#this post will probably not last but who knows

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ hallmark holiday !!

ᝰ.ᐟ tis the season to sit by the fireplace and indulge in cheesy, cliche, ever-so-predictable hallmark movies where we know the main couple will always get their happily ever after. alternatively: a scenario post detailing the cliche holiday romance you and your fave would be ♡ྀི ( fem!reader & sfw )

starring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, shoyo hinata, seishiro nagi, shoei barou, yoichi isagi, jinpachi ego, noel noa, rin itoshi, oliver aiku, kento nanami, naoya zenin, porco galliard, colt grice, levi ackerman

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . haikyuu films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. dedicated to you starring keiji akaashi synopsis keiji akaashi finally gets his dream promotion to the literature department — sort of. see, first he's given what the company calls a "trial run", where they're testing to see how well he'll do. if this book that he edits makes it to the bestseller's list within its first month of publication, he gets the position permanently. fail, and he doesn't just get demoted — he gets fired. this dream of his becomes a nightmare whenever he realizes the author they're assigning to him is you — famous literary critic turned author. well, almost an author. this will be your first book you're ever writing. see, you've got a bit of a reputation. your reviews of novels, whether they'e indie books available only on kindle unlimited or works considered to be modern classics, are nothing short of scathing. rarely is there ever a book that seems to impress you. and while your reviews are valid, a group of scorned writers (who are all beloved by the booktok community, which, in your opinion, invalidates everything they do by default) publicly challenge you: if their writing is so bad, why don't you publish a book and show them how it's done?

exclusive sneak peek! "so you're my editor?" you raise an eyebrow at the man sitting across from you. he's wearing a brown blazer, his hair neatly parted with gel, and he has such a mild-mannered aura about him that you want to groan in agony. of course, the only shmuck who'd be willing to touch your book (book is generous; you barely have half of a first draft) would be some dweeb who's probably been out of work for like, the last year. "yes. i'm keiji akaashi. we spoke over email." he reaches into his workbag, probably to hand you a business card that you'll end up tossing in the cafe's trashcan. "oh. from the tone of your emails, i was expecting someone..." you don't finish your sentence. "someone what?" he asks. "it's nothing." you wave your hand, as if to tell him that the comment was useless anyway. "listen, i'm sure i'm not your ideal client, but we don't have to keep meeting. i'll make your job easy by making sure you never have to edit or touch a single letter on my drafts. just let me handle this my own way, and i'm sure—" "no." you don't normally let people interrupt you, but the shift in his tone makes you pause. you stare at him curiously, only this time, you notice that keiji akaashi doesn't seem so mild-mannered right now. he continues. "i'm not sure where you got the bright idea that you would just write this book on your own, but you don't make a deal with a major publishing house just to go about the project like all the indie authors you criticize in your little column. the minute you signed that contract, you became my responsibility." akaashi looks you in the eyes as he tells you, "so from this point forward, your book is about to become our book. and i only plan on producing bestsellers." you smile at that, leaning forward and matching the intensity of his gaze. "good. because i only plan on writing a bestseller."

⋆⁺₊❅. make it to christmas starring atsumu miya synopsis break-ups can be tough. coming home for the holidays can be tougher. combine these two situations, and throw in the fact that no one can know about said break-up, and this might be the toughest situation to go through. here's the deal: you and atsumu, who've been together for the past four years, are deemed "most likely to get married". your friends, family, and even strangers on the internet all think you two are the couple that will make them believe in the power of love again. with this type of pressure, neither of you are willing to wreck the holiday spirit by announcing your break-up, and really, mama miya just got a particularly bad diagnosis. the last thing either of you want to do is break her heart some more. so, you both agree to pretend to still be together, all for the sake of "saving christmas", so to speak. but then, mama miya walks in on the two of you in the kitchen at the worst possible moment. atsumu is down on one knee, kneeling in front of you. finally, some good news this season: her baby boy is getting married to the love of his life.

exclusive sneak peak! "atsumu, this whole thing is a mess!" you whisper-shout at him, leaning down and examining the space beneath the floor kitchen cabinets in search of your missing earring. "well, you can't back out now!" he whisper-shouts back, crawling on all fours to help you look for the damn earrings osamu's new girlfriend gifted you. "what would we tell everybody?" "how about the truth?" "we will tell them the truth! right after christmas." "you idiot, your mom has her next appointment the day after christmas! the whole point i agreed to this was so that way we wouldn't crush her with a whole day of bad news!" "you're right." your back is turned to him, but even without looking, you know he's nodding his head. "we should just wait 'til the month's over then." "that's even worse!" now you finally do turn around, crossing your arms against your chest. "i really think this was a bad idea. we need to figure out how to come clean before this whole thing blows up in our faces." he sighs, knowing that you're right. you always are. it's what he loves — loved; he's not quite sure if he's still allowed to use the L-word concerning you — about you. then, he perks up, catching a glint of your missing earring. propping himself up on his good knee, he presents the ring to you earnestly. "oh!" you grin, happy that atsumu found the damn thing. now, osamu's girlfriend will be properly placated. before you can reach for it, three things happen in rapid succession. one: the kitchen door swings open. two: mama miya assesses the situation quickly, and lets out the biggest shriek of excitement heard 'round the world. three: this whole thing definitely just blew up in your faces.

⋆⁺₊❅. v for valentine starring shoyo hinata synopsis you hate valentine's day — after you found out your (former!) boyfriend of three years was cheating on you on this very special holiday, you see what the 14th is all about. commercialized "love": packaged in bright pink packaging and red hearts that get sold to unsuspecting fools. however, as a wedding planner, you still have to love love. it's just hard to whenever the wedding you're planning is set for feb. 14th... and it's to your ex-boyfriend and the girl he cheated on you with. you know it's petty and ridiculous and horribly immature, but you're plotting and scheming ways to ruin their wedding without it being tied directly back to you. the only obstacle in your way, though, is the bride-to-be's annoying cousin who immediately catches onto your plans and seems intent on putting a stop to you.

exclusive sneak peek! "what do you think you're doing?" you jump up, startled at the sudden intrusion. everyone else is supposed to be occupied, oohing and ahhing at bridezilla's reception dress reveal. "nothing." you say, in that tone of voice that makes it very, very obvious to anyone who can hear that you were definitely up to something. "really?" hinata asks. "because it looks like you're trying to convince the dog to tear up my cousin's high heels." busted. (you're too flustered and trying to come up with an excuse as to why there's peanut butter on his cousin's designer heels that you don't notice the way hinata looks like he's trying to hold back his laughter.)

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . blue lock films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. married by christmas starring seishiro nagi synopsis as the only daughter of the mikage business empire, not to mention having an older brother who could care less about the family business, you should be rightfully inheriting a good majority of mikage corp. on the day of your twenty-fifth birthday, you anticipate the metaphorical keys to your family's empire. instead, you receive the worst news of your life: reo's going to lead mikage corp starting on christmas day (a gift that he never asked for), and since you're still unmarried at the decrepit age of twenty-five, your grandparents are demanding you start going on blind dates with the men they've found for you. when you angrily confront your parents, wanting to know why everything will be handed to reo, who doesn't even want this responsibility, the answer is clear: they need a man to be the face of mikage. if you marry someone, even if you're the one pulling the strings from behind, you can still inherit the business by having your husband look like the one in control. your parents know that you don't want to get married, but what they don't know is that you're willing to do anything to get what you've worked so hard for. you didn't spend years abroad to study at the best business school in the world and to build connections all for it to go down the drain. but then you realize that all these men your grandparents found for you won't be willing to just sit back and let you do all the work. they want power of their own. where in the world could you possibly find someone you can trust to be married to in these conditions? and then it dawns on you: your older brother's best friend! from what you remember of him during high school, nagi wants nothing more in life than to just be able to make easy money and relax, left to his own devices. he's never taken advantage of reo, so he'll probably stay loyal to you. and a quick google search reveals that nagi's never even been in a public relationship. he's perfect.

exclusive sneak peek! "you bought me a ring?" you stare at the velvet box resting on your living room table, eyeing it like a bomb that might explode at any minute. "huh? oh yeah, why?" nagi's voice is cracking through the speaker of your phone. you're not sure where he is; you don't really know much about your husband-to-be, you realize. you should get him to email you his daily schedule. you plan on making note of that in your outlook calendar, after this call. "i didn't expect you to get me a ring." you frown. "forward me the invoice for it, and i will make sure to reimburse you. in the future, please refrain from making any purchases related to our relationship unless i clearly allow it and expect it. christmas in front of my family, and public birthday celebrations, for example, are occasions in which i'll allow gift-giving." "you're sayin' my future wife doesn't want gifts?" nagi wants to choke reo. he's the one who said you expected to be spoiled, and all the guys on his team seem to be adamant that buying gifts for your significant other is the way to go. if he knew you were going to start talking business around him, he wouldn't have gone through the hassle of finding a decent jeweler in this city. "this is a business partnership, nagi. not a romantic relationship. in business, you buy gifts only to bribe. are you trying to bribe me right now?" no, he thinks. he was only trying to make you happy.

⋆⁺₊❅. a king for christmas starring shoei barou synopsis serving as king but hated by a small, powerful group of witches, the ruler of the kingdom, shoei barou, is cursed and expelled to another world where his tyranny will not be tolerated. the only way to return back to his world is for him to learn benevolence and empathy. they certainly gave him a challenge; it'll be hard to be kind and empathetic whenever you're magically transported to the twenty-first century without a single clue as to how the world works. luckily, he ends up transported here, unconscious, on the front porch of a tired, overworked, graveyard shift ER nurse. you signed an oath to protect and save all lives, so you can't exactly kick the large man passed out by your front door, now can you?

exclusive sneak peek! "where is your horse?" barou asks you, following you around your house. him being your shadow is odd, considering how he towers over you so much, he's actually casting a shadow onto you. seriously, he's blocking the sunlight peeking through your blinds. "my horse? you think i'm a horse girl?" you whirl around to meet him, nearly bumping into his muscular chest as you do so. he makes a face, not sure what to make of your exclamation. "how will you travel into town?" "like everyone else. with a car." you hold up your key fob, and he immediately snatches it from your hands, staring at the fob curiously. "you travel using this?" he points to it, and you nod. "witch." he says. "what did you just call me?" you stare at him, stunned. "witch." he repeats, still holding onto your key fob. "to travel in a contraption so small... magic is the only reasonable explanation. you must be a witch. why didn't you tell me this sooner? we can use this—this car, and you can take me back to my kingdom at once!" he straightens his back, holding your key fob out of your reach. "witch, i demand you transport me back home." "i should've kicked you when i had the chance." you mutter, wondering how hard this stranger banged his head to forget what a car is.

⋆⁺₊❅. the perfect playbook starring yoichi isagi synopsis bastard munchen is forcing all of its players to dedicate their time during the holiday season to an approved community outreach initiative. isagi sees nothing better than to return to his hometown, and help volunteer to coach the local little league team that's 1) underfunded and 2) currently coached by the only person kind enough to volunteer: you, the fresh-out-of-college brand new, bubbly elementary school teacher. yoichi might not be the biggest believer in team work makes the dream work, but you don't make a bad teammate... not in the slightest.

exclusive sneak peek! "isagi," you frown as you stare at the whiteboard, trying to make sense of all the x's and o's and arrows he's scrawled on them. "you want to train this group of seven to nine year olds... to become strikers?" he nods, pleased that you're finally starting to see his vision. "yes, exactly!" "the recreational elementary-aged youth team... is going to undergo a simulation of what you went through as a high school boy?" "well, it'll be tweaked accordingly. with your guidance, of course! it'll be a more tame version, but i'm sure the results will be the same." when he smiles at you like that, you can't help but want to give in. "and besides, i'm proof that project blue lock is a very beneficial program. look how i turned out!" you think back to when you curiously searched him up on the internet. "top 10 isagi crash-outs on the field" was not the result you were expecting. but he's been nothing but kind and enthusiastic around you and the kids. it's not like he's some egotistical maniac who only cares about soccer, right? "okay." you nod slowly. "project baby blue lock it is, then."

⋆⁺₊❅. cease and assist starring jinpachi ego synopsis former collegiate athlete with a professional career ahead of you, your dreams of becoming the world's best women's soccer player gets crushed the minute you suffer the worst injury possible. now, you spend your time trapped in an office, working for the japan football association, waiting for the decades to pass you by so you can finally retire and die. until the head of the association pulls you to his office and lets you know that you're going to be going undercover; apparently, jinpachi ego is creating a soccer program that's supposedly going to change japanese soccer, and he wants you to report back to him and the jfa so they can anticipate everything ego plans on throwing at them. hired to project blue lock as ego's personal assistant, you spend practically the whole day with him. he's annoying, never listens to your advice, mansplains everything, and refuses to eat anything resembling a vegetable unless you force it down his throat. he's also the only person to match your passion for the sport, and the only one to call you out for not continuing to chase your dreams. the more time you spend by his side, the less and less you want to report to the jfa...

exclusive sneak peek! "sir," you grit your teeth, clutching onto the files in your hand because you know if your hands are unoccupied, you'd be sprinting across the room so you could personally choke jinpachi ego out. "i have an mba from the top business school in this country. i've played soccer since i was a child, and was one of the most decorated d1 players back in college. i know i'm just your assistant, but i can promise you, i am capable of far more than heating up your cup ramen." he doesn't even turn around his chair so he can face you; instead, he's still laser focused on the massive monitor in front of him, his eyes occasionally flickering to the other dozen screens surrounding the room. he doesn't even acknowledge your words. "are you seriously going to ignore me?" you snap, strangling the poor papers in your grasp. "are you done speaking? last time i tried to answer back, you yelled at me for not letting you finish." he still isn't looking at you, but you're certain he sees the nasty scowl that crosses your face. somehow, ego is capable of seeing everything. "forget it. you're impossible." "and you're a failure of a player." he tells you, right before you can storm out. "excuse me?" "you keep talking about how good you were at soccer, yet you never even bothered to pursue it after you got out of physical therapy. good in college doesn't mean anything when it's been so long. that's why i don't listen to you." he turns his chair, finally staring at you. "when you prove to me that you're still as good as you claim you used to be, maybe i'll take your advice. until then, get out of my office until i call you back."

⋆⁺₊❅. the only exception starring noel noa synopsis at thirty-three years old with not a single serious romantic relationship for the past decade or so, and with society basically treating any single woman in her thirties like a cow put out to pasture, you have come to terms with the fact that you'll be a spinster. it's fine. you have a successful career in a male-dominated field, you're still as beautiful as ever, and it's not like romantic love is going to fill the void. you have a supportive family and even more supportive friends; you don't need anything else. at thirty-five years old, with a successful soccer career and a body still performing at peak physical fitness, noel noa is considered to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. the public considers him to be at his prime, even. and yet, he seems to want nothing to do with romance. he plays his sport, he does a damn good job of it, and then he goes back to his isolated home in the french countryside to spend his days and nights entirely and utterly alone. for two people content to spend the rest of their lives without a partner, the minute you walk into his life as the new assistant coach for bastard munchen, you both slowly start to realize that maybe, you both could just try being alone together.

exclusive sneak peek! he doesn’t pay you any attention whenever you enter the locker room; after all, this isn’t the first time one of his teammates’ girlfriends walked in here unannounced. he can only hope that your heated rant and accusations of cheating don’t take a long time because practice starts in ten minutes, and noel noa is known to be particularly anal when it comes to sticking to a strict schedule. “hey!” igor says, being the only one bold enough to block you from taking another step further in the locker room. “you can’t be in here, even if you are dating or related to one of the players.”  “well, that’s certainly a respectable rule, but it doesn’t apply to me.”  “i'm the vice captain of this team.” he replies, letting his title to do the rest of the talking. right now, in this room, he’s the authority, second only to noel. noel, who's too busy stretching his legs to really concern himself with something as silly as a female intruder in the men's locker room. the altercation between you two is nothing more than white noise to him. “oh? that’s nice.” you hum, before adjusting the lanyard around your neck so that the little ID card, the one that’s used to allow people entrance into the gym during practice, is showing. it must be brand new because it shines underneath the fluorescents of the locker room. “i’m your new assistant coach.”  well, you’ve certainly got noel's attention now.

⋆⁺₊❅. all in starring rin itoshi synopsis even with worldwide fame, rin itoshi still prefers to be left alone. deemed the "prodigal recluse" by the media, no one knows what he gets up to during the offseason. the truth is, rin returns back to his hometown and spends his free time training by himself in the frozen field he used to train in during middle school. he's never been found out here, and that's how he likes it. until you, an ambitious sports journalist visiting your parents during the holidays, gets lost and stumbles upon him playing soccer by himself. you're convinced that this is fate. no one else in your field has ever gotten this close to him, especially outside an official game, and you're begging him for an exclusive interview. you're persistent and annoying, and rin finally agrees, with one catch: you have to score against him on a one-on-one soccer match. (he just doesn't anticipate how persistent and annoying you can be. when you set your mind on a goal, you're going all in.)

exclusive sneak peek! "you have to admit, it's pretty impressive i even kept up this long." you're panting, the palms of your hands digging into your knees as you hunch over, struggling to catch your breath. the icy air makes every exhale visible. rin looks like he hasn't even broken a sweat. "a child could've kept up for even longer." he says, the soccer ball resting underneath his right foot. "if you're this tired already, you might as well just head home and go enjoy your vacation with your family." the and leave me alone goes without saying. "why? intimidated by my shocking athletic abilities already?" you think you've finally got your breathing situation figured out, and you straighten up. "i'm going to get that interview, itoshi." "if you say so." he shoves his hands in his pockets, his own breath visible in the icy air. "i'm ready for our rematch." you tighten your ponytail, giving rin such a fixed, determined stare that it surprises him. you really are serious about this, aren't you? "and don't think about going easy on me." the corners of his mouth nearly turn upwards. he matches your gaze, preparing to shoot the ball. "i never will."

⋆⁺₊❅. meet your match starring oliver aiku synopsis tired of cleaning up his messes and struggling to reform his playboy image, oliver aiku's publicist has to break out the business card locked away in her "in case of emergency" glass case. she's calling in the calvary — you, the celebrity world's most respected matchmaker. every celebrity couple you've set up has either dated for years (and more to come) or even got their happily ever afters by saying i do at the altar. you've got a one hundred percent success rate. you're making the perfect matches left and right. hinge who? when your publicist bestie calls you, begging to help her most troublesome client finally find love and quit playing around, you already know who she's referring to. oliver aiku. he's hellbent on ruining your perfect run, and you're hellbent on finding him the love of his life so he can finally settle down and stop causing your best friend to spend her whole paycheck on migraine medicine. in his hyper-competitive field, he's never quite met someone as obnoxiously stubborn as you — nor has he ever had as much fun playing games with anyone else. it looks like the two of you have finally met your respective match.

exclusive sneak peek! "what the hell is the matter with you?" you glare at him from across the table, but oliver doesn't seem the least bit ashamed. you're not shocked; you don't think he has the capacity for shame. "what are you talking about?" he tries to sound innocent, but it doesn't work. look at him — there's nothing innocent about the man sitting across from you. "i'm talking about you bringing another woman to the date i set up for you!" you hiss, trying to remain calm and not draw attention to the two of you. he takes a long sip of his coffee, dragging out the silence as you wait for his explanation as to why he wants to make things as difficult as possible. "i was just testing her." oliver is smiling. you want to punch him in his stupid face and see if he'll still be grinning at you. probably. he's annoying like that. "during a situation like that, you can tell if the girl's gonna be a struggle to deal with depending on her reaction." "you know what my reaction would be if you did that to me?" you lean forward, and he meets you halfway, also leaning in closer. he's still smiling. you hate his stupid smile. "oh? what would your reaction be?" "nothing. you'd never even get the chance to pull that shit on me. as if i'd ever be dumb enough to go on a date with the likes of you." you lean back in your seat, opening up your phone and furiously marking off girls from your list. the list gets smaller after every one of his failed dates. oliver sits back, too, watching the way your brows furrow as you stare at your screen, not even giving him the time of day. he never stops smiling; finds it hard not to smile when he's in your presence.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . jujutsu kaisen films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. the roadtrippers starring kento nanami synopsis you're traveling solo for the first time ever after your fiancé breaks things off with you to date his 19 year old neighbor. kento nanami's a single father/investment banker trying to make it back home in time for his daughter's birthday. you're both trying to travel across the country, but when a massive snowstorm delays the same flight you two were going to take home, you decide to team up and just travel together to try to make it your respective destinations on time. from weirdos on the train, flat tires on scarily cheap rental cars, and posing as a married couple at a strict, christian-owned bed&breakfast, you go from strangers traveling cross-country together to being connected together in ways neither of you have ever connected with your previous partners before.

exclusive sneak peek! "whoa, you're doing this like it's nothing." you stare in awe as nanami rolls up the sleeves to his button-down, exposing his strong forearms as he turns the wrench, loosening the lug nuts of the flat tire of the rental car. "that's because it is nothing." he tells you, glancing up at you. you're wrapped up in his blazer, but the chill of the outside air still bites at you. "you should go back inside the car and wait for me. i'll be done in a second." "it wouldn't be fair." you explain to him. "you've been doing all the work this entire trip. braving the elements with you for a few minutes is the least i can do." "you don't have to do anything." he looks up at you, his stare bringing heat back into your body. "you don't owe me. i really don't mind helping you. if you really want to do me a favor, then go back inside the car and stay warm."

⋆⁺₊❅. snowed in starring naoya zenin synopsis you've never had great luck, but with your good attitude, you don't let life get you down. good karma finally comes your way when you win an all-expenses paid trip at a luxury ski lodge. this is where your good luck ends. apparently, the ski lodge accidentally double-booked the cabin: you're supposed to be staying there... and so is the rudest, most arrogant and condescending lawyer you've ever met. naoya zenin booked this place to get away from the city and work in peace, away from the incessant nagging of his family and employees. instead, he's met with even more inconveniences, the biggest one being you, some teacher from a small town he's never heard of and couldn't care less about. before either of you can head back to the main lodge to complain, a snowstorm comes rolling in, effectively leaving the two of you snowed in together for the time being. no cell service, no internet, and no one but each other. fantastic.

exclusive sneak peek! "where are you going?" he asks, eyeing your towel and pajamas in your hand. "to go shower?" you point to the bathroom door. after claiming he wants nothing to do with you, and then setting a ground rule that you can't speak to him unless he allows it, you figured he'd just leave you to your own devices. "unless i need permission from you to do that, too." "i checked the water tank. there's barely anything, and even less hot water." "and this is my problem because...?" "i need to shower, too. i know women have a tendency to take hour-long hot showers, but that isn't going to work here." somehow, you find it hard to believe any woman would want to be close enough to naoya to where he can track their shower-time. "fine. i'll take a lukewarm shower for fifty-five minutes then." you reach for the bathroom door handle. "will that satisfy you?" he's up in a flash, his body so close to your own. you've got nowhere to go but to back up against the closed door, trying to get some space between the two of you. "you don't want to know what'll satisfy me."

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . attack on titan films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. falling onto you starring porco galliard synopsis when you’re forced to return to your hometown to take care of your grandmother after her hip surgery, you’re roped into volunteering for the town’s fire department charity event. paired with the constant scowling firefighter who rescued you from a tree back when you two were kids and classmates, you’re tasked with organizing the firefighter calendar auction. between awkward photo shoots, bickering over decorations, and trying to outbid a local rival for the best auction spot, you start to see that maybe porco galliard isn't all scowls and shambles arrogance — after all, he's there to catch you every time you fall.

exclusive sneak peek! "no." "it's for charity, galliard." you toss him the santa hat, not the least bit shocked that he manages to catch it without batting an eye. "you're like, morally obligated to do this. unless you want to ruin christmas. that's fine by me, too." "i won't be ruining christmas. you're just a pervert." you gasp. "i'm not the one who came up with these positions!" "you're still going to buy the calendar." he points out. "yeah, for charity! not to actually look at it!" "you sure about that? because you seem pretty damn persistent that i should take off my shirt and let you take pictures of me in nothing but suspenders, my work pants, and this ridiculous hat." "that's the most stereotypical firefighter photoshoot for a sexy christmas calendar!" he pauses. "you callin' me sexy?"

⋆⁺₊❅. the one starring colt grice synopsis colt grice has the worst luck known to man. when it comes to pay-it-forward chains, he always gets stuck in front of a minivan for a family of nine. naturally, the only people who crash into his car are the ones with no insurance. he felt bad for a coworker during a work potluck, stomached some of their disgusting food, only to end up getting food poisoning from it. the only thing colt ever seems to have good luck with is relationships... specifically, his good luck seems to transfer over to the girl he's currently dating. see, the thing is, every time colt gets dumped, his exes always end up finding the love of their lives. all his exes are happily married or in long-term relationships, with all of them finding their soulmates right after breaking up with him. he thinks no one else in the world has luck as terrible as his, but then he meets you. after a conversation exchange during a long line, you reveal that it seems like every ex you have has found their soulmate directly after breaking up with you! which is when you two hatch a plan: in order to help each other find "the one", you both agree to date each other for a period of time and then dump each other, all in the hopes of finally meeting your soulmate.

exclusive sneak peek! "your soulmate is super lucky, by the way." "what makes you say that?" colt turns to his side so he can look at you. you're still laying on your back, gazing up at the stars above. "just... i can't imagine why anyone would want to break up with you. you're honestly the best boyfriend i've ever had." colt's heart jumps at your words. he's glad it's so dark outside; otherwise, you might see the blush creeping on his cheeks. you continue on. "i'm going to be really sad when we have to breakup." he knows it's not in the agreement, but he can't help it. he thinks, then let's not. instead, he swallows hard and makes a half-hearted joke. "don't worry. you'll meet your soulmate soon, all thanks to me." you laugh, but you don't tell him how you're really hoping that he's the one for you.

