformed into the savior it was originally envisioned as? Some descendant of his, or a future of the man himself? An alien who picked up on a broadcast of Superman from Earth, and so inspired reshaped itself in his image to spread his ‘gospel’ to the stars?

Alternatively, to come back to Earth a little, many, many pulp characters and series were built off the antics and personalities of real people, celebrities getting their own magazines or serials or fictionalized takes on them, so perhaps one way to make a "pulp" take on Superman would be to emphasize a bit more of Superman's real-world roots, trends that inspired his creation directly or indirectly at the time. The Jewish strongman Sigmund Breibart and Shuster's interest in fitness culture, Harold Lloyd's comic persona, the rising "strongman" film genre in the early 20th century, actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor that supposedly named his secret identity, Clark Kent being a socially-awkward journalist based of Siegel's own school experiences.

Maybe one start to an authentic Pulp Superman, who would still be Superman, would be to just ask the question "What if Superman was a real person and/or a celebrity, and they started making pulp magazines and serials dedicated to him? What would those look like?". You wouldn't even have to restrict it to just a story set in the 1930s, in fact you could even play around with the rise of new mediums over the decades.

This third one is a little closer to some plans I have for my own take on a Superman character, not necessarily what I would do with Superman proper but one of my ideas for a Superman analogue. Superman's a character I'll always associate strongly with childhood and childhood fantasy, and to tap into that I would emphasize the other end of the fiction that influenced Siegel and Shuster: comic strips, in their case specifically Little Nemo and Popeye.

In my case I would bring additional influences from some of the comic strips I personally grew up reading like Monica's Gang and Calvin and Hobbes, and I already talked a bit about Captain Fray in terms of how he’s a Superman character despite being a villain. I guess you could call this one "What if Superman was a public domain comic strip character, stripped of the importance of being the founding figure of a super popular genre or extended universe, and also was kind of ugly?".

He's not "Sloth from the Goonies" ugly, I swear I didn't actually have Sloth in mind when typing out this idea, I've never watched that film nor did I know until now that he actually spends the film in a Superman shirt. That's not really what I'm going for. Visually I was thinking of modeling my take on Superman heavily after Hugo from Street Fighter and his inspiration Andre the Giant, to really emphasize the “circus strongman / freak wrestler” aspect of Superman’s inspiration, particularly in regards to how Hugo’s SFIII version strikes a really great balance in making Hugo ugly and both comedic and fearsome in battle, as well as lovable and even a little dopey (without being outright stupid, like his IV self) in his victory animations and endings.

He's still Superman, he still goes on fantastical adventures to help people, he's still a deeply loving and compassionate soul whose face beams with joy and affection and who's got wonderful eyes and a great smile. It's just that this smile has a couple of mismatched stick-out teeth or some missing ones, and he's got a crooked smile some people take as smug or malicious, he’s got a strongman’s gut instead of a bodybuilder’s abs, his nose is a little busted (maybe he’s had too many crash landings), and his hair is a little wild or greasy, and he doesn't exactly have very good people skills because of how others usually react to him and, y'know, he doesn't get the kind of publicity Superman would get despite doing ostensibly the same things. He’s not deformed, he’s incredibly intelligent and capable, but in comparison to how superheroes are usually allowed to look, he might as well be Bizarro in the public eye.

It becomes a running gag that people tend to assume some nearby fireman or cop was the one who rescued the hundred orphans out of a burning building single-handedly, meanwhile he's getting accosted off-panel by police officers who think he set the building on fire, or think they can bully this weird man dressed funny. He goes to rescue old people in peril and occasionally they yell at him that they don't have any money. He doesn't get asked to lead superhero meetings or teams even though many in the community advocate for just how much he does for the world, he gets censored out of tv broadcasts or group shots (even his face is sometimes pixelated when they do show him), people invite him on talk shows and don't really let him talk or assume they got the wrong guy. He goes to rescue a woman dangling off a building, and then he gets attacked by like three different superhero teams who assume he must have kidnapped the poor damsel. He was the first superhero, he is the strongest of them all still, but he never really gets credit for it, it nor does he even want to. None of this at all stops him or deters him, except for some occasionally funny reactions.

This never really changes for him, he doesn't really earn people's approval nor does he have to, instead the stories, outside of the gags and adventures you’d expect from a comic strip, veer more towards others learning to be less judgmental and him learning ways to better approach people. He isn't any lesser than Superman just because he doesn't look like most people would want him to look and he doesn't have to look like Superman. Really I think we could use more superheroes that don’t look all so uniformly pretty.

Again, probably not a take that would work for Clark proper, but it’s one way I would take a shot at doing Superman with my own

I have other stuff in the works for this character but I'd like to keep them to better work on them for now, but yeah, these are three of my shots at developing a Pulp Superman.

Alternatively here's a fourth idea that's more pulp than all of these: Join up Nicholas Cage with Panos Cosmatos again, or whatever weird indie director he decides to pair up with next, and let them do whatever the hell they want with Superman. Give us Mandy Superman. Superman vs The Color Out of Space. Superman vs Five Nights at Freddy's. Superman’s quest to find THE LAST PIG OF KRYPTON. Anything goes.

[soft--dragon]

Tree House Bros

Based on the headcannons some lovely people on discord and I discussed at an ungodly hour and I wanted to write something because the ideas we thought of were too adorable not to :D Jam and Anakin, this one’s for you guys ✊✊✊ Let’s goooooooo

Word Count: 1,964

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Charlie wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he has grown closer to Tommy. The boy was the human embodiment of sunshine, putting up a facade of brashness but really being soft underneath. He loved physical affection from his friends, something Charlie had been ecstatic about finding out. Hugs, hair ruffles, cuddles, Tommy was always willing to accept them. Charlie also discovered that praise would make the boy glow happily, so he took it upon himself to make sure he complimented the boy whenever he interacted with him. 

Charlie once proudly swept the boy up in a bear hug, yelling "LOOK AT THIS CHILD! THIS CHILD IS AMAZING!" All the while Tommy was flushed red but laughing at Charlie's loud claims. 

Charlie adored the teenager he'd managed to get so close to lately, to the point where he considered him his little brother. He'd been careful not to outright say that however. Wilbur always got scarily overprotective of Tommy whenever someone dropped the sibling bomb. His was more terrifying than Techno when he was in 'Big Bro Wilbs' mode. 

Still, Charlie thought of himself as Tommy's brother figure, alongside the multiple other people Tommy had cluelessly managed to adopt as siblings. And being a brother figure means there are certain rules and requirements you need to meet. 

One of which is knowing how to deal with a sad Tommyinnit. 

Charlie had started developing what he liked to call a 'Tommy Is Sad' radar and found the boy crying underneath a tree. He'd done what any good brother would and pulled him into a hug, comforted him, then helped him fix the issue that was causing him to be upset. Once that had been cleared up, Charlie had looked at the tree they were sitting under and decided right then and there that this would be the spot for them. 

The look on Tommy's face when Charlie revealed the tree house sitting in the oak tree branches would be a forever treasured memory. He'd hugged Charlie tightly, on the brink of tears that he quickly reassured the older they were purely from joy. The treehouse became their official meet up area. Anytime they needed each other for comfort, to vent, or to just hang out, the treehouse was the place to go. It had a massive slime plush that worked a beanbag for them, a large fluffy rug covering the floor and golden lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A chest sat in the corner stuffed with snack foods and drinks, their favorites of course. The treehouse was a treasured place for both of them. 

One day, Charlie was talking with Eret, then suddenly went stiff as a rod. 

"Charlie?" Eret blinked, "you good?"

"My T.I.S radar is beeping" Charlie said, turning on his heel and scanning the land quickly. 

"Your...your what?" Eret asked incredulously. 

"My brother needs a hug" Charlie rushed out his explanation, his eye catching a red and white shirt a little ways away. "Bye Eret!"

He bolted straight towards the sight of the bright sleeved clothing, leaving a very confused and slightly amused Eret in his wake. Charlie quickly approached the small cluster of trees where he spotted Tommy, slowing down so he could scan the area carefully. After walking a little further, he finally found the boy. He was curled in a ball underneath one of the tall trees, arms wrapped around his knees tightly and shoulders shaking. 

"Tommy?" Charlie crouched in front of the boy, cautiously reaching out to the boy. 

The boy flinched at his voice, tightening his grip on himself. "G-Go away Charlie" his voice shook with the broken, scared request. "P-Please I don't want to s-see anyone right now…" 

Charlie's heart ached when he heard a choked sob, Tommy hunched in on himself as he tried to muffle himself. Charlie bit his lip, looking down at the teen worriedly. He was clearly distraught, 

"Buttercup, can I pick you up?" Charlie asked softly, praying the boy said yes. He desperately wanted to hold his baby brother close and never let go until his tears had disappeared. 

Tommy raised his head slightly and Charlie felt his heart drop. Tommy's eyes were red and brimming with tears, his lip dented with bite marks and cheeks streaked with tear stains. He took a shaking breath in then nodded, slowly uncurling from his ball to raise his arms out to Charlie. The man gently looped the boy's arms around his neck and hefted him up. He held Tommy close who instantly pressed his face into Charlie's neck, taking in shallow breaths.  

Charlie's worry spiked further and quickly made his way to their treehouse. If anywhere could help the boy calm down it was there. 

Charlie was more than grateful they installed a pulley lift as the way to get into the treehouse. He gently set Tommy down on the large slime plush, placing his hand on the boy's head and brushing his thumb over Tommy's hair. 

"I'll be right back, gonna get you some water and snacks okay?" 

Tommy only nodded, curling in on himself again, sinking into the plush. Charlie dropped down to the chest and took out some cookies and water, quickly returning to his brother. Tommy was trying to dry his tears, only causing them to spread across his already stained face. Charlie dropped down in front of him, taking out a washcloth from his inventory. 

"May I?" He asked gently, holding up the cloth. 

Tommy studied it for a moment then nodded slowly, lowering his hands from his face, sniffing. Charlie placed his hand underneath Tommy's chin to tilt his head up. With gentleness only a brother could possess for his sibling, he carefully washed the tears from Tommy's face, apologizing softly when Tommy flinched slightly at the coolness of the damp material. 

Once Tommy's face was cleaned, Charlie offered him the water and cookies. They sat silently, Charlie keeping some distance between himself and Tommy in case he wanted space. Tommy nibbled on the baked goods, sniffing occasionally. 

"Are you gonna be okay?" Charlie asked quietly. 

Tommy swallowed his mouthful and flicked his slightly bloodshot eyes over to Charlie. 

"Yeah...no...I don't know…" he mumbled, subconsciously making himself smaller. "I don't know why I just broke."

Charlie looked at him sympathetically. "Some things can just pile up sometimes, it's nothing to be ashamed of Buttercup, it happens." 

Tommy smiled a little at the nickname but it disappeared as soon as it came. "Yeah it just never usually happens to me." 

Charlie watched his brother for a moment then opened his arms, holding them up. "C'mere." 

Tommy shuffled into the embrace, clinging to Charlie tightly once he leant against the older. Charlie wrapped the boy into his arms, holding him securely and firm but with the warmth and love Tommy deserved. 

"It happens to everyone Buttercup" Charlie reassured quietly. "It doesn't matter if it's common or not, breakdowns tend to sneak up eventually and it's healthy to have a bit of a cry every once and awhile." 

