#their platonic banter was the best part

[foldingfittedsheets]

So I love a rom com. Especially a rom com where the leads have no romantic chemistry at all. And essentially in a rom com they’re just pretty shitty people so you don’t feel too bad about the hijinks they get into.

My beloved had me watch You’ve Got Mail, an old one I’ve never seen. It starts out pretty strong on them being terrible people because the leads Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are both emotionally cheating on their partners with each other via email correspondence.

Then it turns out he owns the chain bookstore that puts her quaint family owned store out of business. They suggest a meet up and he realizes her identity but doesn’t clue her in to his. He still keeps corresponding with her knowing she hates his guts because again, he destroyed her business, the legacy left to her by her dead mother that she had hoped to pass down to her hypothetical child.

Then he decides he loves her anyway, they both dump their respective partners.

Now here, a grand gesture would have been enough to bridge this very hurtful gap. Buying the shop, converting it into something new as a gift to her perhaps. This man is exaggeratedly rich and would have the money easily.

But instead. He goes to befriend her as himself while still messaging her. He makes her double guess the emails he himself is sending and plants all kinds of seeds, they go on a montage of outings while only talking about his hidden alter ego, the mysterious man she’s been emailing.

Then he shows up at the park to confess. At this point I said aloud, “This is psychopath behavior. This is what psychopaths do.”

But Meg Ryan said she’d been hoping her mysterious suitor was Tom Hanks, the man who, can’t state enough, ruined her life and finances. And they kiss and smarmy music plays.

7/10

[pitchsidestories]

seasons of love II Kika Nazareth x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1332

summary: Kika loves Christmas ever since she was a child unlike Reader who isn’t a big fan of it. requested

author's note: dear readers, we hope you'll like the fanfic.It can be read as a standalone or as part two of when grumpy met sunshine. 💛🩷

Ever since she was a small girl, Kika loved Christmas. As the time gone by her love for it grew only deeper, the presents may get less exciting to her over the years, but she cherished the time spend with family and friends at the end of the year.

That’s why even though it was only the start of December parts of the Barcelona team decided to bake some Christmas cookies. The kitchen already smelt heavenly of chocolate, coconut and vanilla and everyone was in a gleeful mood. Seconds earlier the Portuguese woman lit the candles on the table sending a cozy, warm light while the darkness had set on Barcelona.

“Oh my god, Vicky, thanks to you the flour is everywhere.”, Ingrid scolded half-heartedly, her lips formed to a pout.

“Ingrid, it’s fine.”, Kika assured her.

“And it wasn’t me!”, Vicky protested smirking.

“Yes, I saw Mapi doing it.”, Ellie joined the young player’s defence.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”, Mapi interjected, but her laugh was giving away that she was involved in the flour incident.

“Sure, Maria.”, commented Ona chuckling.

Suddenly the joyful banter was interrupted by your angry sounding voice.

“What the hell, so much chaos, Francisca!”

“We’re just baking.”, your girlfriend explained nervously.

“You better clean up this mess later.”, you told her before storming off into your bedroom.

“Oh, someone’s in a bad mood.”, Mapi noted whistling.

“Grumpy apparently doesn’t like the Christmas season.”, Vicky observed.

“She doesn’t hate it, but she also doesn’t care much for it.”, Kika corrected her.

“How can one not love it?”, Ingrid frowned confused.

“I don’t know, ask her.”, she shrugged.

“The first cookies are done. Maybe she would like to try them.”, the older Spanish defender responded with an encouraging smile on her lips.

“Take the pretty ones that are already decorated.”, Vicky suggested in a friendly tone.

“Who wants to do the talking?”, the Portuguese striker asked.

“You’re obviously doing it.”, Vicky shook her head grinning.

“Wish me, luck.”, Kika sighed. Cautiously she stepped into the bedroom you two shared. The young woman whispered your name softly, trying her best to not resurrect the anger you’ve shown when you returned home.

“What?”, you questioned frustrated, moving your eyes away from the book in your hands to your girlfriend’s dark chocolate brown eyes.

“Sorry, we made a mess in the kitchen. Would you like to try some cookies?”, Kika apologized, sitting down on the bed. The delicious scent of the food filling up the room, even you weren’t immune to that small magic.

“Today was a lot and then I came home to the chaos.”, you began.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re almost done, and we’ll clean everything up. I promise.”, your girlfriend swore.

“Thank you.”, you muttered gratefully, taking your first bite of the Christmas cookie which tasted just as good as it smelt.

For a moment there was a peaceful quietness transcending between you. In the background you could hear the cheerful laughter from your teammates in the kitchen.

“Do you want to talk about it more or would you liked to be left alone?”, Kika asked careful.

You heaved a sigh and shook your head: “No, we can talk. You shouldn’t think that I’m a monster that hates Christmas entirely.“

Kikas eyes softened as she studied your face: “I know you don’t hate it. You just don’t like it as much as I do and that’s okay.“

You nodded, swallowing hard before taking another bite of your cookie so you didn’t have to answer. Only after you chewed quietly for a while, you changed the topic: “The cookies are delicious by the way.“

“Glad you like them.“, your girlfriend smiled gently at you.

“You girls did a good job.“, you chuckled.

“Thanks.“

You took another deep breath to brace yourself: “It’s just that not all family Christmases are like the ones in the movies, you know?”

“Oh.“ Kika said. You didn’t even had to explain, she just seemed to understand immediately.

“I just don’t know what it feels like…“

The frown on your girlfriends face deepened: “That’s why you don’t care much for Christmas?”

“Yeah, that’s my little sad sob story about it.“, you nodded. Instead of looking at her, you drew patterns with your fingers on the blanket.

“It’s not sad.“, Kika said determinedly while reaching for your hand. As you looked at her as got up from the bed, pulling you with her.

“Wait, what are you doing?”, you laughed nervously.

Her eyes lit up while she explained: “I’ll show you how nice Christmas can also be.“

“That’s disgustingly sweet of you.“

“Disgustingly?”, she echoed slightly offended but undeterredly dragged you towards the kitchen.

Her teammates were still busy baking, chatting quietly while Christmas music played in the background. The display was much more peaceful than twenty minutes prior.

“She’s back!”, Mapi beamed once she spotted you and Kika standing in the door.

“I’m back and I brought someone who wants to help decorate cookies.“, your girlfriend announced.

Ellie smiled politely at you and pulled a chair closer to her and Ona who were in charge of the cookie decorations: “Always good to have another person here who’s artistic too.“

Ona narrowed her eyes at the goalkeeper: “Ellie, excuse me? What are you trying to say about my beautiful art pieces?!”

Looking at the cookies in front of the defender, you had to admit that you definitely wouldn’t post them on Instagram.

Ellie shrugged innocently: “Nothing. Just that yours are the cookies we should eat first.“

“Wow. Rude.“, Ona complained but didn’t sound offended.

You bit back a laugh and started to help with icing the cookies.

A bright smile was on Kika’s face which could light up every cold and dark winter day while she declared. “Girls, the hot chocolates are ready.”

“With Marshmallows?”, Vicky asked in an excited tone.

“That’s so cliché.”, you playfully hit the upper arm of the Portuguese woman.  

“Maybe it’s, but the love around here is real.”, Ingrid admitted with a dreamy look in her green eyes.

“Don’t overdo it, Ingrid.”, you warned her grimacing at the sweet words which came out of the Norwegians mouth.

“I think she’s cute.”, Mapi defended her girlfriend looking up to her in awe.

“Of course you do.”, you chuckled amused.

“Just saying.”, the Spanish defender shrugged.

“Kika?”, you called your lover’s name.

“Yes, meu amor?”

“This is so stupid.”, you whispered into Kika’s ear, her arms wrapped around your wait.

She looked at you with a sad expression on her face. “You don’t like it.”, the forward realized.

“But at least it’s stupid with nice people.”, you added in a warm tone, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek which immediately turned into a soft red underneath your touch.

The cozy atmosphere was interrupted by Vicky’s curses. “Oh shit, the cookies burned!”

“Typical.”, you smiled at her mildly.

“Don’t worry, we still got enough Christmas cookies for everyone to take home with them.”, Ingrid reassured her teammates immediately.

After they all left, Kika leaned with her back on the wall, glancing expectantly as well as delighted at you like the once excited child she was: “And?”

“And, what?”, you returned her question teasingly.

“Do you like Christmas a bit more?”, your girlfriend wanted to know while you made your way to her.

“Hmm let me think about that.”, you replied. When you stopped right in front of her you noticed with a cheeky smile. “You still have a bit of whipped cream on your upper lip.” Gently you kissed the white foam away, the kiss sweet like the hot chocolate itself.

“Thanks.”, Kika smirked.

“You’re welcome and yes Christmas with friends is quite nice.”, you stated.

“See, that’s also one way to celebrate Christmas.”

“Yes, I like that.”, you nodded smiling in your girlfriends embrace.

Thanks to her help you learned that the season of love could be about friendship and spending meaningful time with the people which truly were special to you.

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

💗 if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated ! 💗

[lady-buggerinton]

My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

[makiquas]

Its Butchtober. Bear with me for a second as I rant about children's cartoon ships, butchphobia, the conditional acceptance of butches in sapphic spaces on the basis of desirability, and feeling erased as a butch kid.

It's so funny that I realised early on as a 2000-2010s teen/kid how a lot of so called "sapphics" of social media are really, really anti butch4butch, only by interacting with certain subsets of Catradora and Appledash haters. It may be flippant to connect butchphobia with children's cartoons, but you cannot deny it is there. We finally had two canon butch4butch and masc4masc lesbian animated ships. And the fandoms decided that the best possible reaction to this is to violently hate on the ships for bullshit reasons and write up masterdocs about how the butch character actually looks better with a femme character instead (in both cases–Rarity and Glimmer, who is arguably feminine but not femme, but that's a conversation for another day, how the SPOP fandom waters down gender identities for aesthetics).

This is not just about two cartoon ships; this mindset of seeing two masc lesbians and immediately going "actually they act like bros; but this BUTCHFEMME couple has real chemistry" comes off sounding really, really bad in 2024 when you have no idea how butch identity operates, outside of depicting us as pants-wearing sexually aggressive muscular women. Butches ARE bros, even the ones who kiss each other. Camaraderie and tomboyish swagger *is* a part of their life. It's not our fault you are too fanfic trope-pilled to read these interactions are sexless friendship bantering.

It's also quite concerning, given how there are only a handful of butch4butch books in the market, and almost all of them talk about the stigmatizing of relationships between two butches/studs/masc lesbians. There are many butch lesbians who themselves face internalized butchphobia because of societal standards and expectations of being turned into the "gallant" provider of femmes. Butch and femme are not always inherently complementary, butches can be attracted to other butches, there is no "natural order" model of lesbian/sapphic attraction and your thinly veiled butchphobia is really off-putting, given you guys don't seem to extend that same rhetoric to mascfemme ships like Korrasami or Caitvi, or femme-femme ships like Harlivy.

Here, I must mention relationships like Rei and Kaoru from Oniisama E, or Jess and Lupe from A League of Their Own, who have bucket loads of chemistry but still have some vehement antis only because both the lesbians are masculine. (What's funny is the new wave of lesbian Oniisama E fans are almost all Rei/Kaoru shippers despite the show putting them into two butchfemme pairings.) Something something to be butch4butch is to be failing the tests of palatability and desirability according to conventional models of societal norms. Forever.

Again, one may have valid reasons for disliking these fictional ships (what, I genuinely don't know). But it *is* weird that you guys can watch fifty white fem4fem sapphic shows in a year and read 100+ GL with the same feminine girlish blonde and brunette/pink haired archetype and not bat an eyelid, but conjure a world of made-up "platonic" dynamics just because you read every butch4butch interaction as fundamentally platonic.

A lot of you love to throw around Stone Butch Blues as a catchphrase to educate strangers on the internet about 1950s-70s blue-collar bar culture and USA butch femme history, but how many of you actually know that within the book itself, the lead character acts prejudiced and hates on another butch for being butch4butch? How many of you know that she apologizes to her friend at the end for her hateful remarks? Fun fact: when you ostracize a butch for not fitting into your butch-femme subculture aesthetic, you're no better than lesbiphobic bigots actually.

Anyway, here are some butch4butch resources if you are a baby butch4butch and feel alienated by these kinds of weird rhetoric in online and fandom queer spaces too:

Butch4Butch romance books

My Butch4Butch books masterdoc (**being updated regularly**)

Leo Wilder's Butch4Butch writing (18+)

Butch4Butch photography archive (insta)

Boyish² Butch4Butch yuri anthology (insta)

@milsae Butch4Butch artist (tumblr/insta)

This post is made by a trans masc butch of color. Terfs, racists, biphobes and radfems kindly do not derail or interact.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Doctor's Sister 🩶 | Charlie Swan Imagine

Takes place during Twilight: Eclipse & Breaking Dawn P.1

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Charlie Swan x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic), Bella Swan x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, flirtatious banter, slight canon divergence | female reader (she/her) | wc: 2.9k

requested 📥 yes/no

Premise: It was supposed to be a quick trip in-n-out of the house to pack for her weekend excursion at the Cullen residence, but when Bella gets sidetracked talking to her dad, it results in Charlie being introduced to a member of the Cullen family who's a sight for sore eyes and a silver tongue.

----------------------------

“Give me five minutes,” Bella climbed the steps of her home, shooting a glance to the person over her shoulder, “I need to grab a few things and let my dad know I’m not being kidnapped…or skipping town again.” Without waiting for their reply, Bella entered the house and shouted for Charlie. 

“In here!” he called from the kitchen, Bella walking in to find him seated at the table, newspaper in hand as he ate lunch. Out of uniform as it happened to be the rare occasion he got the day off. 

“I’m staying over at the Cullens this weekend,” she announced, then quickly added at his taken aback expression, “if that’s alright with you. Alice wants to have a sleepover while the rest of her family is camping.” 

Shrugging, not really putting up a fight, Charlie replies, “That’s fine. Is it just you two?” Bella nods, making him hum and visibly pleased. “Cool. Just check in once a day for your old man’s sake.” 

“Of course,” with a tight smile, Bella turns on her heel and rushes up the stairs. Packing her Jansport and a duffle bag with clothes, her homework, and toiletries to last till Sunday. Lastly grabbing her journal and copy of Wuthering Heights on her way out. 

Setting her bags by the door, she goes back to the kitchen, seeing Charlie’s back to her as he washes the dishes in the sink. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“Bella, I'm a grown man and know how to take care of myself. Go, have fun with your friend.”

She bites her lip, shuffling on her feet, “Are you sure you’re fine with me staying over there?”

“You said it’s just you and Alice, I see no reason to think otherwise,” drying his hands with a towel, he turns to face her, slightly shrugging, “she’s a nice girl and--.”

“You like her more than Edward,” She finishes his sentence with a defeated sigh. She’ll never change his mind. And nothing Edward could do will win him Charlie’s favor. It was a losing battle they were fighting.

  Walking up to the counter, Bella leaned her back against the surface while keeping her attention on her dad. “I know, I just thought…after what happened last fall…”

“Please, don’t remind me, Bella.” 

She flushed again, “I’m sorry. And I know it doesn’t make up for what I did or what part the Cullens’ played in it…but they’re my friends. And Edward is a part of my life, Dad. I’d like for you to find some forgiveness if you can.”

Charlie simply shakes his head, not really believing his next words but saying them for her sake, “You forgave them. I’ll try to. I may not know the whole story but I trust you--well I trust your judgment,” he corrects, narrowing his brows resulting in heat to reach Bella’s cheeks. Reminded of her impulsive trip to Italy. 