⋆⁺₊❅. girls just wanna have fun! starring levi ackerman synopsis you're the prime minister's daughter wanting to get the proper college experience during your very last year of university. he's your marginally older, no-nonsense, militant bodyguard. you're determined to check things off your college girl bucket list (skip lecture, eat questionable dining hall food, go to a frat party), and he's determined to keep you safe.

exclusive sneak peek! you’ve been meticulously planning this all week. the perfect outfit is tucked under your oversized hoodie, and you’ve even plotted out the quietest route to avoid any of the creaky floorboards in your family’s massive home. all that’s left is to slip past levi, who seems to have an annoying sixth sense for every bad decision you attempt to make. sliding your shoes on, you tiptoe toward the front door, holding your breath as you slowly twist the handle. almost there. just a few more seconds, and— “you have exactly five seconds to explain what the hell you’re doing.” the deep, authoritative voice freezes you in place. slowly, you turn to find levi standing in the shadows, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in disapproval. the flat line of his mouth isn't forming a frown or a scowl, but the disappointment is evident. “levi,” you start innocently, trying to cover your tracks. “i was just—” “if you're just going to lie, don't bother saying anything.” he interrupts, stepping into the light. his eyes flick to your shoes and back to your guilty expression. “where are you really going?” you sigh, crossing your arms defensively. “it’s just a party, okay? everyone’s going, and i’m not some teenager who needs her parent's permission to go out at night.” “you might not need your father's permission,” he says, his voice low and deliberate, “but you do need my protection. and if you think i'm letting you sneak off to some frat house full of drunk idiots without so much as telling me, then you’re dumber than i thought.” you glare at him, your frustration bubbling over. “you’re not my dad! i can take care of myself.” he leans against the doorframe, unflinching. “if you could take care of yourself, you wouldn’t have tried sneaking out like a common criminal." “ugh,” you groan, childishly stomping your foot. “why do you always have to ruin everything?” “why do you always have to make my job harder?” he counters, his tone sharp but his eyes softening just slightly. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. then levi exhales, rubbing his temples as if you’ve given him the worst headache of his life. “here’s the deal,” he finally says. “you stay home tonight, and i’ll consider letting you go to the next party — with me shadowing you the whole time.” your jaw drops. “you can’t be serious.” “correct. i never plan on letting you go to one of those idiotic parties.” he says. “now go change out of that ridiculous outfit you're wearing under your sweatshirt, and get some sleep. you've got class at eight.”

[mggslover]

How the Unsub Stole Christmas ❆

A Holiday to Remember: part 2

In which the BAU's holiday getaway takes a dark turn when a family is found murdered on Christmas, forcing the team to investigate while reader struggles with painful memories of her past and her growing, unspoken feelings for Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: crime, angst, smut (18+), fluff, found family Content warnings: graphic cm case descriptions!!, mentions of shitty childhood, reader getting in some unsub trouble, oral (f receiving), p in v sex. Word count: 9k 🫣 i swear it reads really fast A/n: read part 1 first! writing this story genuinely brought me so much joy, and i hope you will experience the same while reading this. this will be my last fic for the year 2024, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the support, i can't wait to see what the new year will bring for this blog. don't forget to interact with this post if you've enjoyed! 🎄🤍 dividers by @issysh3ll

It shouldn’t have surprised you that you’d be called out for another case. Still, the disappointment lingered thick in the air.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Garcia murmured softly, her tone sad. JJ wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in for a side hug. “Don’t worry,” she reassured gently. “The trip isn’t over yet.”

Penelope seemed satisfied enough with that answer, but then spoke up again. “I don’t want to stay here on my own. It’s spooky knowing someone got murdered just miles away.”

“You can come with us to the station. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Y/L/N, you’ll head to the crime scene. A deputy will be waiting for you there.” Hotch instructed. 

You exhaled softly and gave a brief nod. Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes filled with that quiet empathy you’d come to recognize over the years.

“Good luck,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

“Thanks,” you replied, your words equally soft. “You too.”

Half an hour later, you arrived at the crime scene. The neighborhood was so small it hardly felt like one—just a handful of houses scattered across large, snow-dusted plots of land. It looked peaceful, almost idyllic, as if nothing could ever disturb the calm. The street was adorned with Christmas lights and festive decorations. The only thing slightly out of place was a crack in the bench beside one of the houses. Otherwise, the neighborhood looked like it had stepped right out of a holiday card.

As you stepped out of the car, you noticed the few neighbors who hadn’t yet been driven inside by the cold. They stood in clusters in front of their homes, bundled up in scarves and coats, watching the scene unfold with cautious curiosity.

You looked over at Prentiss. “We should start doing some interviews—maybe send a few of them over to the station.”

She nodded, her expression focused. “Got it.” Without another word, she made her way toward them.

You followed Rossi and Derek toward the red wooden house, where the Deputy awaited by the front door. He looked young—probably around your age. 

Rossi introduced you to Deputy Wilson. Wilson gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry it’s just me. Almost the whole department is unavailable because of the holidays.”

“Convenient timing for a murder,” you mused.

“The scene’s been left as it was when we found it,” Wilson continued. “The back door’s been forced open, and you can see boot prints in the snow leading to the backyard.”

Morgan immediately stepped forward. “I’ll get a shot of those prints for Garcia,” he said, already heading toward the backyard.

Wilson looked at you and Rossi. “You want to take a look inside?”

You paused before heading in, shaking the snow from your boots and making sure not to use the doormat—the one engraved with the names of the family members. It felt wrong, almost disrespectful, to dirty the only thing that might be left of them. 

You took in a sharp breath as you entered the house. Your gaze was first taken by the large Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, decorated in red and gold. But then you noticed the bloody mess underneath it. Four bodies—two adults and two children—lay scattered on the floor, broken Christmas ornaments surrounding them, as though the killer had dropped them carelessly after his violent act. The mother and father were draped over each other, their throats slit cleanly. The teenage daughter, too, had her throat cut, but her body was twisted in a way that didn’t seem accidental. The small boy—no older than ten—was slumped between them, his face frozen in an expression of terror, a look that would haunt you for days.

The scene before you was a sickening parody of a perfect Christmas. But the most disturbing part wasn’t the carnage—it was their faces. Each of them wore a grotesque, unnerving smile, painted onto their lips in blood. It was a mockery of joy, an image of happiness forced onto the dead.

You felt a wave of nausea rise in your throat and turned away, needing a moment to breathe. It was then that you noticed the walls, once filled with smiling family photos were now smeared with blood. Shattered frames lay scattered on the floor, as if the killer had intentionally destroyed the family’s history, piece by piece. 

Rossi spoke first. “The unsub who stole Christmas,” he mused, his tone almost playful despite the grim reality.

You gave a sharp exhale, a brief scoff escaping your lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You put on your gloves and picked up a shattered picture frame from the floor. You handed it to Rossi without a word. He took it, studying it for a moment before speaking again. “One thing’s for sure—this wasn’t just a murder. This is deeply personal.”

You nodded, scanning the room. The starkness of the crime scene was still sinking in, but your mind was already running through the facts. “The execution was meticulous,” you murmured, your gaze flickering over the room, “but the aftermath... messy. The unsub rushed out of here—didn’t even bother closing the back door behind him, and those footprints? Almost like he didn’t care at all about leaving evidence. We might even get lucky and find DNA on the bodies.”

Rossi considered it. “It could be that he was in a hurry. In a small neighborhood like this, people will notice anything out of the ordinary. He probably knew he had to move fast.”

You hummed in return. “It still doesn’t add up. You can’t plan a murder with this much detail and then completely overlook how to cover your tracks afterward.”

You took another slow turn around the room, examining the details. Every piece seemed to add to the strange puzzle, but none of it fit together. As you passed the fireplace, something caught your eye: a piece of paper tucked into one of the stockings. You reached for it carefully, your fingers brushing the corner stained with blood.

You unfolded it with precision, revealing the scrawled words in black ink. The sentence was short and written in Latin, a language you hadn’t encountered in years. You stared at it, furrowing your brow as you tried to make sense of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Latin, would you?” You asked Rossi, half-joking, though the seriousness in your voice remained.

Rossi looked up, his expression a mix of confusion and dry humor. “Does it look like I know Latin?”

You smiled, already pulling your phone out of your pocket and speed dialing Spencer. As the phone rang, you turned your attention back to the paper, the blood spatter still making your stomach turn.

“Hey,” you breathed out as he picked up the phone after the second ring.

“Hey,” Spencer replied. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft with concern, your single syllable being enough for him to decipher how you feel.

You glanced over your shoulder at the murdered family, swallowing hard before turning away. “I will be,” you responded. Once that fucker is behind bars.

You straightened, pushing the thoughts away, and focused on the task at hand. “I’ve just found a piece of paper at the crime scene. It’s a text written in Latin. I figured it’d be quicker to ask you than wait for Garcia to look it up.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment. “Good call. What does it say?”

You glanced at the paper again, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Spencer spoke, his voice calm but precise. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse. ‘Now they know you’re not perfect.’” His perfect Latin pronunciation made you wince at how poorly you’d read it.

“What’s that supposed to mean? A taunt?”

Spencer’s voice was thoughtful. “Sounds like he’s trying to prove something. It’s definitely personal.”

You exchanged a look with Rossi, who was standing nearby, holding the broken picture frame. “Yeah, that’s what we’ve been thinking. Whoever this unsub is, he knows the Reynolds family intimately.”

“Garcia’s already digging into the family’s background,” Spencer replied without missing a beat, already a step ahead.

“Good,” you muttered, relief washing over you for a moment. “How are things going over there?”

“JJ’s been trying to reach family, but they don’t live nearby,” Spencer answered. “A snowstorm hit. I’ve been tracking the meteorological data, and the chances of them making it are close to zero.” 

You nodded, a dull ache settling in your chest. “Well, I’m going to keep looking around here. The bodies will be picked up soon to go to the lab, and then I’ll be heading over to the station.”

“Alright,” Spencer replied, his tone warmer now. “I’ll see you there. Be careful.”

“Always am,” you said, offering a small smile even though he couldn’t see it.

The words on the note kept drifting through your mind. Maybe it was the sentiment that came with Christmas—or maybe it was the fact that, up until now, you were having a perfect holiday, something you never thought you’d get to experience—that made the scene remind you of your childhood. How everything looked so joyous from the outside, especially during the holidays. But if you looked closely, you’d see the cracks. The ornaments on the tree, hastily glued together, their edges jagged and uneven. The hole in the wall, cleverly concealed behind your stocking. 

You were probably overthinking it. After all, it wasn’t the family that was broken like yours was—it was the unsub who had shattered their picture-perfect life.

Rossi’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You okay, kid?”

You blinked, pulling yourself out of the past and into the present. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

You and Rossi walked into the secluded room the Sheriff had arranged for the team, exchanging your findings with Morgan and Prentiss along the way. You’d made a quick stop at a Chinese takeaway to grab food for everyone, knowing the team needed fuel for the long hours ahead.

The rest of the team was already seated around the table, and Reid was in the middle of showing Hotch something on the map of the neighborhood.

“Oh, you guys are the best!” Penelope sighed, her voice full of appreciation as she caught sight of the plastic bags you were carrying.

“We couldn’t leave you to go hungry,” Emily responded with a grin.

You took a seat closest to where Spencer was standing, and he naturally slid into the chair beside you. You reached into the bag and pulled out the only plastic fork, knowing he’d struggle with chopsticks. He flashed you a grateful, closed-lip smile as he took it from you.

Once everyone had filled their plates, the conversation turned back to the case.

“Garcia dug up some useful info,” JJ began. “Stephen Reynolds owned a construction company that’s on the verge of going bankrupt. It’s possible the unsub was an employee who got fired—or was cut loose because the company couldn’t afford him anymore.”

“It seems like the whole family was targeted,” you added, leaning forward. “The note was left in one of the children’s stockings. It doesn’t feel like the murder was just directed at Stephen.”

“That’s why we need to find out more about the Reynolds family outside of their neighborhood,” Hotch said. “The employees at the construction company could have insight. It’s clear the neighbors aren’t going to give us much.”

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, a skeptical look on his face. “Did they really not give you anything? The neighbors, I mean.”

Prentiss shook her head. “Nothing useful. They kept insisting that the Reynolds’s were a perfect family. They even seemed offended when I pressed for more.”

“That doesn’t sit right. The note specifically mentioned how the Reynolds’s are not perfect.” Rossi replied. 

“I gotta give it to them, though,” Garcia chimed in. “The Reynolds’s are model citizens. The parents were both heavily involved in charity, and the kids have won multiple prizes in spelling bees and other competitions.”

“Has anything bad ever happened in that neighborhood?” Morgan asked, clearly skeptical about the idea of perfection.

Penelope clicked away on her laptop. “Well, there was a fire in one of the houses about ten years ago, because of damaged Christmas lights.” She made a sad face as she continued searching. “Oh, and a cat got stuck in a tree once… didn’t make it.”

“What happened to the family in the house?” Spencer asked.

Penelope’s fingers paused over the keys. “Uh, let me see… The Eriksens died from smoke inhalation. Oh… this is sad. They left a child, Christopher Eriksen. He was put into foster care when he was just eight.”

“Did the Reynolds’s live there when that happened?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, they did. Actually, they organized a fundraiser to build a bench with the parents’ names engraved on it, in their memory.”

You felt your pulse quicken at the mention of the bench. Something about it seemed strangely familiar, but you couldn’t trust your mind right now—not with everything still scattered from the case, and the ghosts of your past tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, but you decided to ignore it, keeping your focus on Hotch as he spoke up. 

“It’s best if we head back to the cabin to rest up,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and the station’s closing tonight so everyone can spend time with their families.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, the relief of getting some rest evident on their faces. But as the team began gathering their things, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You hated the idea of putting the case on hold, even if it was just for the night. The face of that little boy kept haunting your thoughts, his wide eyes silently pleading for answers, for peace. You couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Spencer’s hand snakes up on your shoulder, his warm hold holding you in place. His lips barely moved as he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, shaking your head.

The entire car ride had been silent. Spencer’s gaze would occasionally flicker over to you in the backseat, but you kept your eyes fixated on the road, watching the scenery blur past.

The silence stretched on as you said your goodnights to the rest of the team and walked toward your shared room with Spencer. As you both got ready for bed, there was an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Now, lying in the king-sized bed, you both stared up at the ceiling, the quiet stillness between you thick with unspoken words.

“When are we finally going to talk about what’s wrong?” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, careful but insistent.

You stayed quiet for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, your words coming out a little too quickly.

“There’s obviously something wrong,” he pressed gently. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know,” you answered, your voice softer now, more honest. Usually, Spencer never had to press. There was something about him—something warm and patient—that made it easy to open up, to share your thoughts without fear of judgment. But this time, it felt different. It wasn’t just the case. It felt personal, something you couldn’t fully explain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you said, thinking aloud. “It’s just… something’s off. And I don’t know if it’s just me.”

“What do you feel?” His question was quiet, but his concern was clear.

You hesitated. “It sounds stupid,” you muttered, brushing it off.

“Nothing you could say would sound stupid to me.” His words, soft and sincere, made your chest tighten with warmth. You turned your head to look at him, noticing the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered on you.

“You thought it was stupid that I shower at 115 degrees,” you said with a playful smile.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the tension easing just a little. “I don’t think it’s stupid that you like it,” he said, his voice gentle. “I just think it’s stupid that you’d risk hurting yourself over it.”

His eyes warmly looked at you. One hand rested underneath his pillow as he lay on his side. You turned toward him, mirroring his position.

"I’m really struggling with this case," you softly admitted, trying to keep eye contact, though your gaze flickered down, betraying the weight of your words.

“Was it hard seeing the crime scene?”

"Yeah," you choked out, your throat tight. You blinked quickly to try to stop the tears that threatened to spill. “It was... it was horrible.”

His hand reached out to gently rub your bare arm under the blanket. "It’s completely normal to feel affected by what you saw," he began, his voice steady but laced with the kind of empathy that only someone like him could offer. "Witnessing something as violent and horrific as the bodies of two children—it’s traumatic. The brain processes trauma in complex ways, especially when it involves young victims. According to studies in neuropsychology, traumatic experiences, particularly those involving children, can cause the brain to release a surge of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. This flood of chemicals can lead to acute emotional responses, such as anxiety and flashbacks.”

“I’ve been experiencing flashbacks,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You met his gaze, looking for reassurance, and he gave you the space to speak, waiting patiently. “It actually started earlier today, when we arrived at the cabin. I’ve never experienced a Christmas like this, you know, the kind that feels warm and joyful. I- I don’t know if I’m making connections that aren’t there, but the feeling I had in that house was the same feeling I used to get when I was growing up.”

He tilted his head. "What feeling?"

“...Jealousy.”

His eyebrows knitted. “Jealousy?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, gathering your thoughts. “You could feel so much rage in there. Everything that made the home feel homey—that warmth, that love—was completely shattered. The way the unsub positioned the family members under the Christmas tree, the way the note was tucked into the stocking… There’s a reason for it. Christmas represents this idealized view of perfection. I don’t think the message was to prove that the company going bankrupt is some sort of imperfection in the family’s picture-perfect life. No, it feels like the unsub was jealous of their happiness. Of the fact that they had a family who seemed perfect—something he never had. He wanted to destroy it. To ruin their happiness. He could never have it, so he shattered the illusion of perfection entirely.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing your words. “So you think the Reynolds’s were targeted as surrogates?”

“I guess so. But you don’t just stumble across a neighborhood as desolate as theirs.” you responded.

“It could still be one of the employees of the construction company. If Stephen bragged about his perfect family to the wrong person, it could have triggered something.”

You hummed in agreement, but Spencer could see there was more on your mind. He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

“As I got older, I learned that blaming others wasn’t going to make me feel any better about my situation. It’s like the unsub hasn’t realized that yet. The way he executed this crime—it’s almost like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so meticulous in setting everything up, and then once he got what he wanted, he just… walked away. There was no care for the aftermath, no consideration of what would happen afterward.”

“Do you think the unsub could still be a child?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Your mind clicked, and for the first time, the puzzle pieces seemed to fit together. “How old was the kid when he was put into foster care?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Eight. Why?” Spencer's confusion was evident.

“It’s been ten years since that house caught fire. That would make him eighteen now, and—"

Spencer’s eyes widened as realization struck. “And that he just got out of foster care.”

"Exactly," you said, rolling out of bed and storming downstairs.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Spencer called after you, quickly grabbing his cardigan from the chair in the corner of the room before hurrying to catch up.

“Be quiet, I don’t want to wake anyone.” You instructed, feeling Spencer’s presence behind you as you moved toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he hissed in a whisper as you opened Garcia’s laptop on the table. You didn’t respond, your fingers already flying over the keys as you settled into a chair.

Spencer huffed, knowing full well there was no stopping you once your mind was set. He hovered behind you, draping the cardigan over your shoulders. “I’m not covering for you if Garcia finds out,” he warned, glancing over your shoulder at the screen.

“That’s fine. I know exactly what to say to win her over,” you said nonchalantly, clicking away. In your mind, the image of Spencer in the shower was still vivid—a story you could easily use to distract Penelope if it came to that.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you found the file. “Here it is,” you muttered, eyes scanning the information on Christopher Eriksen. You clicked to open it fully, Spencer already reading ahead of you.

“They found bruises all over his body when he was put into foster care,” he read aloud, his voice tense as the words sank in.

You leaned forward, your breath catching. “This is it,” you murmured. “His parents— they must’ve bought into that ‘perfect family’ image of the neighborhood, but behind closed doors, they were hiding this. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like for him? Everyone thinking his parents were saints, while they were hurting him? All the while, they’re the ones who get a memorial bench, their lives celebrated while they tortured him.”

“It was on Christmas that he was put into foster care. Now, it’s the first Christmas since he’s been out. It makes sense to go back to the place where it all started,” Spencer concluded.

“I need to go there,” you said urgently, slamming the laptop shut.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Spencer asked, bewildered. He immediately followed you as you rushed to the door, still in your pajamas. “You’re not seriously planning on going out like that?”

“It’s just a quick peek. I need to see if I was right about the bench,” you said, almost to yourself, already focused on the task ahead. You didn’t even glance behind you as you pulled on your shoes and yanked open the front door, wrapping Spencer’s cardigan tighter around yourself to ward off the cold.

In moments like these, Spencer knew exactly who had trained you. You were unmistakably like Gideon—determined, single-minded, and often impulsive once your mind was set. And that, in turn, always left Spencer in a state of mild panic.

“You can’t drive at night,” he said, his voice rising with concern as he followed you into the snow-covered yard. “You have nyctalopia!”

You didn’t stop, your focus unwavering. “You should take night-blindness seriously, it takes forever for your pupils to dilate, and by that time, you’ve already missed the stop sign or, I don’t know, hit a pothole or something. Your contrast sensitivity goes down, so objects blend into the background, and—did I mention the glare from headlights? Because that’s a huge problem, and it makes it worse! You’re already having trouble seeing, and now the glare from every car that passes is just blinding you. It's like trying to navigate in a fog, but it’s just light fog, which—okay, that’s a really bad analogy, but you get the point!”

His words fell into the background as you continued walking, your mind fully occupied with proving your theory. The case had been driving you mad. If you could just confirm that the bench was broken—that Christopher was the one who’d done it in a moment of anger—everything would click. The case would be solved. You’d give the Reynolds family peace. And, selfishly, you’d give yourself peace.

“Please,” Spencer begged, now standing in front of the car door, blocking your path. “If you’re going, at least let me drive.”

His comment made you halt in front of the car. “You hate driving,” you pointed out.

“I’d rather be uncomfortable for a few minutes than risk something happening to you,” he admitted.

You stared at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for how much he cared, how he believed your theory and was willing to go along with you. 

You reached out and took his hands. It was a gesture he rarely tolerated from anyone, but you’d learned over the years that Spencer appreciated it when it came from you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thanks, Spence,” you said softly, the words simple but your voice full of appreciation.

He swallowed, his eyes softening as he nodded. “We’ll just take a quick look, right?”

“I swear,” you promised, a reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “Just a quick look.”

He sighed, still clearly uneasy but unwilling to argue. You handed him the car keys and moved to the passenger side, sliding into the seat. 

—————

Spencer slowed the car as you neared the familiar area, the headlights casting long shadows over the snowy driveway.

"Let’s stop the car here," you suggested. The thought crossed your mind just in time—it would be very inappropriate to drive into a quiet neighborhood with an unknown car at this hour, especially after a murder had taken place.

You and Spencer stepped out of the car, the cold biting at your skin as you walked side by side. You stayed close to him, partly to keep warm, partly to follow his tracks through the snow, the dark pressing in around you. The Christmas lights that had lit up the neighborhood earlier were now off, leaving everything shrouded in an eerie quiet.

You made your way to the bench. Your hand skimmed over the smooth wood, lingering on the top right corner where you felt a distinct break—something sharp and jagged where a piece had clearly been broken off. You exhaled in relief. You were right.

Spencer’s hand shot out to gently grab your wrist, his fingers warm against the cold night air. "Careful," he said, his voice low but insistent. "You don’t want splinters. Stay here, I’ll grab a flashlight from the car."

You nodded, watching as his footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the thick darkness around you.

Alone now, you scanned the area. Everything was still and silent, save for the occasional crunch of snow beneath your feet. Your eyes were drawn to a dim light flickering from inside the rebuilt house where the Eriksens used to live, just past the bench. Curiosity nudged you forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, your feet were already moving toward the light.

You crept closer to the window, standing on your toes to peer inside. The house was barely furnished, still very much in the process of being worked on before it could be sold. You pressed your hands against the cold glass, forming makeshift goggles with your fingers, your face just inches away from the window as you tried to get a better look.

A sudden pressure on your stomach snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could react, an arm tightened around your waist, yanking you away from the glass. For a brief moment you thought Spencer was playing some kind of prank, trying to startle you—but the movement was so fast and forceful, you knew Spencer would never grab you that aggressively.

Your gasp caught in your throat, immediately silenced as a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Panic surged, but your body went stiff when the sharp edge of a knife pressed to your throat. You didn’t need any further confirmation that this was the unsub.

"I don’t know who you are," the voice rasped, low and dangerous, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. "But you shouldn’t have shown up here."

The tension in his voice was unmistakable. You could feel his rage, his plan disrupted by your unexpected presence. Every instinct screamed at you to fight back, but you remained frozen, knowing that one wrong move could end it all.

“I didn’t plan on killing anyone innocent, but you’ve put yourself in this situation,” he spat, his grip tightening on the knife.

In that fleeting moment, you made a decision. Taking a leap of faith, you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his palm. The sudden bite startled him, and by sheer luck, he loosened his grip on the weapon.

“Christopher!” You shouted, the name ringing out with urgency.

It was enough to catch him off guard. In that instant, you turned, quickly positioning yourself with a better angle. He was taller than you—still, just a boy, consumed by something far beyond his control. His pain was evident, lurking beneath the fury in his eyes. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Who are you?” His voice was strained, the words gripping with suspicion and confusion.

“I’m here to help you,” you said sincerely, keeping your voice steady.

“No, you’re not,” he denied.

“I swear I am. I know what happened to you. I know what your parents did to you.”

Without warning, he shoved you hard against the house. Your head slammed into the window, a sharp pain exploding in your skull. “You don’t know anything!” he screamed.

“I do, Christopher. I do!” The words came from a place of desperation, your breath ragged. “I understand. I know how much this eats at you, how alone you feel because you’re the only one who knows the truth. But it doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. The truth will come out. People will know what your parents did, what really happened here. You’ll get what you want, the world will see that they’re not perfect.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something soft, vulnerable. 

“They all knew what happened!” He said in anger, pointing at the houses surrounding you. “They all knew and no one said anything!” He shook his head, “I’ll never get what I want. It’s too late for that.” he muttered bitterly.

Despite his words, you felt a flicker of hope. He was talking. He was listening. That had to count for something.

“It’s not too late, Christopher,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I thought the same thing once. But family… family isn’t just the people you’re born to. You can build your own, one that will love you despite everything. I’ve got that family now.”

He swallowed hard, his face momentarily flickering with doubt. “I wish I could believe you,” he said, his voice quiet, tinged with regret.

And then, in a flash, his arm shot out. Instinctively, you braced yourself, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable strike.

As the seconds stretched on, memories—both regrets and cherished moments—flashed before your eyes, a cruel reminder of everything you had to lose.

But then, a loud thud echoed in the night. Christopher crumpled to the ground, his body going limp. You whipped your head up, heart in throat, and saw Spencer standing behind him, the butt of his gun covered in blood, the impact of the blow knocking Christopher out cold. 