Tommy squeezed Charlie to him, nodding into his shoulder. "I don't like it though."

"And that's okay, I'd be a little concerned if you did" Charlie promised, then smiled and put on a Texan accent. "Have to lock ya up in the old prison cell for liking da breakdowns aye mate? Lil bit coo coo in the nogan for that one if ye ask me." 

Tommy giggled slightly into Charlie's shoulder making the older internally coo. The boy's giggles were the sweetest things you could hear. 

"What's got ya giggling like a hyena Tommy? Was it something I said? Nothin' funny about being thrown in yee ol' cell is there?"

The reply only got Tommy giggling more which in turn made Charlie chuckle. 

"Oh no! Seems I got a case of the giggles too! It's an infection! Tommy you're spreading a giggly disease! This is terrible! I must find a cure before it takes over the server!"

He gently spidered his fingers over Tommy's stomach and lower belly, grinning at the muffled squeal Tommy gave. 

"I think I've got it Tommy" Charlie began dramatically, "I think the cure is to tickle all the giggles out of you."

Tommy's laughter went higher at Charlie's words. "Nooooohohohoho" he groaned but his light hearted tone peppered with giggles let Charlie know he was okay. 

Charlie kept it relaxed and gentle, wanting Tommy to feel comfortable right now. Though he wanted the boy to laugh, he didn't want to exhaust him further by wrecking him. He gently pulled Tommy's back to his chest, hugging him from behind and softly scratching around his lower belly and sides. Tommy melted into the tickles, tipping his head back to rest against Charlie's shoulder as giggles spilled from his lips. 

"This okay?" Charlie asked, running his nails over Tommy's stomach. 

Tommy's giggles picked up slightly, sinking further into Charlie's chest. "Yeheheah" he murmured, "fehehehels nihihihice." 

Charlie felt his heart melt at the boy's words. How could one teenager be so cute?? 

Charlie massaged his fingers into Tommy's ribs, smiling when he squeaked through his giggles. He pressed into the divots and muscles of his ribcage, chuckling as Tommy squirmed against him. 

"Lehehess plehehease" Tommy pressed out between his heightened giggles.

Charlie complied instantly, moving back down to the sides of Tommy's stomach, wiggling his nails gently. Tommy melted into the touch, giggles calming again. 

"Thahahanks" he smiled up at Charlie. 

Charlie nudged Tommy's head with his cheek. "Of course Buttercup, only gonna do what makes you comfortable."

Tommy flushed slightly and a warm feeling blossomed in his chest at the genuine consideration for his feelings. Instead of answering he pressed his face into the crook of Charlie's neck, trying to hide his red cheeks. Charlie seemed to catch it however and cooed. 

"Naww, gotten a bit pink there Buttercup, you are so precious."

Tommy shook his head. "Nohohoho" he groaned, "I'm not." 

Charlie chucked, Tommy able to feel it rumbling from how heavily he was leaning on Charlie's chest. "I think everyone on the server would disagree with you on that one Buttercup, but whatever you say." 

He took a hand from Tommy's midsection to run it through the mop of curls on Tommy's head. Tommy arched his head up into the touch like a cat, a content hum emitting from his throat as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Charlie smiled at the sight. "Sleepy Buttercup?" He asked softly. 

"Mmmm" Tommy slurred, cuddling closer to the older. "Sleepy time?"

"Of course, I'll be here when you wake up" Charlie promised. 

Tommy smiled softly and nodded. "Okay...night Big C..."

"Sleep well Buttercup." 

It was a peaceful silence for a few minutes. Tommy leaned further into Charlie as his breathing evening out. His previous crying episode tiring him out and the gentle tickles easing him into sleep. Charlie kept gently carding his hand through his hair, messing with the blonde curls. 

'Suck it Soot' Charlie thought with a fond smile, 'bet you've never seen Tommy like this before.' 

Charlie opened his communicator and sent through a photo of Tommy sound asleep against him to Wilbur.

Pollen Boy

*Image file*

Hehehe look at himmmmm

He's so sweet Wil no wonder you adopted him as your little brother

Wiblur Scoot

Stop stealing Tommy Charlie >>:(

Pollen Boy

No <3

Wiblur Scoot

He's meant to be my Tommy

Pollen Boy

Sharing is caring Wil

Wiblur Scoot

He's my little brother

Pollen Boy

I like to think he's our little brother :D

Wiblur Scoot

Don't even think about it

Pollen Boy

Too late

I'm gonna get us matching hoodies

Wiblur Scoot

d o n t u d a r e

Pollen Boy

:3

I'm gonna get him socks too

Wiblur Scoot

CHARLIE NO

[relaxxattack]

an angel and a demon walk into a bar (drabble)

tommy smelled the rain beforehand, so he knew what was coming, and yet he honestly couldn’t be bothered to pick himself up off the pavement. he was sat there and he wasn’t going to move, and that’s the story he was going to stick with once the water began hissing on his skin like acid.

he didn’t think it would kill him; probably it would just hurt quite a lot. probably. he wasn’t sure though, considering he’d never been up here for a considerable amount of time before, and definitely not when it rained.

the pitter-patter sounds began very far away, but tommy’s sensitive hearing picked them up anyway, and he curled his tail tighter around his feet, resting his chin on his knees. if he was thinking, he would’ve stood up and walked straight under the nearest awning. but he wasn’t, and he didn’t.

the shower opened up overhead quicker then he would’ve liked. tommy realized suddenly that maybe, if he thought about it, he didn’t actually want to die that much, and his heart lurched into his stomach in a sudden panic. as he tilted his head backwards to glance fearfully at the sky, he was met with a ceiling of white feathers blocking out the light.

“oi!” tommy snapped, and twisted his neck around to look behind him. stood on the sidewalk with very large eyes was another boy, much smaller then him, with much rounder features, and most impressively, two large wings he was using to block the rain out. tommy suddenly felt very grateful, and he bit his tongue.

“did you know you’ve got little red horns on your head?” asked the other boy, in a voice much too innocent for comfort.

“yes,” tommy scowled, rubbing the base of said horns with one hand. “did you know you’ve got big-ass wings on your back?”

“i did.”

the downpour around them suddenly grew louder and the rain began to come down in sheets, some of it splashing off the ground and onto tommy’s legs, causing his to hiss in pain.

“hmm,” said the smaller boy, decidedly an angel. “so what are you doing up here anyway? and what’s your name? mine’s tubbo, if it helps.”

tommy scoffed, pretending he was not very lost. “tommy. and well you see i was recently... err, let go, so to say, by the big old red man.”

“the devil fired you?”

“puns are the most disgusting form of comedy. but... kind of. you see i’ve sort of been caught doing bad— well, good things, i guess— and apparently this was the last straw.”

tommy kicked at the concrete below him, scowling harshly. “i just don’t get how anyone can kill animals. they’ll look at you, you see, and it’s— oh it’s impossible. as for the flower gardens... that was a one-time offense—“

“i’ve been kicked out, too,” said the creature beside him, tilting his head. his eyes were far too unnaturally large.

“kicked out of heaven?” tommy snorted. “for what, singing a little too well?”

“mass homicide,” tubbo replied casually, staring blankly into the distance behind tommy’s head. “but to be completely fair, it was only one village... and the fire looks so pretty from above.”

tommy was silent for a few moments, staring at the winged monster beside him— and then he began to cackle.

“i think i like you, tubbo. tub-so. tubb-man.”

“oh?” tubbo blinked, and he smiled too, revealing incisors that were incredibly sharp.

“oh,” tommy agreed. he rubbed his hands together. “you know, i think... i think you could be my bitch, probably!”

“really.”

“yep! now let’s get out of the rain.”

[itisannak]

Parenthood Rehearsal (Ashton Irwin Fluff)

Summary: Ashton and (Y/N) babysit her baby nephew. Based on Love Prompts: #14: “Let’s have a baby.” & #35: “This is why I fell in love with you.” (Words: 2.3k) (Request)

"Make sure the milk is not too hot." My sister says, peeking inside the stroller for one more look at her son, who is suckling on his pacifier. "You already told me that." I remind her, sighing as I try to remain patient with her. "And when you put him to bed, make sure you don't tuck him in too tight. He moves a lot and it is not safe." She states, holding up his little blanket. "Honey, can we go? We are going to be late." My brother-in-law points out, tapping at his watch. It is my sister's first time leaving her son and going out for the night, and it is even worse since the wedding they are attending is too far away for them to return tonight and pick Benny up. I can partially understand her, even though this talk by the door really gets on my very last nerve. "We have got this." I assure her. Ashton smiles and nods, rolling the stroller further into the house. This is the only way to get them to leave already. "If anything happens..." She begins and I groan. "If anything happens, we will let you know. Now leave. Or you are going to make it to the wedding after the couple leaves for their honeymoon." I hold the door for her and she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You will see him at lunch. You look gorgeous, have fun." I try to sweeten the goodbye, but I can tell she is having a hard time. My brother-in-law mouths a thank you as his hand rests on her lower back and he guides her out of the house. "Call me before his bedtime." Is the last thing my sister says before I close the door to her face.

I make my way to the living room, where Ashton has already set up the portable playpen for my nephew. "Alright. How is my favorite guy?" I cheer at the baby, picking him out of his stroller and holding him to my chest, bouncing him to make him giggle. "I am alright. Just a little sore from setting this up." Ashton replies, even though he knows I am talking to the baby. "Bold of you to assume you are my favorite guy." I tease my husband, making him fake-gasp and touch his chest in pretend offense. "Ouch. 7 months old and he already stole my spot..." He shakes his head, walking closer to me. He leans down, planting a kiss on my forehead before he takes a seat on the couch. "One of us will have to take care of dinner." I state, joining him on the couch. I bounce the baby as Ashton hands me one of multi-textured toys. "Or we can order in." He suggests as I hold the toy out for the baby boy to grasp. "I am a horrible housewife." I sigh, earning a chuckle from Ash. "Your aunt is being funny." He says to the baby, tapping his nose. The little boy finds his hand more interesting than the toy I am holding, reaching to grasp my husband's fingers. "You are not a housewife. And takeout does not mean you are horrible." He replies, letting the baby play with his hand. "I could really go for Tex-Mex tonight." I mumble and he hums. "I could really go for it too. What time should he eat?" Ash asks, picking up Ben so he can hold him and let the kid play with his fingers. "In about 2 hours. But we will have to bathe him first." I reply and he hums. "That means we get to play with the little dude for at least an hour..." He says cheerfully. "You know, I kinda get my sister... I would have a hard time letting go of that dude too. I will probably have a hard time letting him go tomorrow." I sigh, stroking my hand over the soft hair on top of the baby's head. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?" He asks and I shrug. "He is just so cute..." I pout, taking Ben's little hand in mine. "That he is. Come on, let's give him some tummy-time." Ash suggests, pressing his lips on my forehead. Ashton lets Ben on the crawling mattress he has laid on the floor of our living room, laying aside him on his tummy as well. Ben quickly finds his way to the playpen, crawling the short distance without any problems. "Good job, buddy." Ashton cheers, scooting towards him.