Which he doesn’t even know the whole story about. Best he didn’t. Some secrets were worth keeping

Speaking of secrets. Bella completely forgot about the person waiting for her outside. Who took it upon herself to interrupt the conversation between father and daughter once her patience began to run thin. 

“Bella,” The human swore her heart stopped, snapping her head to the entrance of the kitchen to find the source of the voice leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous smirk. Obvious delight in her eyes which were obscured by the tinted round sunglasses she wore. Charlie, also surprised by the sudden interruption--of a stranger no less in his house, spun around with wide eyes, immediately becoming flustered. “You didn’t say your father was so handsome.” 

The sound Charlie choked on caused the woman’s smirk to widen. Bella shooting a, ‘what the hell?’ look, before saying, “I told you I’d be right out.”

“You said five minutes,” barely glancing at her watch, her tone shifted to mock annoyance. “It’s been six. Now, aren’t you going to introduce me? It’s been so long since this town has had anyone that’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

Rolling her eyes, Bella waved a hand and turned to Charlie with apologetic eyes, who was perplexed, flushed by her flirtation, and awaiting an explanation. “Dad, this is Y/n Cullen. Carlisle’s sister.” 

“Sister?” he finally found his voice, shocked by the revelation, yet somehow gathered himself to shake her gloved hand when she presented it. Having not realized she’d pushed off the doorframe and approached the two. “I didn’t know the doctor had a sister.” 

“Oh,” she removed her sunglasses, revealing golden eyes. The same stunning color of her family. “Forgive my little brother.” Little was really pushing it. Carlisle had over 200 years on Y/n, but she was physically older having been transformed in her early to mid 30s. “We haven’t seen each other in years. Plus he’s too busy saving lives and raising children. I wouldn’t put it past the small detail being omitted, not to mention I’m rarely in the country to check in.”

Charlie, a little unsettled by her nonchalant way of saying the two were estranged, says, “What brings you back to town? Bella mentioned the Cullens were going camping.”

‘Oh you know, just preparing to fight against an army of newborn vampires to repay a debt owed to my dear brother and nephew after they killed my former lover who tried to kill me.’

“Yes, we leave this afternoon for the mountains,” Y/n smiles, still thinking about what awaits them in the days to come. “I’m not one for camping, but it’ll be nice to spend some time with my brother and the family after so many years abroad. And to answer your question, I came back home for Edward, Alice and Jasper’s graduation.” 

“Y/n arrived last month and will be staying for a few weeks.” Bella interjected, trying to hide the stress in her voice. “But we met last summer.” The woman smirked, bringing a finger to her lips as the memory of their first meeting flashed in her mind. Where Y/n mistaken Bella for a stray human and Edward had to tackle her away, leaving poor Bella partially traumatized. Ever since then the two have developed a sisterly/aunt-niece relationship.

“Total misunderstanding,” Y/n waved a hand, winking at the man and ignoring the warning look she was receiving from Bella. “I had one too many that night and may have said or done some things I’m not proud of. Especially for a first meeting. But Bella here is an angel, and luckily there were no hard feelings. Am I right?” Bella just sent a thumbs up, willing the conversation to end and save her father from Y/n’s antics. 

“Well we’re gonna go,” Bella leans to give Charlie a kiss on the cheek, gesturing for Y/n to start walking to the door. “Don’t want to keep Alice waiting before she decides to hunt us down.”

Y/n, humored by the girl and loving the way she and her father get easily flustered, goes, “Oh alright. Charlie, it was a pleasure to meet you,” while not hiding the way her eyes flicker up and down his body. Lips curling, liking what she saw.

Shaking her hand once more, this time longer and the touch lingering as they let go, Charlie smiles, “You as well, Y/n.”

“While I’m in town I could use a tour guide. It’s been ages as I’ve said since I’ve been in Forks and would love to know what all the hot spots are. As the chief of police,” her white teeth flash, nearly blinding the humans by their brightness, “care to show a lady around town?”

Desperately trying to not become red as a tomato, Charlie holds himself together and accepts the offer, “I’d be honored to.”

It’d been years since he caught the attention of a woman. The last date he went on was probably before Bella moved in. Or longer than that with how busy work had been. Now here he was with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, in his kitchen, chatting him up and not afraid to show her attraction. 

“Wonderful,” Y/n mentally laughs at the exasperated reaction by Bella. Focusing on the handsome man in front of her. “I’ll be in touch.” Sending one last wink, Y/n turns on her heel and exits the kitchen. Bella follows her out, but not before giving one last apologetic glance to her father and grabs her bags as the two leave the house. 

“Did you really have to do that?”

“What?” Y/n laughs/scoffs, moving to the driver’s side of her classic Ford Mustang. Bella putting her bags in the front seat while tsking. “Can’t a lady flirt and have some fun without being judged for once in her life.”

“I don’t care who you flirt with, Y/n. I’m not like Carlisle or Edward,” Bella buckles in, hearing the roar of the engine fill her ears. Letting her hands fall to her lap, she turns to the vampire with pleading eyes. “But he’s my dad. And he doesn’t know about anything. So please don’t mess with him--especially when you’re leaving once this is all over.”

“Relax,” Y/n places her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose, leaning against the smooth leather of the seat. “I’m not going to get tangled with your father. He seems like a good guy. But I’m not kidding when I say he’s a sight for sore eyes.” Bella groans, igniting a laugh from the vampire. “Listen I’ve been around the world and this town takes the cake for the blandest looking men I’ve ever seen. The women are gorgeous and can do way better than what they’re given. But damn,” a low whistle leaves her lips.

Bella groans again, rubbing her temple, “Okay I get it. You think my dad is attractive. Now can we please go?” 

With one last obnoxious laugh, Y/n steps on the gas and drives them away from the house. Blasting Price’s ‘Let’s Go Crazy,’ for all ears to hear. To which Y/n casually drops that she partied with Prince back in the 80s. And while Bella tried to assure herself Y/n would adhere to her promise not to mess with Charlie, she couldn’t help but think of the way her father lit up during that short encounter. Like he was mesmerized.

Something she hadn’t seen from him in years.

August 13th

The reception was in full swing. Bella held tight to Edward’s hand as he led them around to greet the guests. Alice had really gone all out on the perfect ceremony followed by the perfect party. Of course she had help from Rosalie and Y/n, who ended up staying after the newborn army ordeal once Edward and Bella announced their engagement. A decision which surprised everyone, but Carlisle the most. 

And Bella had a tiny inkling the reason involved the person she was approaching the couple with. 

“Well I gotta say,” Charlie began, beer in one hand and the other holding Y/n’s. Both wearing matching smiles. “Alice sure knows how to throw a party.” Edward chuckled, pulling Bella closer to him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“I agree.”

“That’s the last time I’ll ever put my two cents in when it comes to planning an event,” Y/n comments, leaning into Charlie’s side. Her purple satin dress complimenting his dapper tuxedo. “Felt like I was going to lose my mind.” 

“Thank you, Y/n, for everything. I know going head-to-head with Alice is a tough battle,” Bella teases, causing the woman to playfully gasp and the two men grinning. The sight of her father looking happy brought a smile to Bella’s lips, beaming at the way he looked ten years younger. All the usual stress and tiredness in his features disappearing. 

After the battle in June, Charlie held his promise to show Y/n around town. Then the meetings continued. And when Y/n planned to leave Forks, her debt to the family paid, she suddenly announced she was renting a small home on the outskirts of town, leaving the number to a landline phone she installed. 

“Carlisle, I love you. And I love this family like they are my blood one,” she said to him on her way out of the Cullen home, the older vampire following her with a million questions. “But I'd rather get my head ripped off by Aro than live under the same roof as you and your heathens you call teenagers. Trouble seems to follow you lot, and I do not wish the same for me. So,” patting his cheek like a sister would a brother, Y/n blows a kiss and scurries off, “call me if you need or drop by…but I can’t assure I’ll be of service.”

Yeah, it wasn’t long before they found out from Alice’s visions Y/n was seeing Charlie Swan. Not to mention Bella came home to Y/n’s Mustang in their driveway. Where she walked in to find Y/n pretending to enjoy a cup of coffee while she and Charlie discussed Italian history. 

Two months later, the two have officially entered a relationship. Bella was initially reluctant to accept it, but upon seeing their interactions, and the obvious affection they shared, she knew it would be wrong to come in between their happiness.

And it would also make her a hypocrite if we’re being real. 

“Is it like us?” she asked Edward one night, cuddling him in her bed while Charlie sleeps down the hall. “In Italy, Aro said my blood sings to you. Does his sing to her?” She felt him shake his head.

“What we have is rare. Most vampires never meet their blood singer--and in some cases become so overwhelmed by the scent they end up killing them.” Bella shivers, recalling the time Edward told the story of Emmett killing his blood singer. “But the feelings my aunt shares toward your dad is like the rest of my family. What Carlisle felt when he met Esme. Why Rosalie begged him to change Emmett when she found him. Why Alice waited decades at the restaurant for Jasper.”

She understood where he was going. Realizing the extent of Y/n’s fondness for Charlie. The sparks that collided in their first meeting and continued with each encounter. 

But Bella made Y/n swear to her she’d come clean to Charlie before the year was over. Figuring out the next step though….that was a conversation for another day. 

“Well we wanted to offer our congratulations,” Charlie’s voice pulled Bella out of her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. “We know a lot of people wish to do the same, so we won’t hold you up.”

“Thank you, dad,” Bella let go of her husband to embrace her father, moving to Y/n to do the same while Edward shook Charlie’s hand. “And thank you, Y/n.” 

“Of course. It’s not every day your favorite nephew gets married.”

“Don’t let Emmett hear that,” Edward jokes, smirking when he hears his brother’s thought from across the dance floor, ‘I heard that!!’

At that moment the beat of TLC’s ‘Baby-Baby-Baby’ starts to play, prompting Y/n to tug on Charlie’s hand. “Now this is my song. C’mon doll face, let’s show them how it’s done.” Flushing red, Charlie downs the rest of his beer, handing the empty glass to Edward--who winks at him while Bella holds back a giggle, and follows his girlfriend to the dance floor. Joining Carlisle and Esme, and Billy and Sue. 

“You know,” Edward leans down to whisper, grinning as he takes in the scene of his aunt and Bella’s father dancing. “I would’ve never guessed your dad would be the one to ground the infamous Y/n Cullen.” 

“Baby, baby, baby

I got so much love in me

Oh baby, baby

Baby, baby, baby

'Cause if you gonna get me off

You got to love me deep”

Tilting her head back with laughter, Bella nuzzles into his touch, admiring the scene as well when she brings her gaze down again. “I never thought I’d see the day Charlie Swan gets sweeped off his feet. By the Doctor’s sister nonetheless.”

“Baby, baby, baby

I got so much love in me

Oh baby, baby

Baby, baby, baby

'Cause if you gonna get me off

You got to love me deep”

Chuckling, Edward leans his head on hers, “They make a good pair. Don’t they?”

She agrees with a hum, “They do.” Bella adjusts their position, so they are now facing each other on the dance floor, swaying to TLC like everyone else. Mouthing along to the words and at one point meeting Y/n’s eyes. The two share a wholesome look, igniting a loving wink from the vampire to the human girl's nod of respect. 

“I can have any man that I want to

Time and place that I choose to

But I think you know that I would rather be here with you, yeah.”

[ssa-dado]

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.

[sativaonsaturn]

astro observations about my partner’s placements

from a virgo sun’s perspective

sagittarius sun

never runs out of energy - these people wake up on ready. endless banter and wit; one of the reasons i fell in love w/ him was his mind.. i think bc sag is ruled by the 9th house their minds know no bounds, they are continually expansive. on the same note, they love to experience everything there is and especially w/ those they love. i’ve always said the quickest way to point out a sag is if they say “i don’t give a fuck” but also remember sagittarians often have solid morals/ values. there are some things they believe in and will not bend on them for anyone or anything. also such adaptable people! they don’t like to be restricted so i think it helps that they are able to just do what they need to for the moment. can be a bit reckless or clumsy, they probably have to buy a new phone all the time 😭

libra moon

(maybe my favorite moon sign 🙈) such charismatic people!! doesn’t matter the sun sign, they could charm anyone. also very adaptable bc they read the room so well. love to make the room lighter but this can be good and bad. as i’ve said in previous posts, libra in any placement will create a need for balance. so libra moons often cannot handle tension especially from the ones they care about. if you’re feeling down a libra moon will do everything they can to make you smile but if they fail, you can almost feel them move on bc they can’t handle the static. (this isn’t bc they don’t care! air signs just prefer to keep things light) also great conversationalists and very funny, their humor is for everyone.

scorpio mercury

as i’ve said in previous posts, the only ones who understand a scorpio’s depth is scorpio. scorpio mercury’s depth is much like the depth of the ocean. you will never know what they’re thinking unless they want you to. this placement (much like scorpio moon) will always decide on the best time to say something; if you’re looking to pull something out of them they will make you work for it. also very stern, in the sense that you cannot make them waver on something they’re already sure about. bc of how deep they think/ understand, they are also great conversationalists (totally part of my dream blunt rotation cause you’ll never run out of things to talk about) you’ll also never have to explain the principle of a situation to them; if you give them background w/ enough details, they already get it. also sometimes prone to overthinking esp if it’s in 12th or 8th house!

libra mars

always does their best to make sure everyone is content (again balance), very diplomatic in relationships - including romantic. will often overlook their own feelings if they feel it will disrupt the flow of things. sometimes only speak up in moments of injustice or they just feel like something’s unfair in general. pretty reasonable ppl cause they look at both sides of everything. when they are ready to check someone it’s brutal 😭 their anger is palpable when released because they hold it in most of the time. in bed they are likely to favor the doggy position (as libra rules that part of the body) and will likely slap their partner’s ass a lot 💀

capricorn venus

a true romantic! they are strict on their boundaries and will never settle (especially the more developed they are). they might stay in a relationship (platonic, romantic or otherwise) if it doesn’t serve them, but not for long. even when they do this they will not be all in because they know there will be a moment when they need to fall back completely and when it does they do so immediately, w/out remorse. when they are in love however, they are devoted because (in true Saturn fashion) in their eyes they are investing into their future. such romantics when they find the one! i mean like true lovers. they want you to meet their families, plan your future (always realistically), plan out elaborate dates, may even buy stuff they want you to wear. these natives are definitely the types give you those “be ready at 8pm, wear this” notes. also likely to wear the pants 😭 and definitely dominant in bed (likely into bdsm as well, esp if masc).

sativaonsaturn 🪐🍃

[medlarmeadows]

i'm in love with you too, dumbass

cc!Charlie Slimecicle x fem!reader

Synopsis: Four times you hid your unrequited love for Charlie, and one time you discover the love is requited.

Warning(s): feelings, some tooth-rotting fluff, angst, kissing.

Word count: 4k

A/N: This is finally done! Sorry it took so long, it became much longer than I expected it to be. Will probably take a break from writing after this, because creative juices have kind of run out recently (part of the reason this took so long. Hope you enjoy it!

masterlist

1.

The chaos of conventions never failed to amaze you. Granted, it was your first time at one, but within the short period that you spent at the convention, you just felt equal parts amused and overwhelmed by everything.

Including Charlie.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t stand his presence – he was one of your best friends, of course you wanted to spend as much time with him – but if you had to swallow down the butterflies in your stomach one more time, you swore you were going to vomit them out.

As it turns out, going on an extended vacation with your best-friend-that-you-are-in-love-with-who-doesn’t-know-you’re-in-love-with-him-and-most-likely-will-not-return-the-feeling was not the best thing for your emotional and mental well-being.