A shaky breath escaped you, half a sob, half a gasp of relief. You stumbled toward Spencer, your legs nearly giving out as you threw yourself into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried into his chest, voice cracking. “I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

He shushed you softly, brushing a hand through your hair as he held you close. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Twenty minutes later, the team and the police arrived. Spencer had called Hotch the second you’d calmed down enough, and by the time they got there, Christopher was still passed out. The officers dragged him into the back of their car, while JJ and Prentiss took it upon themselves to reassure the neighbors that they had someone in custody.

You knew exactly what was coming when Hotch finally made his way over to you and Spencer, but your head was pounding too much to care.

Hotch scanned the two of you with a sharp, disapproving look. “Really? You went to catch an unsub in your pajamas?”

“The whole ‘catching the unsub’ thing wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” you muttered, wincing slightly as the headache flared.

Hotch exhaled sharply, then turned to Spencer, his gaze a little more pointed. “I could’ve expected this from her, but I expected better from you, Reid.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, knowing there was no defense. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Hotch gave a sigh in response, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m too tired to deal with the two of you right now. I expect to see both of you in my office in the morning.”

“Actually, I checked all the rooms in the cabin, and there’s no office. Which is surprising, considering—”

“Spence,” you interrupted him with a nudge of your elbow.

He shot you a tight-lipped look, turning back to Hotch. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

—————

The second you closed the car door behind you and buckled your seatbelt, you passed out. You’d always slept best during car rides, and especially now, with your mind much quieter now that Christopher Eriksen wasn’t your problem anymore.

When you finally arrived back at the cabin, you were still sound asleep. Derek told Spencer to wake you, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he carefully made his way to your side of the car, unbuckling your seatbelt. He lifted you into his arms, trying not to huff too loudly as he carried you through the thick snow. He made his way up the stairs quickly, hoping Penelope wouldn’t notice the wet tracks from his boots inside the house—he couldn’t take them off while holding you.

He was glad you were in your pajamas as he gently laid you on the bed. He walked over to the closet, grabbing some extra blankets and draping them over you, hoping it would help you regain some warmth.

Then, he crawled into bed beside you. Closer than he would’ve dared if you were awake, not quite touching, but close enough to share body heat. His gaze lingered on you, watching how peaceful you looked. The night had been a lot to handle, but he knew he’d do it all again if it meant keeping you safe.

The bright light reflected off the snow outside, filtering into the room. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes, the movement only making your headache worse. You huffed and carefully opened your eyes, being met with the sight of Spencer. His hair was a curly mess, and a small, warm smile painted his face.

“Hey, how’s your head?” he asked softly.

The events of last night rushed back to you, and you groaned again. “So, all of that really happened?”

“It did,” Spencer confirmed.

“I really hoped I just got drunk on too much Glühwein,” you sighed, wincing at the thought.

“You can still do that tonight,” he teased.

“No,” you muttered in disgust. “I need to recover from this first.”

You glanced over at him again, seeing the concern still shining in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that situation last night,” you said quietly. “Everything about it was just... stupid.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going, who knows who else he could’ve hurt,” Spencer pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.” You thought about it for a second, the weight lifting slightly. “Still, I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

“I’m glad I went with you,” Spencer said, his voice softening. “If I hadn’t... I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened to you. I would never forgive myself if I wouldn’t have been there in time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, turning your gaze to the ceiling. “That’s why it’s probably best we stay friends,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. Despite Emily’s pep talk, this was proof that it wouldn’t be wise to start something serious with Spencer.

“Friends instead of what?” Spencer asked, his voice higher, as if eager to hear the answer.

“Instead of us dating,” you said, almost offhandedly, not realizing you were speaking aloud about something you’d never discussed before, even though the topic would come up eventually.

Spencer froze, his eyes wide, hope flickering in them as he looked at you. “You would date me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You froze too, catching up with the fact that you had said that out loud. Your cheeks warmed, and you immediately turned your gaze to the ceiling, not daring to look at his expression.

“Uh—hypothetically,” you stammered, scrambling to cover your tracks.

“You would hypothetically date me?”

You swallowed, still too flustered to look at him. “Yes. If... you would, I mean. If you wanted that, too...?”

Spencer was silent for a beat, his gaze never leaving you. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes,” you answered, your voice steady despite the racing thoughts in your head.

He slowly moved closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You flinched back instinctively, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his expression apologetic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your heart beating faster.

“You said you’d want to date me,” he murmured, his voice unsure.

“Yes, but—” you stopped yourself as the realization hit that he was planning to kiss you. “Oh.”

Tentatively, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. You leaned in a little, but this time it was him who pulled back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Kissing you.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, his tongue darting over his lips. “Okay.”

You smiled softly, then closed the distance, your lips gently pressing to his.

Spencer hummed in satisfaction, both of you staying like that for a moment, neither of you wanting to pull away. You were the first to break the kiss, catching your breath. If it were up to Spencer, he’d keep his lips on yours forever.

Your eyes fluttered open, faces still inches apart. Spencer cupped your face and pulled you back in, placing several soft pecks on your lips before he leaned on his arm, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

You tried to mirror his movements, but a sharp pain shot through your skull. “Ouch,” you hissed, pulling back.

“Just lay down, let me take care of you,” Spencer assured, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. You slowly lower yourself onto your back, the soft sheets crinkling beneath you, and Spencer moves above you, the blankets still covering both of you.

His lips found yours again. He kept them slightly parted, giving you the chance to slide your tongue against his. The world outside seemed to disappear as you melted into each other, lips moving in sync.

The kisses become more heated, each one a little deeper than the last. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, the other hand resting on your side, his touch sending little sparks of warmth wherever it brushed.

You could feel the heat between you growing. “I’m so warm…” you mumbled against his lips. 

His eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was rough as his fingers lightly trailed over the buttons of your pyjama shirt. “Do you want me to take this off?”

You nodded, and he slowly started undoing each button with purposeful care. His gaze flickering between your eyes and the exposed skin. He let out a moan when your shirt finally fell open, his eyes taking you in. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out in awe, before pressing his lips to yours again. 

You responded eagerly, your hands fumbling between your bodies to undo his shirt in the same way. You slid the fabric off his shoulders, letting your hands run over the muscles of his back, feeling the heat of his skin. 

He gently pressed his body weight down on you, and you shuddered at the feeling of your nipples pressing against his bare chest.

His lips delicately kissed your face, until he reached your ear. He nipped at your lobe, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Do you like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You answered in a soft moan, your body arching into him. He didn’t need to ask again; he could tell you were enjoying this as much as he was.

His lips slid lower, kissing and sucking on your neck, while his hand slid down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

His mouth moved to your collarbone, and then he teasingly dipped lower.

“God, Spence,” you softly moaned as he placed a wet kiss on your lower stomach. “That feels so good.”

His hand, which has been resting on your breast, trails down until it reaches the waistband of your pyjama pants.

“More, please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips instinctively. His fingers slide around the band as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

He lowers himself onto his stomach on the mattress. With a tender touch, he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“Is this okay?”

For a moment, you’ve lost yourself in his gaze—those warm brown eyes looking up at you, his pink lips swollen from his kisses…

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond, nodding.

You moaned as his mouth made contact with your inner thighs, his tongue warm and wet against your skin. He took his time, kissing his way to the sensitive spot where you needed him most.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice shaky with need.

The anticipation was unbearable as his hot breath tickled you, but you didn’t have to wait much longer. Slowly, his tongue flicked over your pussy, and you gasped, your body trembling at the touch.

He moaned in response, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue swirling in soft, teasing motions that had your hips lifting off the bed in search of more. 

“So fucking sweet,” he muttered against you, before repeating the motion, licking you again and again, while he grinded himself against the matress.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer, deeper, your body quivering as he continued. He alternated between sucking and licking your clit, his finger moving up and down your pussy until it entered you gently, then slowly adding another, the stretch an overwhelming pleasure. 

You gasped his name, your body writhing beneath him as the pressure built with every move. “Spencer… please, don’t stop…” you begged, voice thick with need.

His fingers curled inside you, pressing just the right spot as his tongue continued swirling around you. Your legs started trembling as you reached the edge.

“I’m—“ you gasped, but the words dissolved into a string of moans as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your legs were shaking as you came undone, clenching around his fingers, your hips bucking against his mouth. 

Spencer didn’t stop, though. He kept going at a gentle pace, letting you ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Then, he slowly pulled away, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of wonder. 

“Was that good?” he asked softly, licking his lips. 

You laughed breathlessly as you nodded, your chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Come here,” you whispered seductively, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips, which only added to your arousal.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with desire, his forehead pressed to yours. “I need you. I need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, moving your hand down his body, feeling the hardness of him against your palm. He helped you pull his pants down, and you stroked him gently, feeling him twitch in your hand before guiding him toward your entrance. He let out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pushed into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you completely. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his thrusts grew deeper, more urgent.

You could feel every inch of him, every movement as his cock repeatedly hit those places inside that made your head spin. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his ragged breaths.

“You’re so warm,” Spencer whimpered. “So perfect for me.” 

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin as you urged him on, your body moving with his. His pace quickened, and you couldn’t hold back the desperate cries that escaped you. 

“Spencer… I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Me too,” he moaned, his hips slamming into yours. “Let me come with you. Please, let me come with you.”

You nodded, your body trembling. “Now, Spencer…” you begged in a breathless plea.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as he gave one last deep thrust, and then, with a loud, guttural moan, he came inside you. You followed a moment later, your body clenching around him as you fell apart. 

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths, the sound of two bodies, tangled in a quiet, shared moment of bliss. Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“That was… perfect,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.

You smiled softly as you placed your head on his chest, fingers lazily tracing his stomach. “Yeah,” you said in a breath, your heart full of him. “It really was.”

You let out a soft groan as Spencer stood up, and you instinctively reached for his hand, pulling him back toward you. “Don’t go yet,” you pouted.

Spencer smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his waist before walking to the corner of the room. He rummaged through his bag, his back turned to you for a moment as you blatantly checked him out.

“I miss you,” you murmured, leaning back into the pillows.

He chuckled softly, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not even five feet away from you.”

You shrugged, your voice a little teasing. “Still feels like you're miles away.”

With a smile, he walked back toward you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hands behind his back. “Which hand?” he playfully asked.

“Left,” you replied without hesitation.

He swiftly shifted the small box he’d been holding from his right hand to his left, then grinned, revealing the gift. “Here you go.”

You blinked in surprise. “That was your present?” you asked, your voice filled with wonder as you recognized the familiar wrapping Garcia had handed you the day before.

Spencer nodded, watching you closely. “Yeah. Open it.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the gift, your heart racing with excitement. Beneath the paper was a velvet black jewelry box. You glanced up at Spencer, your eyes searching his for reassurance. He gave a soft nod, his smile encouraging.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you opened the box—and there, nestled inside, was the most stunning heart-shaped locket you’d ever seen.

“Oh my God, Spencer,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

A shy smile tugged at Spencer’s lips as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “It used to be my mom’s,” he said. “She doesn’t wear jewelry much anymore, but she wanted me to keep it... to give it to someone special one day.”

Your heart melted at the thought, and you looked at him with newfound tenderness, the weight of his gesture sinking in. 

“She was happy when I told her I wanted to give it to you,” he added, his eyes soft with sincerity.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Your mom knows about me?”

Spencer nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I tell her pretty much everything. She likes hearing about you most.”

“Why?” You curiously asked.

Spencer's smile deepened, and he looked down at his lap for a moment, as though gathering courage. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were soft, full of love.

“Because you make me happy.”

After your intimate moment with Spencer, the inevitable conversation with Hotch had to happen. Just before the talk, Hotch received a call from the lab confirming the DNA found on the Reynolds matched Christopher Eriksen’s—meaning the bittersweet news of Christopher going to prison.

“I still don’t get how the two smartest people on the team act like half a brain when they’re together,” Hotch had said with a half-smile, glancing at you and Spencer. “But… you did good work.”

—————

Later that morning, Emily spotted you, her eyes immediately drawn to the locket around your neck. “Fancy,” she commented, her smirk growing as she cocked an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you absently played with the necklace, a soft smile on your lips. “It’s Spencer’s. He gave it to me.”

Emily’s smirk turned into a knowing smile, and you could see the proud glint in her eyes. “You two are something else.”

—————

Throughout the day you and Spencer did your own thing, trying to act casual in front of the team—yet every time his hand brushed your back or he leaned in for a quick kiss in the empty hallway, your heart fluttered. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as he played chess with Rossi, your eyes catching his in those fleeting moments.

You felt Spencer’s presence behind you like a familiar warmth as you stood in the kitchen. He slipped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a romantic?” you mused, running your fingers through his hair, the feeling of him against you enough to make your heart race.

His lips hummed against your skin. “It’s your fault,” he stated, his voice thick with affection. “You drive me crazy.”

You tugged him up the stairs to your shared room, pushing him playfully onto the bed. You stood between his legs as you began to slowly peel away your clothes, revealing the red laced lingerie set Derek had gifted you during Secret Santa.

“Never thought I’d be thanking Derek for gifting you this,” Spencer mused, his hands sliding up and down your legs, a smirk displayed on his lips.

You smiled, tracing his jaw with your thumb, the heat between you growing. “What do you think of checking out the hot tub?” you purred.

He swallowed nervously, his eyes flicking down to his lap. You rolled your eyes as you responded in a sigh, “You can choose the temperature.”

Before you could say another word, he scooped you up, lifting you over his shoulder with a playful slap to your ass. You yelped, giggling as he carried you off toward the bathroom.

—————

The cabin was large, but unfortunately not big enough to avoid Garcia, so you knew what was coming when you heard the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the hallway floor. She was heading straight toward you, her finger pointing accusingly at you.

“I slept with Spencer.” you hurriedly spilled out before she could say something.

She stopped in her tracks. Her face went through a thousand different expressions in the blink of an eye—confusion, disbelief, excitement—before she finally let out a high-pitched squeal. “You... you slept with Spencer?”

“Twice,” you giddily answered, the smile creeping across your face before you could stop it.

Garcia’s expression finally broke into a huge grin, and without missing a beat, she grabbed your hands and started bouncing on the spot. “Derek is gonna lose his mind!”

You barely had time to protest before she was already up the stairs.

As the end of the day drew near, the group gathered around the fire pit in the backyard, cocoa mugs in hand, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. 

“Are you sure your phone is on silent?” Garcia asked Hotch, eyeing him with suspicion.

“I’m sure, Garcia,” Hotch replied with a small smile.

She was satisfied, her focus shifting to Rossi. “The honor is yours. You may present the last Secret Santa gift.”

Rossi cleared his throat, glancing around awkwardly. “Now, this might sound like a cheap excuse for forgetting to buy a present…” Laughter rippled through the group, and Garcia shot him an offended look. “But... I think I can speak for all of us when I say the best gift is us being together in this beautiful location.”

He turned to Hotch, his voice genuine. “Aaron, you’ve built a good team here. A good family. You should be proud.”

Hotch’s smile softened, his eyes briefly glancing over the group, the weight of the moment settling on him. “I am. Thank you, David.”

And for the first time, you didn’t question whether you deserved a place in this loving, dysfunctional family—you knew you belonged.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

He had fallen like a ton of bricks for a dark-haired girl with doe eyes and the prettiest of smiles…and who also happened to be the twin sister of his biggest rival.

Colette Leclerc had been the first girl he had ever looked twice at and even 15 years later, that had never changed. Max was quite sure that it never would change either. It was her or nobody for him. 

Though he was very much aware that nobody had actually taken their relationship seriously for the first 5 years. Just a childhood crush turned into a teenage romance... But then slowly, their families had realised that it wasn't "just" anything.

He had moved to Monaco a day after his 18th birthday for her. To be as close to her as he possibly could. They had moved in together later that year. 

They had kept it quiet over the years... Family and friends knew but Max and Colette had never made it obvious enough for the press to pick up on.

 It had been Colette's request, not his.

Max would have liked to scream it from the rooftops. Would have liked everybody to know that Colette was his girlfriend, that he was the one that got to go home to her…that he was the one she loved. That they were blissfully happy together and had been for 15 years at this point. 

That she was carrying their child. 

Their baby.

It was a fucking miracle, that's what it was.

It had taken them a good six months to get pregnant the first time...nearly 2 years ago…between his race schedule and the insanity of the racing season...and then she had miscarried days after that first positive pregnancy test.

It has been heartbreaking. 

Of course, it had been...but they had thought that...maybe it was just a one-off…

The doctors hadn't been able to find anything wrong with her after all...

The second pregnancy resulted in another miscarriage less than a year later.

Another case of…Well, there is nothing wrong as far as we can tell. 

And then ..the third pregnancy...both Max and Colette had been a complete mess about it. 

Expecting the worst to happen at any minute. They had waited for the other shoe to drop. He had waited for there to be bleeding...for the baby not to make it...but then they had their first ultrasound and there had been a heartbeat.

Finally, after two devastating miscarriages, they had a positive ultrasound. A healthy heartbeat and a thriving baby growing in Colette’s belly.

It was a fucking miracle.

Even when the fact that Colette was due in January meant that he was gone for much of her pregnancy. Max hated being away from her during such a vulnerable and exciting time. 

He had tried though. Max had made sure to come home to Monaco as often as he could during the season, even if it was just for a quick visit, even when it was just for 24 hours at a time.

He was glued to his phone constantly, as soon as he had a free minute. The truly important people all knew about the baby and even GP let him go with a roll of his eyes when Max was once again absentmindedly checking his phone for another message from Colette.

At least, in a few days, he could be there for her. He would be there in January, and he wouldn’t miss the last month of pregnancy or the first precious few weeks with their baby…

There was a part of him that believed the baby would be a girl that would look just like Colette. Colette thought it was a boy. They had decided to be surprised. But regardless if it was a boy or a girl, Max just wanted the baby to be safe and healthy.

Max always called and video-chatted with Colette every evening. He was like an overly attached mother hen, constantly asking her how she felt, if she needed anything, and checking on the baby's progress.

So when her name was mentioned in conversation by two of his mechanics...he immediately perked up. 

They were in Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season... and after the drama that had been the Qatar GP, that particular penalty and George Russell…Max was, quite frankly, done with the season. 

He just wanted to get home to Colette and their baby.

"I just really want to know what Colette Leclerc posted on Instagram," one of them said with a snort. "Whatever it was, it must have really gotten under Russell's skin."

What?

Colette's Instagram was set to private. She used it to comment under every single one of her brothers' posts and that pretty much was it. She did post pictures sometimes, to the less than 200 followers she actually had.

Why would a random mechanic even know about...

"Too bad it's set to private," the other responded with a sigh. "I would love to slide in her dms…she’s a beauty…"

He held back a snort at that. It was true. Max wholeheartedly agreed that Colette was beautiful. Simply lovely.  There was no one else who could compare to her in his eyes.

But there was also the fact that Colette had the habit of not even realising if a guy was flirting with her at all. Quite frankly, he wasn’t much better…it had always just been each other for both of them. 

But all of that didn’t answer the other question he had.  So he whipped out his phone again and then did what he really shouldn't do...namely check out the fan accounts. 

He got his answer then.

Gemma, one of the press officers, approached him with a grim expression, just at that moment. "Max," she said urgently, "There's something you need to know."

Max's anger was building as he spoke. "I already saw," he gritted out, his voice barely restrained. "George decided to be an ass.”

 Granted, "Karma is the guy in the car, coming straight home to me" probably had been rather pointed...because Max had indeed gotten Pole Position back in the first corner... So it had been Karma in a way. 

Still, for George to use Colette against Max...Colette, who kept quiet and out of the spotlight...who abhorred paparazzi...

Max was seething. George had crossed a line by bringing Colette into their rivalry. She was an innocent party in all of this, someone who always shied away from the spotlight. 

Max clenched his fists in anger, his jaw tightened as he forced himself to remain composed. He knew that lashing out at George would only give him what he wanted, but he couldn't help feeling protective of Colette.

Especially right now. The stress wasn't good for her and it wasn't good for the baby...He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He needed to keep his temper in check, even if it was difficult.

 He had to think about Colette and the baby. The last thing he wanted was to add more stress to her life.

Gemma's words were quiet, but they hit like a ton of bricks. "I would suggest you stay low right now," she advised. "I know it's completely out of line, but if you confront him about it, he could end up telling the press about you two. And that's not something you want..."

He knew how cruel the media could be, how they would tear apart every aspect of their relationship. Colette avoided the spotlight for a reason and he had promised her that he would never drag her into it either if it was at all possible. But the idea of George using her as a pawn in his games with Max...it was infuriating.

[bingsoo-jung]

I’m going to toss on an extra addition with a shoutout to @casscainmainly ! So:

a) i was wrong, cass didn’t live in HK for a long time. I got it mixed up because it was a while IRL but IRL != comic book time. So my bad!

B) Part of the reason I specifically said Cantonese is bc of the HK thing, but also because up until very recently (IE past 15 or so years) the lingua franca of the American diaspora was Cantonese. So for a short history lesson, the Chinese American community can be split into 3 waves. duoyishu

1st was was in the 1800s, these were the railroad workers who set up the OG Chinatowns. Most of these people were Toishanese and spoke it as such. It means most of the oldest Chinese American families and communities speak Toishanese.

2nd wave was the longest, lasting from the 1920s until around 1980. Most people in this group speak Cantonese, if they don’t it’s actually far more likely that they’re Southeast Asian Chinese, meaning their families immigrated to the US after immigrating to Southeast Asia. So I’m Thai-Chinese, my family immigrated to Thailand from Teochew and then my popo immigrated to the US. We’re not Cantonese, we don’t speak Cantonese. We’re gaginang and speak Teochew.

3rd wave is from post 1980s, and features mainlanders (folks from China), and since most folks in China speak Cantonese or Mandarin, most of these immigrants do as well.

Because of this however, before recently, anyone growing up in Chinese American communities would’ve most likely spoke Cantonese. Mandarin wouldn’t have been super useful. Cass’s mom, Sandra Woosan/Lady Shiva, grew up in Detroit, meaning that she would’ve likely spoke Cantonese.

However! We do have an official hometown/ancestoral village in China for Lady Shiva, which provides us a way to actually determine what language she would definitely speak. As of 2021 it’s been explicitly stated now that her hometown was Duoyishu, a town in the Honghe Hani and Yi Autonomous Prefecture, Yunnan, China. Now, you may rightfully be looking at that and going “what does ‘Autonomous Prefecture’ mean?” Well, that refers to a region of China where either 50%+ of the population are ethnic minorities or it’s a historic home of an ethnic minority. Meaning Lady Shiva is from a region in China where most people aren’t Han Chinese. Actually, Yuanyuang county, which is where Duoyishu is, is only about 11% Han Chinese. And the village she’s from is known to be a Hani village. Are we beginning to see a problem here? Because, and here’s an important fun fact, most ethnic minorities in China don’t call themselves Chinese. Shiva wouldn’t be speaking Mandarin or Cantonese, she wouldn’t even be Chinese in this case, she’d probably be Hani, and speak Hani.

Which is creating a whole new confusing problem considering they keep putting her in ostensibly Han Chinese clothes. Like Mandarin collars and qipaos are Manchurian and Han Chinese clothes. They arose as a fusion of those cultures during Manchurian rule of China. I don’t know why a Hani person would go ‘yes, I’m going to wear clothes for a culture I’m not apart of despite my culture having much cooler clothes.’ Like… huh? Huh????? It also raises a new and very important question of ‘when will DC give Lady Shiva a backstory and name that sense?’

To which the answer is, obviously, never. Because they hate me specifically.

DC Comics, I’m begging you, have one Chinese person write Lady Shiva’s backstory and just… use that forever. Just only that. So that you don’t keep creating new messes.

You know a better Cassandra Cain headcanon than Cassandra Cain speaks ASL? Cassandra Cain speaks Mandarin or Cantonese mostly.

She canonically lives in HK for a long time.

limited phonemes make it easier to learn.

most chinese languages are near fucking grammarless. You want to say ‘i did that?’ You say ‘i did’ and toss in a 了 nearly anywhere in the sentence. There are 0 tenses, 0 genders, 0 conjugations. 90% of this language is a based on ‘does it sound right?’ And honestly if you get close enough people will understand you.

Hanzi is one of the few still used logograph language and by far the most popular. Nearly all others have died out. Thus meaning it’s one of the few languages which uses pictorial depictions to communicate concepts. That’s not a thing in any other extant writing system. I imagine this would be easier for someone who is used to communicating via body languages and sight based interpretations than sounds, because when you read chinese you don’t sound out the letters, you either recognize the character or you start to cry.

[harrywavycurly]

Tuesday Dinner: A Sopranos meets Mafia!Harry Styles AU✨

A/N: This is based on this post right here and is probably the most dramatic thing I’ve ever written in my life but I just love the Sopranos and Harry Styles so please don’t take this seriously it’s just a bit of fun!

CW: Language, Harry is a dick but he loves you, threats of violence, brief act of minor violence (you toss something at the back of Harry’s head), this is probably a kinda toxic relationship but I don’t mind if you don’t?

Summary: You’re making dinner on a random Tuesday and Harry’s “coworkers” keep showing up unannounced✨

You place a wooden spoon in your pasta sauce to give it a stir in the pot it’s simmering in, having just moved it to one of the burners on the back of the stove. You feel a hand on your hip and a moment later you feel a soft kiss being placed to the side of your neck before a chin is resting on your shoulder, you smile as you take the spoon out of the pot and bring it up to your lips to give it a taste. You ignore the slight pouting noise Harry makes when you don’t offer him a taste before putting the spoon on the spoon rest next to the stove, deciding your sauce needs a little more salt.

“Where’s the pasta?” Harry questions when he doesn’t see a pot of boiling water next to the pot your sauce is on, you roll your eyes at his question because you know Harry is well aware where the pasta you’ll be using tonight is.

“M’serious what’s the sauce goin’ on?” He asks as he stands up giving your hip a squeeze before he turns to head towards the fridge his eyes landing on the bread on the counter next to it. “All I see is a baguette and-”

“Oh you didn’t just want some sauce with a side of bread and maybe a salad?” You ask feeling annoyed that he’s even in the kitchen in the first place, having been in the office since he got home from work a few hours ago. Harry shoots you a glare as his hand grips the handle of the fridge his wedding ring making a light clink sound when it comes in contact with the metal door handle, not liking your sudden attitude when all he’s doing is asking about what you’re making for dinner.