I test the water's temperature with the little toy duck thermometer, seeing if the water is too hot for the little guy. "It will take us a fortnight to gather all his stuff..." Ashton sighs, undressing the baby for his bath. "She swore she would bring only the essential..." I mumble, picking the lavender wash out the toiletries bag. "She does realize he will only spend a night at our place, right?" He asks, slowly lowering the baby into his baby tub. "For her feels like a century. Come on, be lenient... It is her first time leaving him." I giggle, kneeling to wash him. "Should I go make a bottle?" He asks, standing aside to let me move with ease. "I think it is too soon. We will have to dress him up before we feed him, and by then the milk will be cold." I reply, wetting the baby's head. "I will go lay his clothes on our bed." He offers and I nod. "Thank you. But make sure you are here to help me pick him out of the tub." I flinch just at the thought of picking him up and him slipping from my hands. "I will only be gone for a minute." He assures me, walking out of our bathroom. Ben flails his hands in the water, splashing around as I use the soft-bristle brush to wash his hair. The whole bathroom smells like lavender soap and that makes me feel soft and mellow. I sigh, thinking of how it will be when Ashton and I decide to have a baby. When we got married two years ago, we decided to just take time to enjoy one another, see the world and submerge ourselves in new experiences, so having children was not a conversation we truly ever had. At least not seriously, not taking into consideration the logistics behind it. But ever since my sister announced her pregnancy, this need of becoming a mother myself was stirred up. And it got worse since Ben was born since I got to hold my nephew in my arms. It does not help that Ashton is so good with him. Fatherhood looks natural on him, and the sight of him holding the baby makes my heart race. I cannot help it, picturing him with our own baby, imagining how good he will be as a parent. But I also know he is such a good parent because he practically raised his siblings. And then he became the father of the group, the older mentor for his friends. It is more than certain that he needs a break from that role, and I understand that. Sighing, I grab the rinsing cup and wash the shampoo off Ben's head. I lather his washcloth with the cleanser and softly cleanse his skin, making sure I don't scrub too harshly on his sensitive skin. "Everything ok in here?" Ashton asks, resting against the doorframe. "Yes, we are done in a minute." I smile at my husband who picks up the baby's towel and preps it in his arms to carry him to our bedroom. I rinse the baby off and move over so Ashton can pick him out. "Oh, you smell so good, bud." Ashton kisses the top of his head as I rinse and drain his tub. "Can you handle dressing him up so I can prep the milk?" Ashton asks as we walk towards our bed. "Can you handle making his bottle?" I ask and he chuckles. "Piece of cake." He assures me, laying the baby on the changing mat. "I think I can do dress up." I reply, picking up the lavender lotion.

I finish putting on his onesie when Ashton returns with the bottle. "You are still struggling with dressing him up?" He asks with a soft giggle. "If you knew all the steps in his nighttime routine, you wouldn't be that surprised..." I state, picking up the baby and sitting on the ottoman to feed him. "Can I do it? Can I feed him?" He asks, sitting next to me. "Are you sure?" I ask and he nods. "Yeah, yeah. I'll feed him, you go take a shower and then you put him to sleep and I take a shower." He replies, motioning for me to give him the baby. "Ok, I'll make sure to be quick." I hand him Ben carefully, watching him as he starts feeding him. "Go, I have done this in the past, multiple times." Ashton says playfully. I raise my hands in defeat, walking away from the two boys.

I did as fast as I could in the shower, and despite the short length, it was exactly what I needed. I walk out of the bathroom, already clad in my pajamas and ready for Ben's sleeping ritual. Ashton is humming a tune as he walks around the room with Ben in his arms, rubbing his back softly. "I thought I was supposed to be putting him to sleep." I whisper, not wanting to disturb the little guy. "I got carried away. Can you order food?" He asks, in the same hushed tone. "Still TexMex?" I ask, taking my phone from the nightstand where it was charging. "Yes. Get the usual, I think you have the order saved on the app. Ask for door delivery and pay with my credit card, so they don't ring the bell and wake the baby up. Ask for a text upon delivery." He whispers and I shake my head. "So bossy..." I mumble, and he shoots me a look. "I have no problem with your nephew crying all night if you don't have too..." He states, looking at Ben to see if he is asleep. "Ok, ok... A crying baby is the last thing on my checklist for tonight." I reply, writing the instructions for delivery in the special field.

"I think in a minute or two, he will be ready for bed." Ashton announces, bouncing the baby to lull him to sleep. "I will stay with him, you go shower." I reply, laying his bedding on my side of the bed. Thankfully, the bed is big enough for me to sleep comfortably along with Ashton on his side of the bed. "Once he is off, we can't get out of the room. We have to watch him so he doesn't roll over." I remind him and he nods. "So, we will eat in bed. And we will read that book you bought the other day until we are off too." He states, letting Ben on his mat. The baby continues sleeping, sucking on his pacifier rhythmically. "This is why I fell in love with you. You always find solutions." I say happily, making him turn his head and plant a soft peck on my lips. "I'll be right back." He whispers, walking towards the bathroom.

I watch as my nephew sleeps, pouting over how angelic he looks, how peaceful he is. I want a baby, and I want it now. I want to have a baby with Ashton, I want to raise a child with the love of my life, I just want it. It hurts me physically being in need of becoming a mother. "(Y/N)... (Y/N)? Do I flip the page?" Ashton nudges me, making me come out of my thoughts. "Hm?" "We have been on this page for a while? Did you read it? Should I change it?" He asks. "I am sorry, give me a minute." I start scanning the page, but Ashton shuts the book and leaves it on the bedside table. "You seem a bit off. Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?" He asks me, kissing my temple. I shake my head, taking a breath. "I want a baby." I admit, moving so I can look him in the eye. "Now?" He asks, knitting his eyebrows together. "Don't make fun of me. I want us to have a baby. I know you practically raised your siblings, and then you raised the boys, and I know you needed a break from fatherhood when we got married, but I want to have a baby. I want us to grow this family. I want a baby because..." I go on and on, but Ashton just chuckles and reaches to cup my face. "(Y/N)... Let's have a baby." He says as if it is the simplest, most natural thing in the world. "You are serious?" I ask and he nods. "Very. And if we didn't have our nephew here tonight, I would show you how serious I am about having a baby with you." He winks at me, making my eyes go wide and earning a light slap on the shoulder. "Ashton..." I gasp and he shrugs. "What? You asked for a baby... I am just saying, we can start trying." He replies, pulling me in for a kiss. "You are going to be an amazing dad." I mumble against his lips before I rest my forehead on his. "Only because you are going to make an amazing mum." He kisses the tip of my nose while stroking his thumbs over my cheeks.

My Masterlist

[juniorgman187]

Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past.  Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital. 

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer. 

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid. 

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing. 

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner. 

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England. 

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place. 

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.” 

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s. 

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do. 

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order. 

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore. 

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream. 

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia. 

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would. 

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was. 

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out. 

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second. 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned. 

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all. 

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand. 

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind. 

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too. 

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive. 

My eyes. 

“Here, take my jacket.” 

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping. 

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for. 

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then? 

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.” 

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me. 

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.” 

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid. 

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look. 

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing. 

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first. 

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.” 

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer. 

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body. 

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.” 

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories. 

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities. 

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me. 

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy. 

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been. 

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did. 

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands. 

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion. 

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine. 

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years. 

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain. 

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me. 

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time. 

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that. 

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us. 

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it. 

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.” 

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties. 

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.” 

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?” 

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive? 

“Jeez, you must be really smart.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went. 

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.” 

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more. 

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was. 

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there. 

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me. 

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored. 

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring. 

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted. 

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there. 

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist. 

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him. 

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!” 

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!” 

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name. 

“What’s yours?” He yelled back. 

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time. 

“Next time?” 

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away. 

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me. 

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order. 

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal. 

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?” 

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.” 

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize. 

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes. 

But that’s not the worst part. 

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her. 

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.” 

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage. 

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace. 

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that. 

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.” 

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer. 

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back. 

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence. 

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.” 

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded. 

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.” 

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed. 

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.” 

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition. 

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.” 

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further. 

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-” 

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.” 

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.” 

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?” 

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about. 

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions. 

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends. 

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away. 

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily. 

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?” 

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.” 

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.” 

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.” 

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell. 

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed. 

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued. 

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.” 

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed. 

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).” 

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently. 

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something. 

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off. 

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything. 

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear. 

I love Spencer. 

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair. 

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!” 

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?” 

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession. 

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter. 

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door. 

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-” 

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him. 

I learned, that day, that you do only live once. 

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was. 

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else. 

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.” 

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.” 

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago. 

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing. 

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own. 

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust. 

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back. 

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.” 

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard. 

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you. 

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion. 

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it. 

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine. 

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy. 

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle. 

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it. 

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking. 

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat. 

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.” 

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was. 

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out. 

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom. 

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back. 

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him. 

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask? 

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself. 

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth. 

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable. 

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.” 

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip. 

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory. 

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.” 

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again. 

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did. 

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?” 

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.” 

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently. 

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago. 

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself. 

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly. 

I was pregnant. 

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater. 

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess. 

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them. 

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection. 

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain. 

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth. 

“I think I might be pregnant.” 

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head. 

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy. 

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too. 

“Well, have you taken a test?” 

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?” 

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing. 

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.” 

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now. 

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently. 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time. 

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked. 

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.” 

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face. 

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?” 

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?” 

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire. 

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.” 

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace. 

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.” 

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.” 

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face. 

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!” 

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed. 

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade. 

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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[magicrowiswritingstuff]

"Hello, beautiful" - Din Djarin x Mandalorian!reader

Summary: You had pushed Din away when he had needed you most. You had pushed him away when he had felt like he failed. But the truth was that you had failed him. (Set during Season 2 Episode 7/8) Requested by Anon: "Hi, I love your writing!! Could you do a fluff/angst oneshot with a Mandalorian reader where they see each other’s faces for the first time? Thank you!" - Thank you so much, hun! I hope you like how this turned out. I had a lot of fun writing this lil piece!  Warning: heavy angst and hurt, violence but only briefly mentioned, reader is acting like a bit of a shebs’palon (but they apologize and make up), you and Din speak Mando'a (Translations at the end)  Category: angst, fluffy ending (it ended up a lot more angsty than I anticipated, sorry!!)  Words: about 3.600 Notes: No use of (Y/N) and gender-neutral (if I missed something regarding gender please tell me and I’ll fix it) Also, kinda established relationship? At least a platonic one. Note 2: You're a Mandalorian that grew up in the same covert as Din. It won't be mentioned in this fic but you are/were as clueless as Din about other Mandalorians and their way of living.  Note 3: I think I gave myself whiplash from the title and the summary of this fic. They don't seem to match but I couldn't figure out what else to name this story, asgscgeh just bear with me. 

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"Hello, beautiful" - Din Djarin x Mando!reader

Back then when you had boarded the Razor Crest you didn't know the man flying it. You have seen him before but you didn't know him. However, you knew what he had to do and you knew you would accompany him, help him, be there for him and the little one. You never expected for all this to happen. You never expected to care so deeply for him and the kid. Maybe that was the reason why you had reacted the way you did. Maybe that was why it had hurt so much. But all that didn't excuse your words or actions. All that didn't make it any easier when the time came to let go.