To a certain extent, you were able to hide your feelings behind a camera, what with being his plus one (platonic) and camera woman (he was paying you in food, so who were you to say no?) for the convention. It was pretty rewarding too, watching him interact with fans and other creators.

You were happy seeing him be happy.

However, you were still spending hours on end with each other, so there were bound to be instances that threw you off.

“Hey, I haven’t said this yet, but you look really nice today,” Charlie told you as you were resting on some benches in a quieter part of the convention.

You nearly sputtered water out of your mouth.

“Thanks?” you replied, praying to God that your face hadn’t turned bright red. Panicking, you try for a banter:

“I mean, I look the same as always? Don’t tell me you think I look ugly on a daily basis.”

“For the record, I think you look pretty on a daily basis. You just look prettier today.”

He said it with the sincerest look on his face, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at you softly. So many words threatened to pour out of you in that moment, some suave retort on your tongue, some embarrassing confession behind gritted teeth. But all that came out was:

“You look great too.”

Charlie lets out a chuckle.

“You’re just saying that because I complimented you.”

“Well, was I not supposed to say anything? I don’t know how else I should’ve responded – ”

“How about just take the compliment, dumbass,” he huffs out, but you can hear the affection in his tone.

Affection that was 100% platonic, you tell yourself.

You’re saved from trying to come up with another response as another one of Charlie’s creator friends approaches, launching them into a discussion about something like therapy and a funny video idea.

Just like that, you were back behind the scenes, behind a camera, your pride and friendship protected for yet another day.

-

2.

When you had stepped out the house that day for a picnic, you weren’t expecting it to be so fucking cold.

It was freaking September! Why was it so windy?

You tried your best to pay attention to the story Ranboo and Moonzy were sharing, but half your focus was on not shivering whenever the wind blew through the park.

The other half was trying it’s best not to let your eyes linger on how the wind messed up Charlie’s hair just right.

“Can you pass me the strawberries?” asked Charlie.

It takes you a second to register that he was talking to you, and you give him a stiff nod, not really trusting your teeth not to chatter if you replied verbally. Your fingers seemed to also be stiff as you gripped the box of strawberries and handed it to him.

When he takes the box from you, your fingers brush just the slightest, sending a shiver down your spine that you wish you could blame on the wind.

“Thanks – Jesus, why are your hands so cold?” he exclaims.

In a second, Charlie’s put down the box of strawberries on the picnic mat and cupped your hands in his.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.

“It’s really fuckin’ wimdy,” you blurt out.

It sends your friends into a fit of laughter, Ranboo and Moonzy’s story interrupted as they burst out in giggles over your comment. You’re chuckling along with them, but you’re also still really fucking cold.

“Here, take my sweater.”

PANIC.

“Wha – what, wait – ” The rat running the hamster wheel in your brain is sprinting as you try to salvage the situation. “Then you’ll be cold, idiot.”

If you wear Charlie’s sweater, you think you might combust.

But the stupid, handsome, kind, idiot only shrugs and begins to pull his sweater over his head, before holding it out to you. You stare at him dumbly for a second, still trying to come up with a way to reject the sweater.

“God, stop being stubborn and take it, I’ll be fine,” he sighs, brandishing his sweater at you like a weapon. “We both know I’m better at dealing with the cold than you are.”

He’s right, because every time you watch a movie with him, you’re usually hogging the blanket.

But that’s different from taking his sweater!

As the cogs in your brain keep turning, you hear another sigh from him before your vision goes dark. You yelp and start batting your hands as Charlie forces his sweater over your head.

“Charlie – you fucking – I can’t see – ”

“Just wear the stupid sweater, dumbass,” he chides as he gets your head through the collar. “Now, put your arms through the sleeves, or do I need to help you with that too like the baby you are?”

Your eyes widen and you look away from him in panic. As your gaze shifts away from Charlie, you unintentionally lock eyes with Moonzy, who gives you a knowing look.

(Why was she so perceptive.)

(Why did Charlie indirectly calling you baby make your neck uncomfortably warm.)

“Guys, this isn’t the Ranboo baby stream,” you mumble as you put your arms through the sleeves.

That sends your friends into another fit of laughter and signals Ranboo and Moonzy to continue the story. Now, with everyone’s attention back on the story, you privately settle into the warmth of Charlie’s sweater.

You try not to think about how long the sleeves are as you bury your cold hands in the fabric.

You try not to think about how much bigger the sweater is on you than on Charlie.

You try not to think about how you could smell his cologne on the sweater.

-

3.

You wouldn’t say that you were a very short person. You’d like to think that you were about average height. It wasn’t your fault that most of your friends were freakishly tall.

Including Charlie.

Whose house you were currently in.

And trying to get snacks from the top of his cabinets because of-fucking-course it had to be in the highest cabinet possible.

“I swear to God if I fall, I’m charging him for my medical bills,” you mutter under your breath as you drag a chair over to climb on to. But just as you were about to put both feet on the chair, Charlie walks into the kitchen.

“ – taking so long to get the snacks,” he says as he enters, pausing when he sees you about to hop onto the chair. He stares at you quizzically, head cocked to the side.

“Why do you look like you’re about to climb onto my cabinets?”

“Because you decided to discriminate against me and put the snacks in the highest shelf possible,” you huff, resuming your mission.

But as soon as you’re rising to your full height on the chair, you feel hands place themselves on your waist. You’re lifted off the chair easily and placed back onto the floor so swiftly you don’t manage a reaction in time.

You’re still staring at Charlie dumbfounded by the time he’s replaced you at the cabinet, chair nudged aside, and retrieved the snacks.

“You could’ve just asked me to come get them, dumbass.” Charlie turns around with an armful of chips.

You’re still trying to process what just happened. You point a finger at Charlie.

“Why’d you pick me up?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

“To stop you from falling off the chair?”

“But I would’ve been fine.”

“Or you could’ve fallen. Ever heard of being safer than sorry?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to clear the fog in your brain that has randomly spawned. Your cheeks were warming, you needed to get a grip.

You’re snapped out of your head when Charlie brushes past you, turning just slightly to send you a playful smirk.

“Let’s get back to watching the movie. Or you do also need to be carried over like a princess?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snark back, annoyed at him and also yourself.

You’re grateful that he had turned back around with a chuckle, because you were pretty sure the tips of your ears were turning red based on how warm they were getting.

You spend the rest of the movie as far away from Charlie on the couch as possible. When he asks why you’re so far away (and to stop hogging the blanket), you kick at him and try to play it off as wanting to stretch your legs out.

It’s definitely not because you think your brain would shut down if you were any closer to Charlie.

-

4.

Clubbing was always a fun thing to do with friends, because no matter how many people were crowded around you, or how stinky the place was, it was always fun just jumping around and dancing with your friends.

Of course, it helped when all four of you had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol.

“Let’s dance!” Moonzy squeals, pulling you away from the group and towards some open space before you can object.

The two of you bounce around each other, showing off half-assed drunken movements of really cool dance moves (see: orange justice) and screaming the lyrics of the songs blasting through the speakers at each other.

You’re so engrossed in trying to dip Moonzy without dropping her you don’t notice Charlie come up to you until he’s right next to you, causing you to shriek.

“Jesus – Charlie!” you yell at him, smacking his shoulder for scaring you.

He rolls his eyes, nudging you with his elbow.

“Not my fault you were so caught up trying not to drop Moonzy. I just came over to see what the fuss was all about.”

Your tipsy brain latches on the implication that he was watching you and Moonzy. Your cheeks start to warm at the possibility that he was watching you.

“We were so close before you came over,” Moonzy says with an exaggerated sigh. “You ruined our moment.”

Charlie fakes offense, dramatically placing a hand on his chest.

“I sincerely apologise, fair maiden,” he says in a stupid medieval accent. “However can I make it up to you?”

Moonzy lets out a snort, shoving him playfully before stepping away, saying, “Forget it, I’m going to get us more drinks.”

She shoots you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you. Your brain catches up a second too late for you to retaliate.

Damn Moonzy and her stupid perceptiveness.

Turning towards Charlie, you feel slightly awkward now that your dance partner had left you. But it seems that Charlie didn’t feel the same as he quickly grabs your hands.

“Let me show you how to actually dip someone, dumbass,” he says with a smirk.

Your expression turns panicked for a split second, but you’re not able to object before he’s pulling you towards him sharply. One arm wraps around your waist securely and suddenly he’s dipping you low towards the ground.

You’re acutely aware of how close the two of you are, how snugly his arm fits around your body, and how you could spot the specks of brown in his blue eyes.

As he brings you back upright, your proximity to him remains the same. You let yourself get lost in his eyes for a few seconds, before you realise just how close your faces are.

Nervous, you reflexively wet your lips. Charlie’s eyes dipping from your eyes to your lips catches you off guard, causing your breath to catch in your lungs.

There are words dancing on the tip of Charlie’s tongue. Words you know would ruin you, and your friendship. Because it’s not going to mean anything to him, and it’s going to mean the world to you.

You know what he’s about to ask.

You’re not sure if you have it in you to say no.

It’s as though someone dumped an ice bucket on you as you become uncomfortably sober. You yank yourself away from Charlie, breathing heavily.

“I need to go,” you say breathlessly, eyes darting around for where Ranboo and Moonzy might be.

Charlie’s brows are furrowed, like he notices something was wrong, but he didn’t understand why you were reacting the way you did.

“I’ll take you home,” he says automatically.

“No!” you shriek before you can stop yourself.

The air between you two becomes tense. It doesn’t help that the DJ had changed the song to something slower, no noisy techno beats to diffuse the situation.

“Damn, if I was such a bad dance partner you could’ve just said so,” he jokes, but you can hear the bitterness in his tone.

“It’s not that,” you say immediately. Because it wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault.

How could it be his fault that you fell for your best friend?

“Then?” he questions. “What’s your deal?”

It’s sharp, accusatory, almost like a wounded animal. One hand is clenched and the other is fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

You know your best friend well enough to know that he’s hurt.

You know you’re fucking up your friendship in real time.

“I can’t tell you,” you choke out, cursing yourself internally because you know how flimsy that excuse was.

Charlie raises an eyebrow at you. You know he can see through your bullshit.

A moment passes between the two of you as he looks like he’s mulling over his thoughts. He runs a hand through his already messy hair, something like distress passing over his face.

You could just leave.

You don’t know why you’re waiting for his response.

“Fine,” he says slowly, grinding the word out like he’s forcing himself not to say what he actually wanted to. “But can you text the group when you’re home? Please?”

There’s concern in his eyes, even underneath all the hurt. Your heart drops like a stone because even though you were being a total asshole to him, Charlie was still looking out for your well-being.

“I will,” you promise.

You’re quick to book it out of the club after that. Not even bothering to find Ranboo and Moonzy, knowing that Charlie would eventually find his way to them and let them know what had happened.

That you had left in a hurry after being the worst friend ever.

All because of your goddamned feelings.

-

1.

You avoid Charlie for two weeks.

In fact, you avoid Ranboo and Moonzy too because the guilt of being a bad friend weighed down so heavily on you that you couldn’t bear to see your other friends.

It was isolating and caused you to spiral down a deep dark hole you didn’t know how to pull yourself out of.

You tell yourself you deserve it.

Over the course of the two weeks, you tried to formulate a way to apologise to your friends, particularly Charlie for being rude and running out on him. You spent nights muffling your frustrated yells into your pillow because you don’t know how to tell him that you were sorry without exposing your feelings for him.

Part of you wondered if you should just bite the bullet and confess.

But another part of you tells you that was stupid, and you go back to drafting apology after apology to salvage the mess you had caused.

It’s during one of those moments when you were lying on your bed deep in thought that your doorbell rang. Confused, you creep to the door to check who it was. You hadn’t ordered any food or delivery, and you weren’t expecting anyone to show up –

You spot messy brown hair and blue framed spectacles through the peephole. He’s looking down, but you recognise Charlie regardless.

Your blood runs cold.

Should you let him in? Were you even ready to face him again after you practically threw your friendship in his face? What would you even say?

Knocking on the door interrupted your thoughts. You were taking too long.

“Y/N?” called Charlie. “Please let me in. I just want to talk.”

I just want to talk. Maybe he was coming to demand an explanation. Maybe he wanted to tell you he was uncomfortable and that he didn’t want to be friends anymore. Maybe –

“I can hear you breathing on the other side of the door, I know you’re there,” he says.

You let out a heavy sigh. Your thoughts threatened to overwhelm you once more, but your hand moves before you register it. Suddenly, you’re opening the door and coming face to face with Charlie.

In the two weeks you had avoided him, it didn’t look like much had changed. He still looked healthy, save for slightly darker circles under his eyes.

Did you cause that?

The two of you stare at each other on opposite sides of the doorway. His eyes scan your face, as if gauging your reaction to him being there, before tilting his head as though asking to be let in.

Sheepishly, you step aside and allow him into your home.

The sound of the door closing is far too noisy for your nerves, making you flinch slightly as the two of you move to your living room.

Where you continue to stand in awkward silence.

Fuck, how could you have let your friendship come to this?

Charlie is the one to break the silence, placing a paper bag you hadn’t noticed him carrying on the coffee table.

“I brought your favourite pastries.”

You blink.

“Why?”

He sends you a shrug, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Thought I might butter you up before asking why you’ve been avoiding my texts and calls.”

There it was.

You worry your lip, hands fiddling with the hem of your sweater nervously. You turn your words over in your head, trying to come up with some semblance of a reason that wasn’t complete bullshit.

When Charlie realises that you’re probably not going to respond anytime soon, he sighs and continues:

“I came to apologise, too.”

That snaps you out of your thoughts. Your head snaps to look at him as you meet your gaze directly for the first time since the club.

“Why?” you ask, cringing when you realised that’s exactly what you had said a minute prior.

Charlie runs a hand through his hair, eyes closing briefly like he’s steeling himself.

“At the club,” he begins slowly, “I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for that. I should’ve asked first, should’ve waited for you to respond to dancing together and being that close. I’m sorry – ”

“No, stop. Don’t apologise,” you interrupt him, eyes wide. His expression falls, and you think you see fear in his eyes.

So, you ramble on like a steam train running off track. Your words pour out of your mouth before you can filter them.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t make me uncomfortable – I mean, I was uncomfortable, but that was my own doing. None of it is your fault, I should be the one apologising for avoiding you and – and being a terrible friend.”

You pause to take a deep breath. Charlie’s mouth is hanging open slightly, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

You push on before you can stop yourself. Before your brain could tell you that this was a bad idea.

Because you know your next words could change everything.

“I’ve been a shit friend to you because I’m in love with you, Charlie.”

It feels like time stops for you, as you gauge his reaction. You hold your breath without realising and watch him carefully.

This was the moment he was going to tell you that he doesn’t feel the same. That he’s not comfortable being your friend anymore. That he doesn’t want to see you again. That he –

He laughs.

Not a full belly laugh, but a snort that leads to a chuckle. That crinkles the corners of his eyes and fills them with joy.

You feel a pang in your chest, and tears start to prick your eyes. Taking a step back from Charlie, you lower your gaze shamefully.

But then he’s striding up to you and lifting your head up to look at him with gentle fingers on your chin. Charlie’s other hand brushes down your arm to take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together.

“Don’t apologise,” he says, eyes shining. “I’m in love with you too, dumbass.”

It’s your turn to have your mouth hanging open as you process his words.

“You’re what?” you ask dumbly.

He chuckles again, hand moving from your chin to hold your cheek. You can’t help but tilt slightly into his warmth, revelling in his affection.

“I’m. In. Love. With. You.”