“You’ll know what the sauce is goin’ on when you open up the fridge and don’t go bein’ an ass about it either okay? I know how you get about-”

“Know how I get about what?” You go back to your sauce, adding a pinch of salt before grabbing the spoon to give it a quick stir as Harry opens the fridge and sees the container of leftover pasta sitting on the bottom shelf. Harry lets out a groan as he leans in and grabs the container off the shelf and sees its full of the rigatoni you didn’t use in the baked dish you made the other night.

“Oh you’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin me. We can’t get fresh pasta?”

“It is fresh I made that last night. This is just a Tuesday night dinner for the two of us Harry what are you expecting a Sunday dinner kinda spread for?”

“So you’re gonna ruin your good sauce with some microwaved noodles?” Your grip on the handle of the spoon tightens as you turn around so you can face Harry who is now standing by the fridge with the container of pasta in his hands.

“Tell me Harry does this look like the Olive Garden to you? You know damn well I’m not microwaving the fuckin’ pasta you jack-” Before you can finish your sentence you hear three loud knocks on the back door before it opens making Harry turn his attention away from you and towards the back door.

“H you’re not gonna believe the shit I just heard.” Harry puts the container of pasta on the counter next to the fridge as his younger cousin Christopher walks through the door. “Oh somethin’ smells good in here.” You give him a smile as he walks into the kitchen and automatically opens his arms out to give you a quick hug.

“You know that’s your problem. You’re always kissin’ the wrong ass Christopher.” Harry snaps as he places a hand on his hip as he sends a glare to his cousin as you place a kiss to his cheek before he pulls away from you. “Who’d you come over here to see huh? Me or her?” Christopher quirks a brow at you, silently asking what Harry’s problem is when he hears a slight edge in his voice making you roll your eyes and shrug as you turn and go back to perfecting your sauce.

“It’s called havin’ manners H. I mean come on you act like you don’t know who my mother is? She’d kick my ass if she knew I stepped into a woman’s kitchen and didn’t say hello to her first.” You chuckle to yourself as Christopher makes his way towards Harry who is still glaring at his cousin.

“What is it you need to tell me?” He asks as he runs a hand through his hair while his cousin walks past him and to the fridge to grab a beer.

“They got Jimmy.”

“Who got Jimmy?”

“They did H.”

“You’re talkin’ in fuckin circles Christopher who the hell got him? The feds? Sal’s guys? Who?” You bring your spoon up to your lips to give it another taste and smile to yourself when you finally feel you got it right and don’t need to add anything.

You hear Christopher let out a sigh as he opens his beer but before he can fully explain the situation to Harry your back door swings open. You let out a startled squeak as both men instantly place a hand on the back waistband of their slacks, reaching for something they keep tucked away for protection that their casual short sleeved dress shirts do a good job at keeping hidden.

“Boss!” Harry lets out a sigh of relief as Paulie rushes through the door in his usual matching tracksuit and heads straight into the kitchen, Harry’s hand that was on the waistband of his pants falls to his side while he uses the other to pinch the bridge of his nose as an attempt to calm himself down.

“How’ya doin sweetheart? Smells good.” You turn your head and give him a smile as he leans in and places a kiss to your cheek on his way to the other side of the kitchen where Harry and Christopher are still standing by the fridge.

“The fuck is the matter with you Paulie? Bustin’ in the door like that? You’re lucky I didn’t redecorate the walls with your fuckin’-”

“You didn’t hear me knock? I knocked before I came in boss I swear I’m not some kinda wild fuckin’ animal.” He says with his hands raised in a show of mock surrender since he can sense the irritation coming off his boss. “They got Jimmy.”

“I already told em’ Paulie.” Christopher explains after taking a sip of his beer. Harry lets out a frustrated groan as he places both hands on his hips and shakes his head while a sarcastic chuckle bubbles up and out of his mouth from his deep in his chest.

“Actually no one has told me shit because I still don’t know who got Jimmy?” He snaps while you just do your best to ignore the loudness of the men that are starting to take over your kitchen as you turn so you can grab the bread off the counter next to where Harry placed the container of pasta.

“Yo uncle H you hear what happened to Jimmy?” You turn your head to give Harry a warning glare as once again your back door flies open allowing a loud voice that can only belong to his nephew Anthony, to be heard well throughout the house. Harry ignores your glare as Paulie and Christopher turn to look at the youngest member of the Styles crew.

“If you tell em’ then half the damn neighborhood is gonna hear about it too you fuckin’ loud mouth.” Paulie teases as Anthony walks into the kitchen, you open your mouth to say something to your husband but feel a hand on your shoulder pulling you in for a side hug and a kiss to your cheek.

“How ya doin auntie? Smells incredible in here.” While you want to roll your eyes at him you can’t because you’re not annoyed with him or any of the men in your kitchen minus the one that they all came over to talk to, the one they call boss but you just call your husband.

“If one more of you ass kissin’ fucks tells her it smells good in here I’m kickin all you out on your asses. It’s just a fuckin’ sauce and some leftover pasta for Christ sake.” You feel your jaw clench as you reach for a small bread knife from the knife block, Harry watches you turn around and face him with the bread in one hand and the knife in the other. He has to hold off the smirk that’s tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms over his chest making his biceps flex a bit as you narrow your eyes at him in a harsh glare while taking a step towards him causing Paulie and Christopher to move to the side to give you some space while Anthony just stands behind his uncle.

“Say one more thing about what I’m making for dinner Harry and you’ll be taking all your meals through a fuckin’ straw for the next few months.” You threaten as you raise the knife up and use it to point at him, Paulie raises an eyebrow as he looks from you to Harry who just gives you a nod as he takes a step towards you and slowly reaches a hand out and places it over yours that’s gripping the handle of the knife that’s still pointed at him.

“Yeah? You gonna break my jaw sweetheart? Is that it?” You shrug as you let him lower your hand holding the knife to your side while looking him in the eyes, you can tell by the way they are a light shade of green almost like a jade color that he’s not angry at you for speaking to him that way in front of company. “I’d let you if it meant I didn’t have to eat microwaved pasta and lukewarm sauce for a while.” He admits with a smirk knowing that comment is going to push you over the edge.

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” Harry’s smirk turns into a full blown grin as you insult him because he knows you’re capable of calling him much worse things than an asshole so that’s his signal that you’re not really mad at him. He lets go of your hand that’s holding the knife and brings it up to cup the side of your face, his rings feeling cool against the warmth of your skin.

“Yeah m’a real fuckin’ prick but you love me.” You roll your eyes making Harry’s grip on your face tighten ever so slightly as his thumb presses into the side of your cheek as he leans down so his lips are right next to your ear. “Come on baby tell me you love me.” He whispers into your ear before placing a kiss to the spot just below it.

“I love you.” You say with an annoyed sigh making Harry smile because in that moment he feels he’s won. He places a kiss to your forehead before he drops his hand from your face and takes a step around you towards the dining room. The guys pause a moment when they hear you let out a scoff before you turn and see Harry’s back facing you as he reaches the edge of the kitchen.

You quickly reach over and place the knife on the counter and grab an apple out of the fruit basket you keep on the kitchen island and before you can second guess yourself you toss it, aiming for the back of Harry’s head. He pauses as the apple makes contact with his shoulder instead of where you had intended it to go but a hit is a hit so you aren’t too upset. He slowly turns around and looks at the apple on the ground, bending down to pick it up before he looks over at you with a glare.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Say it back you fuckin’ jackass.” Harry looks at you with a quirked brow as you stare at him waiting to hear him say he loves you back.

“I love you. You’re the love of my whole miserable fuckin’ life okay? Happy now?” Harry admits and you just nod and turn to grab the knife and make your way over to the area by stove so you can begin to slice the bread and get it ready to be put in the oven with some oil and a bit of garlic.

“Maybe your life wouldn’t be so miserable if you were nicer to your wife you prick.” You mumble making Harry laugh as he turns and walks into the dining room.

“I love when we get dinner and a show.” Paulie jokes as he walks behind you and off in the direction Harry went.

“Always with the jokes. How bout you make yourself useful and set the table huh?” You laugh when you hear Harry’s voice from the dining room followed by what you know is the sound of his hand smacking Paulie upside the head.

“The fuck you two waitin around for? Someone better tell me what the hell happened to Jimmy before my wife sets foot in this room or I’m lettin’ her break all your jaws.” He shouts from the table and you look over your shoulder and watch Christopher and Anthony nearly trip over themselves trying to get in the dining room.

“M’sorry bout the whole dinner and a show comment. You know m’a fuckin’ idiot sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it Paulie you’re fine he’s just an ass.” You reassure him with a smile as he stands next to you while he opens the cabinet you keep the plates in.

“Just a normal Tuesday at the Styles house huh?” He teases with a giggle and you can’t help but laugh and nod because while normally there aren’t this many unexpected visitors on a Tuesday night you can’t say it hasn’t happened before and that it won’t happen again.

[hotvintagepoll]

Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis (Scared Stiff, Living It Up)—goofy weirdo yaoi

William Powell and Myrna Loy (The Thin Man films)—i know they will have been submitted already but What If They Haven't Been!!!! the screen couple so hot together that people assumed they were married in real life! they match each others snark and dry deliveries SO well, theyre so married i still keep them tucked away in my mind as The Bar of established couples for movies. its also THEIR season rn new years is THE season for the thin man so a vote for loy-powell is a vote for love

This is round 1 of a mini Christmas tournament. Each poll lasts for three days. If you'd like to send additional propaganda supporting your favorite hot couple, you can reblog this post with your propaganda added, send it to my asks, or tag me in it. To vote in all the polls, click here. Happy holidays!

[additional sexy propaganda under the cut]

No additional propaganda submitted for Lewis and Martin.

Loy and Powell:

William Powell and Myrna Loy from The Thin Man series. Glamorous and witty, with the banter of a will they or won't they couple combined with the mischievous affection of the happily married. And they're detectives!

They're ridiculously in love with each other, genuinely enjoy spending time together, respect each other, and just look at them:

He's dapper! She's gorgeous! Asta is adorable! They're simply the best!

Nick & Nora Charles, my pre-Code LOVES. Wikipedia describes them in one line as a couple who enjoy “copious drinking and flirtatious banter,” and they’re right for that.

Myrna Loy and William Powell, their delight in each other on screen makes me deliriously happy every time I watch them. I’ll even watch the later Thin Man movies, even if they aren’t great, just for those two flirting and smirking knowingly at each other. Watching them as Nick and Nora, you just know those characters really enjoy being with each other more than anyone else.

They had sizzling chemistry, and their real life friendship meant that they actually enjoyed being around each other, and it showed on screen.

I know I'm probably not the only one suggesting them, but I HAVE to nominate my favorite on-screen duo: Myrna Loy and William Powell. The chemistry between them has rarely been equaled; they're like the fun, cool couple that's clearly in love without ever being obnoxious about it. I love all of their movies so much, but my favorites are the Thin Man Series, Libeled Lady, Love Crazy, and I Love You Again. Obviously, I'm not alone, seeing as they had 13 movies together. Also, them+Asta? True double income, no kids goals.

(I know other people will be saying this but One Must Be Sure). MYRNA LOY and WILLIAM POWELL. From The Thin Man (1934), After the Thin Man (1936), and all the other Thin Man movies etc. They're just so into each other in such an equitable way, they push each others buttons and tease each other while drinking like fishes and solving mysteries and it's REALLY HOT. They both always had a twinkle in their eyes and adorably wrinkled their noses at each other.

Myrna Loy and William Powell, who are both life goals and wife goals simultaneously. The ultimate gender envy couple.

[j5daigada]

some random observations I made in japan, which I'm posting because I found them interesting and also why not

putting them under "read more" for anyone who is interested in reading them

probably the last thing I will post related to japan...!

+18 comics/doujins usually had their own designated floors or sections, sometimes next to the shelves of safer comics, separated by curtains, if even that. In one of the stores, the line to the cashier was formed through the +18 section of the store. The floor for +18 comics was commonly labelled as "doujinshi for men" (and the floor for BL, sometimes bara too, as "doujinshi for women"). All the comics were covered in a plastic film, so you couldn't read them or even check what was inside; a bit tricky when trying to figure out if they contained what you wanted...!

Subways were super packed sometimes, but even then it felt like you had your own small space. There were also trains for women only, although apparently that was only enforced between 7-9 am, since after that time window everyone was just using them no matter how packed they were.

Many anime ads and posters in subways and stations. Many gacha and vending machines too (I got an oreo-flavored ice cream cone from one of them, I liked it).

The food was really good, I'm gonna miss it... It was very affordable too, as I could get a meal with a drink for ~1k-1.2k yen (which translates to around 6-7 euros or USD), which a lot of the time could keep me full for the rest of the day. Filled onigiri only cost around 100 yen, which is like 0.6 euros or USD. The only thing I didn't like super much was nori in ramen, since I found the taste too seawatery (although in onigiri it had a very neutral taste). Miso soup tasted pretty good, although the smell was pretty strong. Mochi is probably the softest thing I have touched.

At some convenience stores, they had a touch screen on your side of the counter where you had to select your payment method and whether the cashier had checked your ID for alcohol... kind of a minor point, but it was funny how I was the one needing to confirm that.

Many stoplights for pedestrians had visible countdown timers.

I know students wear uniforms, but I didn't realize kindergarteners/elementary school kids(?) also had color-coded hats until I ran into a couple different groups of them with their supervisors at a park.

Akihabara had a lot of girls outside advertising their maid cafe. I visited one with my friend and it was a pretty fun time, although there were a bunch of extra fees.

Surprisingly many people wore short skirts with bare legs despite it being December and +5C on some days. I don't think anyone would do that here where I live when it gets cold.

The toilet paper was super thin, probably about 3 times thinner than here...

Streets were super packed, especially on weekends. I don't think I've ever seen this many people in one place at the same time before (considering my country is very sparsely populated). Navigating through crowds of people was not too much of a problem though.

Many restaurants accepted foreign cards, but some didn't (such as one local burger joint). Usually they showed all the payment options outside the restaurant. Many restaurants also showcased wax versions of their meals outside, which was pretty handy for finding something you wanted to eat.

[kylieneko]

Happy birthday and Hogswatch to this post. It's not the most reblogged Discworld quote I've posted, but its had some of the best comments/tags. And I swear it's been reblogged at least once a month since posting, making it the first time the pretentious "let's have this Christmas thing last all year" has actually happened, to my knowledge.

I could post a new quote, but I just feel like these reactions are worth more. You want more Hogfather quotes, read the book -- it's basically quotable from start to finish. Or there's a two-part TV movie adaptation. It's alright, and has this scene, but there's so much that got cut due to simply being unfilmably unadaptable.

@justafterjericho added: #there's no better present than a future #love him love him so much #the best anthropomorphic personification

@lancrewizzard simply #sits and cries a little

@memorijemand wrote: #I barely remember my reading order #but I think hogfather was one of the first discworld books I read in the original english #I do know for certain that “there's no better present than a future” fundamentally changed me as a person

@purgknight said: #Death has legitimately changed my brain chemistry for the better #“THERE'S NO BETTER PRESENT THAN A FUTURE”

@bad-choices-and-femslash has the feels with the rest of us: #this part always makes me cry

@emmalily, who is an abomination unto Nuggan by the way, has an impassioned (and correct) opinion: #this scene is like me getting revenge on the bitch teacher who made us watch the Little Match Girl in 2nd grade #& then tried to tell me ''things like that [unhoused people freezing to death on the street] don't happen anymore!'' #but I knew the truth #there's nothing more infuriating than a grown up condescending a child over something that really matters & is actually true

@anthropomorphique can still find a chuckle nonetheless: #matchstick girl was probably the saddest story I've heard #thank you terry for fixing it #poorer than a disabled banana though😂😂

@milk-powrit joined us for Hogswatch in Grune by adding: #I’m glad death did this #always hated that story #what kind of Christmas story #has someone die at then end? #in no way is that a happy ending #there's no better present than a future

@krbgirl comes in swinging right before the 1 year mark with: #this really is amazing #heaven is not a happy ending #not when it's a literal fucking child

There was a moment of horrible silence as they both stared at the lifetimer. "You're for life, not just for Hogswatch," prompted Albert. "Life goes on, master. In a manner of speaking." BUT THIS IS HOGSWATCHNIGHT. Very traditional time for this sort of thing, I understand," said Albert. I THOUGHT IT WAS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY, said Death. "Ah, well, yes, you see, one of the things that makes folks even more jolly is knowing there're people who ain't," said Albert, in a matter-of-fact voice. "That's how it goes, master, Master?" NO. Death stood up. THIS IS HOW IT SHOULDN'T GO. . . . "You know you're not supposed to do this sort of thing, master. You know what happened last time." THE HOGFATHER CAN DO IT, THOUGH. "But . . . little match girls dying in the snow is part of what Hogswatch spirit is all about, master," said Albert, desperately. "I mean, people hear about it and say, 'We may be poorer than a disabled banana and only have mud and old boots to eat, but at least we're better off than the poor little match girl,' master. It makes them feel happy and grateful for what they got, see." I KNOW WHAT THE SPIRIT OF HOGSWATCH IS, ALBERT. "Sorry, master. But, look, it's all right, anyway, because she wakes up and it's all bright and shining and tinkling music and there's angels, master." Death stopped. AH. THEY TURN UP AT THE LAST MINUTE WITH WARM CLOTHES AND A HOT DRINK? Oh dear, thought Albert. The master's really in one of his funny moods now. "Er. No. Not exactly at the last minute, master, Not as such." WELL? "More sort of just after the last minute." Albert coughed nervously. YOU MEAN AFTER SHE'S-- "Yes. That's how the story goes, master, 's not my fault." WHY NOT TURN UP BEFORE? AN ANGEL HAS QUITE A LOT OF CARRYING CAPACITY. "Couldn't say, master. I suppose people think it's more . . . satisfying the other way . . ." Albert hesitated, and then frowned. "You know, now that I come to tell someone . . ." Death looked down at the shape under the falling snow. Then he set the lifetimer on the air and touched it with a finger. A spark flashed across. "You ain't really allowed to do that," said Albert, feeling wretched. THE HOGFATHER CAN. THE HOGFATHER GIVES PRESENTS. THERE'S NO BETTER PRESENT THAN A FUTURE.

[helen-lucilfer]

some really silly (AND CANON!!!) things about chrollo that i enjoy a lot

lmao im giving you all more since i think u all seem to rlly like the fun facts on the last post🥺💕❤️

———

- chrollo has a phone, and the only times that he actually uses it is to call someone—plus, he only uses it a few in the series. an example is after his fight against hisoka (ch. 357) and another time is on the black whale trying to find his “ideal partner” (ch. 406, will elaborate more on in the next fact)

- chrollo basically uses the nen equivalent of tinder, as he steals an ability (notably from a woman) called “love dial”, in which he can put in a condition to find someone on his phone with the nen ability and the ability will give him the number of the person who is his “ideal match” (it’s not necessarily romantic). for example, if chrollo puts in “someone with a strong rage towards me”, then kurapika’s number would show up. (note: just because you call doesn’t mean that the call will necessarily go through).

- chrollo can basically use any resource to his advantage, no matter how seemingly useless. for example, in the yorknew city arc, chrollo kills all of the assassins going after him with the pen that neon used to write his fortune. another example is when shizuku and pakunoda talk about how kurapika probably came to yorknew for the auction and chrollo suddenly pieces together where exactly kurapika could be, who he is, etc,.

- according to the yoshihiro togashi exhibit in japan (which holds completely canon information), chrollo is considered a genius at nen, meaning that he is only one level away from the ultimate tier of nen use. according to togashi, anyone can reach the ultimate nen user tier as long as they train hard enough.

- chrollo has an ongoing pattern of taking someone’s nen ability and using it far better than the original owner ever could. for example, neon only used her ability with little to no knowledge about how it actually worked; meanwhile chrollo managed to take full advantage of her ability by predicting exactly what will happen in the future and managed to save numerous troupe members due to it. another example is kortopi’s ability, which was believed to be useless in combat. however, chrollo proved that to be wrong, as kortopi’s ability was crucial to chrollo’s win against hisoka.

- chrollo can TECHNICALLY win any battle as long as you give him prep time. (i know, it’s the ultimate chrollo fangirl powerscaler card, but im not wrong😔)

- chrollo actually seems to prefer letting his hair down. the only times that chrollo actually has his hair slicked back is when he is around the troupe, possibly due to not wanting to seem vulnerable around the troupe. his unmoving hair when slicked back represents that. however, when chrollo’s hair is let down, it moves and represents the more human, more fragile side of him.

- chrollo’s eyes directly contrast hisoka’s. while chrollo’s eyes are gray—a plain and dull color, they are nearly always lighted because chrollo cares despite trying to pretend that he doesn’t. meanwhile, hisoka has bright and fun colored yellow amber eyes, because hisoka doesn’t care about or feel anything despite wanting to.

- it’s canon that chrollo knows so much about Christianity and the Bible because he often visited the church in meteor city as a child (ch. 395-397). he seemed to be very close with the pastor, Father Lisores, as the pastor often complimented chrollo and talked about chrollo to the meteor city elders, talking about how chrollo might be the one to help the city.

- chrollo and the troupe actually seem to be viewed as heroes in meteor city rather than a villain. when the troupe visited meteor city to battle the chimera ants, the elders had no protests whatsoever despite knowing of their crimes. not only that, but judging from the way that chrollo spoke during his fight against hisoka, the meteor city elders also had very little, if any, issues against chrollo stealing their nen ability.

- chrollo has canonically met characters such as razor, eta, illumi, abengane, and dog man; no, that wasn’t a typo😭 his name is actually dog man (ik this isn’t really a fun fact but can u imagine how each of their conversations would go🤭 it’d lowkey be so silly)

- chrollo name in katakana (クロロ ku ro ro) has the word “kuro” in it, meaning black. the word “ro” is often added to names in japanese to make a name more masculine. thus, chrollo’s name can mean “black” or “darkness”

- chrollo’s tattoo is a type of cross called a “double vajra”

- a small plot hole in HxH about chrollo is how relaxed chrollo is with showing his face when going in public. during the yorknew city, people put chrollo’s face up on the internet. although they eventually take it down, there is still digital footprints.

- chrollo has a habit of self blame even when he is fully aware that something is not his fault (read his backstory for specific examples because there are WAY TOO MANY examples of it, especially in his backstory😞)

- chrollo seems to view himself as some sort of “higher being”. superior to humans, and yet the “being” that he sees himself as has little value. during the hisoka vs chrollo fight, chrollo says “humans are so very interesting” while looking down—and for the first time in the series, his eyes aren’t lighted. they are just dark and empty with very little emotion. chrollo doesn’t even view himself as a human anymore, and chrollo seems to view humans as some sort of strange entity.

- chrollo is an actor who acted a role for so long that he eventually forgot what his actual personality was like, and thus began to act out different roles and personalities hoping to find the one that he once was before he began acting.

———

oh chrollo, how i love you. the way that you genuinely changed my life. how dare you be such a realistic and relatable character? how dare you be such a fun and addicting character to analyze and dissect? how dare you be such an incredible character to daydream about to my ocs? how dare you be the character that made me cry the most in all of fiction? how dare you occupy such a special place in my heart?

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

June Part VII

~

So so grateful for all of you who love this story even when I take forever to post!! Happy holidays to all <3 <3

~

No, there's nothin' you can

send me, my own true

love

There's nothin' I'm wishin'

To be ownin'

Just to carry yourself

Back to me unspoiled

From across that

Lonesome ocean

~

Remus ran down the cottage’s porch steps and threw his arms around Lily. It was easy to lose service out at the lake, and he’d last talked to her at the coffee shop he’d always stopped at halfway through the drive from Gryffindor. He had a beloved photograph of Sirius and Julian sitting at an outside table there, the first time Sirius had come to the lake. He’d tried his best to specifically explain the forks and bends in the roads to Lily, but it was still a relief to see them getting out of their car.

“You made it,” Remus said into her shoulder.

“Sure did. Wow. This is the cutest.” Lily gave Remus one more squeeze before pulling back. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smiled up at the cabin. “J, look.”

“Hold on, you know this buckle hates me.”

Remus squinted against the sun to see James with his entire upper body in the backseat of the car. When he emerged, he was red-faced and holding Harry—who was already squirming towards Sirius. The slight delay of James closing the car door was even too much for him. Harry burst into tears, then abruptly stopped as Sirius jogged down the porch steps and scooped him away from James. Remus couldn’t make out what Sirius said to him, but he could read the broad smile on his face just fine.

“Oh, it is cute, for sure,” James said. He had his hands on his hips, and maybe a few cheerios in his hair, as he looked over the cottage, then Sirius. “Yeah, hi, good to see you, too, friend.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius said appeasingly, but held a hand out for James to clap and bring their shoulders together. “How was the drive?”

“Very pretty.” James shaded his eyes to look down the stone pathway that offered a glimmering sliver of the lake. He whistled. “That looks inviting.”

Lily brought Remus’ attention back to her with a squeeze to his hands. “How are you, Lupin? Feeling almost married?”

“More almost each day.” Remus wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come in, we’ve got lunch.”

Maybe Remus shouldn’t have been surprised when Julian and Harry took to each other immediately. Harry couldn’t do much, but he could giggle at whatever Julian was doing and take the small pieces of food Julian held out to him. He could sit in the waves while Julian safe-guarded him against any bigger swells caused by a passing boat. If his mom squeezed his hand when she caught Remus watching them one day with his sunglasses firmly hiding his damp eyes, well, that was fine.

James and Sirius took to each other, too, even after just a short time apart. There was lots of football and jumping off the raft to catch flying passes. Remus didn’t mind. With his parents reading in the shade of the lake-facing porch up above and Julian entertaining Harry a few paces away, he basically had Lily to himself, which almost never happened.

“This is heaven,” she said. “Like, it’s more heaven than a tropical resort or something. I mean, the house is right there, it’s way cooler and less humid than some island, and I have you to make me a drink.”

Remus smiled. “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Would I ever have seen this place if you hadn’t started playing?”

“You? Yeah, if you wanted. Everyone else? Probably not if I never got with Sirius.”