Your mind was clouded ever since what happened on Tython. Whenever you closed your eyes, all you saw was Grogu in the grips of one of these dark troopers. All you saw were his big eyes staring at you when he got taken away. All you could think about was how you weren't fast enough to save him. How you failed. And you knew Din felt the same. He blamed himself, too. You knew it the moment you had taken his hand in your own. You felt it in the stiffness of his fingers that tightly curled around yours, seeking comfort, something to ground himself to. You were his pillar of strength just as much as he was yours in that moment. When you tilted your head his visor was as blank as usual, just like your own, but you knew. You saw the sadness in him. And it broke your heart even more. You stayed close to him during the flight to Nevarro, when you went to pick up Mayfeld and on the flight to Morak, too. You two gave each other comfort and strength. But that changed when Din returned from the imperial base on Morak.  "Can I talk to you?" You slightly turned your helmet to the side to glance at Din who was standing beside you, his hands closed to fists and his arms stiffly pressed to his sides. He hadn't talked, let alone looked at you since he had returned from that imperial base. You had suspected that something must have happened, something that Din didn't want to talk about. But now that he was approached you in such an uncertain und uncomfortable manner you knew that something was very wrong. You straightened up and nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way to a more private corner of the Slave I. Din didn't waste a single second and began walking into one of the small sleeping chambers that had just enough room for the two of you to stand in. The moment door closed behind you without a sound you suddenly felt the tension in the air heavily on your shoulders. However, you tried to not let it show, put on a brave face and crossed your arms before your chest. You stood completely still but behind your dark visor your eyes flickered over Din's form, trying to figure something, anything out. Even though you had been a part of the covert for all your life and could read the body language of other Mandalorians fairly easy, you still struggled with Din sometimes. He had always been a mystery to you and you had only really got to know him after you helped him escape from Nevarro with Grogu. Before that you had rarely walked into each other and when you did you always just nodded at each other in greeting, never sharing a word until you had boarded the Razor Crest that night. And even though you and Din had grown rather close during your time on his ship you never really got a hang of it, of him. You had no idea what he wanted to talk to you about, you had no idea what was wrong. When he didn't turn around to meet your hidden eyes with his own visor you grew a little anxious, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't unlike Din to hesitate before talking, he always seemed to consider his words before speaking up. But he had never ignored you before, he had never avoided your gaze before. And that hurt more than you thought it ever could. You only knew him for a considerably short time but the thought that he was pushing you away was clenching your heart so tightly it made your breath stammer over your lips. That he was pushing you away now of all times shot a hot, blinding pain through your chest.  "What do you want to talk about?" you asked, forcing your voice to sound strong even though you had never felt so weak and helpless before. Your eyes dropped to Din's fists that shook slightly. You let your arms fall down to your sides as you took one step towards his back. Cautiously you reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder. Your touch was light, you almost didn't even touch him but he still flinched. You gulped down the hurt and carried on. "Din?" "I took it off." You blinked rapidly and furrowed your brows in confusion. "What?" you asked, your voice sounding even heavier through the modulator than usually. "I took it off" Din repeated, his tone suddenly harsh as he shook your hand off his shoulder and turned around to face you. He had turned around so fast it caught you off guard. You would have stumbled if he hadn’t placed his own hands on your shoulders, keeping you steady. Din's posture was stiff and straight, no typical head tilt, no hands on his belt with his weight shifted more on one leg. The man in front of you was a stranger.  "What, Din? What did you take off?" you asked taken aback and with your voice laced with worry. Your eyes were flickering from his helmet to his hands that were placed on your shoulders as you tried to decipher the meaning of his words. It was this moment you realized that his harsh tone wasn’t directed at you but at himself. And it was this moment you realized he wasn't angry. He was terrified. And seeing Din truly scarred right now with his body trembling… that scarred you more than you could have ever imagined. You didn't even dare to breathe anymore. What could possibly scare Din so much that his whole body was shaking? You wanted to reach out for him, wrap your arms around him and draw him in, to comfort him like you had done so many times before. You were about to take one step forward when he spoke up again.  "My helmet" Din's voice broke. "They saw." He didn't need to explain who 'they' were. You knew. You suddenly knew what he had done in that imperial base. You knew why he was ignoring you. You knew and the only thing you could do was stare at him, your visor completely blank. You couldn't even tilt your head to give him some kind of reaction, you just froze with your breath stuck in your throat. You weren't even sure what you were thinking in that moment, your mind was blank. Only when Din put his hands on the sides of your helmet like he had done so many times before, did you find your way back into reality. Your head snapped upwards, your eyes wide behind the darkness of your visor. The touch, his touch that normally felt so soothing suddenly felt restricting. Or maybe it were your thoughts that kept drawing the circle in which they were racing tighter and tighter. Maybe they were cutting off your breath.  "Please, say something." You could almost see his eyes frantically searching for yours behind the visor. His eyes. Eyes you had never seen before and always had to imagine just how he had to imagine your eyes, too. Eyes they had seen. Some imperial men had seen them… before you. Your heart clenched at that thought and you took one step back, finally able to move again. Then you sucked in a sharp breath as Din's hands fell from your helmet. Lowering your head, you shook it in disbelief and confusion. You had no idea how to feel, how to react. All your life you had been taught… you knew there were other Mandalorians, other ways but… "I… I need some air" you chocked out. You were too overwhelmed. You needed some distance to clear your thoughts, to understand what you felt. So, you pushed him away just like he had done with you.  _______________ You and Din hadn't talked since then. Not on the Slave I. Not when you had gone out with him and Boba to recruit Bo-Katan and Koska. Not even when you were fighting against Moff Gideon with Din. But your thoughts had been racing through all of that. Screaming and clawing at the walls of your mind. You knew Din was suffering. He was suffering because of you and how you had reacted. You knew were wrong and needed to fix this… And then that Jedi appeared to take Grogu with him and you froze, unable to from any words or thoughts, unable to protest. This had been Din's and your mission. Grogu needed a teacher. But all those logical reason didn't make it any easier to watch. It wasn't any easier to watch as Din took the little green bean on his arm. It didn't make it easier to watch him remove his helmet so the little one could see his face for the first time. It didn't make it easier when you saw the slight tremble wandering through Din. You didn't need to see his face to know he was fighting against his tears.  But what made it even harder was when Din sat him back down and Grogu tiptoed towards you. You immediately leaped forward and scooped him up, coming to a halt right beside Din. You cradled him in your own arms, hugging him tight as you felt the tears clouding your eyes. Grogu stretched his little hands towards your helmet just like he had done with Din. You didn't hesitate to rib it off and let it fall to the ground. It didn’t matter anymore, nothing else mattered anymore. Underneath your hair was a mess of unkempt tangles and locks, your eyes filled with tears as you looked at Grogu with them and not through the visor for the first and last time. He placed one of his hands underneath your eye, clumsily wiping away the tears. A sad smile stretched over your lips at that. He cooed softly as you hugged him tighter against you while quiet sobs shook your body.  "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ad'ika" you whispered so quietly even you struggled to pick it up. But maybe the heartbeat was just echoing too loudly in your ears. Either way, Grogu might not know what the words meant exactly, but when he tried to hug you back you were certain he had understood the weight in them.  But all this didn't make it easier to set him down and to let him go. _______________ You were still staring at the elevator door even when it had stayed closed for many minutes now. You still hoped they would open up, so you could see him again. You were still staring at it even when the others slowly left the room, their gazes lowered and not looking back as they were walking into the elevator to get to the ship, leaving you two alone. They walked into the same elevator in which Grogu had disappeared into. You knew that this was the best for him, but that didn't hinder your heart from shattering. You sucked in a sharp breath and closed your eyes when you felt another wave of tears forming in them. But when you felt a hand intertwine with your own they snapped open again and it took all your willpower to not look to your right, to not look at Din whose eyes were also still focused on the elevator. It took everything in you to not look at Din without his helmet on. This was the moment you realized that you could faintly make out some of his features from the corner of your eye. You could see him, parts of him, for the very first time. And it forced the tears in your eyes to spill over as you collapsed on the floor, breaking your fall with one hand whilst the other was still in Din's. He didn't let go of you, instead he slowly let himself fall beside you. So close you could feel his warmth beside you. So close it made you unable to breath.  "I'm sorry" you whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Your voice gained in volume as you wailed in pain. You had lost Grogu once more. You had pushed Din away when he had needed you most. You had pushed him away when he had felt like he failed. But the truth was that you had failed him. "I am an awful friend. I am an awful partner. I-I-" you sucked in shallow breaths, clawing at your throat with your free hand as you sat back on your legs. Then Din squeezed your hand and you froze. Your mouth opening and closing without producing a sound. He tugged your hand towards him, cupped your hand in between his own and placed it over the chest plate where his heart was beating underneath while still staring straight ahead just like you were. "Stop" you hissed. "You are supposed to hate me. Please, just push me away. I don't-"  Before you could finish your sentence Din suddenly pulled you to him. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed you against his chest. "You're supposed to hate me!" you screamed while you clawed at his coat, burying your fingers into the worn out fabric while tears burned their path into your skin. You didn’t understand this. How could he act that way, how could he bear to hold you in his arms after how awful you had reacted, after how badly you had hurt him? How could he even stand to be in the same room with you? "Why don't you hate me?" you begged, your voice barley over a whisper now. But Din didn't answer you. He just kept you pressed against him until your body stopped shaking, until your wails and cries died down and all you could do was to exhaustedly melt into him. Your shoulders were still shaking every now and then when you sucked in a sharp breath and the tears had left behind deep paths in your skin.  "You're still a Mandalorian" you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse. "It didn't make you any less of a Mandalorian. I would have done the same. I wouldn't have hesitated and that makes how I reacted even worse. I'm sorry!"  "It's okay" Din suddenly whispered back. You tensed up at that and it took all your willpower to not free yourself from his embrace, to not push him away again, to not run away.  "No, it's not!" you barked back. "When I boarded the Razor Crest we said we would have each others back, that we would always be there for each other. I said I would always be there for you!" You pressed your eyes closed, forced the tears back.  "Hate me. Push me away, scream at me! Kriffing, just leave me behind!"  Din tightened his grip and placed his head on top of yours. You felt his chin press against you as his breath tickled over your hair. And you couldn't hold the tears back anymore.  "Please, just hate me."  "I don't" he said, his voice soft but stern. "You hurt me but I don't hate you." You let out a stifled cry and pressed your face underneath his chin and against his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling his skin against your own for the very first time.  "I'm sorry" you said, your voice breaking.  "I know" Din chuckled slightly and slowly let his hands wander to your face, cupping your cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears. "It's okay, we'll get through this." We'll get through losing Grogu. We'll get through our pain and hurt. We'll get through this together. You nodded as you sobbed, your fingers slowly relaxing until they completely let go of Dins' coat. Your arms dropped to the ground with a thud while Din drew slow circles on your cheeks, brushing back your hair every now and then until your body relaxed against him. For a while you two stayed like this, seeking the comfort of the other. Then he slightly tugged at your head, wanting to pull it back and you immediately understood his question. You tensed up. "I don't deserve to look at you" you whispered, pressing your face further into him.  "That's not your decision" Din stopped and took a deep breath.  "I want you to see. I wanted you to be the first one to see and I'm sorry that it wasn't you."  "Don't apologize" you croaked out and slightly shook your head in between his hands. "You have nothing to apologize for. I would have done the same." You felt Din nod against you, the humming sound in his chest vibrating in your own.  "I want you to see me" he began again. "But I also want to see you… if you'll let me?"  Your hands shot up to cup his cheeks just like he was cupping yours as you nodded. "Yes."  For a few moments in which your hearts were beating against each other’s ribs, no one moved. You didn't dare to be the first one to move, you didn’t dare to be the one to initiate, so you waited. Din sucked in a deep breath before he slowly pulled your head back. You felt his eyes wander over your face immediately. However, you kept your eyes lowered. "Please, look at me."  Your lips began to tremble, your eyes shut tightly. For a few seconds you just focused on how his face felt underneath your fingers. You focused on the slight stubble you could feel, the deep lines in his face formed by hardship and worry. You focused on the warmth of his skin seeping through your gloves, on the locks of hair that were tickling against the back of your hand. Then you slowly looked up. You looked up, you laid your eyes on him and your breath got stuck in your throat. You couldn't think as tears formed on the corners of your eyes once again. You got lost in the warmth of Din's deep brown eyes. You got lost in the gentleness of his smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips ever so slightly and the uncertainty of his furrowed brows. You lost yourself in him just as he was losing himself in you, in your eyes, in your own quivering lips.  "Su cuy'gar, mesh'la." You couldn't hold back the tears anymore just as you couldn't hold back the small sad smile forming on your lips. "Su cuy'gar, mesh'la" you retorted with a small, breathless laugh. For a few more heartbeats you just looked at each other, eyes soft and filled with tears, fingers wandering over the others face, exploring the scars, lines and imperfections. Your heart was hammering rapidly against your ribs, so much that you were able to feel it thumbing in your throat. Then Din slowly pulled you forward until your foreheads were firmly pressed against one another. You felt his breath tickle over your face and it made shivers run down your spine. The tears in Din's eyes finally spilled over as he let his hands wander to your hair, inching to pull you even closer. A soft laugh left his lips when you wiped away his tears with your thumbs. It made your heart swell and clench at the same time.  "Ni ceta" you whispered. "Ni ceta. Ni ce-"  "K'uur, ner sarad" Din interrupted you as he stroked through your hair. You closed your eyes and breathed in his soothing scent, concentrated on his heart beating against your ribs, his breath ghosting over your lips. He was so close you could almost feel the smile on his lips. Your eyes shot opened, locking onto his when you felt his thumb brush over the top of your lip, tracing your mouth. His eyes were slightly hooded, filled with the impulse to lean forward. But he didn't. Instead he raised his brows slightly, questioningly, asking you. And all you could do was wordlessly nod. Din closed the small gap between the two of you in an instant, placing his lips over yours, so lightly it felt like only a gust of wind, like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. You melted into him, pulling him closer, pressing into him. You kissed him back, your lips dancing against his just as cautiously. And then you cried once more, sobbing against his lips, losing yourself in the sensation. You felt his pain in that kiss, his worries and fears. You felt the loss that was clawing at him, breaking him slowly piece by piece. And that made you kiss back harder, more desperately. You put all your own sorrow into that kiss but also all your love.  When you two slowly pulled away, you both stared breathlessly at each other. No one spoke up but you didn't have to, to understand the other. You could see everything you needed to know in Din's eyes for the very first time. You would get through this. You would work through this. You would overcome the pain and hurt.  _________________________________  