He punctuates each word carefully, sincerely, like he’s making sure that they pierce through your confusion and straight into your heart.

And they do, because the weight lifts from your chest, and the corners of your mouth start to raise into a smile.

Because your best friend was in love with you too.

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “For how long?”

He hums as he thinks, thumb caressing the side of your face.

“Several months, now? Before we went to that convention in LA,” he admits.

“Me too, holy shit,” you breathe, letting out a small chuckle. “Were we just dumb this whole time?”

“Mm, no, I think that’s just you,” he teases, giving your nose a pinch.

You feel your cheeks warm at the action, but you manage to give a sarcastic, “Sure thing.”

Charlie let’s out a breathy laugh at your response, before his eyes turn serious again and he cups your face in both his hands.

“I’m in love with you,” he reiterates. “Can I please kiss you?”

You tell him yes without hesitation, your hands coming up to hold the back of his neck. Because finally you could let your feelings come through as transparent as glass.

He pulls you close and slots his mouth over yours, capturing you in a sincere kiss.

Time stands still again as you embrace. The two of you pour out months of frustration and unrequited feelings (that was really requited the whole time) into the kiss.

When the two of you pull apart, there’s joy shining in both of your eyes. The moment is sweet, before it’s broken by laughter as the two of you consider the stupidity of your situation again.

Charlie spends the rest of the day at your place, the two of you passing stories back and forth when you were hiding your feelings. And when your expression darkens a little as you remember that you have to apologise to Ranboo and Moonzy for avoiding them too, he kisses a little bit of the darkness away.

Finally, you no longer had to hide your feelings deep in your chest.

Finally, you could wear them on your sleeve, as the one you love held your hand.

The end.

[signedkoko]

Hi hi! I want to request a gn reader who is the closest thing Alastor has to a best friend, right hand man type feel. Like Reader is a sinner and had to make a deal with Al for their soul, but Reader is so honest when they talk and act that Al is all "they aren't so bad." Alastor calls on the Reader first almost everytime and Reader is like, "This is the least worst situation. Let's not screw it up" as they throw their all into whatever Al needed them to do. So when Alastor tells them to get a job with Vox to spy on him, there's a groan, then a fine.

Sorry if it's a bit jumbled, I had a thought and ran with it. Also, could I be 🗑anon

Alastor X Reader [Platonic]

In which you are the only person Alastor might consider a best friend. Reader is genderneutral.

While you'd sold your soul to the demon a long time ago, you certainly had perks that most others under his control did not

In fact, you didn't even act as if Alastor 'owned' you; you did your own thing and respected his wishes as best you could, and Alastor just never seemed to mind

Perhaps that was a front; no one was certain; all they could tell was that Alastor certainly favoured you

Anytime an issue arose and he was busy, he would leave you in his place, and by god, you never did disappoint

Actually, most people prefer it when it's you; you are far less worrisome to be around and a lot less mysterious about things

The only thing you didn't talk about was yours and Alastors history

Whether that was part of some binding agreement or you were just scary good at diverting the topic whenever it came to what you did in the past

Typically, Alastor's duties for you include watching over his other souls, going to the tailors, or doing 'whatever Charlie asks of you!'

Otherwise, you'd be at his side, usually the two of you watching the rest and making bantering commentary about the hopelessness of the people in the hotel

Unfortunately, being so close meant that Alastor really trusted you with difficult tasks

Were you capable? Absolutely!

But did you want to? No.

Because he tells you so much, he probably goes to great lengths to make sure you aren't accidentally 'letting things out'

Which means no technology when working with him

You found that out the hard way

" Oh yes! Do you have a phone I could borrow? "

" Uhh - yeah, sure. Here. "

He crushes the device instantly

" What the fuck. "

The one thing about you is that you prefer the easy way out, and as Alastor puts it, you have hidden talent that you are 'too lazy to use', but you couldn't care less

You'd do anything he asks, both because he is your friend and because you technically have to, according to your soul binding

But you will be grumpy about it the entire time

Being so close with Alastor means you also hate Vox by proxy, so any mission involving him is just miserable

Fortunately, Vox doesn't know you, though, so you really were Alastor's best bet when he wants a spy on the inside

" Do I have to? "

" Of course you do, deary! Now pick up that smile and get marching! "

Author's Note - He is such a menace to his friends, I love writing for platonic Alastor. Thank you so much for requesting, and welcome to the blog, bin anon!

[hd-junglebook]

"Hey Sugar"

-said with rizz

Luke Hughes x F!Reader, Trevor Zegras x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist Link

a:n I had so much fun writing this, I'm literally already starting part 2 because I can't wait to get Lukes's story started. Young dad over here. This part is just a bunch of flirting, can you blame y/n?

Warnings: throuple jumpscare, angry ex girlfriends, flirting, alcohol, maybe cursing, suggestive flirting

Summary: The story begins with you at a party with your close group of friends. Simmering sexual tension crackles between you and Luke, building through flirtatious banter and charged dancing.

Word Count - 5450

Part 1

It was one of those classic house parties - the kind where the music thumped through the walls and the smell of stale beer and desperation hung thick in the air. You sidled through the crowd, dodging wandering hands and spilled drinks, scanning the familiar faces for your crew.

Finally, you spotted them crammed onto a sagging couch in the living room, laughing raucously at something one of them had said. Making your way over, you plonked down next to your best friend Jessica.

"Hey! You made it!" she shouted over the music, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Y/N, this is Luke. Luke, y/n."

You turned to find the source of the deep, gravelly chuckle beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met Luke's - a pair of piercing brown pools that seemed to stare straight through you. A lopsided grin played at his full lips as he extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you," he said smoothly.

The party raged on around you - bodies gyrated to the rhythmic bass line, red plastic cups sloshed with cheap booze, and a thick hermetic heat radiated from the mass of people. But in that moment, the chaos seemed to fade away as you studied Luke's face, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense yet playful gaze.

You swallowed hard, Lady Gaga singing about love over the speakers suddenly feeling all too appropriate. "Likewise," you managed with a nervous laugh, taking his hand.

An electric jolt shot through you at the contact, his calloused palm rough against your skin. You quickly pulled away, hoping the dim lights concealed your reddening face.

And just like that, the spark was lit. As the night wore on, you and Luke traded increasingly outrageous jokes and stories, your friends looking on with delight at the undeniable chemistry.

The party blurred into a dizzying kaleidoscope - the acrid smoke burning your nostrils, the relentless thrum of music in your bones, and the warm press of bodies all around. Yet through it all, you remained hyper-aware of Luke's proximity, his rich laugh and musky scent enveloping you like a cozy blanket.

Every accidental touch, be it a graze of the arms or bump of the knees, set your skin tingling with electricity. The few times your hands brushed, it felt like an exposed live wire.

You could have sworn you saw his gaze linger a little too long whenever you tossed your head back in laughter, swiping away a rogue strand of sweat-damp hair from your flushed face.

"Oh my god, y/n, we need to grab you a drink - stat!" Your friend Maggy grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the couch area with a conspiratorial look. Jessica trailed behind, her perfectly arched brows raised knowingly.

You let them drag you into the chaos of the kitchen, dodging half-naked bodies and heaps of abandoned solo cups. Maggy was a force of nature - her wild crimson curls bouncing as she maneuvered the crowd with ease.

"Okay, spill!" she demanded once you reached the relative safety of the counter. Jessica busied herself fixing you a vodka cran, her slim fingers deftly working the sticky bottles.

Maggy smoothed her short ruffled dress over her curvy hips. "Don't tell me you've fallen for Hughes' charms already?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. "It was just some harmless flirting, Mags. I can handle myself."

"That's what they all say..." she warned with a shake of her head, making her diamond studs dance. "I've heard the stories, y/n. That man is a bonafide panty-dropper."

Scoffing, you swiped the proffered drink from Jessica and took a defiant sip. "Well then it's a good thing I'm not wearing any panties tonight."

The three of you dissolved into raucous laughter, drawing annoyed looks from the nearby beer pong champions. Once you recovered, you fixed Maggy with a reassuring smile.

"Look, you know the last thing I need right now is another relationship. Nick and I just ended things. I'm simply enjoying the flirtatious banter, that's all."

Maggy held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you, babe. We all know how charming Luke can be."

"Don't worry," Jessica chimed in with a wink. "Our girl can handle herself."

With that, you allowed them to whisk you back towards the living room, drink in hand. But you pulled up short at the sight of Luke engaged in a heated exchange with a beautiful, irate-looking woman.

"You've got to be kidding me, Luke!" the woman hissed, her face contorted in anger. "First you go radio silent for weeks, and now I find you here making moves on fresh meat?"

Luke? You shot a panicked look at your friends who seemed just as confused. Luke, however, appeared unfazed by the confrontation. A slight smirk played at the corner of his lips as he slowly looked the woman up and down.

"Relax, Amanda. You know how this works between us. We were over a long time ago," he stated coolly, taking a swig from a bottle of beer.

Amanda opened her mouth to retort, but seemed to notice your presence for the first time. Her icy glare landed on you as she sized you up with disdain.

You watched with a mixture of confusion and fascination as the gorgeous but venomous Amanda stormed away from Luke. Before you could even process what was happening, she was suddenly in your face, eyes blazing with contempt.

"Listen here, you little homewrecker," Amanda spat, jabbing a precisely manicured nail into your shoulder. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay far away from my man."

Your friends tensed beside you, but before they could intervene, Luke was there - placing himself squarely between you and the irate woman. Up close, you could see the taut muscles in his back and shoulders straining against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

"That's enough, Amanda," he said firmly, fixing her with a stern look. "We're not together anymore, in case you missed the memo. Multiple times."

"Oh, I got the memo loud and clear!" she retorted, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Doesn't mean I'm just going to stand by while you sow your oats all over town!"

Luke rolled his eyes so hard, you thought they might stick that way. He opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of continuing this ridiculous showdown in front of an audience.

"You know what?" you interjected, hands up in surrender. "I'm just gonna remove myself from this situation."

Luke's brow furrowed in protest, but Amanda cut him off with a derisive laugh. "Yeah, that would probably be best, sweetie."

With that parting shot, you spun on your heel and made a beeline for the kitchen, needing to put some distance between yourself and the unstable ex-couple.

Your head was still spinning from the strange confrontation as you grabbed a fresh drink and settled into a miraculously empty couch in the corner.

"Wild night, huh?"

You startled at the unexpected voice beside you. A gangly, bespectacled guy around your age offered an awkward grin, clearly having witnessed the whole Amanda meltdown.

"You could say that," you replied with a rueful chuckle, scooting over to make room for him. "I'm Y/N."

"Trevor," he said, sticking out a clammy hand to shake. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just got the best dinner and a show."

You couldn't help but laugh at his self-deprecating humor, feeling yourself instantly relax in his affable presence. Trevor had a dopey, teddy bear quality about him that put you at ease.

"So is that your girlfriend then? The one trying to claw your eyes out?" he asked with an amused snicker.

"God no!" you replied quickly, perhaps a little too emphatically. "I seriously just met that guy tonight. The crazy ex is all his."

Trevor's eyes widened comically behind his thick frames. "No shit? Well damn, Y/N, you really don't waste any time stirring up drama."

"Hey, I'm an innocent bystander here!" you protested with a laugh, giving his arm a playful shove.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, clearly emboldened by your easygoing banter. The two of you slipped into a conversational groove, chatting and laughing like old friends as the party raged on around you. You found yourself regaling Trevor with tales of your romantic exploits, your tongue rapidly loosening thanks to the alcohol.

"So to sum it up," you said, words starting to slur ever so slightly, "I did not come here looking for any more drama or dick after that whole Nick debacle."

Trevor very nearly did a spit-take with his beer at your crude candor. "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie, but it sounds like both drama and dick found you tonight!"

You threw your head back with a raucous cackle at that. Leave it to Trevor to cut right through the tension with well-timed crass humor. You were really starting to like this guy.

"You know what?" you said, looping your arm chummily through his. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Trev."

…

"Y/N! Get your cute butt over here!" Maggy's voice sliced through the din as she waved you over to the makeshift dance floor.

You shot Trevor an apologetic shrug before letting your friend drag you into the sweaty mass of bodies. Jessica was there too, her eyes shamelessly roving over Trevor's lanky frame as he trailed behind.

"We've been watching you two lovebirds canoodling in the corner all night," Maggy shouted over the thumping bassline, giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

"Somebody's jealous they're not the center of attention for once," you teased back with an impish grin.

Maggy's cherry-painted lips curved into a Cheshire smile. "Please, I'm an eternal attention hog. And FYI, your dorky friend is kinda doing it for me."

You followed her gaze to where Trevor was awkwardly bobbing his head to the beat, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He offered a small, lopsided smile when he caught you looking.

"Well what are you two harpies waiting for?" you challenged with a salacious wink. "Go get your man!"

With a raucous whoop, Maggy seized Jessica's hand and the two descended on the unsuspecting Trevor - a flurry of hair tosses, wiggling hips, and bright laughter. You watched the spectacle with unbridled amusement, letting the bass pump through your veins as you swayed your hips.

This was exactly what you needed - to let go and get gloriously lost in the music, surrounded by the frankly ridiculous antics of your nearest and dearest. You threw your head back, shutting out everything but the driving rhythm.

That's when you felt it - a solid chest pressing against your back, large hands skimming over your hips to settle at your waistline. You turned with a start to find Luke's heavily lidded eyes staring down at you, a rakish grin playing at his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he murmured, words barely audible over the pounding speakers.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he simply shook his head and leaned in closer, his mouth a whisper from your ear.

"I didn't mean for Amanda to make such a scene back there," Luke said, his breath hot against your neck. "I didn't even invite her here, but...she always finds a way. It's..."

You turned slightly so your lips were nearly brushing his chiseled jaw as you finished the thought: "Complicated?"

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest as Luke nodded almost imperceptibly. "Exactly. Complicated."

One of his hands trailed up the curve of your waist, leaving a searing trail in its wake until it came to rest at the nape of your neck. You shivered at the contact, equal parts electrified and apprehensive.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he purred, dipping his head so your noses were virtually touching.

You wanted so badly to give in - to lose yourself in those smoldering brown depths and see where this tempestuous night took you. But the memory of Amanda's feral snarl flashed behind your eyes, quickly snapping you back to reality.

"I...I can't," you managed to rasp, hating the way your voice trembled with longing. "I can’t leave my friends. They might rip Trevor to shreds if they’re not supervised."

Luke's eyes searched yours for a beat, likely trying to gauge your sincerity. You could practically see the thoughts churning behind those blazing irises as he processed your hesitation. After a weighted pause, his expression softened into something like resigned understanding.

"You're worried about leaving those knuckleheads unsupervised, huh?" he murmured, one side of those obscene lips quirking faintly.

Though Luke aimed for a teasing lilt, you caught the undercurrent of knowing behind his words. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, the tangled responsibility you felt towards maintaining harmony within your dysfunctional found family.

Swallowing hard, you gave a tight nod - hating how your throat still felt obstructed by the press of yearning. "Something like that, yeah.”

Rather than argue or attempt to sway you, Luke simply held your gaze for another few suspended heartbeats. You waited with bated breath, half-expecting him to withdraw his heated proposition completely in favor of rejoining the main fray.

To your surprise, however, the pad of his thumb began tracing idle circles against the jut of your hipbone - calloused whorls raising delicious frissons across your sensitized skin.

…

The thunderous bass line reverberated through your bones as you swayed absently, still dazed from Luke's heated proposition. You were so lost in the lingering tingle of his phantom touch that you didn't notice your friends closing in until they were right on top of you.