She nodded slowly, turning the ice cubes that clinked against her cup. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, and she had a large, floppy hat shading her face. Remus reached forward and lifted the brim with two fingers.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I was just thinking about…I don’t know. James has been down about losing the season like this. And maybe—” Lily flipped the brim up and turned to him. Her green eyes were the clear color of the lake. “Okay, I forgot after winning the Cup last year about how every summer’s beginning was like…It’s like they forget they’re good at their jobs. And that it’s going to be okay. And this year…It’s just back. James has been so hard on himself.” She sighed. “And probably losing Logan made it even harder, but he’s been down.” She looked back out at the water. Slowly, a smile crossed her face. “I don’t know. I’m rambling. But look at those lunatics out there. It’s just nice to see him smile.”

Remus nodded. Sirius and James were treading water near the raft. Their voices carried across the water, though he couldn’t make out their words. He didn’t need to. James made Sirius laughed so hard that his head disappeared under the water for a second before he surfaced again, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes.

“Ugh, the cutest,” Lily said.

Remus watched Sirius splutter and toss the football at James’ head. “Hm, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah, but I meant those two.” Lily held up her phone towards Julian and Harry. “Boys! Over here!”

“How do you want us?” James shouted over the water. He already had his arm around Sirius’ shoulders, grinning and ready for a photo.

“Not you,” Lily said, waving Sirius and James off.

“No, no,” Remus laughed and reached for his own phone. “Stay like that.”

Julian pointed at Lily so Harry would look, then tickled him into another grin. James wrapped both of his arms around Sirius and pulled like he was trying to lift him up, startling Sirius into a laughing one in his own.

The sight tightened Remus’ throat. He almost forgot to take the picture as he stared over the edge of his sunglasses instead.

“Did you do it?” Sirius called, then pushed James down again into the water.

Remus nodded, flashing a thumbs up.

“Anyway,” Lily sighed. “When does Logan play? James with his little hockey-pout face wants to watch.”

“Rangers are up against the Lightning tonight,” Remus said. “And yeah. I don’t think Sirius has fully realized Tremz isn’t a Lion anymore. I mean, really. Like, even less realization than Finn and Leo.”

“Yeah, those two cubs seem to be doing better.”

“Mhm,” Remus said. “I hope so.”

“Mais, non, non—” A shout of laughter came from the water, and a fast flow of French that got garbled as Sirius did a cannonball off the raft and caught the football. Remus didn’t know what the rules of their game were, but James, floating nearby, wiped the water from his eyes and looked devastated.

Remus leaned forward, digging his cup into the sand. Sirius surfaced again with the football held high. He shook his soaking hair out of his face, threw his head back, and whooped. It traveled to them over the waves, through the sound of sifting sand and Harry’s babbling. Sirius dunked his head again, and his dark hair plastered back from his face. The smile was still in place. Remus knew all about the down of a poorly ended season. In college, getting knocked out early and having to go to classes with that weight on his chest had felt like hell for the first two weeks. And Sirius Black didn’t do just down. He did devastated and punishing. He did end of the world and hard work and nextyearnextyearnextyear.

But there he was. In Remus’ lake, laughing like—

“Re?”

“Yeah,” Remus whispered. He tore his eyes away, looking at her. “Sorry, sorry, yeah?”

Lily had her hat flipped back again. He was watching him carefully with a small smile on her face.

“Sorry I didn’t hear what you said,” Remus said. “I…”

“That’s all right.” Lily leaned forward, too, checking on Harry once when he let out a loud shriek, before turning back to him. “What’s up?”

“He doesn’t always…” Remus passed his fingers over his mouth, over a smile. “It’s kind of like what you said about James. About summer. But it’s also the opposite. Sirius…He doesn’t always laugh like that.”

If there was anything Remus knew, it was Sirius Black’s face. He knew it guarded, and he knew it open.

“Like a little kid’s laugh,” Remus said softly.

“Pretty deep for a little kid.”

Remus grinned at her. “No, like—”

Lily put a soft hand on his arm. “I’m joking, Re. You’re right.” She squeezed his fingers and let go. “It is. It is nice. I mean…You were there. Before.” She shut one eye against the sun. “Did you love him then?”

“Love? No. Want? Maybe. Mostly I just…I don’t know why because he was fucking mean to me…” He smiled. “But I—no, really. You were there. He was so stubborn. Honest to God, I don’t think he trusted me until his ankle.”

“He’s Sirius Black,” Lily said. “I don’t think he was raised to be trusting.”

“That’s why I like hearing that laugh,” Remus said. “Fuck, Lils, I love that laugh.”

The boys were swimming in now. Julian had Harry in his lap and was waving at them.

“Good thing you’re getting that laugh for life, then.” Lily held up her drink. “To good laughs for a good life.”

Remus picked up his own drink. “Oh yeah, you’ve got one of your own.” He clinked his glass to Lily’s, sand sprinkling between them. “To good laughs for a good life.”

Lily flipped her hat back down. “Okay, okay, before we cry, let’s watch their abs appear from the water.”

“Oh, for sure.”

~

Maybe it was a slight miscalculation on Finn and Leo’s part to walk Logan to Madison Square Garden for his third game against the Lightning, but if there was anything that was worth getting a few good-natured heckles for losing their series, it was watching the Rangers fans waiting at the players’ entrance absolutely fawn over Logan.

Really, for Finn, it was watching fans fawn over Logan while Logan held on tightly to Leo’s hand. It was holding Logan’s bag for him while he…signed a man’s body.

“You really want me to sign…” Logan was staring apprehensively at a shoulder a man was offering him. “For a tattoo?”

“Don’t mess up,” Leo said, then grinned at Logan’s pleading eyes. “Just saying.”

“yeah, yeah,” the man said, grinning. “Just your signature and number. Please. Thank you.”

“Aha,” Finn said, holding up a finger. “Which number?”

“Oh, ten,” the man said hurriedly. “Please. I’m a firm believer that you’ll be back to ten some day.”

Logan looked at Finn.

“Would you look at that,” Finn said.

Smiling, Logan took a breath and uncapped the Sharpie. “D’accord.”

He signed his name and number more slowly than he usually would have, tongue peaking out in concentration. 

“Tongue, tongue,” Finn whispered, nudging his elbow into Leo’s side.

“Shh…” Leo was trying hard not to smile.

Logan had had to let go of Leo’s hand to hold the man steady, and Leo wandered closer to Finn, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Others were taking videos, and Finn felt some of the cameras train on them once Logan had finished signing. He flicked his sunglasses down over his eyes, half because he knew he needed to take it easy on direct sunlight for a while yet, and half so he could just stare at Logan all he wanted while he slipped his arm around Leo’s waist.

“Okay?” Leo whispered back, settling his hand over Finn’s.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Just taking it easy.”

“There you go.” Logan sucked air through his teeth, surveying his work, then laughed and capped the pen.

“Thank you,” the man said, bending to look. “Thanks so much.”

Finn would have thought the guy’s enthusiasm was a little over the top, but he could pinpoint at least a couple times in his life when he would have gladly let Logan Tremblay write all over him.

“Thanks, guys,” Logan said with a wave. He looked back at Leo and Finn. “Ready?”

Finn hitched Logan’s bag more over his shoulder. “Lead on, Ten.”

Finn saw the way Logan’s shoulders relaxed once they reached the elevator, away from prying eyes. He held out his hand to Finn. “You really didn’t have to carry my bag for me. Feels like you’re dropping me off at class.”

“Should have packed you a lunch,” Leo said.

Logan took his bag, shouldered it, and stepped into Leo’s space. “What would be in my lunch?”

“Oh, the usual,” Leo said. “Turkey sandwich, apple slices, a cookie…” Leo slid his hands around Logan’s waist. “A note telling you that I can’t wait for you to get home so…” The rest was lost to Finn as Leo bent and whispered into Logan’s ear.

It was all right that he didn’t hear. He got to watch Logan sway into him like Leo had hooked his very heart and pulled.

“See you for your nap,” Leo said sweetly. He tucked his hands behind his back and gave Logan a quick kiss.

Logan narrowed his eyes at Leo as he put a hand on Finn’s chest, twisting his t-shirt in his fist. Okay, fine, Finn was hooked, too. “Yeah, if I nap.”

Finn wrapped Logan up in a short hug, knotting his fingers in his hair. “Hey Tremblay…Sign my ass.”

Logan pulled back, shoving Finn away. But he was smiling, brighter than Finn had ever thought any of them would be able to do in this place.

“Game three,” Finn said. “You got this.”

They watched the elevator doors close, Logan leaning over to see them until he was just one green eye. Until he couldn’t anymore. They waved off the remaining fans when they walked back to the street level. Finn made straight for the subway—he didn’t want to be in this traffic hell Midtown longer than he had to. Leo followed him closely, their knuckles brushing until Finn hooked their little fingers together, then took his hand.

“So, what’d you whisper?”

Leo’s laugh echoed off the tiles as they descended the stairs underground. “Maybe you’ll find out later.”

“I hope so.” Finn let Leo through to the platform first, then went through himself. “Alex always dared me to jump these, and I never could. Lo did it once. First time he came home to the city with me.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “That stray freshman puppy you found did that?”

Finn grinned, putting his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “He was trying to impress me. He just didn’t know it yet. Spent the rest of the time waiting for the train looking over his shoulder all nervous.”

“Okay, that’s more like him.” As the train began to pull into the station, a rush of air that did absolutely nothing to break the heat ruffled Leo’s hair. Leo nudged a toe of his sneaker against Finn’s. “Hey, where you taking me?”

Finn reached out and touched the blond strands, then settled a hand against Leo’s cheek. “Surprise.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “I’m sweaty, sorry.”

“Like that’s ever bothered me.”

As the doors opened and Finn shuffled them inside, he caught Leo eyeing the pole distastefully.

“Hang onto me instead,” Finn said, taking Leo’s hands and placing them on his waist.

“And what are you gonna hold onto?”

“My New Yorker feet.”

Leo rolled his eyes but squeezed his hips. “Twenty bucks say you fall.”

“Not with you holding onto me.”

Leo eyed him until the doors slid shut with a ding and the train lurched forward. Finn balanced like he’d been doing his whole life, easing them both into the train’s rocking and jolting with his hands on Leo’s hips. He tilted his forehead down to Leo’s and winked.

“All right, city-boy. Now really,” Leo said, their lips brushing. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” Finn replied. “But don’t worry. We’ll be home in time for me to buy you take-out and watch baby play.”

Finn led them back onto street level when they reached uptown. The sun felt brighter up here, with Central Park relieving some of the crowded, hot feeling that the buildings gave out. Sweat shone on Leo’s temples as he put his sunglasses on.

“Hmm,” Leo said. “Okay. Interesting.”

“You game to walk across the park?” Finn asked. “Because we’re walking across the park.”

“I’m game for anything. But I have one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want to make out under a tree on our way.”

Finn closed his eyes and turned into Leo. He kissed the salty skin of his neck. “That’s not a condition. That’s a reward.”

“You’re walking with your eyes closed.”

Finn smiled and opened them. He brought Leo’s hand up to kiss. “Sometimes feeling you and seeing you at the same time are just too much.”

He liked the way it made Leo stare at him. He slapped a hand against Finn’s chest, but kept it there. “Shut up.”

“Pick a spot.”

Leo looked forward. They weren’t in short supply. There were baseball diamonds just ahead of them and The Great Lawn beyond that, speckled with picnic blankets and kids running around.

“C’mon,” Leo said. “Let’s get your pretty little head out of the sun.”

Leo jogged ahead, but Finn didn’t mind. He stopped when he found a dappled spot of shade and waited for Finn there, spreading his arms out with a grin before sitting down in the grass.

“Here!” he called. “Get your butt over here, city-boy, and sit in the dirt and grass.”

‘Yikes,” Finn teased, but he let himself down beside Leo with a huff, being careful of his shoulder. “You think I don’t sit in grass?”

“You do love a good leather booth and bistro chair.”

Finn laughed. “Fair.”

“Speaking of.”

“Speaking of?”

Leo leaned in and brushed their noses together. “Take-out is nice. But I think tonight you should take me, sit me down practically in your lap in one of those leather booths, and order us ice cold martinis and that to-die-for steak at that place we love. Then you take me home to watch Logan play.”

Finn grinned and hooked a finger in Leo’s closest belt loop. “In my lap, you say?”

“Yes. The place where they have those garage doors that open and let all the heat in.”

“Okay, I will.”

“So I can start the night watching the sun set, and end it in a dim enough corner for kissing until a waiter has to clear their throat to get our attention.”

“I thought the kisses were reserved for this very tree right here.”

Leo smiled as he tilted his head into Finn’s palm when he cupped his cheek. “Your ears get pink—” His words broke off into Finn’s first kiss. “—when you drink gin.”

“You and Lo say that about everything.” Finn kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, before finding his mouth again.

“We think about it a lot.”

Finn felt his cheeks warm when Leo reached up and tweaked his ear. Maybe he did prefer booths and bistros and couches and warm soft chairs that bookstores kept in their corners, but when Leo laid him down in the grass of the very place he used to wonder about finding someone, about loving someone, he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Leo’s mouth was soft. He kept Finn still and heavy with kisses that made Finn feel like the warm earth was becoming as cloudy as his head. Everything was so soft, so smudged and perfect, that he almost missed it when Leo said—

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Le.” His time with Logan was invaluable, but there was nothing like the three of them. Nothing at all. “But you came back to me happier, so—”

“No, I mean…” Finn felt him press his mouth down on his shoulder before Leo pulled back to look at him. He was framed by the sky. “I missed you while I was away, yes. But I missed you in the locker room after what Jack did. And when you were home but you were hurting and not yourself. And I missed you when—when…”

“When Logan got traded,” Finn said softly.

“Yeah,” Leo said shakily. He stroked Finn’s hair back from his face. He bent down and kissed the shell of Finn’s ear then came back smiling. “Yeah.”

Finn wished he could see the two of them. The way Leo put one thigh over his, and the grass stain on his t-shirt.

“Needed this,” Leo sighed.

Finn kissed the corner of Leo’s mouth. “I’d like a list of all the things you need, ranked in the order you’d like them.”

Leo’s laugh was soft, and Finn kissed his left dimple when it appeared. “Finn…”

“Okay, fine, we’ll start here,” Finn whispered. “Help me and this slightly bum shoulder up, and come with me.”

~

The cottage always seemed to take the sunset into its very paint and walls. It soaked through the windows and made it almost impossible to sit at the dining room table without the gauzy white curtains drawn. Those curtains turned the lake into a glistening blur. It set the rosé glasses on fire. Remus wanted to sit between Lily and Sirius and look at Harry happily babbling from his mother’s lap for the rest of his life.

“So, Logan’s sisters called me—well, Noelle called me,” Remus said. “And they’re sticking around in New York until the Rangers—you know.”

“Win or lose,” Julian supplied, and then knocked on wood at the same time as Remus. Sirius was holding the wooden salad bowl to pass to Hope and drummed his fingers on it once.

“Right,” Remus said. “So, that’ll happen. And then they’re going to be at the Shore Hotel, so that’s really close. And Logan is surprising Leo and Finn with a cabin, they think they’re staying at a hotel.” Remus put a hand on the sun-warmed back of Sirius’ neck.

“Ouais,” Sirius said. “I told him to get one because if we’re doing what we said—you get ready here at the cottage, I thought I would get ready with Reg, James, Tremz and Pascal there.” Sirius took Remus’ hand and kissed it, smiling. “Then I meet you at the end of the dock.”

“I have so many plans,” James said. “I mean, Dumo vetoed like eighty percent of them, but I still have so many plans.”

Sirius grinned. “Maybe I have plans, too.”

“What?” James shook his head. “No, I do. You can’t have plans, you’re the—one of the grooms!”

“I also have plans,” Lily cut in, looping her arm through Remus’. At Remus’ face she patted his cheek. “Super chill plans. Leo and I brought Talker down a few notches.”

“A few?”

“A lot of notches.”

“Hold up,” James said. “Whose side is Finn on?”

“He requested to, and I quote, ‘wander between the two,’” Lily said.

“Classic,” Remus said.

“Oh, those O’Hara boys are just the sweetest,” Hope said. Harry slapped the table as if in agreement.

“Why do all parents love Finn so much?” James asked.

“He’s just charming, that’s all,” Lily said. “But yeah, I don’t know how he’s going to pull it off, but he wants to wander.”

“If we forget any last minute things, he can run to the shops,” Hope said.

“I actually think he’d love that,” Sirius laughed.

Remus grabbed for another bread roll and Sirius passed him the butter without a word.

“Plans or no plans,” Remus said. “My original point was we have dates for everyone’s arrival, no matter how far the Rangers make it. Literally all we have to do is remember to pick stuff up.”

Hope hummed. “You’d be surprised at how difficult that can be. The flowers are late, the cake is late—it turns into a whole thing.”

“For sure,” Remus said, but smiled at her then pulled a face at Harry who giggled. “But do I really need flowers and cake or do I just need my husband?”

“For sure,” Lily parroted. “But your guests definitely need flowers and cake.”

Julian raised a hand. “I totally need cake.”

James raised both hands. “I totally need flowers. For reasons that are beyond me.”

Remus laughed and felt Sirius stretch his arm out over the back of his chair. He knew it meant Sirius only needed one thing for this wedding, too, and it was him.

“What kind of plans?” Remus knelt on their bed to push open the windows. The night had cooled, and he wanted to clear out some of the stuffiness the day’s heat had trapped. He got hot enough with Sirius pressed up against his back all night.

Sirius looked up from where he’d been checking the time on his phone. “Puck drop in five. Plans for what?”

“About your bachelor party, you said you had plans.”

Sirius laughed. “Reg and I were talking about it. I just wanted to freak James out a little. We’re gonna have dinner at that place you showed me. Play pool, darts.”

Remus pushed himself off the bed. “Dinner, huh?”

“Oh, come on.” Sirius clicked his tongue. “You know me. Dumo will order good wine, Leo will order the best—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Remus pointed a finger at him. “Leo’s on my team.”

“Your team?”

“My team.”

Remus loved that outraged, amused smile Sirius was giving him now. He gave it to refs, he gave it to Logan. Remus wouldn’t choose it over the little-kid laugh, but it was something—especially as Sirius walked across their room’s creaking floorboards and set two palms down on either side of Remus’ hips, pressing into the old mattress springs and making them whine.

“Creek creek,” Remus whispered. He tilted his mouth up to brush Sirius’.

“So, we have teams now,” Sirius whispered back. He kissed Remus so lightly. A feather, there-and-gone.

“And here you were thinking you’d finally gotten me on yours,” Remus put his arms around Sirius’ neck, pushing until Sirius was straightening and Remus could put his socked toes on Sirius’ toes and press their bodies together, standing there in a bedroom he’d been sleeping in since he was little.

Sirius smiled. “Almost.” Both his palms pushed under Remus’ t-shirt. “So close. Any day now.”

“Hey, Cap!” James’ voice came from below. “Lo’s taking first face-off!”

Remus sighed. “Self-torture.” Then, he kissed Sirius’ protests until they tasted like a smile.

~

Leo recognized the steps immediately. They were broad and stone and timeless, leading up to stone pillars. School kids were led in lines—the little ones jubilant, the older ones shuffling. Tourists raised their cameras high, and groups of people on their lunch break made clusters at various heights.

“You’re sweet,” Leo said. “You took me to the MET?”

Finn smiled. “I like watching you look at things. And besides, we better do it while Lo’s busy or else he’ll sulk if we bring him along and sulk if we leave him behind.”

“A-plus timing,” Leo laughed as they began to climb. “Hey, speaking of Lo. I think he doesn’t want to ask if we’ll come to Florida…but.”

“Oh, he definitely wants us to come to Florida.” Finn reached for his wallet. “I can feel it when he stares—” Leo snorted, Finn tilted his head back, laughing as they crossed into the grand entrance hall. “You know the stare.”

Leo pushed his nose into Finn’s cheek, eyes wide open. “This one?”

“Bit of an exaggeration and also wildly true.”

Leo grinned. “You, Logan, ocean. Sounds good to me.” He looked down at the red member card Finn had gotten out. “You keep a membership while you live in a different city?”

“I am nothing if not loyal, Butter.” He held his card out to the guard waiting in front of a long, white room flooded with light.

“One guest?” She scanned his card.

“Yes, indeed.” Finn smiled at her.

“Your name is Butter?” she asked.

Leo stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious. She just looked back with slightly uninterested blue eyes.

“I…” Leo nodded. “Yes. My name is Butter. Thanks.”

He pulled Finn into the waiting galleries before she could see him laughing.

~

Logan found a spot on the floor while they waited for coach to get the pre-game video loaded. He stretched his legs out, kneading one of his thighs. Percy was singing, Will was trying to cover his mouth, and Saint was watching them both with narrowed eyes. Logan didn’t know if he knew he was crushing the red bull can in his hands, but Luke gently eased it out of his fingers and drained the remaining liquid.

“Hey.” Alex settled himself down beside him.

“Hey,” Logan said. He sent him a quick smile, then did a double take. “Hey…”

Alex might not be Finn, but Logan liked to think he knew his O’Haras. He knew that lilac color. He knew that slightly vacant brown-eyed stare that only came out when Finn was trying oh-so very hard to be all right. Logan had put that look on his face more than once. He didn’t like seeing it.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked quietly as someone turned the lights out in the room. The screen flickered to life, showing Florida’s starting line frozen in the middle of a play.

“Hm?” Alex didn’t look at him.

“Maybe I’m summoned when you get that look on your face.”

Alex, recognizing his own words, let out a tired laugh. He glanced Logan’s way.

Logan pushed their shoulders together. “By my inner Finn.”

“I’m all right,” Alex said.

Logan waited, keeping his eyes ahead as Coach began to talk through defense. It felt nice to sit surrounded by teammates. Nice to be in the dark. He was tired and exhilarated all at once, heart fast but limbs sore.

“It’s kind of—I don’t know. I was wrong,” Alex said softly. “You know when you just play something out in your head, but it turns out that what you were thinking only makes sense in your head?”

“If Finn was here—” And maybe Logan couldn’t stand that he wasn’t, that Leo wasn’t, and he wasn’t sure if that feeling was ever going to give him any peace, “he would say I’m the dictionary picture of that.”

Alex smiled slightly. “That boy has a lot of sayings.”

“That boy?”

“What? My baby brother? Fish-Finn.”

Logan smiled. “I remember hearing you call him Fish the first time.”

“When?”

“Well—not the best time. First concussion.”

Alex’s face lit up, but only in recognition. “Oh, that’s right. You were asleep in the chair.”

“Yeah. That was the first time I dreamed about kissing him. Ever.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up. “And you’re telling me I woke you up from that?”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

It earned Logan a smile at least. Alex still looked troubled as he returned his eyes to the screen. They listened. Logan took note of positions and numbers and the warning that there was some bad blood towards him and number 56 wanted to fight. When he shrugged, Luke and Percy laughed at him.

The lights came up to soon, and he was left looking at Alex as they both squinted a little in the sudden brightness.

Alex patted a hand on his chest. “I’ll be okay, Tremz. Really. Let’s do this first.”

The words seemed tired, but not like a lie.

~

Ice Floes. Claude Monet.

Finn’s shoulder pressed warmly against Leo’s as they stared at the hazy white landscape. The gallery was calm around them. A tour group murmured in another room. Two older women sat on the bench with their canes between their knees.

“For Lo’s birthday once,” Finn said softly. “I took him to a pond to skate because he said he missed it. Looked like this.”

“That first birthday you knew him, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Finn’s pinky finger found Leo’s and he hooked them together. “And—well, you know the rest of that story.”

“That I do.” Leo shivered just remembering it. His eyes found the small, paint scratched signature in the painting’s corner. A thought made him laugh.

“What?” Finn asked.

“Artists sign their work.” Leo pointed to it. “That man wanted Logan to think he was a piece of art.”

Finn laughed—maybe too loudly for a museum. “That man could only be art because he wants Logan’s name tattooed on his body.”

“Oh? Do you want Logan’s name tattooed on your body?”

“No,” Finn said, but he tilted his head. “I would, however, like Logan to get some more tattoos.”

“Mm, yeah.” Leo leaned his temple against Finn’s. “Where? Arm?”

“Forearm.”

“Forearm, yeah. Collarbone.”

“Oh, yeah, good one. Back?”

“Mm. No, I like it as it is.”

“True,” Finn said. “You’d look good with a tattoo.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Eh.”

“You would. I’m not a tattoo person. I don’t think.”

“There’s something pretty about just you and all your freckles.” Leo squeezed their linked fingers. “Your head okay? Shoulder?”

“Knees and toes, knees and toes…”

Leo laughed. “Okay, okay. Where to next?”

They walked back downstairs to the bright sky-lit rooms of ancient Greece and Rome. They passed the large column, the intricate vases of fighting warriors and seated Gods. Leo wondered if he could find any replicas of the pretty Roman glass. He lost a wandering Finn while he was taking photographs to show his mom, but found him again in front of Heracles. He had his head tilted at the statue’s thick chest, only covered by the paws of the thick lion skin draped across the statue’s back.

“Halloween costume?” Leo asked, and Finn rolled his eyes and pulled him away.

They walked to the room transported from Pompeii, then deeper into the museum to suits of armor and lances. Leo found himself thinking of a school field trip. He’d been a junior in high school, whispers and stirrings about the NHL already surrounding him so much so that some of his teammates in his history class thought it was stupid for him to be excited about something as small as a field trip to a local museum. He had been though.

At least until Jack wouldn’t so much as look at him on the bus, never mind sit beside him.

Now, he felt Finn’s palm push under the hem of his shirt, brushing a thumb over the small of his back. They were in a darker part of the gallery, dim except for the low lights aimed at the weapons. Finn had pulled out his glasses to read the museum sign, but pushed them into his hair as he finished.

“Cool,” Finn said. “The hilts come off, so you can replace your blade. Or I guess change the hilt with your outfit? Do you think—”

Leo put a hand on his jaw, turning his head, and kissed him.

Finn hummed when Leo pulled away. “Fantastic. Kisses and weapons.”

“Thanks for sitting with me on buses,” Leo whispered. “And taking me to museums.”

Finn put those Jack-tinged pieces together quickly, and his eyes softened.

“Thanks for telling me you wanted me the first time I asked,” Finn said.

Leo’s eyebrows went up, and Finn smiled, wrapping his arm more fully around Leo’s waist.

“Like you didn’t know Logan wanted you,” Leo said.

“I did. I just didn’t know if he’d ever let himself take me.”

“Those words sure sound sweet coming out of your mouth.”

“Oh yeah?” Finn smiled. “Besides, I am pretty Lo-fluent.”