Translations:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you Ad'ika - little one, son Su cuy'gar - Hello Mesh'la - beautiful Ni ceta - sorry, lit: I kneel (grovelling apology)  K'uur – Hush Ner sarad – my flower

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Taglists:

Permanent Simps: @buckysalefty

Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure​ / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @undeniableadrenaline / @kassidydjarin / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy / @wonderless-screwup / @helena-way07 / @n0ffitar / @24-blackbirds

If you want to be added/removed/switched to another taglist at any point just let me know! Crossed out names I was unable to tag for some reason. Also, I think some of you changed their usernames? Sooo, I hope I managed to tag you correctly...

[goldencorecrunches]

WHO’S READY FOR MORE QUICK-BANGED-OUT MODREN WANGNINXIAN

(Part I) (Part II)

--

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have the kind of love that epic poems are built on. The kind that boils seas and tumbles mountains, that could raise the dead or put whole nations under the ground. The kind that little girls sigh about, and old men speak of in memory, a twinkle in their eye, gnarled hands and age-smoothed wedding rings. They are not dating. Wen Ning is the person who most often has to break this news, as the one who is most frequently around them both. He has worked out a system: people that matter get a “no, they’re not together, really,” followed by a return of the inevitable incredulous look. People who don’t matter, or who Wen Ning doesn’t expect they’ll ever see again, get a “yes,” because it’s the closest Wen Ning can come to describing who they are to each other without the long-winded explanation. (Once, three shots in at a bar—so not sober, but not drunk enough to find it amusing—he snapped and told a particularly persistent busybody that they were in fact both dating him, and then had to go hide in the toilets until he could face his friends again. Wei Ying laughed so hard, when Wen Ning shamefacedly came clean, that he spilled his violently pink mixed drink all down his front and Wen Ning and Lan Zhan had to dab him down with cocktail napkins. Wen Ning made the mistake of meeting the busybody’s eyes again across the room and was granted the sight of their poor beer-sodden brain finally deciding not to ask for a threesome.)

Trying to convince Lan Zhan in the middle of a twee café that his deep, life-defining romance is reciprocated is beyond Wen Ning’s ability even when he isn’t dead on his feet from back-to-back shifts. They should talk more about it, he knows, but the relief that Lan Zhan doesn’t hate him is so heavy it steals all his will to do anything else but put his head down on his crossed arms and nap. And then Wei Ying swings back within grabbing distance, draping an arm over Lan Zhan’s shoulders and setting a plate of some kind of honey cake in front of Wen Ning, and the window for the discussion is lost.

It may be for the best (it’s not for the best. Wen Ning knows enough about relationships to know that, but dammit it’s so hard to do what the “How To Interact With People Like You’re Not An Anxious Mess, You Anxious Mess” books he has piled ten deep on his nightstand tell him). Wen Ning is consumed with the thought that Lan Zhan doesn’t regret kissing him. That Lan Zhan liked it. That Lan Zhan might—do it again. Oh, fuck. It might happen again. Wen Ning never made a plan for this possibility, mainly because he didn’t think it was one. “You’re stressing,” his sister tells him, flat and to the point as usual. Maybe some time, long ago, A-Jie entertained nonsense, but by now she’s been sucked dry of ten women’s worth of patience, and she does not, as she tells people frequently, have time for that shit. She scoots across the floor, rubber tires squeaking, and pokes a finger in Wen Ning’s face. “Stop it.” Renting an apartment actually built with a wheelchair user in mind was the first, and so far the biggest, change he and A-Jie had made when A-Jie graduated and got a job and went from pouring all her money into the medical establishment to having the medical establishment pour some back.  The counters are lower than what is comfortable for Wen Ning’s considerable vertical reach, so as the person who does most of the cooking he stacks up thrifted cutting boards to make a chopping surface that doesn’t hurt his back to bend over. It is indicative of their respective characters that he is the one holding the ten-inch knife and yet A-Jie is the one making him flinch. “I’m not,” Wen Ning says, halfhearted at best; A-Jie narrows her eyes and humphs, and Wen Ning sighs and scrapes the diced tomatoes into the frying pain waiting on the burner. They crack and pop as they hit the oil, spattering; Wen Ning is immune to the splash by now, and he is, besides, wearing long sleeves. “What if it get-t, if tonight is weird?” He says, focusing on the contrast between his hands and the dark green leaves of the leeks, the thunk-thunk-thunk of the knife. They’re sandy, near the base; he has been distracted, if he forgot to wash these properly. Turning on the sink gives him something to do other than keep talking and wind his thoughts deeper into their spiral. “Then it’ll be weird,” his sister says, dismissive. Wen Ning looks at her, fanning the leaves under the tap, exasperated; she softens and nudges the faucet over so Wen Ning doesn’t have to reach so far. “Listen. The three of you are weird enough together that if it is weird, it won’t be anything strange. Weird but not weird, you know? They wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t want you to come.” “Wei Ying might.” A-Jie snorts. “Okay, true. But Lan Zhan would definitely not.” She has him there. “I guess,” Wen Ning says, though A-Jie has cheered him up at least a little. He dodges the wet hand she tries to whack him with, skittering out of reach against the stove. “Hey! I’m making you dinner! Ungrat-teful!” “Always,” Wen Qing sniffs, putting her nose in the air, and Wen Ning breaks down and smiles. --

 Like most things, A-Jie is right about this. There’s a moment of awkward shuffling when Lan Zhan answers the door, the two of them doing their best not to meet each other’s gazes; but once Wen Ning has taken his shoes off and collapsed onto the couch with a can of the terrible soda Wei Ying likes and Wen Ning has been conditioned into liking as well, it doesn’t feel abnormal. They’ve had fights before, of course: all said this is a lot less uncomfortable than the prickly-polite aftermath of those, and by the time Wei Ying bounds from his bedroom, chosen movie raised like a holy book overhead, he and Lan Zhan have assumed their usual movie-watching position and Wen Ning has been regaled with a bitingly hilarious story of the client Lan Zhan has who smacks her lips every third syllable and will not stop. (If Wen Ning has to work a little bit harder tonight not to stare at the movement of Lan Zhan’s own lips, the quiet flicker of his tongue—well. That’s nothing abnormal, either.) Wei Ying sticks the DVD in, humming a tune Wen Ning is fairly certain he’s invented himself, and plops his lanky body sideways across the two available laps. Wen Ning gets his head, tonight, and sticks his soda-cold fingers on the back of Wei Ying’s neck to make him squeal and thrash. Lan Zhan grabs his ankles to keep from getting kicked in the face and together they manhandle Wei Ying into a position where nobody’s elbows are in anybody’s crotches. Of course, Wei Ying is as incapable of remaining still as Wen Ning is of unassisted flight, but it’s the routine of it all that matters.They make it all the way to the first big fight scene before Wei Ying and his tiny bladder demand a break. He rolls to the floor instead of standing, narrowly avoiding clonking his head on the coffee table (he has, before—Wen Ning has seen it), and half-crawls to the bathroom shouting dire threats if either of them press play without him. Wen Ning has both hands over his mouth to hide his laughter. Ah; he hopes Wei Ying never changes. There’s a whisper from the cushions next to him, and Wen Ning looks over to see that Lan Zhan has gotten a lot closer. He startles, and then turns his laugh on himself, deprecating; it’s not the first time he and Lan Zhan have gravitated towards cuddling on movie night. “Do you wan—” he starts, raising his arm, and he has a moment to see a hard determined look cross over Lan Zhan’s face before he’s being kissed. Again. But, it is not the same. Immediately Lan Zhan’s mouth is insistent, pressing Wen Ning back into the embroidered throw pillows that Wen Ning is vaguely sure Lan Zhan’s older brother gave him upon move-in and have not been changed since. He’s warm, all of him; his hands, bracketing Wen Ning’s cheeks; his chest, hovering above the oversized buttons of Wen Ning’s sweater; his knees, parted on either side of Wen Ning’s thighs as Lan Zhan crawls into his lap. Holy shit, Wen Ning thinks, through a muddled haze, he’s in my lap, and then decides he’d better focus on the kissing thing. The kissing thing—oh, the kissing thing. Lan Zhan kisses like a hurricane, and it is all Wen Ning can do to keep up. He is panting before he realizes it, little puffs of air across Lan Zhan’s lips, and then Lan Zhan dips his tongue into the heat of Wen Ning’s mouth and a zip of electric current crackles all the way from the backs of his teeth to his dick. He makes a truly embarrassing little whimper. That seems, if it is possible, to spur Lan Zhan on further; he slides one wide palm around to the back of Wen Ning’s head and pulls at the strands, and Wen Ning’s mouth falls so far open Lan Zhan has to bite at it to get him to focus. Wen Ning fumbles to press between Lan Zhan’s shoulder blades, urging him closer, and has just discovered the soul-changing revelation of sucking on Lan Zhan’s upper lip when the sound of the toilet flushing echoes down the hall. Wen Ning jerks back so hard it makes an audible smacking sound, when they separate. He can feel that his face is burning. Lan Zhan is looking at him quizzically, head tilted; he is not making any attempt to remove himself from Wen Ning’s lap. “Aahh,” Wen Ning says, strangled. He swallows, and tries again. “Wh—aah, isn’t, here mayb- not?” “Maybe not for what?” Wei Ying’s voice says, sing-song. The bathroom door slams; Wen Ning winces. He can’t seem to make his fingers let go of Lan Zhan’s waist. “Were you two planning a murder without me? I told you the best place to store bodies is in…the….” Perhaps, Wen Ning thinks wildly in complete and utter silence, this is all a dream. If it is, he should wake up…now. Now. Now! “Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying says, in a broken-down-toy-wagon of a voice. “Wen Ning?”