"Earth to Y/N!" Maggy's raucous laughter pierced your stupor as she looped an arm around your shoulders. "Where'd you just go, girl? We've been watching you make heart eyes at McDreamy over there."

You blinked rapidly, struggling to refocus on Maggy's mischievous grin with Trevor and Jessica flanking her. The three of them looked like the cat that ate the canary as they not-so-subtly craned their necks toward Luke.

"I wasn't...we weren't..." you fumbled lamely, feeling heat bloom across your cheeks.

"Oh save it, we all saw that heavy flirtation!" Jessica crowed with a wiggle of her sculpted brows.

Trevor chuckled good-naturedly, giving your arm a consoling pat. "Hey, no judgment here, Y/N. I'd be a stuttering mess too if I had a stud like that whispering sweet nothings in my ear."

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but couldn't quite suppress the giddy smile tugging at your lips. Leave it to your cadre of derelict besties to drag you out of an emotional spiral.

With a groan of mock exasperation, you shoved at Trevor's shoulder. "You're all ridiculous, you know that?"

"And you loooove us for it!" Maggy sang out as the first few lines of "Sandstorm" began thumping from the speakers.

She immediately launched into an embarrassingly enthusiastic dance routine, throwing shapes with reckless abandon. Trevor and Jessica were quick to join the absurdity, shouting the iconic intro at the top of their lungs while thrashing about uncoordinatedly.

"Oh my god, you idiots..." you huffed through a peal of laughter, shaking your head at their antics.

It was then that you noticed Luke watching the scene with undisguised amusement - a lopsided smirk playing at his lips as he clutched a beer loosely in one hand. His gaze met yours over the bouncing heads, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Suddenly, Maggy seized your wrists and yanked you into the fray with surprising strength. You stumbled clumsily into the center of their ridiculous mosh pit, nearly toppling Jessica in the process.

"Y/N! Get in here and get LOW!" Maggy hollered over the thunderous refrain, demonstrating a particularly lascivious body roll.

You couldn't help but cackle at the sheer silliness of it all - these beautiful disasters grinding outrageously as the bass threatened to shake the walls down around you. Even Luke was chuckling now, biting his full lower lip in an utterly delectable way.

"Like this?" you shouted back with a wink, dropping into as crude a dance as you could muster.

That sent your friends into a fresh gale of howls and wolf whistles, cheering you on like it was a damn Olympic sport. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Luke's intense stare tracking every roll and pop of your hips. The heated look in his eyes sent a delicious curl of desire unfurling low in your belly.

Before you could dwell too much on the implications, Jessica grabbed your arm and spun you around - purposefully flinging you in Luke's direction. You landed square against his solid chest with a tiny "oomph!", totally disoriented from the dizzying maneuver.

Large hands immediately bracketed your waist, steadying you as Luke threw his head back with a rich peal of laughter. You could feel the rumbling vibrato against your back as he tugged you more solidly against him.

"Careful there, sugar," Luke's gravelly timbre purred in your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell. "As much as I'm enjoying this dance routine, I'd hate for you to injure yourself on my watch."

You bit back a soft whimper at the feeling of his firm torso pressed against you, the scent of his sandalwood cologne utterly intoxicating. With your drunken bravado bolstered by your friends' raucous cheering, you leaned further back into his embrace.

"I don't know, big guy," you countered with a saucy grin over your shoulder. "I think you could handle me just fine."

Luke's eyes blazed at the obvious flirtation, his arms tightening fractionally around your middle. You could have sworn you felt his hips cant subtly against yours in time with the grinding bassline.

This charged dance continued for what felt like an eternity - your friends whooping and hollering in delight as you and Luke traded searing looks and teasing quips.

At one point, his hands drifted tantalizingly low on your hips, fingers splaying possessively. You retaliated by arching your back in a slow, filthy body roll that had his eyes darkening with naked want.

Just when you thought the tension might combust into something more, the song mercifully ended - leaving you both panting heavily with lingering desire. Trevor was the first to recover, clapping Luke heartily on the shoulder.

"Damn son, get a room why don't you?" he joked with a lopsided grin.

Luke merely chuckled darkly, finally releasing you from his iron grip so you could put some much-needed space between your overheated bodies. "Maybe next time, Trev," he shot back with a wink.

You busied yourself straightening your disheveled clothes, decidedly avoiding his molten gaze. But you couldn't deny the delicious new tension sparking between you.

"Hey, uh, not that this hasn't been a total blast and all..." Trevor piped up once you'd fully disengaged. "But I don't know about you hedonists, but I'm starving. Who wants to grab some late-night munchies?"

A raucous cheer went up from your breathless crew, with Maggy and Jessica readily agreeing. You opened your mouth to voice your assent when Luke cocked an inquisitive brow in your direction.

"You in, sugar?" His voice was midnight sin - rough and dripping with unspoken promises.

Something low in your abdomen clenched at the pet name, now inextricably linked to his heated stare and probing touch. Maybe it was the alcohol buzz, or residual adrenaline from your shameless grinding, but you found yourself nodding almost shyly.

Luke's answering grin was pure, predatory satisfaction. "Perfect. I know just the place."

…

The five of you made your way toward the exit with a chorus of giddy laughter, still riding the high of your dance-fueled flirtation. As you stepped out into the cool spring air, Luke fell into step beside you - though he kept a carefully measured distance between your bodies.

"I'm parked just up here," he said by way of explanation, gesturing vaguely down the darkened residential street. "That is, if you kids don't mind piling into my douchemobile?"

The teasing lilt in his tone made you huff out a laugh, still giddy with lingering adrenaline. "Only if you stop calling it that immediately and forever."

Luke threw you a rakish wink over the sloping muscles of his shoulder. "Whatever you want, love."

Trevor, Jess and Maggy trailed a few paces behind, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. You caught Maggy's pointed look in your direction and offered her a warning glare - though you were sure your flushed cheeks gave you away.

Sure enough, Luke's rumbling chuckle confirmed he'd borne witness to the silent exchange. The streetlamps cast his chiseled features in a warm amber glow as he slanted you an amused look. "I have a feeling I'm about to be interrogated by your overprotective friends, huh?"

You nibbled your lower lip self-consciously, considering your response. There was an undeniable spark between you - one that had been stoked higher with every heated look and lingering caress. The real question was whether you were brave enough to fan those flames further or risk getting burned.

Steeling yourself, you lifted your chin to meet his piercing brown stare head on. "Maybe. But I kind of like to make people sweat a little."

The remark clearly took Luke by surprise if his arched brow was any indication. But it was fleeting - that roguish half-grin quickly stretching across his kiss-stung lips.

"Is that so?" he rumbled in a tone that could only be described as molten sin. "Game on then, gorgeous."

You held his fiery gaze for a beat, letting the exhilarating tension build between you like a livewire. Only when the rest of the crew caught up did you finally tear your eyes away, turning to lead the group toward Luke's parked car.

The quiet streets seemed to amplify every sound - the crunch of loose gravel underfoot, the peal of distant laughter, your thundering pulse in your ears. You drew a steadying breath into your aching lungs, trying to center yourself amidst the storm of giddy adrenaline.

When you finally reached Luke's sleek black Mustang, he turned to the group with an almost apologetic quirk of his brow.

"She's not the roomiest ride, but we can make it work," he said, clicking the keyless remote to unlock the doors.

Jessica immediately scrambled into the front passenger seat with Maggy and Trevor piling into the backseat, leaving you and Luke to bring up the rear. He held the driver's door open in an exaggerated show of chivalry, one side of that delicious smirk quirking higher.

"After you, gorgeous."

You rolled your eyes at the pageantry, but couldn't resist shooting him a playful grin as you slid into the buttery leather interior. Luke followed close behind, the hot brand of his body heat prickling at your hyper-aware senses.

Once he'd maneuvered his large frame behind the wheel, he flashed you a Look from beneath those obscenely thick lashes. "You good?"

The simple question seemed layered with unspoken subtext, like he was silently gauging if you were ready to continue down this path of escalating tension and blatant flirtation. Were you?

You could have backed down, downshifted the energy into something more innocent and casual. But the memory of his firm hands on your hips, the hot scorch of his stare...your mind was made up.

"I'm good," you murmured back, holding his gaze unblinkingly as his eyes ignited with fresh interest. "Just tell me where to put my hands."

A muscle ticked in Luke's tensed jaw at the brazen double entendre, his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. You could practically see the war raging behind his blazing eyes - restraint battling with base desire.

Finally, he seemed to reign himself in with a huff of startled laughter, raking a broad hand through his tumbled curls. "Jesus, Y/N...I'm gonna have my work cut out for me with you."

The delicious promise in his gravelly timbre had your pulse kicking up another few notches. You wet your lips unconsciously, unable to tear your eyes from the searing heat of his stare.

"I'd apologize," you said, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere around breathless, "but I don't think either of us would mean it."

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, or the lingering high of the party thrumming through your veins. Whatever the reason, you were powerless to halt the breakneck freight train of flirtation between you two. And judging by Luke's molten countenance, the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Don't you worry, gorgeous," he rumbled, one side of those obscene lips quirking dangerously. "This is going to be fun."

With that tantalizing promise lingering like a heady cloud around you both, Luke finally started the ignition. The rumbling growl of the Mustang's engine was like a physical force pulsing through the car as you tore off into the night - laughing and shouting along with your friends.

The revelry continued as you wound through the darkened streets - one outrageous story segueing into another, punctuated only by riotous bouts of laughter. Maggy, as ever, was in rare form - dramatically reenacting an ill-advised tale involving a Thanksgiving turkey and far too much tequila.

Even Luke was in stitches by the end, so enraptured by the ridiculous saga that he swerved slightly on a tight curve. You cried out in surprise, bracing yourself instinctively against the solidness of his bicep. At your squawk, his gaze swung toward you - heavy-lidded and sparking with remnants of mirth.

"You alright, gorgeous?" he rumbled, that infuriatingly charming lopsided smirk back in place.

You aimed a petulant glare his way, but couldn't quite bite back an answering grin of your own. "Eyes on the road, hotshot. I'd like to make it to this mystery food destination in one piece."

Luke threw you a lazy wink, as if reading the lack of any genuine heat behind your words. "Don't worry, I've got great hands."

Your breath caught at the pointed innuendo as Jessica let out a scandalized gasp from the front seat - apparently eavesdropping on your hushed flirtation.

"Oh my GOD!" she crowed with delight, whipping around to face you with shining eyes. "You two are too much! When's the wedding?"

"I'm asking for a plus one," Maggy piped up from behind you with an audible smirk.

Leveling the both of them with a long-suffering look, you simply shook your head and settled deeper into the plush leather interior. Out of your peripheral vision, you caught Luke's answering eye roll - one corner of that lascivious mouth tugging higher.

...

For a while after, the inside of the growling Mustang lapsed into a companionable quiet. Your heart still hammered a staccato rhythm against your ribs, fueled by the lingering adrenaline and the heated promise in Luke's flinty stare.

Now that you were alone with him - temporarily freed from the raucous peanut gallery - the tension hummed between you like a livewire.

You felt him shift almost imperceptibly closer to you, the delicious warmth of his solid body ghosting along your side as he navigated the winding back roads.

He held the wheel in one large hand, his other arm draped casually along the center console - close enough for you to count the fine golden hairs dusting those corded forearms.

It would have been so easy then - to traverse that scant distance separating your bodies and slide your palm over his, to lace your fingers through his and seal this casual flirtation into something more. But you refrained, cognizant of your friends' continued presence just a breath away.

Still, you couldn't deny the delicious tension sparking between you and Luke. Nor could you ignore the way your body hummed in attuned response to his proximity, every molecule attuned to drinking him in.

A heavy silence had fallen over the car's occupants - the only sound the occasional burst of laughter from those in the backseat, quickly smothered under mutual hushing. Luke appeared singularly focused on the dark ribbon of road whipping by, his chiseled jaw tight and flickering in the intermittent glow of passing streetlamps.

Just when you thought the hot tension might calcify into something unbearable, he cleared his throat subtly. You startled at the quiet rasp, inclining your head slightly in acknowledgment as he slanted you a weighted look.

"So...Maggy seems delightful," Luke murmured dryly after a beat, their low timber thrumming through you. "Among other things."

You couldn't quite stifle the snort of laughter that bubbled up at his tactful observation. "That's one way to put it. Though I'd add 'loyal to a fault' in there too."

"Ah, so the protective smokescreen is merely for my benefit then?" he surmised with a sidelong glance, the barest quirk playing at those obscene lips. "Should I be insulted?"

Huffing out a rueful laugh, you shifted minutely closer to him - near enough to catch the cedar and smoke notes wafting from the open vee of his shirt.

"Definitely not," you assured him in a lowered tone, keeping your words confined to the intimate pocket between you. "If anything, you should feel fortunate. They don't extend that...dedicated brand of harassment to just anyone."

Luke seemed to digest this as he guided the Mustang around another tight bend, his jaw tensing almost imperceptibly before easing into an indulgent grin.

"Lucky me then," he rumbled after a beat, shooting you a Look from beneath those ridiculous lashes. "Should I be bracing myself for an interrogation?"

The sultry backnote in Luke's words hung heavy between you as the Mustang's growl filled the weighted silence. You were hyper-aware of each whisper of movement from him - every subtle flex of those chiseled forearms as he gripped the wheel, the shifting of corded muscle in his thighs as he worked the pedals.

It was enough to make your mouth go dry with longing.

You worried your lower lip, struggling to keep your thundering pulse in check as you murmured your response. "Well, if their interrogation tactics are anything like their dance moves, you'd better buckle up, Hughes."

The rich ramble of Luke's laughter seemed to reverberate through your very bones at the rejoinder. You stole a glance at the hard line of his smiling profile, bathed in the warm amber glow of the passing streetlamps.

"Is that a promise, gorgeous?" he countered without missing a beat, slanting you a Look from beneath those ridiculous lashes.

You held his molten stare for a heated heartbeat, caught like a moth in that blazing glare. Did he have any idea what he did to you with that stupid pet name and the sinful rasp of his voice? Probably, if the blatant flirtiness was any indication.

Before you could formulate a suitable retort, the sudden assault of bright neon lights up ahead shattered the electric tension. You blinked rapidly, struggling to read the flickering signs as Luke slowed the Mustang.

"This is the place," he explained as he smoothly guided the car into the near-empty parking lot. "Open 24 hours and right on the beach."

As he killed the engine, the overhead dome light bathed the car's interior in a warm halo of illumination. From this angle, you could make out the sharp planes of Luke's striking profile - that aristocratic nose, the razor cut of his stubbled jaw, and the artful sprawl of those ridiculous curls.

Good lord, the man was distractingly beautiful.

Any further appreciation was curtailed as the trio banged against the seat in a noisy clatter. You and Luke relented, pulling up the seats to free them. Maggy and Trevor came tumbling out in a gangly, graceless heap - seemingly having partaken in too much backseat horseplay if their breathless giggling was any indication.

"About time!" Maggy crowed dramatically once she'd righted herself. "I thought we'd be cruising the streets all night before Sir Lancelot here found a suitable dining establishment."

One dark brow arched elegantly over Luke's hooded eyes as he slanted her an imperious look. "I beg your pardon? This place is a fucking culinary treasure."

Jessica snickered indelicately, clearly gearing up to instigate whatever fresh hell was brewing. However, you opted to defuse the situation before it could fully detonate.

"Shall we, troops? I don't know about you animals, but I'm starving after all that..."dancing.""

The loaded pause and meaningful look you threw Luke didn't go unnoticed if his answering smirk was any indication. Egalitarian as ever, he merely chuckled and nodded towards the brightly-lit takeout counter in the distance.