Low on his stomach, Leo covered Finn’s hand with his own. “Funny, he’s said the same thing about you.”

“Oh, I bet he has.” Finn nosed against Leo’s cheek, and stole a slow, leisurely kiss—far too much for a museum, even the quiet corner of one. “But still. You looked me in the eye. One-for-one.”

“And then I ran away from you?” Leo reminded him, kissing his jaw.

“But you let me come find you.”

“He wanted that, too. Believe me.”

Finn laughed. “You don’t have to defend him. You know I’d have kept him in my pocket if I could. Always.” Finn gave his hand a little tug on Leo’s waist and began to nudge him towards a free corner. “I’m taking about you. I’d keep you there, too.”

“Your pocket? Honey, I like it in your arms just fine.”

“Oh,” Finn said around a smile, then “hm” just before he kissed him again.

Leo didn’t know if he should be leaning against a wall here, didn’t know where a guard was to yell at him, and didn’t really care. At one point, he put his hands into Finn’s hair and had to catch the glasses he’d forgotten about. The small gasp he gave as his fingers fumbled for them let Finn right in, and suddenly any sort of footsteps or place was simply gone.

“Ready to go,” Finn guessed when Leo made a wanting sound, then smiled and kissed him again, quick. “Yeah, we are.”

~

Kasey was waiting for Alex on their floor outside their building’s elevator. Alex was pushing his hair back, still damp from his shower at the rink, and rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he saw him. He’d already begun tugging his tie from his neck. His muscles ached, and his shoulder had felt just a little off since that open-ice hit in the middle of the third, but when those doors opened and he saw Kasey leaning against the wall in the hallway, it all dimmed. The caught gaze between them felt as unfinished as their words.

“Good game,” Kasey said.

“Thanks,” Alex tugged his tie all the way off and let the elevator close behind him. “How did you know I was home?”

“I tracked your location.” Kasey slid his hands into his pockets. “Just like to know where you are. And what you’re doing.” His mouth pulled to the side. “And if you’re okay.”

Alex rolled his shoulder. He dropped his go-bag, walked forward, and kissed him. It maybe came out a little rough. Kasey’s hands found his hips. They slid up the arch of his lower back. Alex held onto his shoulders, turning into the softness of Kasey’s mouth until they had to breathe. He broke the kiss, catching his breath, then tried to lean back in. He was stopped by Kasey’s hand on his jaw. His thumb came to rest just over Alex’s bottom lip. Alex kept his eyes closed, waiting. Kasey’s thumb tapped twice. The silence was long, but it was like basking in sun.

“What, you couldn’t…” Kasey began softly. “You couldn’t talk to me about it?”

Alex was sure he could feel it each time Kasey’s brown eyes shifted over his face.

Kasey grasped Alex’s shoulders. “All the times we… Al, you took me ring shopping. I feel horrible, I feel so, so horrible—”

Alex couldn’t help it. He turned away. He rubbed a hand over his chest and beating heart.

“I need you to tell me things,” Kasey said. “I need you to.”

“I…” Alex’s voice hardly came out. He looked at the warped reflection of the two of them in the elevator doors. More silhouettes than anything. “I want you to be happy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Alex, what—” Kasey stepped forward, voice raising. “And you think you don’t make me happy?”

“It wasn’t about me!” Alex turned back towards him. He couldn’t keep the break out of his voice. “It was—”

“I want it to be! I can’t—I can’t come home and—it turns out that you think—” Kasey was shouting now. Alex had seen it happen once. Maybe twice. “It turns out you think you’re sometimes to me? Sometimes?”

“You were getting married!”

“You said you were okay with it! You’re still ours.”

“What the fuck was I supposed to say?” Alex could feel the burn in his throat. “What the fuck was going to happen if I said no?”

“So you decided to lie?”

“I decided to keep you for as—” Alex broke off. Aware they were in a hallway, he dropped his voice. “For as long as I could.”

Kasey flinched. He took a step backwards. He filled up the hallway with his broad shoulders and the way the light caught his hair. He filled up Alex’s head with everything from the way he tossed anything he was holding between his hands like a puck, to the sheepish way he kissed in the morning.

“What?” Kasey’s whisper was hoarse and desperate. “What?”

Alex just shook his head. He wanted to take the words back. Right then, if he could have, he would have reeled back every word he’d ever said in his life. “I…I don’t know. I’m so stupid, Kase, I don’t…I’m…”

Kasey made a frustrated noise, and then Alex was being crowded against the wall. Kasey put his hands on either side of his head so they were eye-level.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kasey whispered. He nudged his nose against Alex’s cheek. “You—Hazard…”

Alex nodded. He’d always liked his nickname, but right then it just felt like the truth.

“No,” Kasey whispered. It had a scolding tinge to it. “You’re not. Not like that.” Kasey kissed his cheek. He let his mouth stay there, warm and soft. “You’re not.”

Alex realized he was was kissing tears.

“I’m a mess,” Alex said.

Kasey pressed a palm to Alex’s other cheek, thumbing away the trails. “You’re not a mess. You’re crying.”

That made Alex laugh, startled and, well, a little snotty. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is you’re not a mess,” Kasey said. He kissed the corner of Alex’s mouth. “And you look fucking gorgeous.”

“You’re mad at me,” Alex said.

“A little, yeah.” Kasey leaned back to look at him. “And I love you so much I might lose it.”

Alex sniffed again. “God. God, I love you, too. You’re angry.”

“I can be both. And one part will fade. Guess which? Not the love part. That’s been here to stay since the first day I met you and you wouldn’t shut the hell up up and let me go to sleep.”

“I…” Alex took a few moments to twist an end of Kasey’s hair around his finger. “I don’t—I have this little brother, you may know him?”

Kasey’s eyebrows went up, amused. “Uh-huh. Think so.”

“He had this boy at college that he…” Alex sniffed, blinking away the wetness from his vision. “I don’t remember his name. Liam Trombone, or something.”

Kasey smiled, just a little. “You have the weirdest sense of humor.”

“Lionel Trustfund.”

“Finish the story that I already know.”

  “Okay.” Alex dropped his eyes, studying the curve of Kasey’s upper lip. “The little brother burned up a little, waiting for him. And there was nothing I could do to help him.”

“Okay,” Kasey’s expression had softened, listening.

“I didn’t know how to help him, but I knew how much he was hurting.” Alex put his hands on Kasey’s chest. “I think that little brother’s stronger than I am. I think he’s smarter than I am. I think he could survive it. Even if it didn’t work out.”

Kasey’s hands covered his.

“I don’t…think I could,” Alex whispered. “So I tried to stop it before it was too…”

“I get it,” Kasey said. “Don’t worry, I understand now.”

“Maybe I’m jealous,” Alex said. “Or I’m insecure, or something fucking stupid like that—”

“Maybe,” Kasey cut him off, “you’re as in love with us as we are with you. Maybe we’re fucking stupid or something like that. Maybe I was leaving hockey and I knew just one part of this new life that I was about to have, and that part is Natalie.” Kasey ducked until Alex looked at him. “Maybe I couldn’t believe I actually got you back and I didn’t…” Kasey pressed his lips together against tears. “You’re not just sometimes, Al. Of everything in my life, you’re the only thing that’s always been always. I don’t have this incredible family like you do, I don’t have…I’ve always had my teammates, and then I had Natalie, but first I had—first there was suddenly this really kind, fun…loud person—”

Alex let out a breath of a laugh and Kasey smiled, brows drawn together against the tears.

“Really beautiful person suddenly filling up my life,” Kasey finished, carding Alex’s hair back from his face. “First there was you.”

Alex nodded hard. “You’re that for me. You’re that for me, too.”

Suddenly, Natalie’s voice filtered down the hallway. “This hallway has very bad lighting for confessions of love.”

Alex closed his eyes and laughed when Kasey grinned. They turned to see her leaning out of their doorway. She wore Rangers blue.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Alex said, rubbing at his eyes. “Where is my bag?”

“I’ve got it,” Kasey said.

Kasey picked his things up and followed Alex to their door.

Natalie stood aside from the doorway, letting them in, and looked up at Alex. “I would have gone with Leroy Trampoline.”

“Laurence Trespass,” Kasey added from behind him.

For some reason, it was that that truly made Alex cry. Natalie was ready for it. She didn’t let Alex put a hand over his eyes. She caught it and kissed it. She smoothed a hand over Alex’s shoulder, as she kissed his cheek.

“And when were you going to tell us this hurts, too?”

“My shoulder hurts a little,” Alex said somewhat dutifully, and she smiled, shaking her head.

“O’Hara,” Kasey began to protest.

“Barely,” Alex said. He wrapped Natalie up around her waist and lifted her off her feet a little. “Okay, okay, I promise. I don’t know why I hide it, I really don’t. Natalia?”

“Alexander.”

“You look so beautiful when you look at wedding things,” Alex said softly. “Are you sure you…Are you sure you don’t…” Alex shook his head. He looked at Kasey pointedly, then shook his head down at himself. “I mean, I…Are you sure?”

“What can I say,” Natalie said, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I want two diamonds. And two pairs of brown eyes. And two hearts. And you. You.” She kissed him more fully, hands in his hair, and said her next words against his mouth. “Let them call me greedy, see if I care.”

~

“No,” Leo pushed at Finn’s cheek, laughing. “Lick Logan all you want, don’t lick me.”

They were just a little tipsy after a full dinner and watching Logan play, tucked into a booth at Finn’s favorite place with whiskey and Leo’s mouth on on his neck. Finn was possibly feeling a little riled up from Logan’s intense expression on the TV, and Leo’s bright smile right beside him. He’d let himself be pulled home, pulled through their door, pulled into Leo’s arms, pulled against his body. Leo was salt and sweet. Finn had gotten him off once already—right here, Leo had said, pushing Finn to his knees in the entrance hall. Ever since Lo said about you two…He’d glanced over his shoulder at the mirror and laughed. Finn liked the way that small table rattled against the mirror. He and Logan bit back smiles whenever they locked eyes in that mirror now, coming in from a walk or dinner. He’d never walk through there the same way now. Not with Logan, not with Leo, not alone.

“Okay, okay, okay, come back.” Finn kissed Leo’s cheek, turned against the pillows. He was stretched out against the bed now, bare except for his boxers. “Come back.”

Leo pretended to keep his face turned away, smiling, but his hands were sliding down to Finn’s hips, pushing into his boxers and turning back to kiss him.

“Do I get to—” Finn couldn’t help the low sound in the back of his throat as Leo closed a hand around his cock. “—hear—to hear more of the list of the things you want?”

Leo’s palm was warm, his pulls slow and teasing. “You’re hearing it right now.”

“Oh,” Finn’s voice felt tight and coiled in his throat. “Uh-huh.”

Leo hooked an ankle over the back of Finn’s knee. His free hand scratched through Finn’s hair, angling his chin for another kiss. Finn pressed his hands into the pillows by Leo’s head, fingers fisting the material as Leo’s hand sped up. But then, Leo was using that ankle as leverage, and suddenly Finn found himself on his back.

“Don’t…” Leo whispered the word, even mouthed it. He let Finn slide his palms down his ribs. “Move.”

Then he was grinning and gone, leaving Finn staring up at the ceiling.

“I—wait, I, what?” Finn stuttered. “I—what?”

“Don’t move!” Leo shouted from the living room.

Finn heard rummaging, and Leo’s bare feet on the hardwood.

It was funny, being alone in this bedroom. Logan’s bedroom. He turned his head into the pillow and could smell his scent there. Logan’s bed had been a rare delicacy at one time. Being in it. Being warm in it, being cold in it. Being cramped in it. Waiting for him to come back but waking up alone in it.

He’d never been in Leo’s bed when they’d lived together before they were together. He’d sat on top of the covers. Or rumpled covers. Warm from Leo just waking up, Finn back from his run and showered, watching him go back and forth from the bathroom, getting ready. A little hard in his jeans at Leo’s smile and skin.

“Le?” Finn called. He looked down at himself, briefs tight, and ran his thumbs just above his waistband. He’d leaked a mess while sucking Leo off and he was tempted to kick away the darkened material. But he wanted Leo to do it. “Come back.”

“I’m coming!”

“Whatever you think you need, you don’t,” Finn called again.

“Oh-ho, yes, I do.” His voice was closer now. He came back to the doorway, still in his boxers. Finn’s heart gave a kick at the shape of him, trapped tight against his body. Nothing looked new. He wasn’t holding anything that Finn could see, but his hands were tucked behind his back. He was smiling, teasing almost, but his eyes dropped to Finn’s hips and it turned soft. He bit his bottom lip and tilted his head, then withdrew a hand and held something up—a Sharpie.

“You left me for a pen.”

Leo uncapped the pen with a flourish and pointed the nib at Finn’s body. “Art.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said.

“You are so turned on right now,” Leo said delightedly. He knelt on the bed, jostling them both, and swung a leg over Finn’s hips. They both let out a breath as Leo spent a few moments grinding down on him. Finn got a hand around the back of his neck and pushed his nose against Leo’s left dimple.

Leo smiled into it. “Kiss me.” He traced his tongue over Finn’s bottom lip, coaxing Finn into opening his mouth and kissing him properly. When Finn did, Leo groaned softly, pleased.

“Yeah…Like that,” Leo murmured, and Finn made his own pleased sound when Leo slumped against his chest to be kissed. Finn had just settled back against his pillows, tilting his head to scrape his teeth gently against Leo’s lower lip, his hands guiding Leo’s hips down in slow rolls against his own, when Leo gasped for air. Finn smiled and kissed him again, harder, sloppier, before Leo broke away.

“God, Finn.” Leo leaned back, hand rubbing at himself through his boxers, then Finn. “Okay, okay, where to write first?”

Finn laughed. “There are a whole lot of things we could be doing that don’t involve writing.”

Leo ignored him. He studied Finn’s torso, then spread a warm palm against his ribs and bent down. Finn tried not to jump when the cool point of the pen began tracing a slow line over his skin.

He tried to pick out the cursive letters, but couldn’t. Instead, he let his head rest back against the pillows. “That’s kind of nice.”

Leo capping the pen and admiring his work. He blew softly on the ink, though it had dried, and Finn shivered. When he looked, he saw that Leo had written his signature, and he laughed at the fact that he’d even included his number like he’d do for fans.

“Wow.” Finn reached forward to pull Leo down against him. “Do you have any idea how much I’d be worth on Ebay now?”

“Oh, shh,” Leo said, but let Finn steal the pen from him.

“Shh,” Finn parroted, and grasped Leo’s knees and flipped him onto his back. The pen was warm, so was the center of his chest when Finn kissed it. He sat back on his heels like Leo had. “What do you want, Sunshi—oh, I’m doing that.”

Finn chose the spot on Leo’s hip were Logan’s tattoo resided and drew a small sun. Circle, rays coming out. Over the bump of his ribs, he started the straight line of his signature. F. Then the loop of the O. Then, smaller, 17.

“What number would I be if I wasn’t 17?”

Leo snorted. “Ten.”

Finn smiled. “No way.”

“Hm…Maybe 22.”

Finn made an interested noise. He drew a small heart near Leo’s left nipple. “That’s a good one.”

“And me? And don’t just say another classic goalie number. Like, 30 or something.”

Finn capped the pen and swiped his thumb over the sun. “Maybe…Something with a seven in it. 72. Or a 4. I like 4 for you. 74. Or 3. Three of us, three on your jersey.”

Leo put his hands behind his head, smiling. “I ask for one number, of course you give me four.”

Finn shrugged. “What can I say? You’re versatile.” Finn put his hands over Leo’s wrists where they were resting above his blond, messy hair. “I like that about you.”

One moment Leo was grinning, and the next he was swinging his weight up to put Finn on his back again. “Oh?”

Finn ran his hands down the full length of Leo’s back and gripped the back of his thighs.

“I really, really want you,” Leo whispered. “Fuck, Finn, I loved today.”

“I know,” Finn whispered back. “Me too.” When he messed with the band of Leo’s briefs, Leo was helping him get them off before he could even ask, “yeah?”

Leo moaned into Finn’s kiss, and Finn’s cock jumped at the want and relief in it. Leo just pushed the elastic band below his balls and pressed against Finn’s body like he couldn’t wait any longer. Finn got a hand between them, giving him a tight hold to fuck into. He was already slick.

At the same moment, their front door slammed.

“Hello?” Logan shouted. Keys in a bowl. Bag dropping down to the floor. “I’m home.”

“Oh…” Leo panted. “Oh—”

“Good?” Finn settled a warm hand on his lower back. He didn’t care that he himself was aching. He wanted to make Leo come again the second Logan found them. “Come when you see him.”

Leo was too far gone for his laugh to be anything by half-breath. He was rocking into Finn’s fist more roughly now and Finn crossed an ankle over the back of Leo’s knee to give him more leverage.

“You wanna finish like this?” Finn swiped a soothing thumb over his back. “Hm, baby? Anything you want.”

“I need to.” Leo’s voice was shaky. “I’m so…”

“Yeah, you are.” He could hear Logan’s footsteps coming towards them and knew Leo could, too. Gently, Finn nudged his nose into Leo’s hot cheek until he turned his head towards the bedroom doorway. “Look.”

Leo’s breathing jumped. “I’m coming, I’m—”

Finn felt the first hot streak of Leo’s come on his chest, his neck, just as Logan appeared in the doorway. He was still in his suit, a light grey three-piece that Finn loved him in. His hair was dark, damp still, dripping on his collar. He had a new but shallow cut on his jaw. He stopped hard when he took in the sight in front of him.

“Hello, Lolo.” Finn’s voice was a little tight from the feeling of Leo pressing down on him. “What’s up?”

“Fuck,” Leo panted, eyes hooded.

Logan just stared. “I…”

Finn smiled and turned back to Leo. He carded his fingers through his hair and loosened his grip around his cock, bringing him down with gentle strokes. He was so hot in his palm, spent and softening. Finn felt like even the fabric around him could set him off.

“You,” Leo whispered, smiling as he noticed. “You’re so…”

“I’m good. You’re perfect,” Finn said. “Feel like I’ve come twice just watching you.”

Leo’s smile turned wide and sated. His kiss was slow. Out of Logan’s view, Leo slipped the Sharpie into his hand and Finn grinned, arching into Leo’s hips and the kisses he’d began placing on the underside of his jaw.

Logan just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Slowly, he found the different marks and dark lines on their skin, and frowned. “What is…that?”

Finn brought the pen up to his mouth and took the cap off with his teeth. “C’mere, Ten.”

Logan took a small step back, one corner of his mouth lifting, unsure. “What the fuck?”

Leo leaned back from what Finn was sure was entirely different type of artwork now dotting his neck. “Finn took me to the museum.”

“Artists sign art,” Finn added.

He gave Leo’s shoulder a small push and settled him on his back again and sat up with his knees parted over Leo’s hips. Leo reached out a hand to cup Finn’s covered cock, and Finn let himself rock into it gently as he surveyed Leo’s lean, pale skin, already marked in a few places. He felt like he’d been on the edge for hours. Sometimes, he didn’t want it to end. “Ah. Here.”

He wrote slowly, scrawling his signature again across Leo’s inner arm. He watched the way Leo’s breathing hitched and how goosebumps spread out from the marker’s cold nib. Leo didn’t laugh like he had before. He just pressed up into Finn’s hold as Finn scooted backwards and hooked one of Leo’s strong, slender legs over his shoulder and considered the expanse of Leo’s inner thigh, right where it was softest and sprinkled with blond hair. Finn steadied him, fingers in the strong crease of his hip, and drew a heart.

“Huh.” Logan’s mouth was slightly open. “Isn’t that bad, like, for skin?”

“Not my skin,” Leo whispered. He had his hands above his head and watched Finn through dark, half-closed eyes. “Not in those hands.” He turned his head. “What are you still doing over there?”

“Waiting for someone to take this suit off of me.”

Leo gave Finn a small smack on the hip that Finn took as go. Finn slipped off the bed. In two strides, he was in front of Logan, gently tilting his neck to the side, and writing a small 17 just below his ear.

“Hi, demanding one,” Finn said, then capped the pen a put it between his teeth to hold while he got to work on Logan’s tie.

“Why do you keep putting that in your mouth?”

“To draw your attention to it,” Finn said around the pen.

“Please remember I have to go into a locker room.”

“Oh, come on. You know I gotta show Luke what’s mine.”

Logan tilted his head back and groaned. “Finn.”

“Just kidding.” Finn took the pen out from between his teeth, cupping the back of Logan’s head to pull him into a kiss as he slid his tie out from his collar.

“You’re not kidding,” Logan protested, looking at Leo. “Le’s not jealous of Luke. He’s a mature person.”

“I’m jealous of anyone who gets to spend that much time with you these days,” Leo said.

Logan’s eyes turned soft, still staring at Leo as Finn slipped his jacket from his shoulders. It fell uncaringly to the floor. Finn could have watched them look at each other forever. He could feel their locked eyes like a strand of heat beside him. He undid the top buttons of Logan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders just enough to get at the center of his chest.

Logan looked down when he felt the cold pen. “What—”

“This is so much better than writing on shoes.”

H-E-A-R-T. Finn wanted to circle the letters, carve himself a space, and fall in. He settled for a kiss to the skin, then lower, lower, until he was kneeling and Logan’s shirt was on the ground. There was a fresh bruise on his ribs and Finn gently traced its shape before writing Logan Island.

“You’re so weird,” Logan said faintly. He gave Finn’s hair a little tug, brushed a thumb over his bottom lip, then went to kneel on the bed and kiss Leo.

Finn grinned at his soft salut and the sound of a kiss. He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. While they were busy, he tugged Logan’s socks off and pushed his pant leg up enough to draw a couple stars on the back of his calf. He heard Logan laugh into the kiss. The ink looked different against Logan’s more tan skin. With Leo it was stark and beautiful. Logan made it like it had always been there.

“Good win by the way. We watched you from that corner place we love,” Leo said when Logan rolled on his back to kick off his pants. Leo turned on his side to touch the bruise. “Maybe you should take it easy.”

Logan grumbled something Finn didn’t catch, down to his underwear now.

Leo glanced at Finn, smile knowing. “One more time?”

Logan huffed. “I’ll have big Florida hotel beds to take it easy all by myself all I want.”

Leo reached out for the Sharpie and gave Finn a nod. He hooked a knee over Logan’s thigh and began drawing small stars over Logan’s collarbone.

“Big Florida beds, huh?” Leo asked.

Logan watched Leo’s face as he drew. “Yes.”

“All by yourself?” Finn repeated.

That got Logan to look at him. He still looked put-out by the thought, but there was hesitation there, too.

“Ouais,” he said.

Finn tilted his head. “Says who?”

Leo capped the pen and blew on his stars. They were in a pattern, Finn realized. A constellation.

Logan pushed himself up onto one elbow. He looked between them, mouth open. “Quoi—non. What?”

Finn moved forward to settle in between Logan’s legs, smoothing his hands up Logan’s thighs when he wrapped them around Finn’s waist. “I said, says who?”

“Merci.” The word nearly got lost in Logan’s relieved sigh. Then he was reaching for Finn, locking his fingers around his wrists. “Really? Really?”

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Leo said. “What do you take us for?”

Logan looked like someone had just taken some heavy weight off his shoulders. He turned his head to put Leo’s forehead against his own.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“Honey, there’s nothing ‘thank you’ about it,” Leo said. “If we can follow you, we will. You know that.”

“I—still. It’s not like I’ll have much free time,” Logan said. “And—And I thought you’d probably want to go home.”

Leo smiled into Logan’s kiss. “Take a look at Harzy. I think he feels pretty at home right where he is.”

“Oh yeah,” Finn said. He leaned down over their them, barely having to turn his head to place a kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth, then Logan’s. “We’re going to get you some silver. We’re going to go watch our best friends get married. There’s nothing not ‘home’ about any of that.”

~

It almost felt strange, to watch hockey like this again. To worry about who was going to win and not be able to help a team get there. Sirius spared half a moment to glance at Remus as he set his tea down on the table. He said something soft and smiling as Lily handed Harry over to settle sleepily against his chest.

Sirius watched for a moment as a drone image of a Florida beach took up the TV screen. He stood behind the couch with his arms crossed, and as long as the blue water was on the screen, he could lower his hands to mess gently with the hair at Remus’ nape. Remus, rubbing Harry’s back, looked backwards and upside down at him.

“All right, Black, I’m not kidding, you standing there like that is not going to make the Rangers win.”

“I’m not—” The TNT logo flashed and suddenly Logan’s face filled the screen. He had his mouthguard half out of his mouth, and there was a neat line of stitches on his cheek from a re-opened cut. The camera panned to the ice where the Rangers were about to lose the last seconds of a power-play, and Sirius crossed his arms again, back into their original position. “I don’t want them to win.”

Lily scoffed. “We do for right now.”

“Gah,” James put a finger over her lips. “La-la-la.”

“I won’t say that out loud,” Sirius replied.

Around Harry’s sleeping back, Remus mocked Sirius’ position, crossing his arms. “You’re saying you don’t want Logan to win you-know-what?”

Sirius actually flinched. “I’m saying—I’m not saying anything that could influence anything. I’m standing here, watching a friend on television.”

“You’ve had your arms crossed like that since Logan scored in the first period.” Lily looked at the living room clock. “That’s about an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh my God.” Remus let out a loud ha, then put a hand over Harry’s head as if to say sorry. He held up his phone to Lily and James, who made similar sounds, then flipped it to show Sirius. Leo had sent a picture of Finn to the team group chat. Finn was sitting with his back straight in what looked like a hotel room, palm trees outside. He had his hands placed specifically on his knees, his eyes on an out of sight TV.

Leo had written, he hasn’t moved at all since Lo scored but he “isn’t superstitious.”

Sirius pointedly looked back to the television. Logan was on the ice now, gliding into Florida’s zone.

Sirius glared when he heard the sound of Remus’ camera click.

~

They were about to go into their second over time, and Logan had blood in his mouth as he walked down the tunnel to the visitor’s locker room. He checked his teeth, but it was just a cut lip.

“Fucking seventy-four,” Luke said from two steps behind him. “Got a fucking mouth on him.”

“Ouais.” Logan handed his gloves over to be dried and pulled his helmet off. He rubbed at the red mark the tightness had left and tried to think what Finn would be saying over his shoulder right then. He would be talking a mile-a-minute and pressed right up against his back. Logan could text him and Leo and read the words, but that wouldn’t feel the same.