[serasvictoria]

Stupid Games - Chapter 2

Pairing: Ubbe Lothbrok x Reader, Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Rating: Explicit at the end

Word count: 7487 (look, I obviously have issues)

Summary: You used to live next to the Lothbroks when you were younger, but you moved away and haven't seen them since. A wedding brings you back to town after many years and during a bachelorette party you run into the brothers again.

Notes: After Hvitserk had a go in the first part, Ubbe and Ivar take over. I thought that this chapter would end up being more centered around Ubbe (he will get more attention in the next instalment), but Ivar had something to say about that apparently. He is a bit of a pushy shit in this chapter, but I was oddly into it.

Took me a while to post this, because I couldn't get the first part of this to work. I'm finally pleased with it now so hopefully it'll work for you guys as well *fingers crossed*

Part 1 (link to my AO3)

All images from Pinterest

Tagging @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @ritual-unions-gotme @vikingstrash @pomegranates-and-blood @quantumlocked310 @adrille88 @actual-queen-of-hell @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @zuxiezendler

“A game?”

After Ivar had alluded to some kind of game that seemed to be going on between Hvitserk and Ubbe, something that neither of them wanted to comment on, their youngest brother had been the one to tell you what he had been talking about. It didn’t exactly help that Ivar looked a little bit too gleeful that he was the one that got to tell you all about this.

They had been playing a game. And it was all centered around you. That was why whenever one of them tried something when you were still a teenager, the other one was always keen to take it one step further. Everything from the kissing to the heavy petting to the dry humping, quite possibly all the way down to what had taken place in the restrooms earlier, had all been part of some stupid game.

“So the two of you were just playing with me this entire time?” Hvitserk had gone completely silent and seemed to be more interested in the contents of his glass. You somehow guessed that he was waiting for Ubbe to say something, since he was usually the one that diffused situations when they threatened to get out of hand, but his older brother never interjected. “Why would you even do that?”

“I would never do that to you,” Ivar suddenly said. “They are children.”

“Now hang on…”

“Shut up, Hvitserk.” Whatever it was that he was going to say, you didn’t exactly want to hear it. “Yeah, Ivar, you’re a real saint.”

“Better than them anyway.”

“I need some fresh air.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, Ivar. Stay here.” You leaned over to him and briefly pressed your lips on his cheek. “But thanks for offering.”

Before turning away, your eyes swept over Ubbe and Hvitserk for a few seconds and it looked like Ubbe had been about to say something, finally finding some words, but he closed his mouth when you turned away from them. Obviously sensing that it might not be the best idea to say something right at this very moment. You pushed yourself through the throng of people, the air too stifling now. When you were relieved that you could finally breathe in some cool air instead of the almost humid atmosphere in the bar. The night air was pleasant, on the cusp of summer and autumn, where the temperatures were still nice until relatively late in the evening.

Despite the fact that you had given it up years ago, it was times like these where you wished you hadn’t quit smoking. Since your hands needed to do something, you grabbed your mobile instead and scrolled through your instagram feed, if only to make sure that you weren’t opening yourself up to a potential conversation with anyone.

If you were honest with yourself, you had always expected that Ubbe and Hvitserk had been up to something all those years ago, but that a game had been at the source of it was quite unexpected. You had somehow convinced yourself that you’d just been having fun, that you were simply exploring new things with the boys next door, that you were using them just as much as they were using you. But it was never that simple, was it? Because at one point your feelings had very much entered into it, long before Ubbe had even kissed you.

But would they really be so cruel as to turn it all into a game? You knew and trusted these guys. You had a hard time thinking of them as callous. They wouldn’t do that. Not to you.

“Want some company?” You turned your head to the side and saw Ubbe approach you. He leaned against the wall next to you, but kept his distance. “I know that what Ivar said just now sounds really bad, but he was the only one that ever called what we were doing a game. Neither me or Serk ever looked at it that way.”

“Then what was it?”

“Interest in my case and Hvitserk was obsessed. Plain and simple.”

“Obsessed? With me?”

“What did you think it was?” He turned so that his shoulder was now pressed up against the wall and he could look you in the eye. “You remember that stupid card game?” You nodded. “Serk knew that you had never kissed anyone and he wanted to be your first. He figured that he had it in the bag as well, but he didn’t have a clue that I had a winning hand.”

“I had sort of figured out that it was the reason why he had suggested that dumb prize in the first place.” Why else would he have even come up with it to begin with if he hadn’t been convinced that he would win? “But why didn’t he just kiss me then? I wouldn’t think that he needed much incentive to do that. Especially when you take into consideration how many other girls he had already kissed at that point.”

“I don’t know,” Ubbe said with a shrug. “I probably know him best of all, but I don’t get his reasoning all the time. Maybe he thought that his best option was to turn it into a game.”

“That would explain it.” You looked up at Ubbe with a slight smile when your mind flitted back to that particular day. “And then he lost.”

“He was furious.” Ubbe started laughing. “Even accused me of rigging the game in my favour later.”

“It wasn’t like the kiss was any good.”

“Say what now?” He playfully poked a finger against your ribs. “I was prepared to put my heart and soul in that kiss. You were the one that pulled away.”

“Don’t remind me.” The only thing that you remembered was that you were absolutely horrified that Ubbe had essentially been forced to kiss you because of some dumb game. You’d wanted it to be a natural thing, not something that he had felt obligated to do. “He didn’t have any problems later on.”

“He wanted to outdo me.”

“Then what was everything that happened earlier all about?

“You want to know what he told me?”

“Well yeah.” You thought about it for a few seconds after answering him and added a quick, “It’s not going to be bad, is it?”

“Nope.” Sensing your apprehension, he reached out and took one of your hands in his as a comforting gesture. “He said that it had been worth the wait. As soon as he said that, I knew what the two of you had gotten up to while you were away.”

“Worth the wait?”

“He was obsessed with finding out what you tasted like. He even lost sleep over it at the time.” Ubbe barked out a laugh when he saw the surprised, yet also intrigued, look on your face. “It was pretty bad.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “He is such an idiot.”

You covered your face with your free hand and wished that you could just disappear right this very moment. This was definitely not what you thought was going to happen when you decided to come back to Kattegat after all these years. You always knew that there was a chance that you’d run into the Lothbroks at one point during your visit, but you hadn’t accounted for anything like this.

Ubbe’s hand slowly peeled your hand away from your eyes and his big blue eyes peered into yours quite insistently. “We’re cool, right?”

“Come on. As if I could stay mad at you.”

“Good.” He kept up his intense stare and kept holding your hands. Whenever you tried to pull your hands away, he squeezed until you stopped resisting. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what you want to know.”

“Why did you never call?”

“Call?” You frowned, not sure what he was talking about. “When?”

“When you moved away. You promised to stay in touch, but you never did.”

“Oh. That. Why do you want to talk about that now?”

“Just always wondered about it. That’s all.”

“I don’t think I…” He tilted his head to the side in a similar way that Ivar always did to show that he wasn’t going to drop the subject. You sighed deeply and wished that he’d just let go of your hands already so you could cover your face again. “Stupid really.” You tried to figure out how best to say this since it had been based on nothing but teenage insecurities at the time and they seemed so trivial now that you were a grown up. Ubbe didn’t push you, he simply waited until you found the words, his thumbs drawing comforting circles on the palms of your hands. “I erm… I wanted to. Just figured you guys would be busy.”

“With what?”

“More important… stuff.”

“Cut the crap.”

“Okay. Jesus.” You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that he couldn’t exactly pry your eyelids open. “I needed some time to adjust at first so I didn’t want to bother you guys with that dumb shit. Who wants to hear about that crap right? To hear me bitch and moan about how much I hated it there.”

Your mother had moved to be closer to her family and staying in Kattegat had hurt too much. Much later she had told you that everything there had reminded her of your father. Where they had their first date, where he had proposed, everything there had been tied to him and she wanted to get away from it. Her entire life before she had met your father had been in Silkeborg which seemed a million miles away from the only place that you’d ever known. You transferred into school in the middle of a school year and the only kids you knew there were two cousins, one of which you hated. You were absolutely miserable and basically kept your head down until you were old enough to go to college so you could get the hell out of there.

“I stayed in touch with Svana, Olga and Gunna and I eventually asked about you guys, since I was thinking of calling and I wanted to know if it’d be weird if I did that after going all silent for a while.” You swallowed. God, this was hard. “But they’d always go all quiet when I brought you guys up and I didn’t know why. They kept saying that you were doing fine and wouldn’t elaborate. So I asked Kára instead since she’s the only one that wouldn’t sugarcoat anything...”

That was where you stopped suddenly, not really wanting to continue. The reason was so incredibly stupid. It didn’t matter. The urge to go back inside and get paralytically drunk was overwhelming. Before you knew what happened, your face suddenly connected with Ubbe’s chest and he gave you a massive hug. He was still good at giving those. You still remembered that time after he had given you your first orgasm and the two of you had lain in his bed, hugging each other until it got dark outside. He never even said anything that time either, he just held you which was the exact same thing that he was doing right now.

“What did she say?” Nothing in how he held you gave away that he was angry, but you could hear it quite clearly in his voice.

“This is so stupid.” You pressed your head against his chest so that you could muffle your answer. “They told me that you and Serk were seeing Margrethe.”

At the time it had felt like the deepest betrayal to your young mind. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been in a relationship with either one of them, but the only thought that had been on your mind at the time was that they’d moved on and found someone else. With your mortal enemy no less. It wasn’t like they didn’t know that the relationship that you had with her was strained, if you could even call it that at all.

You thought that the two of you had been friends at one time, but Margrethe had merely befriended you as a means to get closer to the Lothbroks. When that hadn’t worked, she had started spreading vicious rumours around school and the word about you being a whore that slept with all four of the boys spread around the school like wildfire.