"Lead the way, gorgeous."

…

Tag List <3

empty lol

[thewulf]

The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job.  He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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[raven-dor]

say yes to heaven

In which peter pevensie wishes he wasn't such an oblivious nitwit

PAIRING: peter pevensie x reader, susan pevensie x PLATONIC!reader, edmund pevensie x PLATONIC!reader, lucy pevensie x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: SET DURING THE GOLDEN AGE, established relationship, angst, old friends, banter, arguing (not actual arguing, just reader knowing her worth, peter just stands there), ANGST AGAIN

WORD COUNT: 2,963

🎶 : say yes to heaven - lana del rey

AN: this is an excerpt from my fanfic on wattpad!! if you want to read the whole book (tltwtw-the last battle) it's on there (raven-dor)! ALSO there will be a part two to this, so keep your eyes peeled<3

say yes to me

Edmund and Peter burst through the dining room doors, covered in snow. The girls laughed at their pink faces.

Lucy smirked. "Have fun, did you?"

Edmund laughed. "I did." He shoved his brother before sitting down. "Not so sure about Peter. He was complaining the whole time."

Peter murmured into his stew. "I did not."

Y/N giggled. "I find that hard to believe. You've always been a big baby."

"I have not-"

Susan rolled her eyes. "I seem to remember shivering while walking down the halls only two days ago."

Peter glared at his sister. "Whose side are you on here?"

Susan ignored her brother and looked at Y/N teasingly. "Lord Eluna asked about you again."

Her face turned red. "Really?"

Susan nodded. "I was walking to my morning meeting, and he stopped me in the hall to ask where you were."

Lucy laughed. "Someone's got a secret admirer."

Edmund murmured. "It's not exactly a secret Lu-"

Peter looked up from his food. "So, Lord Eluna?"

Y/N nodded. "He's sweet."

He smirked. "He's not the best swordsman."

She sighed. "I don't measure a man's worth by his swordsmanship."

He looked across the table, his eyes full of curiosity. "So what do you measure a man's worth by?"

Susan looked at Edmund, and rolled her eyes, murmuring. "Here we go."

Y/N glared at the eldest Pevensie. "Do you really want to know?"

He nodded. "Yes, that is why I asked."

She smirked. "Well they have to be extremely tall, an amazing ruler, and hmm what else..." She returned to her earlier glare. "Not you."

He slapped his hand to his heart. "You wound me, Y/N."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need to lay out my requirements for you, thank you very much."

Lucy huffed. "Can we talk about something else please?"

Y/N nodded. "I'd be glad to, Lu." She smiled at the young girl. "How was tutoring today?"

Lucy smirked and went on and on about how she had pranked the mean tutor, Y/N and her siblings listening intently. Well, all of them besides Peter. He was staring at her, trying to figure out how to finally woo her.

He had been planning on courting her for a while. At the beginning of their reign, they had a flirtatious relationship, but it never went anything beyond that. And a year ago, when the new young lords came in, he thought he had lost her to Lord Eluna.

Stupid Lord Eluna.

He didn't know what her favorite color was, or her favorite song. He didn't know how she liked her eggs, or how she preferred blueberries to strawberries. How she took care of his siblings when he couldn't, treating them as if they were her own.

Even when they had left London, she had picked up Lucy without a second thought and made sure she got to see her mother one last time. She helped Edmund and always empathized with him, even when he had unknowingly betrayed them.

She understood Susan and became her close friend. His eldest sister had always had a tough time making friends, but Y/N brought out the best in Susan.

And she always helped him. She was at his side during the Battle of Beruna when Aslan had fallen. She was at his side when Maugrim attacked, and she was there when they ran across the ice field away from what they thought was the White Witch.

She had been a constant in his life from the age of eight, and you really couldn't blame him for being infatuated with her. He stared at her once again, and he spoke before he could think. "Can I speak to you in private, Y/N?"

The table quieted, but they kept talking, seemingly trying to ignore his misstep. He cleared his throat, and spoke louder, making sure they listened to him. That she listened to him.

"Y/N, may I talk to you in private?"

The table hushed, and she looked back down the table at the grumpy blonde. She smiled icily. "Exactly why would I do that?"

He stood up and glared at her. "Y/N/N-"

Edmund cleared his throat. "Maybe we should-"

She stood up, glaring right back at the giant oaf. "No need. I'm leaving. I have to meet with Lord Eluna anyway." She smiled quickly at the three neutral Pevensies. "I'll see you all later."

She walked out of the room, her dress flowing behind her as she left. Peter stalked after her, not even bothering to say farewell to his siblings. She ignored his calls, and that only made him angrier. Turning the corner, she was basically tackled into the library.

She gasped, hissing at the High King. "What in the world is your problem?"

He looked down at her, his face full of confusion. No words left his mouth, he simply stared down at the flustered and frustrated girl.

This in turn only made her more frustrated. She shook against his hold. "Speak you- you oaf!"

"I know you."

She sighed, her glare wavering. "What does that have to-"

He shook his head. "I know you, and I know Lord Eluna. And while I do agree that Lord Eluna is a good man, a great man even..." She stared into her soul. "He is not what you want."

She laughed. "You do not know what I want."

He scoffed. "For god's sake Y/N, we grew up together. We have seen each other every single day for the past ten years."

She pulled herself out of his grip. "I've grown Peter. I've realized that waiting around for fantasies helps no one." He seemed to stop breathing, and she huffed. "I'm being practical."

"You have never been one for being practical. You do what you believe is right." He whispered, curious to hear her answer. "What do you think is right?"

She hugged herself. "I think whatever benefits Narnia the most is what is right."

He nodded, walking out of the library without another word. She sighed, yelling out to him. "Peter-"

He stopped instantly, whipping around. "Yes?"

"I-" She stopped herself, her face dropping. "Nevermind."

Y/N put in her last earring and inspected herself in the mirror. Aslan, she loved this dress, and thankfully she wouldn't be too cold thanks to the long sleeves. She opened her door and immediately saw Peter.

And by immediately, she opened her door and he was outside it with his fist up, preparing to knock. He stepped back and grinned.

"You- You-"

She smiled, patting him on the arm. "Shall we go?"

He nodded, looping his arm through hers. They walked the halls leisurely. Besides, events couldn't formally start without one of them present, so they were never late. Technically speaking that is. "You look beautiful Y/N/N." He smiled down at her. "Truly."

She smiled softly. "Thank you, Peter." She nudged him. "All the ladies won't be able to take their eyes off of you."

He murmured. "I don't want all the ladies to look at me."

She tilted her head. "What was that?"

"I said I don't flaunt all the tapestries." He cleared his throat. "It's something I say every time I enter an event. Calms the nerves."

She laughed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

They turned the corner, and the ballroom doors stood, proud as ever with garlands and ornaments hanging elaborately. She grinned. "Susan has outdone herself."

"She has. Though I'm not surprised. She's a perfectionist."

Y/N smacked him lightly. "Be nice."

Peter removed his arm from hers and bowed. "I shall see you soon, my lady." The great doors opened and Peter stood tall, walking out with his head held high.

It was a few minutes later when the doors began to open. She took a deep breath, and the herald began the introduction.

"Her Imperial Highness, The Noble Seer of Old, High Queen Y/N, the Passionate."

She stepped out and descended the steps slowly. The royals were standing at the base of their thrones, Peter grinning widely from across the room.

The crowd parted, and she made her way to the platform before sitting down on her throne. Smiling at the nobles and subjects below her, she looked at Susan, nodding.

Susan cleared her throat, clapping her hands. "Let the festivities begin!"

Lucy spoke to Edmund in a hushed tone, careful not to have nosy bureaucrats butt into their conversation. "Where's Su and Y/N?"

Edmund held back a smirk as he pointed to the small crowd of young lords, who seemed rather entranced by the two queens. "Over there." 

Lucy, unlike her brother, held back no signs of amusement. She laughed, nudging her brother. "Oh my. Those lords think they actually have a chance." 

Edmund laughed with her, shocked at what his little sister had just said. "Why, Lu, I think that might be the meanest thing you've ever said."

Y/N couldn't remember how many times she had danced in the past two hours or how many times she had talked to the noblewomen about talking down to the Cair Paravel servants. She was currently escaping the crowd of young men for a moment, finding the balcony a nice place to relax.

Or at least it had been relaxing. A voice broke through her short-lived peace. "Hello, Your Majesty."

She turned around, smiling gently. "Hello, Lord Eluna."

He gestured to the sea below them. "It is beautiful, is it not?"

"Very. I never tire of this view, I can assure you."

He nodded. "Quite." They stood there for a moment in silence, before he spoke again. "I wanted to ask you something."

Her heart dropped, but she nodded. "Yes, my lord?"

He gulped. "We are- we are fond of each other, no?"

She smiled, nodding. Maybe if she laid out her next words carefully, she would be able to get out of this mess. "I always rely on you for counsel, yes."

He nodded. "Yes, yes." He stared back out at the sea again, fidgeting with a box. She wanted to melt into the ground. He turned back to her, grabbing one of her hands. "I have been infatuated with you ever since my father sent me here, and you have shown me nothing but kindness. I-" He began to kneel. "You are a wonderful beauty, and I would like to ask you-" He was on his knee, and the box opened. She tried not to laugh. "I would like to ask you to marry me."

She knew it. Aslan, she hated being right. She smiled gently down at him. "Lord Eluna-"

He shook his head. "Please, call me Timin-"

"Lord Eluna, I'm sorry."

His face dropped. "Whatever for, my lady?"

"I- I cannot marry you."

He stood up, closing the box. His eyes were no longer sparkling with excitement. "May I ask why?"

There's what had Y/N stumped. He was a nice man, who always had a kind word to say. He held the door open for her whenever he saw her nearby.

But that's not what she wanted. Who she wanted.

A cough broke the awkward silence, and Lord Eluna fell into a deep bow. "Your Majesty."

Peter nodded. "Lord Eluna." He smiled at Y/N. "My lady."

"My King."

He looked in between her and the young Lord. "Did I interrupt something?"

Lord Eluna shook his head. "Not at all my lord. I was just leaving." He looked at her once more, murmuring. "Please reconsider."

She smiled, nodding. "Good night, Lord Eluna."

The young lord walked off the balcony, leaving the King and Queen alone. She turned back around, not wanting to look at Peter for the moment.

He huffed. "What did he do?"

"I came out here to relax, you know."

"What did he do Y/N?"

Y/N laughed. "What didn't he do, more like."

Peter's heart dropped. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not like that you numbskull." She turned around, a ghost of a smile on her face. "He proposed to me."

The High King stared at her, his eyes growing wider by the millisecond. "He did what?"

"You know. When a man gets on one knee and then he-"

Peter glared at her. "Yes, yes. I know." He walked closer to her. "Did you say yes?"

She sighed. "Well, that's complicated."

"I hardly see how that is a complicated question. Did you say yes or no?"

She glared at him. "At first I said no-" He smiled before she realized she had said at first.

"At first?" He stood directly in front of her. "And what about now?"

"Well, I'm reconsidering his proposal."

Peter's heart dropped again. She looked at the ground. "He comes from a good family. He's a very good man, a nice man, and he would be able to provide for me. Of course, I'd have to move to Archenland, but I can still visit." She looked up at Peter slowly. "It would be good for the kingdom, to have that firm of an alliance with the Archenland and it's territories."

Peter just stared at her while she continued her nervous rambling. "I'm sure he'd love me enough, I'd learn to tolerate him with time. I hear he has horses, which is good, I can still go on rides. I could even bring Penelope. And apparently, Archeland has amazing tutors, so our children would not be inept-"

Peter stopped her. "You're not seriously thinking of marrying him?"

Her eyes were full of uncertainty as she finally looked up at the eldest Pevensie. "He's a good choice."

"But you don't love him."

"Well it's not like I have anyone else interested in me, do I?" 

He laughed, as if she hadn't just been surrounded by at least twenty or so young lords. She tried not to huff in annoyance. 

"I meant that I don't have any serious choices. Those men just ogle and stare, like I'm a prize to be won." She stared up at him, and their eyes connected, making her feel five times smaller. "At least he looks at me like I'm a person." Peter held their stare, like he was trying to pierce into her soul. "He's a good man."

"You keep saying that."

"Is there a reason that I should turn him down?" She moved closer to him. "One that I'm not aware of?"

His breath hitched. "I-"

She backed away, nodding. "That's what I thought." She bowed quickly. "I'll see you inside."

Peter took a deep breath and whispered. "Don't marry him."

She stopped. "What?"

"Don't marry him. Don't marry any of those lords."

She scoffed, whipping back around. "Peter, you're being mean." He walked up to her, and she pushed him away. "You're being mean, stop it."

"How am I being mean-"

"You have never admitted that you love me. All you do is act overprotective when I want to fight, or when a lord speaks disrespectfully. You flirt with me constantly, you're complimenting me and calling me beautiful, but you never say anything that will really affect our relationship. And now that a nice man, a good honest man that is very forthright with what he wants asks me to marry him, you simply say no and I have to listen?" Her eyes were watering. "You do not get to dictate my life."

He sighed. "Y/N/N I-"

She shook her head. "And I don't want to hear it now. I don't want you to say anything now, because now it feels forced, especially after I've told you all of that. Because I-" She smiled at his through her tears. "I have cared for you ever since I've known you, ever since I moved next door when we were 9, and you just treat me like a toy. You only entertain your feelings with me when you're bored. And I am sick of it."

"Y/N/N, that is not true-"

"No, I'm leaving you now. Don't follow me." She wiped away her tears and straightened her posture. 

She strolled into the ballroom, stopping beside Susan. "Your brother-" Susan rolled her eyes. "What has he done now?"

"Where do I begin-"

Susan groaned. "You might want to wait to tell me." She nudged her side. "He's coming over here."

Peter was making his way across the ballroom, his eyes on her form.

She huffed. "If he thinks he can talk to me by dancing-"

Susan laughed. "That's exactly what he thinks." She took a sip of her champagne. "He's a simple-minded creature."

Edmund and Lucy appeared behind them. "What's going on?" Lucy looked up at her with big eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N/N?"

She nodded, smiling gently down at the young girl. "I'm fine, Lu. Just tired, is all."

Edmund laughed, murmuring under his breath. "Tired of Peter, more like."

She glared at the young king. "Edmund-"

He hooked his arm through hers and pulled her away from his sisters for a moment. "You and I both know that my brother loves you. I don't think you should deny his declaration of love because you are scared of backlash."

She huffed. "Edmund, that's not why I denied his-"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine how difficult it is to be in your position, but I just want you to think with your heart for a moment and not with your head." He sighed. "You've been disconnected the past few years, and it's scaring us."

Her eyes watered again as she looked at her friend. "Ed-" 

He smiled. "It's alright. We've all been there, Y/N/N. Just don't leave us in the dark." He whispered to himself, but she heard him still. "Don't do what I did."  

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter two

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slight mind manipulation?

series masterlist; previous part; next part

At some point during the feast, you managed to sneak your way onto the Gryffindor table, sliding into the seat beside Ginny, who was sat with Dean Thomas to her other side, who shifted uncomfortably everytime Ron glared at the hand that was grazing his sister's.

"Nice face, Harold." you say sarcastically. "Who healed the break? It looks rushed."

"Thanks Meadow." he snarks before deflating further in his seat as your eyes tracked him for more injuries. "Tonks walked me from the train."

You hummed in acknowledgment before you went over the unhealed scabs and dried patches of blood with wordless spells which always left your friends marvelling at your skill.

"There. Now your face is pretty as ever." you say smirking, patting Harry's cheek which he swats away. "Can't have the 'Chosen One' at his worst now, can we?"