He could imagine it in snatches. If we had gone around—Too early—So fucking gorgeous, Tremzy—I tried to but he cut me off, so next time—

That wasn’t the same, either.

He got a bag of ice, twisting it closed, before sitting down heavily in his stall and holding it against his mouth. It felt swollen already. The bleeding had stopped, at least.

From his stall, he heard his phone buzz.

Sixteen texts from Finn and Leo. Two from Remus.

One from Sirius.

The Sirius one, for some reason, sent his heart all funny. They talked. Of course they talked, but not much and never during games. Too many lines blurred like that, and it was bad enough that Logan still couldn’t look at Sirius without thinking of him as his captain. But there it was. Sirius Black. One new message.

Finn and Leo’s texts were a tangled string of admiration that ranged from sweet to dirty. Logan bit back a smile and vowed to take another look at those later.

Remus had sent him a screenshot from the Lion’s group chat. A photograph of Finn, sitting tensed on the couch. The beat of warmth that Logan got when he realized that intense look on his face was because he was watching him was another thing to be examined later. The second photo, sent by Remus, was of Sirius standing behind a couch with his arms crossed. He wore the same intense look on his face.

Sirius’ lone message was simple. Bring it back home.

Logan knew Sirius was talking about the game. Bring it back to New York, finish this round on home ice, and move on to the final round for the Cup. But the word bled and healed like the cut on Logan’s cheek and lip. Sirius shared more than one home with him. Home was speaking French. Home was Pascal. Home was letting themselves go, and letting themselves love. Logan had been sitting there, trying to imagine home around him. Home was waiting for him in a hotel room not even twenty minutes away. He’d be washed in blue eyes and sun later tonight, in pale skin and auburn hair. The lonely feeling was half-habit when it came to Logan—and Sirius. Sirius knew that better than anyone.

For a fraction of a second, Logan’s world didn’t feel so very far away.

[chocoloom]

Adding onto my last post, Imma make an Eden’s Garden prediction on who I think may survive or die, or at least seems to be more likely to die to ME.

Spoilers Ahead for Project Eden’s Garden btw! If you haven’t played it, please do, it’s FREE RN

If you’re still here, here we go!

Damon Maitsu - Survives (Protagonist clause, he’s gonna be hella traumatized though). Dude still has a whole character arc to go through, he still has trust issues to get rid of.

Ingrid Grimwall - Probably Dead. Look I love this lady with my whole chest. Her passion and charm hit me like a train and as a southern woman myself, I love her accent. But. Her death would hit like a truck and that is exactly what Danganronpa thrives in doing. Especially considering her death would cause the group to lose a pillar of emotional support, and would devastate a certain little matchmaker. Speaking of which.

Toshiko Kayura - Survives. She’s gonna get some character development related to Diana or Ingrid, especially if one of them dies (looking at Ingrid specifically). Ingrid dying would fuck this girl UP, which is why I think it’s going to happen. They have been setting up these two having a mother daughter relationship early on. I don’t see this girl as a murderer, but I can see her filling a similar role to Aoi’s. Specifically how Aoi was acting during the Sakura trial, hiding evidence cause she blames other people and herself for the death of someone she cares about. I can’t see her dying though, she’s too young. That’s a baby. Then again, this isn’t the main Danganronpa world, so I could be wrong. Absolutely off topic, but I think there’s a reason she’s hiding her face. Not a bad one mind you, she strikes me as someone who would try to hide things she doesn’t like about herself in an attempt to seem more mature or lady like. Maybe she still has braces and is embarrassed about it.

Jean DeLamer - Solid fifty fifty. I straight up don’t know, I could see this going one of two ways. One, he survives to the end (in which case, awesome, he’s honestly one of my favorites in this game). Two he dies in a sacrificial manner to save the rest of the group, as they have become his new crew in a sense. In which case, I’m sad and my heart is in tatters. He gives off big Nekomaru or Gundham vibes in his role in the group. Regardless, I see him as a big source of reliability and moral support for the group going forward. I can also see him taking up more of a leadership role going forward. Maybe he helps out Diana in her attempts to unite the students.

Ulysses Wilhelm - Dead. That bit about him not being able to smell strikes me as a Chekhov’s gun that has yet to be fired. I can practically taste the metal. I could see him being either a murder victim or a murderer. Regardless of which, it will likely involve Wenona in some way, as those two have been maintaining a positive relationship. I can see them conspiring with each other, or betraying each other. Either way, dramaaaa~

Jett Dawson - Dead. 100%. I do not see his ass surviving. Sorry Jett enjoyers. The fact that we don’t know what his face looks like also feels like a Chekhov’s gun. Maybe it’s connected to Tozu and Mara, or maybe it’s connected to another student (looking at Mark). Maybe someone impersonates him, or the other way around.

Mark “Mayhem” Berskii - Dead. I could see him being a murder victim or murderer tbh. I think it may depend on what happens with Jett, as those two have been linked together, much to Mark’s initial chagrin (The shippers are gonna sob I just know it). There’s a darkness in that boy’s soul, and it specifically mentioned that Mark specializes in remixing songs and voices. I could see a scenario where he takes the recorded voices of his fellow students and uses them to create confusion, maybe make people think that a person is in a specific place when they are not, or cause confusion as to whether or not a person is alive or dead at a specific time. Maybe he kills Jett, would that be fucked up or what :D?

Desmond Hall - Fifty fifty, but I think he Survives. He’s more likely to in my head, but if he does die, he’s the murder victim. From what we know about his personality, I think he’s less likely to try and kill anybody in comparison to some of the other characters. He’s got a very low key personality, and even though his talent is the most connected to killing out of the whole cast, I actually think he is probably one of the people who is least likely to do so. Dude is a killer shot, but he’s no killer.

Wenona - Fifty fifty, leaning more towards 25-75 in favor of death. She COULD survive, but I think it’s more likely for her to die tbh. She’s been one of the people who has been the most vocal about waiting for rescue, but she’s also a billionaire. And you don’t get that much money without being willing to take advantage of, manipulate, and hurt people. She’s definitely going to be an antagonist in a future chapter, aided by Ulysses. She’s also going to have some sort of conflict with Cassidy, as they have been setting up this bad blood between the two since Cassidy’s intro. She strikes me as someone who could play a similar role to Byakuya or Celestia, especially if she finds out that help might not be coming. Or if her company is on the line. Cuz we still don’t know what the situation is like outside of the Academy. Also, murder is just as much of a girlboss move as it is an immoral one.

Eloise Taulner - Dead. I don’t know enough about her to say for sure, but I think she could be the murder victim or murderer. If it’s the latter, good for her ig. Girl slays, or I guess stabs would be more applicable.

Cassidy Amber - Survives. I think she’s more likely to survive than die. Girl is feisty, and the survivor groups usually have some upbeat and optimistic. If she dies however, she dies mid game. I could see her plotting to murder Wenona, or getting into a confrontation with her due to her status as a morally bankrupt billionaire. I don’t want her to die, I like her dynamics with a lot of the other characters, but I could see it happening.

Grace Madison - Dead. I would wager she might die within the next chapter or two. Her primary connection as a character was to Wolfgang, and he’s gone, soooo, yeah. Something is definitely up with her that’s going to get addressed next chapter regardless. For one, we still don’t know why she was so adamant about nobody going into Wolfgang’s room at the time of his death. It could be because she was just embarrassed about people discovering and questioning her about her relationship with Wolfgang, but I think there could be more to the story. There’s secrets in each students room, but we don’t know what secrets could be contained in Wolfgang’s room. But Grace might. What’s more, her behavior after Eva’s execution peaked my interest. She’s uncharacteristically silent, not saying anything, even when someone says something that would typically elicit a violent reaction from her. I think she’s conflicted about Eva now, cause Grace definitely despised Eva, but after watching her death, in all its horror? I think even she feels like it was too cruel. She might act a bit more toned down and less angry going forward. Additionally, during Diana’s speech, she doesn’t insult Diana or say anything. Wenona is the only one to really insult Diana, while the rest of the group just kinda try not to acknowledge it. Either Grace is still in shock, or maybe she was actually kinda moved by Diana’s gesture to try to honor Wolfgang’s memory? Maybe she’ll help her, who knows. Would be interesting to say the least.

Okay, these last two are really hard. Figures, they have the most interesting relationships and dynamics with Damon, our protagonist. I can see this going in a lot of different ways, and they are all interesting.

Kai Monteago - Okay, hear me out. Kai strikes me as someone with confidence issues in spite of being an influencer. He underestimates himself, and that lack of confidence combined with his cowardice leads to him wanting to leave stuff like the investigations and the trials to other people. But I also think he wants people around him. The guy craves genuine connection, and he seems to have found the beginnings of that in Damon. He latched onto him like a butterfly to a flower, and I can’t see him letting go anytime soon.

Because of that, I see Kai filling the role that people initially thought Eva was going to fill. Kai will be Damon’s Assistant character, his support. The role of an influencer is one that involves the manipulation of people, be it to follow them on instagram, to buy their products, or simply to listen to them. Damon can argue and debate all day, and he’s good at it, but Kai I think will aid in getting people to listen to his points, and could even manipulate people to uncover lies or get them to confess. This will increase his confidence in his own abilities as a result. Kai is not as dumb as he seems to think he is, and I think he’ll learn that in the arcs going forward. He may also kiss Damon on the mouth, but only time will tell. I hope they do tbh.

Because of this, Kai is mostly safe. If he dies, he dies late game and it mentally destroys Damon, or helps further his character development. Otherwise he survives until the end. And honestly, I think there’s a pretty good chance that the latter option will occur. Regardless, Kai is going to play a crucial role in Damon’s arc. I could see him being one of the catalysts for Damon actually trusting people in this game, after his trust was so broken up by Eva’s murder plot.

Diana Venicia - First of all, she is not gonna be a murderer. Girly was framed last trial, they aren’t gonna pull that shit twice. Plus it was established that she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger on Wolfgang, even though her life was actively in danger and he ATTACKED her. If, IF, she becomes a blackened, it is purely by accident or she didn’t intend to kill (maybe smth similar to Chiaki where her actions led to the murder unintentionally, but she never intended to kill). Even then, I think the chances of that situation happening are veryyy low.

I think she is going to serve as a foil to Damon in the trials to come, kinda like an antagonist. As an antagonist isn’t someone who is necessarily evil. They either serve as foils to the protagonist or prevent them from reaching their goals. She won’t obstruct or prevent Damon from reaching his goals, as they both want to go home and get out of the killing game. Rather, she’ll be an antagonist in the moral or metaphorical sense, and I think she’ll be more vocal and try to take a leader position in an attempt to emulate Wolfgang. Her trusting and open nature clashes with Damon’s closed off and suspicious demeanor, and that’s going to play a role in the trials going forward. I can also see her finding allies in her attempting to unite the students in Toshiko, Jean, and possibly Jett, Cassidy, and maybe Grace.

I’ve seen some people saying she will die come Chapter 2. While I see the reasoning behind that. I don’t think that will be the case. If she dies, it’ll be late into the game, maybe come Trial 4 or 5. I could also see her surviving, but it’s too soon to tell. She either dies late game or survives the whole thing, like Kai. That’s my take anyway. Still, the poor bubblegum girl. The horrors are just beginning for her I think.

Wolfgang and Eva: lol they dead as hell. Rigor mortis is already setting in. They’re extra crispy.

In Summary:

Potential Survivors (most to least likely in my head) - Damon, Kai, Diana, Toshiko, Desmond, Cassidy, Jean

As for who may be next to die in chapter two, my money’s on Grace, Ulysses, or Eloise.

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Snoop

Pairing: Choi Sungcheol x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend knows you’re a snoop. He’d never actually keep it in the house. You find a “ring box” with earrings inside. Christmas morning you go to unwrap the “earrings” and find your own personal easter egg.

Warnings: None…I think.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (said with only affection)! I’m baaaccckkkkkk!!! Did ya miss me?? I have recently discovered that my ult bias had changed. This is his introduction into my oeuvre. Everyone say hello to Choi Sungcheol. *cheers and applause👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏* Please enjoy, I had sooo much fun writing this. Likes and Reblogs are welcome if you feel so compelled. BEWARE‼️‼️ spelling errors and grammar mistakes may lie ahead. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION ⚠️⚠️

XOXO, Bibi

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

P.P.S

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate 🎄

Thanks For Reading ❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s here. You know it is. You look in every secret hiding place you can think of, but you can’t it anywhere. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re convinced he’s going to propose. Sungcheol had been hinting at an engagement for months. The two of you have been together for almost 4 years. It’s time. You were sure that you both were on the same page. But where’s the ring? You just want a peek.

Between the 10+ years he had spent with Jeonghan and being your boyfriend for years, Sungcheol had learned how to deal with a snoop. He knew you’d check. So he thought he would leave something for you to find.

“Where the HELL is this ring!?” After flipping the 12th pair of underwear, you were frustrated. Determined to find a ring you flip over pair 13, and apparently today it’s your lucky number. Bingo. Ring box. Excitement floods your veins. Just a tiny peak. You take a deep breath and open the box…revealing a sparkling pair of diamond earrings. They’re gorgeous and probably cost a small fortune, but you can’t help the disappointment that you feel. You’re incredibly hurt and confused but Sungcheol will be home any minute, you’ve gotta get it together.

“Hey baby” Sungcheol greets as he enters the house. The moment he sees you he knows you had found the earrings in his drawer. Part of him feels bad. He never wants to be the reason his girl is upset, but this was a lesson you needed to learn. He makes his way over to where you’re lounging on the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. “Hey” you half hardly reply. You’re trying your best to remain indifferent but your feelings are hurt. S.Coups doesn’t question your mood, he knows the cause. He plops down next to you and grabs a few goldfish from your bowl. Despite your mood, you try to relax and enjoy the rest of your evening with your boyfriend. In the back of your mind you’re still thinking about, what not finding a ring means for your relationship. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, after all these years and the long talk the two of you had about a life together on your last trip to Jeju. Will he ever?

*Christmas Morning*

You wake up on Christmas morning both thrilled and anxious. Your best friend had flown in from out of town to spend Christmas with you. You make your way down the hall, to the guest bedroom where she’s staying. You knock before waiting for her response. When she welcomes you in, you plop yourself on her bed heaving a big sigh. “What’s the matter with you” she asks as she turns to rummage through her suitcase. You stare up at the ceiling for a second before speaking, “It’s Christmas and my boyfriend hates me”. She turns and looks at you puzzled. “What are you talking about, that boy is obsessed with you” she gets up and shoves you over so she can lay beside you. You give her a sad smile, “Apparently he’s only obsessed for now. Forever with me isn’t appealing to him.” She looks over at you and resists the urge to hit you. Instead she simply says, “You don’t even believe yourself.” You don’t have the energy to fight her so you stand and ask if she’s ready for breakfast.

After breakfast, the three of you move to the living room to open gifts. This is the part you’ve been dreading. You watch with a small smile as your best friend opens her presents. The three of you has played rock paper scissors. She won, Then Sungcheol, you were last. Once she finishes S.coups pipes up. “Okay, my turn.” Sungcheol unwraps his new watch and looks at you with a big dimpled smiled. “Thank you my heart, I love it. Okay Baby, your turn.”

This is it. You can do this. You begin unwrapping the box you had stolen a glance at last night. You will your hands not to shake as you begin to pry it open. Your mouth flies open in shock at the diamond ring inside. Your eyes raise from the box in your hand to Sungcheol who has shifted from his place beside you to on his knee in front of you. “Angel, will you say yes to forever? Will you say yes to late nights with crying babies and early mornings with teething toddlers? trips around the world and nights on the couch at home? Will you say yes to the rest of our lives together? Baby I wanna build our life together from the ground up. Will you marry me?” Sungcheol doesn’t get a chance to blink before you launch yourself into his arms. “YES!” you squeal, before burying your face in his neck and crying. Right now you’re to happy to try and figure out where the this ring came from. You were sure you’d checked everywhere.

Later that night you’re staring at your newest accessory, when something occurs to you. “Coupsie, where did you have the ring at?” Sungcheol turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Wow. You gave yourself up that quick huh?” Your eyes go wide as you realize your mistake. “I- wait…what?” He shifts his body closer to you and clears his throat. “After we had that talk in Jeju about getting married, I immediately started looking at rings. I knew that meant that you would also start snooping for a ring in the house.” He pinches your side playfully before speaking again. “So, I went and looked at rings for a month after work before I found the perfect ring. I went online and had it ordered to the store near your best friend’s house. She’s been keeping it with her this whole time.” Your eyes tear up at his confession. You feel guilty for the way you had felt prior to his proposal. “When I couldn’t find the ring. I was convinced we weren’t on the same page, and you didn’t want to marry me.” you confess. Sungcheol sighs before pulling you into his arms. “I also figured that would happen. But I needed you to be surprised. You deserve to feel special. I want to make plans for you. Just relax, let me take the lead sometimes. I’ve got you.” You look at him with a soft smile, eyes brimming with tears. Never in your life had you felt so seen. You snuggle closer to him and shut your eyes. Sending out an internal “thank you” to the universe for bringing the two of you together.

[unholyhelbig]

Caitvi Prompt: Caitlyn is head Park Ranger and deals with an unruly deputy Ranger Vi who has recently become unruly and animalistic. Caitlyn doesn’t understand the change in attitude until Vi turns up naked and injured on her cabins doorstep.

Title: Shoot to Kill

Ship: Werewolf!Vi x Park Ranger!Caitlyn

Wordcount: 5019

Summary: It's been months since a brutal attack took both Cassandra Kiramman and Powder Lane from the world. Caitlyn and Vi handle their grief differently, but something just isn't right with Vi, and things can't be ignored forever.

Warnings: Typical werewolf gore, blood, bullets, canon-typical violence, animal attack, shooting, self-sacrifice, almost nsfw but not quite there yet, horrible spelling, I don't beta read we know this.

[A/n: I went overboard here. I love arcane, I love werewolves, what were we expecting when someone sent me this prompt? Anyway. You know I bad I wanted to make this full smut? SO fucking bad but it didn't seem like the time for them to fuck. So they didn't. Do people even like my Arcane stuff? Fuck no, but this is for me.]

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Blood filled Vi’s mouth with a metallic density that was not unfamiliar but was entirely unwelcome. A low tide of a headache was pulling at her temples, her mouth a cottony type of dry that she couldn’t swallow away.

She was running late. Even in the darkness of her cabin, she knew that she was pushing it by the way the daylight filtered through the slatted blinds. Caitlyn was going to have her hide. She’d been warned twice already, pulled into the office that smelled too much like lavender and wood polish.

Vi shoved her feet unceremoniously into her boots. She swished a shot of peppermint schnapps around her mouth until it was warm and frothy before swallowing and dashing out the door. Vi didn’t’ bother to tuck her shirt in and do up her laces.

Showing up was enough. It had to be enough. There was dirt and blood under her nails and her skin was taut with sweat. She probably smelled rank with the outdoors and her body ached something fierce from the night before. Vi didn’t’ feel comfortable looking in the mirror before she hauled herself to the main cabin.

The state of her was not normal. It was not human. But she was present and that was all Ranger Kiramman was going to get on this balmy Wednesday morning.

Doubt, mixed with a decidedly solid amount of dread, swirled with a fullness in Vi’s stomach. She was full, a feeling that she did not enjoy being. She had eaten last night, something big that left a horrible nausea clinging to the inside of her stomach. A heat in the back of her throat and slicking the inside of her stomach.

She crashed unceremoniously through the door of the main cabin. The annoying brass bell gave her tardiness away as it deposited her into the gift shop. Caitlyn’s deadly oxford stare leveled her with precision, but she never faltered in her delivery.

Loris steadied her with his hulking size, taking up just as much space as the bookshelf that he stood near. He regarded her with his quiet amusement and low huff as she attempted to shove her shirt past her belt without drawing more eyes to herself.

“As I was saying.” Caitlyn’s voice was cutting, slicing through whatever resolve Vi had left. “The rest of the week and into next is a fire ban. There will be push back. In zone’s seven and eight, especially. Overton and Dunne, I want you positioned there around the clock. Do not hesitate to hand out red notices. One spark and the whole forest could go up. Am I clear?”

A murmured chorus of agreements rung out. A burn notice would draw attention away from Vi, at least for now. It worked Caitlyn’s nerves like a string instrument. Anger still simmered in the stare that moved her way.

“As for the rest of you, you know your posts, and you have your assignments. Keep your walkies on channel seven and signal if you need anything. Remember that laws are not suggestions and safety is key.” She scanned the lot of Rangers, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled in the way that Vi found oddly endearing. “Dismissed.”

Loris shoved her shoulder with enough force to shove a burp into her mouth, one that was not pleasant. She nearly vomited up whatever she had torn through last night, but luckily swallowed it back down. He wandered over to the busted coffee maker where he would linger long enough for Vi to take her verbal lashing.

If it were up to her, she’d slip into the woods and take her usual post at the North end of the park, checking permits until her fingers bled. It would be an easy day as long as she could nurse her headache. She and Loris could squeeze into the same box and answer the same questions from the same brand of tourists until it was time to go back to her cabin.

The pinching floral scent that often invaded Vi’s lungs seemed to surround her in an instant. It used to be something she enjoyed, but as of late, it was something she couldn’t’ control. It was overwhelming in a way that was too much. It made her stomach roll and her throat tighten. If she were to vomit, it would be blood and bones and bile.

“Violet, I want you to take a walk with me.”

Caitlyn’s voice was unbelievably tender for the situation at hand. She was expecting a verbal scrouge. Even her features were worked into something calm. Vi was too exhausted to fight back. After her little side quest last night, she wanted to curl into a ball under her blankets and sleep for an eternity.

“I uh, have to assist Loris with the morning rush of tourists, don’t I?”

She shook her head. “I’ve stationed Steb. You don’t look like you feel well. Follow me.”

“God, you’re taking me out back to shoot me like old yeller.”

Caitlyn snorted and held the screen door open. Vi walked through it first, taking in another lungful of Caitlyn’s floral scent. She wish it were comforting. She wished her friend, the woman she used to trust with anything in the world, brought her some degree of relief.

She hadn’t in months, and they both felt it. Bone deep.

They walked for a few minutes. Until the commotion of the other rangers dispersing faded into nothing. The forest offered nothing to Vi lately. She hadn’t noticed it at first; the lack of sound. Crickets and morning birds and small animals that created a cacophony of noise that she had always taken for granted before.

Caitlyn’s breathing had stuttered, a nervous tick she developed at a young age that Vi picked up months ago when her hearing had risen to a deafening level. She shoved her hands into her pockets and softened her gaze, dipping her head. Attempting to show submission.  She’d never meant to make Caitlyn nervous.

She removed her green nightcap, working her fingers around the wide brimmed edge. Another nervous habit. Vi could smell the sweetness of her sweat, something she hadn’t been privy to since the funeral when her nose was pressed so close to the girls pulse point that the smell had coated every inch of her.

Vi was so close that she could hear the rush of her blood and the pounding of her heart. Her mouth filled with saliva so rapidly that she couldn’t keep up with swallowing. She’d nearly drooled at the thought of opening her maw and tearing Caitlyn’s jugular out with one clamp of her jaw.

Shoving her away and storming from the procession was attributed to grief. Anger at nature for having the audacity of taking them in the first place. Caitlyn and Vi must have been hurting so much that any action they committed was acceptable for a time.

Six months later and people still asked how they were doing. Caitlyn would tell them that she was fine. Vi would tell them that she felt like shit. Both would smile sadly. Caitlyn threw herself into her inherited role of Head Ranger and Vi drank on nights that she couldn’t forget and leaned into nights that she didn’t remember.

“They expect me to strip you of your title.” Caitlyn sighed out in one hot breath that splayed against Vi’s cheeks. “Those rangers in there… know I have a soft spot for you, Vi. Anyone else and I would have done far worse. They’d be out of a job.”

Caitlyn frowned and plopped down onto the pebbled shore next to a stream. Run-off from one of the glaciers at the top of the peak. The water was crisp and clear. Vi would dip her fingers into it sometimes, trying to disturb the flow and shock some sense into herself. She lowered herself carefully next to her friend. The only girl who had ever made her ache this viciously.

“I didn’t mean to put you in that position, Cupcake.”

“You’re hurting.”

“So are you.”

Vi swallowed something thick in her throat, picked up a smooth stone and dug her fingers into it as if she could shave off decades of shaping. Trout colored eyes traced the curve of Caitlyn’s side profile as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. She drew in careful breathes. The sound of the stream drowned out the silence around them.

Cassandra Kiramman’s entrails had been gnawed into paste after her stomach was torn open unceremoniously. Vi remembers the squelch of flesh and the snap of her sternum. Her screams had turned into a drowned gurgle before there was nothing.

The creature, after having gotten the taste for the richness of Kiramman blood, had gone for the throat and mercifully took Cassandra out of her misery. Vi watched the light leave her eyes. Something she’d seen slowly dim in Caitlyn’s over the months.

Now, she clenched her own eyes shut. “I can’t leave these woods, Cait. They’re all I know. I’ll try harder.”

“I know you will. I didn’t come out here to, what did you say? Shoot you like old yeller. I might be in charge of you, Violet, but I’m also your friend.” Her voice wavered on the word, stuck in her throat as much as she allowed. “I want you to talk to me.”

She gave her a sad grin “I talk to you all the time, Cupcake.”

“You know what I mean.” Cait’s eyebrow twitched. She hesitated, something she never did. Not in all the years that Vi had known her. But it was only for a moment. Her hand slipped into Vi’s, dislodging the stone she had wanted to thread into putty. “You can talk to me.”

Vi felt her throat tighten and a dampness come to her eyes that she quickly blinked away. Whatever she ate last night threatened to make a third return. She nodded, afraid to speak, but it seemed to be enough to Caitlyn. She gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. It was warm and solid.

Greif weighed heavily between them both. But the lead that welded Vi’s jaw shut was more than subconscious. If she could help it, and she could, Caitlyn would never find out about the animal that shredded her mother.

It had been closed casket for a reason.

They buried an empty one for Jinx. Vi had been in and out of consciousness through her own blinding pain. She’d gasped. It was caught in her throat along with the scent of Cassandras viscera. Long teeth had crunched through Vi’s left lumbar, the soft brawn of her giving away like it was tillable earth.  