It hadn’t mattered how much anyone had denied it, a lot of people had been a bit too eager to accept the gossip as gospel. Mainly girls had eaten it up like cake. Apparently a lot of girls were incredibly jealous of the fact that you were around the most popular guys in school almost constantly. The only girls that had stood by you through all of it were the seven girls that you were with tonight. Kára had even attempted to break Margrethe’s nose when she’d found out who had been behind the rumours and had been expelled for a week because of it.

In the end Margrethe had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” You pulled away and slapped his chest suddenly. “You knew I had a history with that bitch.”

“Maybe you should have called and asked me about it.” He sighed and pulled you back in for another hug. “Or were you worried about what the answer might have been?”

“I was a dumb kid.” You pressed your head against his chest again and breathed in his comforting scent. He always smelled so musky and earthy. There was no other scent quite like it. “Course I was worried.”

“It was never that serious. Not for her anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She had… issues.” Ubbe was picking his words very carefully. It wasn’t that big of a surprise to you to be honest. The fact that Margrethe was seriously troubled hadn’t completely escaped you back then, but you had never concerned yourself too much with trying to figure out what her deal was. “I tried to help her, but whenever I tried to broach the subject she’d run to Serk to badmouth me.”

Even if you haven’t thought of Margrethe for years, hearing him say that made you want to hunt her down. You would have told him that too, but that wasn’t what he needed right now. You were a bit at a loss how to make it better however. It didn’t seem like he was still hurting or anything so telling him that everything was okay was probably a million miles off.

“She always had her problems,” was all you said in the end.

“I know,” he replied. “All in the past.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down on me.” He released you, cupped your chin and gently tilted your head up so you could look at him. “You used to do that when we were kids as well.”

“I swear that I wasn’t! But you started this. Not me.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Basically,” you said with a grin as another idea formed in the back of your head. “So make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” His eyes started sparkling with obvious delight. “I’m not going to do what Serk did earlier. I never wanted to outdo him at anything. I know I can do better.”

“That’s not what I was thinking of!” You smacked your hand against his arm first before letting it rest on his bicep. You could not help but give him a light squeeze, briefly imagining how easy it must be for him to lift you up and pin you between himself and the wall. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re thinking about it now though.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to do it,” you replied. “Not out here anyway.”

“Hmmm.” He leaned forward, his beard tickling against your ear as he kept talking. “What do you want me to do then?” His large hands settled on your hips and he pushed you back against the wall. “You’re gonna have to tell me, princess.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe.”

Ubbe settled his lips on your neck. All he did was kiss and nip at your skin, but you could feel your heart rate increase already. He briefly reached up to pull the collar of your shirt open, placed his mouth right on the spot where your neck met your shoulder and started sucking on your skin. Despite the fact that the two of you were standing only a short distance away from the red neon light that hung above the entrance to the bar, he covered you in such a way that it would simply look like the two of you were just making out. Besides, crazier stuff must have happened out here anyway.

“This what you had in mind?” he murmured huskily against your neck. Before you could reply, he moved his hands from your hips to your ass. “Or do you want me to take you home?”

“What is it with the two of you and this urge to get me back to your place?” You blurted out with a giggle. “I just wanted you to kiss me.”

“That it?” He peeled his lips away from your neck and pressed his forehead against yours. “Just a kiss?”

“Just a kiss.”

“You sure are easy to please.”

“As you know.” Ubbe never really had to try very hard with you and he knew this. In the past he would always joke about how blissed out you would look even after something as simple as a kiss. You tilted your chin up so that your lips brushed together. “You gonna kiss me or not?”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Pushing forward, he closed the small distance and captured your lips. The kiss that he had given you inside earlier had been intense as well, but it had been short and tasted of more. He didn’t have to stop now. He growled against your lips, kissing you so hungrily that it felt like he was trying to devour you. Even when younger Ubbe had often joked that he was like a wolf, something that his parents had recognised at birth and had named him for it. It had always made you laugh, but you could practically feel the resemblance now. If he could have his way, he’d no doubt be tearing your clothes off right now so he could eat you alive.

If he kept this up, you would be tempted to just turn around and let him fuck you right here up against the wall. Your entire head felt fuzzy and it was pretty hard to concentrate on anything other than Ubbe’s tongue which he kept slipping into your mouth. Hvitserk had worked you up to a frenzy not that long ago, but Ubbe was beginning to push you in a similar direction very quickly. One of his hands started sliding down and you knew that you should tell him to stop before you lost your mind completely, but you didn’t. His hot palm was on your bare thigh seconds later and then he slid it up, dipping his fingers into your panties so he could touch your bare skin.

“You’re burning up,” he groaned against your lips.

“Sure feels like it.”

“Want me to do something about it?”

It sure would be tempting to simply say “yes”. And oh so easy. Just one word. Just that little affirmative answer and he’d do something about this heat that he was gradually stoking inside of you. Your body was practically screaming at you to just say “yes”, to get it over with and stop putting it off. You could have what you wanted. Right here and right now. All you had to do was…

“Oh hell no!” You pulled your lips away from him, because you recognized that voice. “You little slut!”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, you are!” Svana was making rude gestures at the pair of you from the entrance with a big smile on her face. “Get back in here. We just bought another round. As for you,” she was pointing straight at Ubbe now. “We bought your ass a beer, so you’d better finish it before we let your brother have it.” She cackled loudly and then disappeared without waiting to see what the two of you were going to do.

“What do you want to do?” Now that his lips weren’t on yours anymore, it was a lot easier to think. When you didn’t answer straight away, he pinched your ass once before removing his hand from your underwear. “Go back in?”

“Be a shame to waste those drinks.”

“I guess.” He held his hand out to you and you took it without hesitation. “One thing though, you’re having dinner at our place tomorrow. Just to avoid any more interruptions.” You could feel all the hairs on your arm stand on end the second the words were out of his mouth. Just the thought of an evening with the two of them with no one around to stop them… your brain already went into overdrive. “Deal?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Right before the two of you passed through the entrance, Ubbe pushed you up against the wall right next to it very quickly and gave you one final hungry kiss that took your breath away.

It very much felt like a little taster to what could happen the following evening if you’d let him keep going.

*****

After the night you’d had, you were glad to be back in your hotel room.

When you and Ubbe had gone back inside to join your friends, you found that Hvitserk and Ivar had already joined them and the rest of the evening was filled with even more alcohol and witnessing some incredibly bad dancing from Hvitserk’s end.

Switching the light on in the small bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror and came to the conclusion that you looked like absolute shit. You stripped out of your clothes, dropped them on the floor and left them there. It wasn’t of the utmost importance that you fold them up right this minute anyway. You had already hung a slinky, spaghetti strapped nightshirt on a peg on the door. It had been packed in case you managed to get lucky sometime during this short trip and the way things were looking after tonight, there was a definite chance that you would.

Make-up removed and teeth brushed, you headed back into the room and promptly dropped face first into the bed. You spread yourself out over the mattress and pressed your face into the sheets. It was a good thing that you didn’t have anything planned until tomorrow evening (technically this evening), because you probably wouldn’t wake up until midday.

You’d been about to doze off when you heard your mobile. You swore and reached for it and stared at the screen. Unknown caller. You groaned and shoved it underneath the pillow. Probably a wrong number or some bad joke from one of your drunk friends. It kept ringing until it switched over to voicemail and you sighed deeply when it stopped, completely ready to let sleep overtake you…

It started ringing again. By now you were determined to ignore it, but as soon as it stopped, you kept hearing your ringtone kick back to life. Whoever it was, they would not allow you to fall asleep until you’d picked up. After the fourth time, you dug it out from under the pillow and answered.

“What!” The annoyance in your voice was unmistakable and you’d been about to start swearing about how this had better be really fucking important when you heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“That’s no way to greet an old friend.”

“Ivar?” You rolled over until you were laying on your back. “What the hell? Do you know what time it is?”

“4:48.”

“Jesus Christ. Why are you calling me? And how did you get my number anyway?”

“Ubbe gave it to me.” You’d exchanged numbers with Ubbe after he’d invited you round to have dinner with him and Hvitserk since he had promised to pick you up. “You didn’t want me to have it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You didn’t mind. Ivar would probably end up getting your number sooner or later anyway, but he still hadn’t mentioned why he had decided that now was a good time to call you. “I don’t know why you’re calling me, but can’t it wait until later?”

“No. I need to talk to you now.”

“Okay, fine,” you said with a sigh. You had known Ivar for long enough to know that he was the type of person that would end up getting his way no matter what and if Ivar wanted to talk to you, that would be exactly what would happen. It didn’t matter if you were too tired, you just had to get over it and accept it. “What is it?”

“What are you wearing anyway?”

“Ivar! What the fuck! I’m not telling you that.” You started laughing and was waiting for him to join in to let you know that he had asked you that question to be funny, but he never did. “Get to the point. Why are you calling me?”

“I was just thinking of you in that ridiculous outfit.”

“Oh. And you figured you’d call me to tell me about it?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after seeing that and I don’t think you should either.”

“Okaaaay…” You stretched out the word and found yourself wondering what else was going to be coming out of his mouth. “So what should I be doing instead?”

“Touch yourself.” For a few seconds you weren’t entirely sure that you’d heard him correctly, somehow convinced that you were imagining this entire conversation because you were so sleep deprived. But then he said your name in a low voice and asked, “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes.” You didn’t know why he was asking you to do this, but it had to be a joke to see if you’d actually do it. That was the only logical explanation. “D-did you just ask me to…”

“Touch yourself, yes.” He paused for a few seconds while you were still waiting for him to tell you that this was all a joke, that he had just been having some fun, but then he continued. “But you were wrong.”

“Oh? About what?”

“I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you.”

“Ivar, you can’t just call me at five in the morning and tell me t-”

“Yes, I can.” He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “Touch yourself. I am not telling you again.”

“Ivar, fuck.” Hearing the command in his voice was working for you in ways that you had never thought possible. You pressed the index finger of your free hand against your neck, just below your ear, and started trailing it down. “This is insane.”

“Are you touching yourself, kitten?”

“Y-yes.” This really was a dream. You were having some kind of vivid sexual dream involving the kid that used to sit in the little red trailer behind your bike as he screamed at you to go faster. And now that same kid, all grown up by now, was initiating phone sex with you. “I am.”

“Where?”

“My collarbone.” Your finger had pressed into the dip above your sternum and had started trailing outward.

“Child’s play.” Ivar sounded less than impressed with you. “Are your nipples hard?”

“Ivar!”

“What?” You heard him chuckle on the other end. “Well? Are they?”

You looked down at your chest and could see your nipples pressing up against the silky fabric of your nightshirt. “Yes.”

“So touch them instead.” Despite the fact that he couldn’t see whether you were doing it or not, you thought that he would probably be able to tell if you were ignoring what he was telling you to do. “Your collarbone. Honestly.” You whimpered when your finger brushed up against the hardened nub. “Feel good?” You made an affirmative noise. “Squeeze.” You did as he asked again and stifled a moan. “Don’t do that.”

“W-what?”

“I want to hear you.” You repeated the movement and this time you didn’t try to silence yourself. “Good.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “Now move your hand down lower.”

Your hand skimmed down your stomach, moving down ever lower until your fingers brushed over your mound and you sighed deeply when your hand dipped down in between your legs. When you pressed against your covered core, you could feel that your underwear was already damp and you set to lazily rubbing your fingers up and down. Little gasps and moans kept tumbling from your lips and you gripped your mobile tighter in your hand.

“Did I tell you that you could do that?” Your hand stopped moving instantly and you made sure that Ivar heard how displeased you were. “No. I didn’t say that you could move your hand down that low.” Since you could somehow tell that it was coming, you pulled your hand away and moved it next to you to grip the sheets instead. “Start again.”

“From where?”

“Your collarbone.”

“I thought that was child’s play?”

“Just do it,” he replied mercilessly. “And don’t talk back. Good girls do whatever they’re told.”

“And who told you that I was a good girl?” He wasn’t in the room with you so you could be a little bit defiant. “Good girls don’t necessarily give guys blowjobs in restrooms.”

“Probably not.”

Without any warning, the call suddenly disconnected. You stared at your screen in confusion. Why would Ivar get you all hot and bothered like that only to hang up on you? So now you had to finish it yourself and then you could finally fall asleep. You’d been about to do just that when your phone started ringing again. When you looked at the screen, you saw that someone wanted to video call you. You swiped your thumb over the screen and the next thing you knew Ivar’s face came into view.

“You thought that I was going to leave you hanging, weren’t you?”

“I kinda did yeah.”

“I just wanted to see with my own eyes that you were going to do what I told you.” Ivar bit his lower lip. It was a move that was almost a little bit too calculated to come across as natural, but you didn’t really mind. It only made you wish that he was in the room with you so you could feel those lips on yours. “Now show me what you are wearing.”

You moved the phone up a little bit higher and slowly tilted it downward. There was a lace trim at the top of your nightshirt and the rest was made of a pink silky material. It didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. You had your legs pulled up so he couldn’t see your underwear properly and you could see a slight frown crease his brow.

“Open your thighs.” You parted your legs slowly and made sure that he could see your panties. They didn’t match your nightshirt, but when you heard him whistle through his teeth it was made clear that he didn’t particularly care that you weren’t wearing a matching set. “Nice.”

“You like it?”

“A lot. Let me see your face again.” You moved the screen back up and smiled at him. “I want you to take it off now.”

“My nightshirt?”

“Everything.” He could probably see the hesitation on your face and you saw his eyes soften. “Would you do that for me, kitten?”

“Just my top.” You saw his other hand move into view for a few seconds, gesturing at you to continue. You put the phone down next to you, pushed yourself up into a sitting position and removed your top. Moving back into view of your phone, you sat in such a way that Ivar could see that you were half naked now without letting him see your bare chest. “See?”

“But not enough.” One corner of his mouth curled up in an almost wicked grin. “Just a peek.” You knew where this was heading, that much was obvious, but you had never done anything like this before and it made you apprehensive. “Do you want me to say please?”

“I’m not so sure you can say please.” You lay back down, moved one of your arms so it covered your breasts and grabbed the phone again. You held it high above you so he could see your face and the top of your chest. “Like this?”

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here.” He sounded unimpressed so you moved your hand, aiming it down lower so he could see the arm that you were covering yourself with. “Move your arm.” You briefly closed your eyes and took in a deep breath to steady yourself, but didn’t pull your arm away. He said your name and you looked up at his face again. “Please?”

Very slowly, you spread your fingers so a single nipple appeared between them. His tongue peeked out from between his lips to swipe over his bottom lip. You saw his lips move, but before he could say anything you started circling the pebbled nub with one of your fingers. Ivar’s pupils were so big by now that you could barely make out the blue in his eyes anymore. You couldn’t help but wonder if he would come over if you were to ask him to.

“Move your arm.” You took a deep breath and very slowly started moving your arm down until it was resting right underneath your breasts. Ivar tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and then he uttered a low, “Fuck.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you wearing?” He didn’t respond immediately, he merely looked amused that you even asked him this, so you tried to make your next words sound as commanding as possible. “Show me.”

Ivar kept his eyes on yours for a few seconds longer and just when you thought that he wasn’t going to show you anything at all, he slowly tilted the phone down to show you that his chest was already bare. You’d already felt it back at the bar when he pulled you closer to him a couple of times after he and his brothers had joined your group of friends, but my god, he was ripped. You’d been paying such attention to his chest and the tattoos that covered part of it, that you hadn’t noticed that his other arm wasn’t visible. In fact you might even have noticed that there was slight movement coming from that side of his chest, but sadly you hadn’t.

The camera moved down over his stomach and you found yourself wanting to know how his skin would feel against the palm of your hands as you skimmed them down his chest. It wasn’t until you caught sight of trimmed hairs that led down that you noticed that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. And then, without any prior warning, his cock suddenly came into view. You saw it for a few seconds, your mind only barely registering how hard he was and how slowly he was stroking himself before he disappeared from view and you started swearing.

“Fuck! Dammit!” You rubbed your forehead and heard him doing his utmost not to burst out in laughter on the other end. “Not funny, Ivar.”

“I am sorry, kitten.” He cleared his throat, chuckled one more time and then asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Dropped my goddamn phone.”

“Look at me.” You rolled on your side to grab your mobile and propped it up against a pillow so he could still have a clear view of your face. It also meant that you would not be able to drop the damn thing on yourself again. You definitely didn’t want to explain a possible black eye to Ubbe and Hvitserk tomorrow. “Were you that shocked?”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be naked,” you replied, feeling mighty stupid about yourself right now. “That’s all.”

“So… now that you know that I’m naked…”

“I’m not going to be showing you my pussy.”

“I am shocked that you even thought that.” He even gasped, but you didn’t believe him. That fucker always kept a very tight lid on his emotions. No way that something like that would shock him. “You could still take your underwear off though.”

“I could.” When you didn’t move, Ivar started pouting. Very much like before, it was such a practiced move. How many times had he done something like that before to get what he wanted? “You sly fucker.”

“What did I do?”

“Shut up. As if you don’t know.” His mouth broke out into a wide grin and you shook your head. “You are such a dick, Ivar.” When you saw him open his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“If you were going to say anything about how nice your dick looks, I swear that I’ll hang up.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but thanks.” You groaned for even voicing that opinion out loud. You really had to learn to think before you speak, especially around someone like Ivar. “What kind of guy would say that?”

“Have you met Serk?”

“Good point,” he said with a chuckle. “I was just going to ask you to take your panties off again.”

“You always were a persistent little shit.” Why not give him what he wanted? You weren’t going to shove the phone in between your legs to show him that you were entirely naked, you’d made that clear already. “Tell me. Don’t ask me.”

“Hmmm. So you like that, do you?” His grin turned practically feral now that you’d given him a piece of information that he would likely use against you at some other point in the future. “Take your panties off. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” The word was out of your mouth before you even realised it and when you did, your cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh my god… I-I am so s-sorry… that was…”

“Hot?” Your horrified expression only amused him more and he started laughing. “You can call me that anytime, kitten.”

“I wasn’t…”

“But I did tell you to do something, didn’t I?”

And then the command was back. When an involuntary moan escaped your lips, he drew attention to his own lips again by running his tongue over his plump bottom lip. You mouthed the word “fuck” before reaching down and sliding your underwear down your legs. When they were off, you moved them into view of your phone to show him that you were now entirely naked and hearing him groan softly on the other end felt strangely good.

“Ivar?”

“What is it, kitten?”

“If you’re going to tell me to touch my collarbone again, I’ll kill you.”

“Impatient.” Before he could tell you to do anything, you’d already slid your hand between your legs and you made sure that he heard the sound that you made when your fingers finally came into contact with your soaking wet pussy. “Fine. I’ve been touching myself for a while so I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it? Gee, thank you, Ivar.”

“I can be merciful,” he replied without a hint of embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

“Touching myself.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Lord. This is kinda…” You squeezed your eyes shut and bucked your hips up against your hand. “Fuck.” His laboured breathing was starting to propel you closer to reaching a climax and when you opened your eyes to look at the screen again, you could tell that he probably didn’t need much more either. “I’m so wet,” you half moaned. “Wish you were here so you could… replace my fingers… with your tongue…”

“Oh y-yeah?”

“Mmmm.” You moved your hand away from yourself, quickly replacing it with your other hand and then held your arousal soaked fingers up to the screen. “See that?” His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. You kept eye contact with him when you sucked your digits into your mouth, moaning as you did so. You moved your fingers in and out of your mouth, determined to give him some kind of show.

“I need to feel those pretty lips of yours…” He was finally able to talk now. “...wrapped around my cock.” You released your fingers with a loud pop and then presented your tongue to him, to mimic that you were doing something else entirely. “Just like that,” he said with a grin. “Bet you’d look good on your knees.”

“In my… skirt…”

“Yeah…” It was getting more and more difficult for him to talk now, you could tell, but he was still trying. “I’m so…”

Ivar never finished his sentence. All that came out was a low guttural growl and then he was done. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy as he came down from his high. You kept your eyes focused on his lips and his tongue that kept darting out to moisten them. When he finally opened his eyes, within seconds he knew what you’d been looking at.

“Kitten.” He practically purred the word at you and you could feel your muscles twitch involuntarily. Your movements increased, rubbing harder as the pressure continued to build. “I should just come over so I can make you come with my mouth and my fingers.” Your face started to feel hot and you gasped loudly. You were close. So close. “And then, if you’ve been a good girl, I might even fuck you.” He paused for a few seconds, his blue eyes locked on yours. “But only if you’ve been really good.”

“Oh my god…” One last circular movement around your clit, that was all you needed. You squeezed your eyes shut and all but wailed the words as your legs started shaking, your muscles spasming, your toes curling against the blanket. “Shit, shit, shit…”

You were aware of Ivar’s soft chuckle somewhere in the background, but it was hard to focus on anything after orgasming that hard. If it was already this good, what the hell was it going to be like if he was actually in the room with you? If he actually pressed that thick cock of his into you and growled into your ear what a good girl you were? The sheer thought of it was almost enough to make you come again.

Finally cracking an eye open, you looked at the screen to find Ivar’s blue eyes focused on you. One corner of your mouth curled up and then you wiped the sweat off your brow that had accumulated there. “Fuck. That was amazing,” you said with a breathy laugh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I can tell,” he said quietly. “Will you be able to sleep or do you need me for something else?”

Wait. Was he angling for an invitation here? You looked at the alarm clock that was on the bedside table. The red glowing numbers had the time at 5:16 in the morning.

“Nope.” You decided to play dumb. “Why? Did you want to talk?”

“Talk? No.” He chuckled softly in reply and ran his hand down his face. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

“Yep.” You rolled over on your side and blew a kiss at the camera. “Good night, Ivar.”

Before he could say anything in reply, you had already disconnected the call and then pressed your face into the pillow as you laughed. Your phone started beeping almost immediately. You saw a message illuminate the screen and you unlocked it to reply.

The message read: That was rude.

Since you hadn’t had a chance to add his number to your contact list, you were seeing nothing but his phone number so you added him so you could at least see his name.

Good night, Ivar.

You saw that he was typing back and it didn’t take him long to send a reply. Good night, kitten. You were going to reply, but saw dots appear again. I’ll have to teach you some manners the next time we see each other.

A shiver ran down your spine when you read his message. You wondered what he was planning, but knowing him it would probably be good.

Good night, Ivar. And I’m looking forward to it.

He didn’t send you any more messages and you fell into a deep sleep shortly after while clutching your mobile tightly.