"Piss off." he grumbled but it was only banter between two friends.

"How are you, really, Harry? Where'd you disappear to on the train." you wanted to hear him say it, even if you did trust Theo's word.

"I was right about Malfoy-" he starts before you interrupt him.

"So I've heard. You've taken up stalking as a hobby now, Potter? That's low." you chuckle, which turns into a full on laugh as he glares at you, annoyed.

"He's a Death Eater." he lowers his voice, but his admission sucks the happiness right out of the air. "He was talking about some task that Voldemort has for him."

He pauses as if his mind is trying to catch up with the words tumbling from his mouth, before he looks directly at you, as if he's staring through you.

"You've seen Nott today right? And Parkinson?" you nodded. "What did they talk about? Did Nott talk about his father being caught at the Ministry? Or did-"

You raised a singular brow at your friend as if to say 'are you finished?'.

"Yes I saw them today, in the Prefects' carriage. We just caught up with small talk and some gossip about some Hufflepuff couple. Nothing more." the lie was quickly thought out and also not too far fetched – Pansy had mentioned something about a new couple in passing before you'd parted ways on the train.

"Nothing about tasks or creepy shops?" Ron asked as he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. You watched him, discust painting your features.

"Nothing about tasks, and certainly nothing about creepy shops. Please chew with your mouth closed, Ronald. Seriously Harry? Stalking?"

He only shrugged at you before turning to his plate of food. He was clearly put out about something and you would bet all your galleons that it had to do with the couple next to you, who were being nauseating, to put it lightly.

You and Hermione giggled as Ron muttered about his sister and her boyfriend showing any ounce of affection in front of him, sharing a glance as Harry continued to glance at them before looking away, visibly annoyed.

When Dumbledore began to stand in front of the House tables, you slipped back into your seat beside Luna; in the corner of your eye you watched as Theo gave you the subtlest of nods.

"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore announced, smiling broadly, his arms outstretched wide as if he were embracing the whole room. That's when you, and the rest of the Hogwarts student body, noticed that his right hand appeared to have started decaying at a rapid rate.

You made eye contact with Pansy who looked as horrified as everyone else.

What the fuck? She practically screamed into your mind as the sound of people whispering swept through the hall.

Dumbledore merely smiled before he shook the sleeve of his purple and gold cloak over his hand.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

You drowned out the rest of his speech, like you do every year, instead conversing with Pansy in your head.

It looks like his hand has physically died. You say to her. It's got to be dark magic of some sort.

But what business does Dumbledore have messing with that sort of evil? She sounded as nauseated as you felt just thinking about it.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn-" Dumbledore said, prompting the man that you had yet to meet to stand up. "-is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

You swivelled in your seat to find Hermione in the crowds and mouthed 'potions?' to her with confusion written all over your face.

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"But if he's the Potions Professor, then who will be teaching Defence?" Cho spoke from across the table.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Well that answered that question.

"No!" you giggled quietly with Luna as everyone's heads swivelled back and forth between Harry, who had shouted so loudly but didn't seem to care, Snape and Dumbledore.

And suddenly Defence is my least favourite subject. Theo spoke, making you choke on your drink as you laugh.

As if oblivious to the uproar his announcement just caused, Dumbledore waited only a few moments before the hall descended into silence once more, before continuing his long winded speech.

"Now as everyone in this Hall is aware," he pointedly looked anywhere but in the direction of the Slytherin table, "Lord Voldemort and his followers once again walk among us and gain strength and numbers everyday."

Suddenly the heads that were staring in Harry's direction turned pointedly to where Mattheo Riddle and his friends were sitting. Instead of shying away from their gazes, like Pansy and Daphne Greengrass and few others did, he continued to stare ahead at Dumbledore, seemingly unbothered by the attention he was garnering.

The silence seemed to strain painfully as Dumbledore spoke. But you seemed to zone out of what he was saying. Something about the castle's protection wards being fortified and strengthened; extra security; stricter curfew at night, etc. You took in none of it, instead focusing on your friends at the Slytherin table, who grew paler by the second. You'd watch out for them this year, especially Theo. None of them deserved to be put into the position they no doubt would all be in, come Christmas time.

Dumbledore's blue twinkling eyes swept over the students once more. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

Your lessons tomorrow.

You wished it was as simple as school work, but you knew it would be anything but.

~∞~

You woke up early the next morning, the anticipation for what the day may bring making your anxiety skyrocket as you got ready to leave for the Great Hall, in which the ceiling sported a brilliantly blue sky, only a few clouds dotting the illusion. You met the Golden trio there, who were busy discussing Harry's theory about Malfoy.

"Well obviously Riddle's already inducted." Ron muttered as you sat down, a speck of blue, in a sea of red. "He is his father's son, after all."

"Still going on your Malfoy-is-a-death eater spiel? The day has hardly begun." you said as you piled scrambled eggs onto a plate, ignoring the pointed look that Professor Mcgonagall gave you as she handed out her House's timetables.

Ron seemed to be getting more agitated by the second as another group of third years on the table beside your's pointed between the four of you and whispered, not so discreetly, about what happened in June.

"It's rude to point." he snapped, sending a glare their way, causing them to turn around, cheeks painted with embarrassment.

"So sixth year looks very bare in comparison to last year, doesn't it." you say, steering Ron's glare from the backs of their heads while you looked over his timetable.

"I love being a sixth year already." Ron said, his mood brightening visibly thanks to your interference. "And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up in the common room and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" Hermione berated as you laughed.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron, "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

"I wouldn't speak too soon, Ronald." you say with a smirk as Professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to the four of you. You'd already gotten your timetable the from Professor Flitwick that morning and found out that you were in the same classes as Hermione. You both finished off your plates and left Harry and Ron in favour of getting to Ancient Runes, where Theo and Riddle were waiting for you.

Reaching the classroom, you spotted Theo immediately and went to snag the seat beside him, but Pansy beat you to it with a playful smirk.

"Come and sit by me, Princess." you glared at your two friends as you turned around to find Riddle with his arm stretched over the back of the spare seat of his desk. "I don't bite."

"Somehow I highly doubt that." you mumbled as you searched for Hermione, who had chosen to sit near the front of the room, the seat beside her already taken. Traitor. She only looked at you apologetically before turning around.

You slumped into the seat, pointedly ignoring him as you took out your things. You could hear Theo and Pansy laughing at your expense so you sent a small stinging jinx wandlessly their way, smirking when they yelped in surprise.

"Smart girl." Riddle mumbled to himself, probably not intending for you to hear, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

"So was Theo lying about your disastrous ability to desipher runes, or was that just a way to get me to agree for your...help?" you ask, still choosing to igore him.

"Oh I assure you I'm quite terrible, Princess. Awful. In fact I'm not sure how I got back into this class, if I'm being entirely honest." he said it with a shrug before he smirked at you again. "I'm sure you can help me. You are top of the class, after all."

"Actually Mione was top of the class at the end of last year. Why not ask her?" you ask, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. He had turned to look directly at you, but his hand was still on the back of your chair.

You try, and fail, to push it off, sneering at the muscular appendage in offence. Damn him and his strong, quidditch arms.

"Theodore doesn't trust Granger, he trusts you. Therefore, I'm putting my trust into your...abilities to help me out."

Lovely. His words carried a double meaning. You were really considering hexing Theo and Pansy again for putting you in this situation.

His huff of laughter along with the burning pinch at the base of your skull were the only indications that he'd heard your thoughts.

After Defence, wait for me so that we can discuss the nature of your lessons and my apparent tutlage.

You ignored him for the rest of the lesson, but wordlessly agreed, nonetheless.

~∞~

You were complaining to Hermione the whole walk to the Defence classroom, and while she was amused, there was underlying worry in her responses.

"So he wants you to tutor him?" she asks curiously.

"Not a clue why." you say flipantly. "If I was him I'd much rather you taught me."

"Well I am a muggleborn, for starters." she says self-depricatingly and continues speaking, not allowing you to rebute her statement. "And you're still at the top of the class. Christ, you can do most spells non-verbally and wandlessly, far better than I can. I think I'd rather you than me, too. No offence."

You only smiled sarcastically at her. "I don't think anyone would willingly tutor him. Perhaps I should bargain a favour with him instead."

You left out the part where he was already fulfilling a kind of favour, for Theodore and Pansy, no less.

"One class in and my shoulders already ache." you whine as you rolled your shoulder to ease the pain that your heavy bag was causing. Harry and Ron met you outside the classroom a moment later, staring, horrified, at Hermione's armful of heavy books.

"We've gotten so much homework for Runes already." she said anxiously. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations and we've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Now I see why we have so many frees this year." you grumble.

"Shame," Ron said with a yawn, before smirking at the two of you.

"Just you wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

The Defence classroom was gloomier than ever, but thankfully it was no longer sickeningly pink and filled to the brim with plates of cat photos. The dark curtains were drawn across the windows and the only light came from the numerous candles that dotted the room, insighting a headache when you tried to read the blackboard. Snape's personality appeared to shine all over the room, from the odd portraits to the weird contraptions that littered the space.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you and I require your fullest attention. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

His dark, beady eyes scanned the room.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced." he set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a low voice that you desperately wanted to drown out. But the burning sensation at the back of your skill prohibited you from doing just that.

No. Pay attention. Riddle was becoming a thorn in your side, and its only the first day.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster. Each time a neck is severed, it sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Someone read up on their Greek mythology this summer. You say to Theo, who smirks behind his hand.

"Your defences," Snape continued, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse-" he waved a hand towards a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony; "-feel the Dementor's Kiss-" a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed slumped against a wall; "-or provoke the aggression of the Inferius." a bloody mass upon the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

You really did drown him out this time. Thinking about his wording. To your knowledge, only his followed gave him the name 'the Dark Lord', so why was Snape using that name? You filed away the information as he paced across the classroom.

"....you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, pointledly looking in your direction where your hands stayed glued to your sides, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well – Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she stated, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," said Snape dismissively. "But correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry, "lack."

The Professor's beady eyes landed on you once more, a challenge present in them.

"Miss Meadow, come up to the front." everyone's eyes were on you as he beckoned you forward, so you obeyed. "I want you to demonstrate this skill. On me." He motioned for you to stand on one side of the room, while he stayed at the other.

You shook off your limps and, using your wand rather than just doing it wandlessly, you shot out a disarming spell, which Snape blocked.

"Good. Now try again." he said as he shot his own disarming spell at you, which you wordlessly blocked with a flick of your wand.

This back and forth continued for five or so more minutes before Snape managed to catch you off guard and disarm you with a minute flick of his wrist.

"Very good. Now following that example, you will divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

People paired off, you choosing to partner with Mione who looked determined to perfect this new skill. Everyone who was part of the DA in the previous year were practically experts at casting spells, but none of them, bar you, could perform the Charms wordlessly. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud, including Ron, which only made you laugh as you watched as Harry blocked his every attack.

Of course, Hermione had gotten the hang of it within ten minutes of practice, as did Theo and Zabini and Riddle. Harry and Ron were still struggling, along with Pansy and Lorenzo.

To say you were bored was an understatement. Snape had already known that you were skilled with wordless and apparently wandless magic too, which meant that he could clearly see into your mind – yet another reason why Riddle needed to teach you control. The only other interesting thing to happen was Harry blatently sassing your Professor, which left you and Hermione gaping and Ron, Dean and Seamus grinning at him.

Once the lesson had ended, Snape in a more abysmal mood than usual after Harry made a fool out of him, you lingered in the corridor, waiting for Riddle to leave so that you could get the interaction over with.

"Hey Meadow! You coming?" Ron asked loudly from the end of the hallway. He looked at you with an odd expression on his face which morphed into unwilling understanding when you felt Theo's presence beside you.

"I'll be there in a bit. I'll meet you in the courtyard." you shout back as you turn towards Theo and his friends.

"Some lesson that was, right tesoro?" Theo asks you as he wraps a strong arm around your shoulder, steering you in the direction of the rest of his group, who were looking between you, Theo and Mattheo with matching expressions on their faces.

"What the hell is she doing here, Nott?" Malfoy asks, looking at you with distain. You glared back at him, about to respond when his familiar deep voice answers instead.

"She's here for me." Riddle says. "Go on ahead. I won't be a moment."

Its Zabini who steers Malfoy away from his glaring contest with you, and Theo who wordlessly wishes you luck with a pat to the top of your head.

"So you're going to teach me control?" you ask as you lean against the nearest wall. He rolls his eyes and wraps a giant hand around your wrist.

"Yes." he hissed. "But not here. How stupid are you? Talking about it out in the open, by a classroom, nonetheless."

Your eyes only widened in mild surprise as he began dragging you down the corridor in the direction that his friends went, but he turned into an empty broom cupboard instead.

"Salazar, if you wanted to get me alone like this there were far better ways of asking Riddle." you say sarcastically, but your eyes show a teasing challenge as you stare up at him.

"Was that an offer, Princess?" he asks with that wicked smirk of his.

"Read the room, Riddle. I'd rather sleep with a troll." you snark.

"Suit yourself." he chuckles before his face sets into that serious look he seems to have mastered in his years at Hogwarts. "The first step to learning full control is learning how to ground yourself."

You look at him expectantly which made him roll is eyes.

"You have to find a happy medium in your head that allows you to keep control of what you don't want people to see, and who you let into your head." he explains motioning to his own head as he speaks.

"So that horrible burning feeling in the back of my skull whenever you get in my head-" you begin.

"Is only there because it lets you know that someone unwanted is using Occlimency on you. The fact that you can't block me out is what we need to work on. Does the same happen with Theodore and Pansy when you communicate with them?"

"No. They're presence is wanted. Yours," you trail your eyes up and down what you can see of his tall frame in the dark, "is not."

"Well until you do accept me in your subconscious, it'll continue to hurt and it'll hurt more when you're trying to block it out." he says and to demonstrate he begins rifling through your thoughts and feelings with little to no effort, that burning sensation appearing like a pinch once again. You cradle you head in your hands, a cry escaping your lips.

Walking to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, anxiety knawing at your insides.

Harry's Malfoy-is-a-death-eater spiel.

Your mini-dual with Snape.

How you want Riddle to rip your clothes right off your body and have him take you-

That wasn't right. You managed to mentally push him right out of your mind with more effort than you reckon it would take for you to haul a quaffle into the goal. It made your head ache.

"What the fuck was that?!" you snap, hitting his arm.

"You're a fast learner. Well done. It takes most people multiple sessions to do what you just did." he looks...proud. It stirs something strange in your gut.

"What did I just do?" you asked, intrigued, scared, confused.

"You just succeeded in blocking me out of your head." he smirked lightly, almost showing a ghost of a smile.

We're going to have lots of fun, Princess.

He was still in your head. His deep voice filling every corner of your mind, but that burning sensation was no longer present. It no longer stung and he was no longer able to rifle through your thoughts. Only converse with you, like you could with Theo and Pansy.

"We'll do this twice a week, until you can block me out without thinking about it." he said as he walked towards the door, leaving you standing motionlessly in the dark.

~∞~

icl the whole plot of this is heavily inspired by my beloved xaden and violet's bond with all their mind talking and arguing🤭🤭 (minus the dragons, etc)

[diodellet]

decompressing (scarabia x gn!reader)

summary: you and kalim go clubbing, but only one of you returns drunk. kalim tries his best at playing caretaker, for once. jamil gets pleasantly surprised by kalim, but finds the novelty of the situation weird, as a person of habit would. content warnings: -aged-up characters, NRC as a university since there's drinking referenced -pre-relationship poly shenanigans (as in there are kalim x reader, jamil x reader, and jamikali moments. all platonic) -loosely set after the developments in book 4, but no heavy spoilage of events -gender-neutral reader (reader referred to with they/them pronouns) ++reader gets drunk and suffers the consequences, more doting and banter, and kinda-cute moments than character study i hope, the vibe i'm hoping for is in vino veritas but make it silly word count: 1.8k

“What happened? Why are the both of you back so early?”