She’d looked into the creature’s eyes. They were glowing red, feral. It was frothing at the mouth, saliva mixing so deliciously with what could only be Vi’s own blood. There was nothing but hunger behind it’s actions. And for a moment, Vi could understand that want.

Only for a moment.

Jinx- Powder- she had a loud whistle that could catch the attention of a hound within a ten-mile radius. This snapping animal was no different. It whipped it’s maw up fast enough to drip saliva against Vi’s festering wounds.

“Don’t!” Vi had screamed because she was so desperate to save her little sister. But the look in her eyes was resolute. Even in the light of the full moon. It showed more than the hunger, the viciousness. Jinx was on a mission. A martyr that would die for her charge.

She had the audacity to nod at Vi that night, to grin at her in a wolfish manner before her boots kicked up gravel. Evidently, the animal enjoyed the chase more than the prey it had pinned under it’s large paws. Claws dug sharply into Vi’s chest and stomach, tearing like soft butter into her stomach and chest.

Vi remembers screaming. She remembers the warmth of her own blood and the pale light of the moon overhead. She thinks she remembers her sisters maniacal howl combined with that of her own.

No… She would spare Caitlyn Kiramman the pain that her mother had endured. Some things are better left unlearned.

The smell of gunpowder, sulfurous and smokey, brought up a helping of vomit that Vi couldn’t swallow down. She thought it was vomit but couldn’t quite tell. It could have been nothing more than blood surfacing from the wound that had torn through the wound in her sternum.

The head ranger herself had fired off what was supposed to be a warning shot, but even with her immense fear clouding her aim, she had managed to land a slug in Violet. Silver. It burned viciously, sizzled like acid. Maybe it had been bile that splattered onto the forest floor in a stringy mess.

Vi’s vision was blurry with tears, cheek pressed to the earth as she watched Caitlyn on the front porch of her cabin, clutching her rifle. She released vapor with each breath, eyes methodically scanning the tree line.

Her bones were morphing into something human, something much more becoming. The bullet lodged within her was making it nearly impossible. Her nails were long, her ears tipped with red fur akin to her own hair. Her pointed teeth digging so painfully into her bottom lip to stifle her pained growls.

She was far from wolf, but far from mortal.

When the moon rose this high, she lost herself in the pain and the hunger that had led to her original demise. Vi preferred it this way. She separated the beast that tore through her once a month from the human that kept it at bay the rest of the time. She didn’t know what the wolf did. Did not want to.

Anger surged through her now.

The National Park was endless, and yet… yet… she was at Caitlyn Kiramman’s doorstep. There was a sinking feeling within her that the creature she’d buried deep had been stalking the woman. The disease that had transferred through bite, through blood, couldn’t get enough. Wouldn’t unclamp it’s greedy jaws.

Violet craved Caitlyn’s touch. Preened under her approval. The creature must do the same. Had to, if it had gotten close enough for a shot to be fired. For a bullet to hit.

She rolled over onto her back and started clawing desperately with her sharpened nails at the shot. She clipped down on her tongue to swallow her scream, digging around the wound. She couldn’t grasp it, only pushed it further down. She swore she would drown in her own blood. It threatened to heal around her fingers, causing nothing but undeniable agony.

Cait had lowered the muzzle of her gun, squinting directly where she lay, as if she could see directly into Vi’s soul. Frosty eyes watched her, and she’d be damned if they didn’t send a chill down her spine, regardless of the thin line of blood that dripped down the corner of her mouth.

This was about more than swallowing her pride. Caitlyn was her only lifeline here. She wouldn’t blame the girl for taking one look at her and firing a second shot that wasn’t a warning right between her eyebrows.

Another tweak of horrible pain and her decision was made. Vi dug her slowly receding nails into the soft soil and dragged herself to the edge of the head rangers property. She was trembling, weak. The pale moonlight hitting her tattooed marred skin. She stiffened, feeling an odd rush counter her pain.

Caitlyn sucked in a sharp breath and repositioned her weapon, steeling her stance. Vi lazily dug her chin into the earth and stared at the woman with stars in her eyes. She used to lounge on Cait’s bed with the same disposition. Albeit in less throbbing pain.

“Violet?”

The safety was switched off and the rifle was propped up against the door. Caitlyn was dashing across the lawn, barefoot despite the many times she had warned her own rangers against the dangers of doing so. Goosebumps prickled against her skin and undeniable worry etched onto her beautiful features.

She dropped to her knees, despite the dampness of the grass. Vi Stiffened, attempted to press her face into the grass but Caitlyn’s hands were quicker to cup her face. She could see the reflection of the golden glow in the blue of the woman’s gaze.

Vi stifled a whimper at the hold. She was naked and could feel her muscles stiffening. It was getting harder to move, to breathe without feeling the burn in her lungs. They crackled uncomfortably. The hands that cradled her face were warm. If she were to die at this moment, this would be enough.

“Darling, did I…” her voice was choked “I’ve shot you.”

“You never miss, Cupcake.”  

“I thought you were an animal.” She swiped both thumbs across Vi’s cheeks, wiping away tears and dirt and sweat, and maybe a little bit of blood.

“I think I might be.”

“Oh.”

The conversation was far too casual, Vi decided. She wavered in the cold, coughed up another mouthful of mucus and blood. This changed the worry in Caitlyn’s eyes to something harder that resembled the training that both of them had.

She scooped Vi up with strength that lingered fruitfully under her soft cotton t-shirt sleep clothes. The smaller woman opened her mouth to protest but the words died as her vision fluttered at the edges and her head slotted so easily into the small of Caitlyn’s throat.

It would be so easy her wolf howled to taste her.

Vi whined to drown out the thought, clutched the fabric that she clung to like a life raft. If Loris or Steb or even the orange-haired receptionist that glowered at her with contempt from behind the gift shop desk saw her now she would blanch. Never admit had content she felt in Caitlyn Kiramman’s arms.

And, God, was she content.

Caitlyn kicked the door to her cabin open and Vi breathed in a mix of spices from an earlier dinner untouched. She knew the layout of the cabin well, could hear the low crackle of a fire and could feel the heat of it as she was set down on the sofa that mirrored the hearth.

“I don’t understand it. I’ve nailed you with a shot right in the chest. You should be dead, or at the very least on it’s doorstep, not mine. You’re regarding me with discontent like I tasered you, or stunned you. Not like I took a Winchester and fired off a round. I rightly should take the stat phone and call the proper authority to get you to the emergency room and me to the psych ward.”

Caitlyn rambled in an adorably infuriating way when she was flustered. Even if Vi could get past the dryness in her throat she wouldn’t stop her. She enjoyed the way her cheeks would grow pink and she’d work the impassable problems out by her own accord.

She was flitting around, grabbing antiseptic, and medical kits that she had stashed, because she knew exactly what to do. Vi hadn’t realized she opened her eyes, or that she was watching her with a lazy content, but that’s exactly what she was doing, hand resting above her wound to subconsciously protect herself, breathing stuttered.

Her nails had retracted and so had her ears, thankfully. But her teeth still felt crowded in her mouth and she couldn’t calm her heart. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, if her eyes still shown a dangerous golden yellow. Caitlyn, her Caitlyn, had seen them either way. She balked at the fact.

“Cait,” Vi eventually stuttered out, clinging onto that floral scent that surrounded her so diligently. The Ranger was at her side in just a moment, crouching next to the sofa, grasping at her flexed and unflexed bicep. It was coated in a sheen of cold sweat. “I need you to get the bullet out. Please.”

That flicker of doubt was there again. It was brief but startling all the same. The Kiramman’s did not falter. She stared openly at Vi’s bare chest. At the pierced, pert nipples and the marred flesh in between them. In any other situation she would make a crude comment to cover her embarrassment, but this was not any other situation and Vi needed this bullet out now.

She gently grabbed the side of Caitlyn’s face, directing her attention, leading that deadly Cambridge stare to her own. “I understand that I am the last… I am the last… I didn’t…”

Vi was going about this wrong. She didn’t know how to get the words out. She didn’t know how to say that the same monster that had torn Caitlyn’s mother to shreds had taken up residence in her bones. Had changed her. They weren’t the same teeth, the same claws, but they had the same intention, could shed the same blood.

A sob tore through her, one that reminded Vi much of ones last. A death rattle. Caitlyn’s hot hand was holding her down in a moment, splayed against taut muscle. She was digging through an open first aide kit and searching for titanium prongs, a crease formed between her eyebrows.

“Hold this.”

Caitlyn barked the demand, and a wad of gauze was suddenly shoved into Vi’s mouth, catching on her chapped lips. She bit down so she wouldn’t choke on it. Caitlyn didn’t give a count down. It wasn’t her style. She didn’t coddle, or nurse you through pain that was known to be excruciating.

Instead, she dug the pointed prongs into the wound that was desperate to heal. Vi moaned around the gag, nails slashing even lines into the nearest throw pillow. Her claws were quick to come out, spilling stuffing as tears clouded her vision. Her back arched from the sofa as drool frothed from the corners of her mouth.

Caitlyn had the audacity to shush her like a petulant child. She plowed through the recesses of her injury, the layers of tissue and tendons. The gauze became damp and sticky with pink saliva. The heel of Caitlyn’s free hand was digging painfully into Vi’s shoulder to pin her down.

If Vi hadn’t been blinded by pain, she would relish in the way Caitlyn’s body was slotted against her own, having shifted. A sure knee in between her legs, pressed against her center. They were in a compromising position. Caitlyn’s breath was warm as it splayed across her chest. Vi’s rapid and building.

After a few agonizing moments, the prongs were pulled away and the bullet dropped to the floor with a clatter. Nothing could be heard but the punctuated panting of both women and the crackling of fire eating through logs. They were still. Vi’s teeth clenched and Cait’s hands still splayed near the wound that slowly began to seal itself in front of her disbelieving eyes.

Vi was filled with unrest. Dissatisfaction. Her hands were pinned and her throat was slick with blood. Her skin was buzzing and clarify had hit her like a truck now that the damned bullet had been pulled out. She was naked, vulnerable. And Caitlyn fucking Kiramman was on top of her.

Vi was saying something. Her stupid mouth was saying something, but it was muffled by the gauze, and Caitlyn lifted a shaky hand, pulling it from her lips with blood-soaked hands. “what?”

“Can you get off of me?” her words cracked. “I’m naked, cupcake.”

Caitlyn drew in a sharp breath, flicking her gaze down for an agonizing moment before shifting her weight off Vi. The sensation was immediately missed. A whimper quelled, swallowed along with the metallic taste that lingered on her tongue. Vi scrambled herself, pulling the throw blanket on the back of the sofa around her shoulders and making her hulking frame as small as she possibly could as she curled under the scratchy material.

She reveled in the scent of Caitlyn. Something that had been so oppressing the month before when they spoke in the woods. Now she swam in it. Hell, she wanted to drown in it. The Ranger busied herself with grabbing alcohol wipes from the first aide kit.

When she settled, she did so next to Vi. Their knees touching, as if any type of distance would make her perish. The gesture made her heart pound. It still ached, still fought to heal, but she didn’t’ mind. Caitlyn wordlessly asked for her hand and used her teeth to tear away the paper of the antiseptic wipe.

Vi always had larger hands than Caitlyn. But Caitlyn was nimble and methodic where Vi was clunky and impulsive. Despite the blood that had dried around her nailbeds, Caitlyn started the heavy task of cleaning the dirt and muck away from Vi’s knuckles. Neither of them speaking for a good, long while. She was waiting for Vi to speak, and she would wait for however long it took. She would always wait.

“I black out a lot.”

Caitlyn’s movement’s stilled for a moment. She had cleared most of the blood away from Vi’s left hand and moved on the right. There was a tiny mountain of wipes on the coffee table and the chemical scent was burning both of their lungs. She resumed her work with a committal hum.

“I think it’s a small mercy, really. I don’t want to remember. After that night, I knew something was different about me, but I wanted to attribute it to the grief, to the drinking. To anything other than what I knew was sitting in front of me all along.”

Caitlyn was scrubbing particularly hard at a spot of blood that refused to release itself from Vi’s skin at the base of her palm. Vi gently took the woman’s hands, giving them a squeeze, drawing her attention from the task. Her eyes were red around the edges from exhaustion. From emotion. She sniffed, glowered dangerously at Vi.

“The thing that… took your mother and Powder away from us it” Vi’s voice shattered. She grimaced and looked towards the fire. Tried to clear the emotion from her chest, but couldn’t quick staunch it. Never really could when it came to Caitlyn, so she embraced it instead, stared directly into the eye of the storm as it swirled. “When it bit me, it changed me. I don’t think it had a choice in what it was and I don’t think I have a choice in what I am now.

“This forest needs something to harbor it’s pain, and it breaks my heart more and more every single day that we crossed it’s path that night.” Vi’s head dropped, tears falling into her lap. Her shoulders convulsed. She was shaking, she knew. Too tired to fight them off. “You can hate me, Cait. I’m begging you to hate me. I would hate me.”

Hands were quick to find her cheeks and franticly wipe away at heated tears before patting at her collarbone until she looked up with confusion in her stare. Vi met an expression that was nothing more than stark tenderness, a flat line of a mouth. Caitlyn was calculating. She was exasperated. The look she often carried for Vi.

“Hate you? Why on earth would I hate you Vi?”

“I… I couldn’t stop it. I became it.”

“Darling,”

It was the subtle shake of her head, the gentleness of the single word, the quiet acceptance in her eyes. Everything combined. Vi crumbled. She fell forward and into Caitlyn’s arms. The Ranger let out a huff of air but accepted her all the same. She did not hesitate to pull her close, Vi’s ear pressed against Caitlyn’s stomach as she buried her head into the woman’s lap.

“None of this is your fault.” Caitlyn soothed, working her fingers through the mess of pink hair. “You hear me?”

Vi continued to sob, tightening her grip around Caitlyn’s center. She cried until her throat was sore. Breathing the woman in, relishing in the way her fingers felt as they gently pressed against her scalp. She whispered soothing words to her. Held her tightly, ran a hand over her bare spine and the scar of a bite that had never quite healed.

When the fire had turned into nothing but a dull flicker of orange, Caitlyn still harboring all the warmth either of them would ever need, Vi turned and stared up at her. There was a fondness in the woman’s stare. A curiosity there that she knew she’d have to atone for when she wouldn’t need to grip so hard to keep herself grounded.

“I need you to promise me something.”

Caitlyn knit her brows, swallowing hard. She brushed a strand of hair from Vi’s red-rimmed eyes. Her hand was trembling. Vi never wanted to move from this spot, from the warm comfort of the rangers lap, her nose pushed into her stomach where she could make sure she was breathing with ease.

“If you ever see me with a certain look in my eyes Cait, I need you to fire more than a warning shot. I need you to shoot to kill. I know you can.”

She opened and closed her mouth, teeth clanging together in a noise that should have been painful. Her hand curled into a fist against Vi’s bare abdomen, nails scratching lightly on marred skin. She huffed, but didn’t’ say a word. She didn’t trust herself to. It wasn’t the time to ramble, and both of them knew it.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” Vi clenched her eyes shut, burying her face deeper into Cait’s embrace. “You’re an okay shot.”

Caitlyn leaned her head back, letting out an unsteady sigh, her gaze lingering on the cold hearth, the fire long-dead and the Winchester’s silhouette looming as it sat propped in it’s usual place. “I’m an excellent shot.”

[sunsherbet]

Insomniac

In which spencer reid offers to help you with your sleeping troubles.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: incorrect depictions of insomnia i think, post!prison spencer, aka freaky/confident spencer, praise, fastburn, fingering, not beta read

A smooth string of steaming water pours from the Keurig and you dunk a lavender tea bag into the clay mug. The water pulls the bag deeper into the mug like exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids. You press your palms into your eyes and let out a sob-like sigh in frustration.

It must’ve been the fourth time this week that no matter how hard you tossed and turned, sleep simply wouldn’t come.

The Keurig lets out a low whirr and you move your tea onto the island. You lean against the granite countertop and sip the warm liquid, dunking the teabag a few times for good measure.

Lavender tea was your newest attempt at curing your insomnia. Last night there was white noise and the night before was a weighted blanket- neither offering any meaningful relief. Your days have been a blur of restless naps and excessive caffeine, both efforts falling short in battling the relentless fog of sleep that clings to your mind.

By the time you reach the bottom of the mug, it’s clear—the tea has done nothing to increase your melatonin. You’re no more tired than before.

In your sleep deprivation and anger at another failed attempt you launch your mug into the wall. It shatters upon impact and you slide down the length of the counter in exasperation. Ever since you had moved to Washington DC, sleep had been a struggle. Maybe it was the bright lights and constant buzz of the city or maybe it was simply that feeling of homesickness you’d found nestled in the basin of your stomach since you moved away from home.

The sudden knock at the door breaks your thoughts, and you get up on shaky legs to answer it.

The clock above the stove reads 2:45 A.M. and you distantly wonder who could be at your door during this hour. Despite your exhaustion, you manage to gather enough sense to peek through the peephole. A man stands there, his floppy brown curls spilling just under his ears. He’s got gold wire glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. He wears a short-sleeve white shirt, light grey sweatpants, and brown bunny slippers. Those bring the first smile to your face all night.

Deciding a man in bunny slippers probably isn’t a murderer, you unlatch the door and crack it open just enough for you to slip into the hallway.

“Hi, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, trying to subtly adjust your Kohl’s pajama set.

“I sure hope so,” He gives a boyish smile and you feel something squeeze your heart. “I heard something shatter through the shared wall and wanted to make sure you were ok?”

Shit.

Of course, you’d woken him up, you threw a mug at the wall.

Seemingly sensing your distress he rubs a hand against his neck and says, “I was up anyway so don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And of course, he’s the sweetest man ever.

Maybe it’s because it’s late and you're tired or maybe it’s because his smile is so warm it makes your cheeks heat but you can’t seem to lie, “Honestly? I threw a mug at the wall because I tried drinking lavender tea because the stupid internet told me it’d help me sleep but it didn’t and now I’m in the same situation I’ve been in for the last few weeks where I can’t seem to fall asleep for the life of me. I was irritated and mad and upset and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep and so no I’m not okay.”

You finish your tirade with a long inhale and peek at his reaction through squinted eyes. He’s looking at you from under those stupidly attractive glasses and you feel your legs clench involuntarily.

Fuck. Now, you’re tired and turned on.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I think the lack of sleep is making me a bit loopy.”

Spencer shakes his head, “Did you know 12% of adults in America have insomnia?”

“Do you have a stat for how many of them chuck purple mugs at their wall because of it?”

He seems to mull over this for a bit before leaning in and saying conspiratorially, “No, but I may have something that can help you get some sleep. You know, before all your mugs are gone.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and before you know it, you’re nodding and opening your door further.

You hear his footsteps as you walk into your apartment and when you turn to close the door he’s so close you feel his breath on your skin.

Spencer swallows and your eyes trail the motion. The moment feels oddly intimate so you whisper your question, “So, what did you have in mind.”

“It’s been shown that when sex involves orgasm, it can help people fall asleep. Following sexual climax, the body releases hormones, such as oxytocin and prolactin, that promote feelings of satisfaction and happiness. At the same time, the production of cortisol — a hormone that induces alertness and excitement — decreases following orgasm. This combination of hormonal processes makes people feel tired and ready for sleep.”

Your mouth goes slack and you feel a familiar shiver of arousal. It’s almost concerning how attractive you find his knowledge of something as trivial as cortisol production. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”

He seems at least a bit flustered at your bluntness and gets rosey. He nods, “I hope you don’t find this rude, I just know what it’s like to have trouble sleeping and I found sexual stimulation profoundly helpful.” When you don’t respond he backs up, “I should go-”

With a rise of your toes, you’re gripping the collar of his sleep shirt and slamming your lips together. Spencer steadies you with a hand on your waist and gently guides you to the door. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he smells like cinnamon. Everything about him envelopes you so wholly that you have no choice but to surrender to it. His lips latch onto your neck and he alternates between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

You throw your head back but instead of making contact with the wall, you feel one hand shoot out to cradle it as his other drags your leg around his waist.

“You sure you wanna do this pretty girl?” He murmurs against your collarbone.

Nodding you helplessly roll your hips against his as you say, “Yes, please.”

He grins, “Well since you’re being so polite.”

Between his fluffy words and soft kisses, you’re fuzzy on when or how but you end up lying against the couch with his leg slotted between your thighs.

Spencer’s fingers trail against the hem of your sleep shorts and with a desperate nod of consent you lift your hips so he can pull them off you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby, I’m gonna help you cum as many times as it takes for you to feel tired. Are you okay with that?” Spencer asks, allowing featherlight touches between the crease of your legs.

You start to nod but he shakes his head, “Words please.”

You whine and let your head thump against the plush sage sofa. You’re almost boiling with need and you feel a wet patch growing on your cotton panties.“Yes, Yes I’m okay with that.”

Before you know it Spencer is sliding your underwear to the side and slipping a finger up and down your slit. He drags some wetness from your center and uses it as lube to circle your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, feeling your thighs tremble.

“Shh, I know baby but we can’t have you waking up the other neighbors like you did me now can we?” Circling your clit with one hand he uses his other to pinch at the peaks of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

Maybe it’s because of his deliberate and strong strokes or maybe it’s because you’re exhausted and this is the only semblance of peace you’ve had in days but you find your release within moments of him touching you.

The next morning you wake up from the first restful sleep in days and a pleasant soreness in your legs.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Up the stakes

Written for day 26 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles, and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Hanukkah & Robin Buckley

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives;Jewish Byers family; Hanukkah; Pre-Steddie; Pre-Ronance; POV Robin Buckley; Robin Buckley has a crush on Nancy Wheeler; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Eddie Munson is a horny shit; So is Will Byers

“Robin, dear, do you know where Will is?” 

Robin stops what she was doing (the official version being that she was setting the table, the unofficial one being that she was staring at Nancy and Jonathan whispering at each other on the sofa and trying to ignore the lump in her stomach) and looks over at Joyce. 

“Erm, in his room I think,” she ventures. “He was gonna teach Eddie and Steve the dreidel game.” 

Joyce nods absentmindedly, checking her steaming and sizzling plethora of pans and pots on the stove. 

“Can you tell him to get the extra chairs from the porch? Oh, and ask the boys if they want applesauce or sour cream with their latkes, will you?” 

On the sofa, Jonathan says something and Nancy's giggles.

“You got it,” Robin says, slamming the last plate down so hard she's surprised it doesn't crack and beelining it for the hallway. Lucas, locked in a tangle of limbs against the bathroom door with Max, flinches and gawks at her with a caught-out face, but she just gives him a grin and an awkward thumbs up. Good for him.

The door to Will’s room is slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light falling out into the hallway. As she approaches, she hears Steve groan in annoyance.

“Oh, look at that,” Eddie cackles. “Gimel! Or should I say gimme?” 

“Hey, guys,” she mutters, not waiting for a reply to her knock. “Joyce says-” 

She's just in time to see Steve strip out of his polo. Eddie wiggles his outstretched hand invitingly and he rolls his eyes, tossing it over the dreidel in their middle and right into his grinning face. 

“Oh hey, Rob,” Steve says, leaning back on his hands and looking up at her. The light of the bedside lamp catches in his chest hair. Eddie, seated opposite him and missing one sock and his battle vest, smirks like the proverbial cat with the cream. “Something we can help you with?” 

“I, erm … no,” Robin says. “I mean, yes. I mean … what in the name of all that's kosher are you doing?” 

“We ran out of tokens,” Eddie says, gesturing offhandedly to the pile of plastic coins beside him, half buried under Steve's polo and sweater. “But Stevie here's a sore loser and didn't wanna admit defeat, so we upped the stakes a little. Right, Will?” 

Will, who is seated between them, makes a vague sound of agreement but doesn't nod. Which is probably just as well because his eyes would probably pop out of his head if he so much as moved wrong. The poor kid looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. He also looks like he'd die happy. 

Robin groans. Eddie makes a pouty face as she snatches Steve's clothes off the ground. 

“For Christ's sake, get dressed, dinner will be ready any minute. Will, your mom wants you to get the chairs from the porch.” 

Will keeps staring at Steve, eyes locked on the way his stomach flexes as he shrugs into his polo. His mouth is hanging open. 

“Will?” Robin hisses, and he flinches back to attention. 

“Chairs, right,” he mutters, almost face-planting onto the carpet in his haste to clamber to his feet. His neck glows like a beacon as he flees from the room. 

“Hey,” Steve calls after him. “Should I help you with-” 

“I think you’ve helped enough,” Robin snaps. He looks at her like a puppy that doesn’t know why it just got whacked over the nose with the newspaper, and she sighs. “If you wanna make yourself useful, go and round up the rest of the brood. But knock before you go in the bathroom!” 

He gives her a bewildered look, but then he shrugs and walks out. Eddie, crouched on the ground like a goblin and gathering the game pieces, snickers. 

“And you,” Robin growls. Eddie freezes. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” 

He rolls his eyes, pulling on his vest as he stands. “Aw, c’mon Buck, don’t be a spoilsport. Weren’t we all young and gay and desperate once? Baby Byers has gone through literal hell, he deserves to look at some boy titties.” 

Robin slaps his arm, secretly thinking how she's still very much gay and desperate. 

“Okay, first: ew,” she says. “Second: ew! And third: stop pretending this was some great, altruistic deed from the kindness of your heart, I've seen how you look at Steve!” 

Eddie blushes and pulls a fistful of hair in front of his face. 

“So?” he mutters. “A guy can dream, can't he? Not like there's anything coming out of it.” 

She sighs, patting the spot she just slapped in a silent gesture of camaraderie. “Whatever, Munson. C'mon, let's go eat.” 

He nods, picking up his lone sock from the floor and stuffing it into his back pocket like a weird extra bandana. 

“Hey, Buck …” He slings an arm over her shoulder, leaning in for a conspirational whisper as he steers them towards the living room. 

“I've been thinking… Maybe after dinner, we can have another game? I'll even ask Nancy and Jonathan to join. The more the merrier, right?” 

He winks at her, prancing off towards the table and leaving Robin to her own rapidly evolving blush. She huffs, biting back her smile as she trudges after him. 

Maybe, if things go well, she'll tell him about the way Steve’s been looking at him. 

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