Kalim only gives Jamil a weary, sheepish smile. He opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by you loudly replying, “I deserve compen—ugh—compensation!”

“Careful, you’re gonna get nauseous again…”

“I can walk fine!” Your arm tightens around Kalim’s elbow.  “…Just not too fast.”

Say less. Jamil steps aside to let the both of you into Kalim’s dorm room. Judging by the state you’re in, you’re probably going to have to stay the night.

(Unless you get the brilliant idea to walk back to your own dorm. And he knows that both he and Kalim would shut that decision down.)

Four hours ago, you were confidently promising Jamil that he’d finally have a quiet weekend night to himself, that Kalim would have a fun and safe night out at the same time. And to some extent—if he ignored your mussed-up hair and makeup—you did deliver on that, seeing how Kalim, completely sober, fussed over you. You were drunk enough for two.

The scene in front of Jamil feels like something straight out of fiction.

After setting you down on the bed, Kalim says, “I’ll just get you some water—No, no, no, don’t lie down yet!”

“But I feel better like this…!” One of your shoes lands on the floor with a clatter as you kick your feet indignantly.

Just before Jamil can step out of the room to get water for the both of you, Kalim turns and shoots him a look pleading for a bit of help. All right, guess he was going to wrangle you instead. As Kalim leaves the room he mouths a silent ‘thank you’ to Jamil.

“...Kalim’s right, you know.”

“Ugh…fine. Help me up,” you grumble. Despite your words, you lean heavily against Jamil’s side. “You better be thankful I kept him from getting drunk.” 

“I think I can figure out what happened.”

Still, you continue without losing a beat, talking about the different drinks and snacks you taste-tested for Kalim, the songs that you danced to, the people you talked to. He did not expect you to be able to remember that much in your intoxicated state. Turns out, you were a lot more talkative when plastered. It felt like Jamil was looking at a different version of you. A more brusque and honest one, completely unlike the mediator that you usually liked to play between the both of them.

(A part of Jamil is deeply relieved that Kalim didn’t have to use any of the antidotes he brought with him.)

“—hm, I think you’re a bit hot, Jamil.”

He can’t help the sly smile tugging at his lips, much less the reflex to poke a little fun at you. “Really? Why, thanks.” On the contrary, you’re warm, still buzzing from the high of partying.

“Not like that. Scoot over, I’m sweating again!” You shove at his shoulder a little harder. The suddenness of the motion makes you pause and clap a hand over your mouth. “Ugh…shouldn't have done that.”

“What are you doing?” Jamil’s hand closes around your arm, keeping you mostly upright.

“...’m thinking of lying on the floor…Somewhere with tiles…”

“No, you need water.” Exasperation slips into his voice.

“I was having water in between drinks, but at some point, I was just plain drinking alcohol,” you retort.

“Didn’t it occur to you that you could have just—” He sighs, stopping himself from that oncoming tirade. “Never mind. Let me help take those off.” And his hands take care not to tug at your scalp as he undos the clips and hair ties.

Could Kalim move any slower in getting those glasses of water?

“I really tried, you know,” you say, “to keep Kalim—I mean—the both of us safe…I just figured that it’d be easier if it was…” Your hand gestures to yourself. “Just me.”

At that admission, Jamil’s hands still. “You…” Idiot. He mulls over his words as he removes your earrings. “Self-sacrifice may be admirable, but it is foolish.”

(Neither him nor Kalim would be able to forgive themselves if something worse than inebriation happened.)

“I’m back! And I’ve got a plastic bag for you to throw up in, just in case!”

“No! Don’t mention throwing up, I’m doing really well right now!”

Truly, it is a wonder watching the two of you communicate, Jamil thinks to himself. 

The jewelry that Kalim lent you is gathered into a gleaming pile on his nightstand. Jamil busies himself with returning them to their proper containers as you take sips from the glass in Kalim’s hand. 

He even had the consideration to put in a straw.

“Better?” Kalim asks, setting the glass aside.

You don’t respond immediately, planting a hand on his shoulder and the other cupping his cheek before sliding it up to aggressively ruffle his hair. “I already told you I was doing fine! Can I sleep now?” 

So you were a happy, affectionate drunk. Not unlike Kalim when he’d get intoxicated, at least one of you was sober. 

Kalim catches your wrists. “Not yet! You need to get cleaned up first.” He’s smiling, but his brows are slightly furrowed in a mix of concern and exasperation.

“Ugh.” 

“I’ll help you out. Come on, please?” 

Despite the part of him that’s internally cringing, Jamil could almost revel in seeing Kalim fumble at being the caretaker for once. Oh, but the sermon he’d be subjected to if he vocalized any of that aloud. Before shutting the drawer, Jamil takes out a bottle of makeup remover and an opened bag of cotton pads. “Here.”

“Thanks, Jamil.” And he soaks the pad in a generous amount of the liquid.

“I hate those. They always hurt my eyes…”

“Don’t worry, it’s safe for sensitive skin.” Jamil suspects you’d complain less if you heard how much a single bottle of the thing cost. Kalim presses the cotton pad against your face, giving a tentative swipe against your cheek, glitter and foundation coming off with the motion. “Sorry, is that too rough?”

“’s too gentle.”

“...How about now?”

“Okay. We’re good.” And you make sure to tilt your head, to stay still as Kalim removes your makeup. “Sorry for getting drunk. And making you both take care of me.”

“No need to apologize for that.” Kalim is quick to reassure you. “I probably should’ve said no to those drinks, huh?”

Without missing a beat, you agree, “yes. You’re really cute and nice. But you’re too nice to strangers.”

An unreadable expression passes over Kalim’s features. “...Jamil says the same thing.” He punctuates that reply with a short empty laugh. Though his voice is pitched quieter than its usual volume, Jamil’s ears are sharp enough to pick up on it. Their gazes meet—between them, it’s a tiring song-and-dance, but it’s another thing to have an outsider like yourself commenting on it so brazenly—and Kalim breaks eye contact to focus on wiping away your eyeliner.

He changes the conversation after gathering the used cotton pads with one hand. “Are you hungry? I can try to make you something—” Jamil interrupts Kalim’s offer with a discreet ‘ahem.’ “—I mean, we could get you flatbread to snack on while you wash up…”

You reach a hand up to scrub at your cheek. “...wanna be compensated.”

“Compensated how?” Jamil folds his arms across his chest.

Your muffled grumbling is indiscernible. Kalim leans a bit closer to you. “Could you say that again?”

“...stay with me so I don’t choke on my puke.”

“Of course.” Kalim’s hand squeezes yours. It’s a silver lining to his shamelessness, being able to reciprocate out-of-pocket moments of vulnerability without an ounce of hesitation. “You don’t have to worry about that. We’ll stay with you.”

At those magic words, exhaustion finally seeps into your frame. “I was being so brave tonight…” you mumble.

“Yes, yes you were.”

(Just this once, Jamil lets Kalim speaking for the both of them slide.)

“Go ahead and wash up, okay? I’ll go after you.”

Your frown doesn’t let up. But you do oblige Kalim’s request and amble to the bathroom, holding onto the door frame for support. Jamil hears the sound of running water and decides to turn his attention to Kalim. Muscle memory takes over as Jamil undoes Kalim’s headscarf.

“Wait, wait, I can do it myself…” In spite of his protests, he doesn’t pull away, just lets Jamil gather the elaborate fabric and fold it into a neat square. It’s a nasty habit, Jamil thinks, but habit is comforting to lean into. Or sometimes, it just nagged at him like an itch to scratch.

“Give me your rings and bracelets too, I’ll put them away.” He’s used to the sight of exhaustion hitting Kalim at the end of a party, but there’s something different about this weariness.

 “...Sorry, thank you, Jamil.” Ah, the undercurrent of guilt is new. Kalim heads to his cabinet.

The both of them stand in uncomfortable silence for a bit. Jamil can feel the back of his neck prickling, but he keeps his head down, focused on arranging the last of Kalim’s jewelry. It’s a meditative task, but that leaves his mind thrumming with the vestiges of the exchanges that he just witnessed.

This kind of scenario—having to stand aside and do basically nothing while watching Kalim’s clumsy yet successful attempts to take care of you—is an unwelcome sensation, makes his hands itch to do something, however menial. But at the same time, isn’t that what he’d been hoping for his entire life?

Click! The lights in the bathroom come on. Followed by the sound of you retching—hopefully into the toilet bowl. Welp, they tried to alleviate it. 

“I already told them I could handle a few drinks.” Frustration is also a foreign emotion on Kalim’s features. 

And he wasn’t lying. He has a higher alcohol tolerance than Jamil. Jamil can’t help himself from the little amused huff at the irony. “Well, they’re pretty stubborn.”

“Kind of like you.”

Jamil rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“You know that you don’t have to stay in my room tonight, right? I’m not…forcing you to do any more work tonight.”

(It’s truly unfair how blindingly honest Kalim can be.)

The irritation that cuts through Jamil isn’t like the long-festering resentment he held. It makes a sarcastic smile pull at the corner of his lip. “Who said that I was being forced?” If he retires to his dorm room, he just knows that he’ll be woken up again.

It’d be easier to keep an eye on the both of you if he stayed over, and it would bring a hell of a lot more ease to his mind, but he doesn’t need to say that last part.

Knocked off-kilter at his response, Kalim can only blink confusedly at him. “Eh?”

“I’ll bring over an extra mattress after I finish freshening up,” Jamil explains.

“Oh…oh! Would you need any—”

“Keep an eye on our drunk friend, will you? They might fall in.”

“Jamil, you asshole, I heard that.”

He ignores the weight of Kalim’s gaze on his back as he walks back to his room, laughing to himself.

A/N: lowkey hate the title, but the gdocs file is named "jamil and his 2 dumbasses" i had to pick smth more presentable than that 🤧 here are a bunch of scenes and ideas i wanted to throw in here that didn't make it into the fic: -reader getting extra nauseous and throwing up in the laundry hamper, mistaking it for a trash can -reader pointing out that kalim purses his lips when focusing on a task (i hc this as a sort of hereditary habit of jamil's. tbh this fic couldve been about habits and how they tend to get passed around as you grow closer to each other) -reader demanding goodnight kissies on the forehead (HAIST this is the second time i've lost pre-planned kisses, truly writing is a process /derogatory AUGHHH) -kalim offering to braid jamil's hair before they go to bed, i firmly believe that he puts his hair in a protective hair style bcs no way in hell he goes to sleep with his hair loose like that without suffering (me im a long hair haver and the hairfall carnage i wake up to every morning 🗿) i wrote this out to figure out kalim’s character more (and i couldn't stop my jamil bias from slipping in oops) fingers crossed 🤞 this insomnia draft will delve into that better than this aah 🤧 smtimes i feel like he’s ooc bcs i’m not putting enough exclamation points in his dialogue, but hnggg its obviously gonna turn out ooc if i do put !!! in everything he says, but i don't hate how this turned out so thats gucci! thank you @jessamine-rose for beta'ing this spontaneous wip ur truly a lifesaver 🥺💕 anyways, i hope this was a fun and enjoyable read, dont be afraid to rb and holler in the tags, i treasure each and every interaction 💕💕

[princesscait26]

An Unlikely Friendship

Summary: Who knew marriage came with a side of rivalry?

Alastor x Reader, Vox x No named wife, Reader x Vox’s wife platonic!

Part 2

In the confines of Alastor's radio tower, Y/n, his wife, lounges on the plush couch, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation as Alastor engages in his usual broadcasted, banter with the TV demon. With each witty comeback from Alastor, she rolls her eyes, familiar with the routine of their sparring.

As Alastor concludes his broadcast with his trademark sign-off, Y/n rises from the couch, her steps deliberate as she approaches him. With a hint of irritation, she exhales audibly before speaking, her voice tinged with sarcasm, "When are you two going to cease this endless bickering? It's like dealing with children."

Alastor, ever the charmer, feigns offense, his laughter echoing in the room. "My dear, you wound me with your accusations. I assure you, I am the epitome of civility. Once Vox comes to realize the error of his ways, our little disagreements will be a thing of the past," he responds with a disarming smile, his innocence clearly feigned.

———————————————————————

In the heart of the city, within the confines of Vox's office, his wife occupies the chair beside him, her demeanor a mixture of frustration and resignation as Vox's irritation mounts in tandem with each of Alastor's lightning-fast comebacks. With a weary sigh, she rests her head in her hand, her exasperation palpable as the verbal sparring between Vox and Alastor continues.

As the television screen abruptly flickers, losing signal, Vox releases a defeated sigh, the weight of yet another round lost evident in his slumped posture. Sensing his defeat, his wife rises from her seat, moving to console him. She envelops him in a comforting embrace, her arms encircling his neck from behind as she leans in, her voice laced with both affection and frustration, "When will you two finally put an end to this childish fighting?"

Vox swivels in his chair, his movements sharp and agitated, causing his wife to step back crossing her arms. His gaze darkens with annoyance as he retorts, his tone laced with venom, "This isn't merely bickering, my dear. We are rivals. I despise him, and he will soon realize that I am the epitome of power. That radio of his will be nothing more than a relic once I'm through." With a disappointed shake of her head, Vox's wife exits his office, leaving him to stew in his frustration and determination to best his rival, Alastor.

—————————————————————

Seated in the cozy ambiance of a charming café, Vox's wife's laughter rings out melodiously, punctuating the air as she cradles an iced coffee in her hand. Opposite her, Alastor's wife, Y/n, joins in the laughter, her own amusement evident as she delicately sips on a cup of tea.

"I can't believe this feud is still going after all this time," Vox's wife exclaims between giggles, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Y/n nods in agreement, her laughter bubbling forth, "Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I signed up for a lifetime of babysitting rather than marriage." She punctuates her remark with an exaggerated eye roll, a smile playing on her lips.

Bonded by the shared antics and bickering of their spouses', Y/n and Vox's wife have forged a strong friendship. The two women share a knowing glance, as they exchange amused looks. It's an understanding between them, the necessity of meeting in secret. If Vox and Alastor were to discover the depth of their friendship, the consequences could be unpredictable, even chaotic.

Their laughter echoes in the cozy café, mingling with the soft clinking of cups and saucers. Y/n and Vox's wife revel in the absurdity of their situation, finding humor in the thought of their husbands' potential reactions to their clandestine meetings. Their bond forged in the secrecy of their friendship and the shared understanding of their husbands' unpredictable antics.

————————————————————————

Short story: (Should I make a part 2?) I was at war writing this as a double y/n story so you could choose who to be married to but I feared it would become too confusing.🫤

[blackynsupremacy]

THREE STOOGES

pairings: nicholas a. chavez x black!reader (romantic) cooper koch x black!reader (platonic)

summary: you, your best friend, and your boyfriend text about anything under the sun.

subject: candy part two

read: part one first

contains: text fic, crackfic, chaos, comedy, swearing, suggestiveness, flirting, playful banter, playful arguing, memes, humor, fluff, nicholas and reader are in an established relationship.

tags: @thabiddie23 @greengoblinswifey @oscarisaackissmykitty @austeenbootler @supaprettyg @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @hoffmansgirl @sheydnni @venic-bxtch @babyseolar @sabrinasopposite @motherismotheringggg @titsout4nicholas @afrogirl3005 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip