#well aware this is probably not an original thought

[hungwy]

i think i did a good job with these translations. maybe. actually its scary

some points of difference between me and ueda:

ueda clearly separates "sentences" with the em-dash. i think this is good for representing the japanese but. i dont know. i like it better when i dont know if the next line is a continuation or a new thought

moreover ueda opts for punctuation to replicate the flow of the original. which is also great but i also forwent that

specifics:

i dont exactly know what the や in the first line of the first poem is. i do think it's the archaic sentence-final particle indicating sentiment like "isn't it?". which if true makes ueda's translation of that line weird to me. but he's the professional so im probably wrong

ueda takes 秋深き as "autumn deepens", but i couldnt find any evidence of a verb like that! i just assumed it was an i-adjective (well, ki-adjective back then)

the whole two lines of 「隣は何をする人ぞ」 are just plain hard to translate i think. so im happy with my result.

speaking of those lines, i understand why ueda chose to frame "the man next door, what does he do for a living?" it as a question, but i disagree with it (im probably too uneducated to do this). back in basho's time ぞ was indeed a question marker, buuuut, as far as im aware, it was really used for marking rhetorical questions. i dont think simply tacking on a question mark to the translation is all we can do there

the えば in the first line of the final haiku doesn't necessarily imply "whenever" as ueda translates, it's really just a plain "if", but i think ueda's choice is better by creating a more temporally lasting image. mine is more like, almost fearful: if i even try to speak, something will be lost. but whatever

also, for that last poem: its not explicit in the japanese how the lips are involved in the "cold-doing". its possible that its not lips-are-entering-into-a-state, but that lips-are-causing-a-state. i tried to go for the ambiguity there

so obviously ueda's is more reserved and professional and knowledgable and closer to the original. but i also had fun translating these. so take that

[wwaddless]

i feel like we should consider the fact that both 2012!Leo and Rise!Leo are extreme fanboys. they would not fight with each other, they would bond over their space shows.

also like, they all skateboard right?? isn't that just a classic TMNT thing? give me the Leo's skateboarding together, they're pals <3

[brittlebutch]

bill and ted and their efforts in education is something thats So Important to me - they really do want to learn and find new things soo interesting, its just that traditional teaching methods fail them. even stuff they love (music) took them so long to learn !!!! which is something i feel like ppl miss a lot. choosing to learn smthn that is difficult and has a steep learning curve is actually So Hard and frustrating and bill and ted actually put in so much effort to learn!! and ofc it works out (they win battle of the bands, become famous, save the world etc) but i feel like they wouldve worked at it even if they never met rufus and all that bc they approach life with such genuine earnestness. which is a trait i admire so much and they make me so happy :)

yes dude you absolutely hit the nail on the head!!! i love love love that Bill and Ted don't make it through any of the movies thanks to any kind of special skill or innate talent, they manage to make it through just because they're so affable and enthusiastic that people around them (even some who would have reason to actually dislike them) just can't seem to help but be taken with them and decide to help them out - no perpetuating the myth of independence anywhere!!

and you're so right about the time travel probably not being strictly Necessary in their development like, their audition at the beginning of Bogus Journey isn't very good but it's still technically way more musical than their garage jam sessions were in Excellent Adventure! (You could argue that's just the Princesses carrying the sound, which is probably true to an extent, BUT I don't think that's it entirely bc there's not any discordant distortion-noise like there was in EA and parts of the melody do seem to cut out when Bill and Ted pause playing to speak) So they were learning and improving between movies, it's just that they're naturally kind of slow at it AND they've also probably not been able to focus on learning all that well bc they're working full time and struggling financially - once they take like a year and a half outside of time to practice nothing but guitar they're able to show off some serious musical acumen, and THEN i love how Face the Music shows how even though they've both gotten pretty Technically skilled at a huge variety of instruments, they're still 'bad at it' bc they struggle to write music that other people enjoy/understand and they still aren't overly bothered by that at all!

Also love that the same applies to Billie and Thea - they seem to have a much easier time of things than their dads do wrt learning/innate skills BUT they're still 24 and haven't moved out or gone to college or gotten jobs or anything and no one (other than Chief Logan ofc) puts them down or admonishes them for this! They're both loved and supported wholeheartedly by their parents (who OFC understand it all completely) and they make it through the movie the same exact way Bill and Ted did! Even though Billie and Thea do rely on a more-than-solid grasp of musical history to navigate the circuits of time, their ability to sway the historical figures to their cause largely thanks to their enthusiasm for the topic and general affability and i love how that's always upheld by the movies as a Valued Trait i love it SO much

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa: *writes a single throwaway line in one chapter of Lost and Found that is never referenced again*

Me, completely randomly and with no prompting: Alright, bet–

[kuromi-hoemie]

i can't believe i used all my tags on this. i have MORE TO SAY. honorable mentions i will not elaborate on: pikmin, runescape, OG animal crossing.

the reason for all my tags is because there's a difference between "most fun" and "most important" and feel like if they're important u should at least say why :3

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[alice-everafter]

"Were you aware that you talk in your sleep?"

Through the haze of tiredness, Vil's voice rings clear, as it so often does. It takes a few too many blinks to will the grogginess away. But when it does, you turn on your side towards him. He's in a position mirroring your own, his form highlighted by the early morning rays of sunlight leaking in through the window behind him. Swathed in blankets that have clearly seen better days, as was typical of Ramshackle grade furnishing.

"...Good morning to you too, Vil."

He doesn't reply with any words, merely a hum of acknowledgement.

It's unfair how perfect he can look so soon after waking. Cause you know for a fact your hair is in tangles under your head. Makes you feel like a true potato, as he so calls you.

You're reminded of the circumstances behind this current arrangement as he eyes your drowsy self calmly. Turns out, even after renovations, Ramshackle is still ramshackle. It only took one flop onto your bed for the legs holding up the bedframe to give out entirely. The sound had attracted the whole VDC squad, so they got to bare witness to probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Well, Ace made certain that it was, at least.

Originally content to sleep on a slightly shorter than usual bed, Vil had been quite adamant on not letting you. Something about bugs and possibilities of them infesting the mattress. It didn't really matter to you, but somehow you found yourself in his room. Rather, one of your guest rooms. And that was where you still were, letting him eye you down like a product on display.

"...Something on my face?"

"Yes, drool."

Nice to know that Vil's charm was present every hour of the day.

"...What was this about me talking in my sleep?" You try to nonchalantly swipe a hand over your mouth, but it fails spectacularly. Nothing gets past this man.

"You mumble all sorts of nonsense." He looks like a Renaissance painting as he brushes a stray lock from his eyes, tucking it elegantly behind his ear. "I nearly thought you were awake at first, talking to yourself."

"Yes, cause that's totally what one does first thing in the morning. Talk to themself."

The sleepiness has clearly made you overly confident. If the glare he levels you is anything to go by.

"Notice how I said 'nearly.' Meaning I didn't actually think you were. Does the morning dim your wit more than normal?"

"...For someone so insistent on getting me in their bed, you're rather snappy."

"Why I never." That comment gets him riled enough to sit up. You feel tiny as he stares daggers down at you where you continue to lie. In your puddle of disarray, while he's somehow runway ready at the ass crack of dawn.

"How can you look like a Greek god first thing in the morning?" Oh, so you've decided to voice your thoughts out loud. Ok, cool, that's totally what you wanted to do. Totally.

You watch as his anger morphs into confusion. "Greek god?"

"Oh," that's right. That's a 'your world' thing, isn't it. "A reference from back home, don't worry about it."

"Hmph," he grunts. Well, you'd hardly call it a grunt. Vil wouldn't do something as barbaric as grunt. It was more like a delicate, posh scoff. But, he no longer looks as mad as he did before, so you guess it was a good thing you decided to voice your inner musings aloud. "Does this 'Greek god' happen to have flawless skin, gorgeous hair, and impeccable taste?"

You don't want to answer him, cause you know where this is going. But, again, nothing escapes the notice of this man. You're forced to watch his lips curl up into an infuriatingly hot smug grin.

"From your face, I assume so. It's kind of you to notice the obvious."

You're very well awake by now, but you still roll your eyes. You may lowkey highkey fear this man, but nothing could've held that reaction back.

"Yeah, well, they're also incredibly abnormal. Cause the rest of the population doesn't typically wake up looking like a supermodel."

"If you think I'm a supermodel now, then you must think I'm ethereal on a day to day."

You do nothing but grumble as you shuffle to sit up, rubbing leftover sleep from your eyes while pointedly ignoring how he practically preens next to you. When you instinctually card a hand through your hair, instead of it catching on knots like you expect, it goes right through.

"It's the pillow case."

Again, the bastard reads your expression like a book and promptly comments on it.

"Satin is good for both the skin and the hair."

You're tempted to call him extra, cause who brings their own pillow case to someone else's house? But the way your hair feels, how it's free from a majority of its typical morning tangles, shuts you up.

You chance a glance up at him. Head turned towards you, knees bent below the covers, an elbow rested over top, chin held primly in the palm of his hand, still haloed by the rising sun like it’s a paid actor. With an elegant quirk to his brow and an expression equal parts amused and sickly fond.

There is... something running laps in your chest. Begging to be acknowledged. To be known.

"...If you're fishing for another compliment, you'll find that I've reached my daily quota."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed as you hear him click his tongue. And no, it's not running away, but it sort of feels like it is.

"I'll go and make myself presentable before starting on breakfast. You said we needed more protein, right? I was thinking I could make omelets━"

"A shame, really."

You have no clue how he moved so silently, but he was suddenly next to you and unapologetically in your space. Brushing hair behind your ear like he was born to do it. Walking the small distance around to your front so you could see the pleased smile upon his lips and knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Damn him, you can't help but internally curse as goosebumps form where his fingers had barely even grazed. Nothing gets past him, and especially not you.

"I was so hoping for a few more compliments, because I certainly haven't reached my needed quota."

[highvern]

Drive Me Crazy

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating

Length: ~3.7k

Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness

summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care. 

“Uhhh—”

“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”

“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth. 

“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”

“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.

You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“That’s fucked up.”

The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”

“Like?”

“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”

“What?”

“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you scream. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.

You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.

“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.

He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried but you talk a lot.” 

Another good point.

“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”

“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”

You balk. “That’s so sad.” 

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”

If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless. 

There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.” 

He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.

“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream. 

“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.

“Ugh…” he hesitates. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”

“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”

“Because?”

He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”

“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.

Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”

“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”

“What a bitch.”

“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”

“I have no idea, complete stranger.”

“Like hand stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”

Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.

He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using. 

“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”

“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”

“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.” 

“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”

“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”

“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”

“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”

“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”

“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says. 

Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.

Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.

Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.

You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.

It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.

Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.

“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”

“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”

“The world is full of mysteries.”

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.

“Y/N.”

You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.

His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want. 

You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand. 

“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.

“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.

Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.

You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”

“No.” 

A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to,” he hisses. 

You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.” 

“Seriously?” he marvels.

“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”

“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time. 

You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.

He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.

“Too late now.”

You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”

He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.

“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.

“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.” 

Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.

“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting. 

“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious. 

“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”

An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing. 

“O-oh,” you hitch.

Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence. 

He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?” 

“Yeah, do it again,” you praise. 

He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit. 

"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.

"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—" 

“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”

He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”

“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”

You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”

“Sorry, a pussy.”

“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”

Pointed silence is answer enough.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly. 

“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg. 

“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.

"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."

One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth. 

The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.

And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.

“Oh–fuck me, god.”

It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.

“Can I—” he asks around your clit.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”

A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.

“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard. 

You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.

Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure. 

“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt. 

You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.

“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.

His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will. 

“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips. 

“I-it’s okay.”

You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”

Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”

“Really?” you ask in awe.

Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”

He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling. 

Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.

When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb. 

“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.

“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”

The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

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@luvseungcheol @crisle19

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[juletheghoul]

covetous

a/n: Jesus Maggie, you really called me out on my bullshit for this one. Originally I want this story to just be a bunch of sexy encounters in a morally questionable world, now we're talking about feelings and love and how the hell did we get here? (This is how I would imagine him the first time he sees his Girl) Please enjoy this un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistake and errors are mine! please enjoy

Warnings; 18+ no minors, Marcus pov, vague but big-legal age gap, there's no actual sex, but memories of it, vulgar yet romantic musings, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.1k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

War is easy. It’s a language he’s fluent in, something he excels in. He is blessed enough to have survived more battles that he could count and has been more than rewarded for his prowess. Battle plans, marches and military strategy are almost second nature, the fury, the heat of battle, all that he can anticipate and it’s probably the main reason he’s come this far in his life. 

Soldiers, camp life and brutality, those things are easy for him to understand.

Other matters, love, affection, attraction; these things are…harder. 

Physically, he’s perfectly adequate. He's never been ignorant to his looks, or his build. He knows that he fills the societal ideal for a man. He’s broad, he’s strong, he has a good face and no physical flaws.

He’s never been short of attention from the fairer sex either but that doesn’t mean anything as far as he’s concerned. He’s had his trysts, and he thinks he might have even been in love before but his luck seems to stop, and stay within his vocation. 

In his younger days, he’d broken his fair share of hearts, he’d been gifted the virtue of many a virgin in hopes of tempting him into a marriage. None of them had held his attention for more than that one night, and sometimes, in the late hours wherever he found his rest he secretly feared the Gods might be punishing him. Withholding the partner he hopes to find as payment for those broken hearts left in his wake. 

As he grew older, wiser and more practical he learned to ignore that little emptiness. He saw it more as a blessing. Would he be where he was now with a woman waiting for him? Would he have hit his station with children bearing his name pulling at his thoughts in the middle of battle? Perhaps the Gods had simply made a trade. His life, or his heart. 

He’d been content with his lot in life, until he’d seen her. 

She’d served at a gathering he’d been loath to attend. His eyes tracked her, the shine of her hair, the curve of her hip, her pretty smile. Her eyes had locked with his for half a heartbeat and he’d felt it in his belly. A rolling, like waves in a stormy ocean. 

She’d gone about her business, efficiently fulfilling her duties while the guests all spoke animatedly around him. He’d joined in after reigning in his reaction, but she’d taken every ounce of his attention with her. 

He’d negotiated her purchase the next day. 

-

She was quick. She learned everything faster than a lot of the others in his service, and she seemed to anticipate his needs before he spoke them. Most of the time, he barely needed to say anything at all, and so he kept quiet. Kept his thoughts, and his feelings to himself. 

His biggest need though, was her. He wanted her bad enough to hurt, to ache.

He was well aware of the practices in other houses. Slaves were there to obey, and in most houses that meant obeying with work, and with their bodies. He saw no issue in this, it was the way of the world. No matter how badly he wanted her though, he couldn’t make himself order her to spread her legs for him. Maybe it was a foolish, childish thing but he wanted her to crave it just as he did. He wanted her wet, he wanted her begging for him, he wanted to see pleasure and lust on her pretty face. 

He wanted her to want him. 

A year passed, and every second in her presence was exquisite torture. A torture he submitted himself to freely and with a perverse pleasure. It was a test of endurance, until the fateful night she’d come to him with her wet tunic, all of her body on display through the sheer fabric. The shadow of her cunt had sent him into a frenzy and when she’d come back and caught him fucking his fist he’d thought it was just another form of punishment. 

It was that look on her face though, that heavy lidded, open mouthed way she stared at him, nipples hardening that had finally made him crack. 

That first night he’d taken her, he’d stayed up in his bed, almost blinded with want. Her body had not alleviated the craving for her, if anything, it’d only made it worse. He’d replayed their encounter over and over, obsessed with the taste of her on his fingers, obsessed with the feel of her lips on his. From then on, she’d only cemented her hold on him. Her quiet obedience, her subtle seduction, the way she’d managed to scrape the shape of herself onto his brain.

She’d made herself the figurehead in his mind, the holy place at which he prayed, the Goddess he served. If he could, he’d light a thousand candles at the altar of her cunt, and pray to them daily.

He fought harder to return to her, he took note of her wants, of her preferences, and made sure to cater to her, despite no one in the house, not even her realizing. He dismissed the younger boys that lusted after her, he was covetous of her to the point of violence. A small smile from her could dictate his mood. The thought of her in pain made him feel like some feral wolf caught in a trap, ready and willing to chew part of himself away to reach her. 

Sometimes, after he’d spilled inside her, he’d let her fall asleep in his bed and relish the way she clung to him in her sleep. It was a double edged sword though, their stations in this life. A part of him fears that her want is only an act, a way to endear herself to him, her Dominus. A foundation to earn her freedom, or coin, or influence through him but then he sees the shy way she smiles at him and his fears are silenced to nothing. 

She cannot fake the way she flutters around his cock, she cannot pretend to feel nothing, not when he sees the same jealousy he feels shining through her eyes at the mention of the mostly political proposals he’s denied. The things she says, the way she takes her pleasure from him, all of these things only compound his delusions that just maybe, she feels for him a fraction of what he feels for her. 

It’s a sort of madness, truly, how that part of him that was the perpetual soldier had in so many respects switched their roles, had given her a control–a power he was sure she didn’t realize she had. 

He was sick with want for her, ravenous, and yet unable to soften himself in a way that would make her see the truth, make her see just how much she truly meant to him. He couldn’t make himself show her, that whatever she asked of him, he’d do with a smile.

For now at least. 

- Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue @ladylovesloki @alexiamargot06 @purple-fig @picketniffler @somedayheaven @flw3rrr

[dazed-19]

based on @havanillas role swap au

normal ratio and gambler ratio switch places :3

probably gonna write this out when i finish up my argenthill fic

dr.kakavasha is suspicious of “Lapis” but chalks it up to him being weirder than usual

ratio actually understands what’s going on and tries to play the role of Lapis. he hypothesized that aven probably took his place in this universe but when he sees dr.kakavasha he freezes up and almost reveals himself.

when dr. kakavasha actually has a meeting with veritas (by force not choice, more contrast between the characters hahaahha) he realizes its not Lapis and threatens veritas.

“You’ve done your research, you know that this stoneheart’s real name is veritas ratio, but it seems you somehow haven’t caught wind of who he is now. I suggest you reveal yourself so you can lessen your punishment. Impersonation of a stoneheart is strictly forbidden.”

Ratio being ratio, uses his wits to convince dr.kakavasha. He understands that since Dr. Kakavasha is similar to himself, he should see his reasoning. Dr. Kakavasha is surprised at first, but after he learns of what Ratio’s universe is like he obliges and helps Ratio figure a way back home. All the while asking Ratio questions about himself as he finally has a chance to see who the Veritas Ratio he heard so much about while studying was like before he turned into Lapis. He does this to also understand Lapis better, because he wants to know what was the difference and why they became so different. He also is very surprised when veritas whips out his abalasor head because what the fuck?? when they’re alone together ratio uses it when he’s deep in thought because while this is kakavasha, he isn’t his.

aventurine immediately realizes it’s not his doctor bc while Lapis understands what’s going on, he dreads having to be veritas ratio again. so he disappears (as best as he can) as he knows his counterpart will find a way to fix this. aven being aven finds Lapis (he’s lucky ofc he’s gonna find him) and is surprised to see how different Lapis is from veritas and makes note of how much nous’ gaze really impacted the both of them. (if aven already knows that ratio never received nous’ gaze make it so that he realizes how much it matters as well. idk if aven actually knows this so that’s why we gotta research.) he also invites Lapis to stay with him bc Lapis has been staying at a run down hotel with a casino. aven invites him also because he wants to understand veritas more so if he learns more about Lapis, veritas’ opposite but still similar, he’ll be able to figure veritas out. and also because he wants to find out how to get his doctor back. Safe to say he is SHOCKED when Lapis is almost exactly like himself. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised since Lapis already explained what was going on, but he’s still surprised. While he would love to see a version of Ratio gamble and win 10 times in a row, he knows that his Doctor would hate to see his reputation ruined and to be thought of as a gambling addict so he makes sure that Lapis stops before things get even crazier. He opts to let Lapis gamble with himself to at least keep him entertained. Also while Aven originally let Lapis stay so they could find out how set things right, he is again shocked when Lapis slacks off and almost never touches a single book or article about dimensional travel.

“Lapis, I hope you know that while I enjoy winning against you when we gamble,” Aven stated. He wanted to get a start on how to get his doctor back, and Ra- Lapis, had done as much as spending two seconds reading a book. He took a breath, “That’s not why I invited you to stay with me.”

“I am aware, however I’m sure your Ratio is on his way to figure out whatever happened. He’s honestly probably working with my little doctor hah. Oh how I wish I could’ve seen Dr. Kakavasha’s face when he realized it wasn’t me.”

Aventurine froze. “Sorry, Kakavasha?” Lapis looked at him for a moment. And then laughed.

“Oh right, hah. Here you’re not called by your birth name since your a stoneheart. I keep forgetting that, sorry Aventurine.”

Also there’s probably one moment where Aven finds Lapis drunk and there’s a reference to the comic the artist made.

“Lapis stared into Aventurine’s eyes. Like he was lost in them. It seemed as though he could stare into those multicolored eyes forever.

“Lapis, my friend, its about time we head back no? I’m sure you’ll regret not drinking any water tomorrow so-“

“They’re beautiful.”

“…What?”

“Those eyes.” He pauses, taking another moment to stare before he dons a smile too wide for the face Aventurine has come to know. “Hah its just like what happened last time I drank this much.” The blonde’s eyes widen into saucers. The sharp inhale he does does nothing to calm himself down.

“Haha, is- is that so?”

“Quite. It's most likely the one constant throughout the universe. Your eyes will always be pretty, and they will always make me yearn.” Lapis whispers the end of that sentence, like if he says it any louder this moment will shatter into a million pieces, like a mirror.”

[initialchains]

would you? | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: luke slowly starts to lose himself but that won’t stop you from reminding him of what truly matters.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: some manipulating and gaslighting if you squint and probably spoilers for the first book but they’re not explicitly mentioned.

a/n: HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! here’s luke as a gift <33 i’ve never written for luke before but he’s my favorite pjo character bc hes such an interesting and complex character aghh. sorry if this isnt as fluffy as you would all want, i promise i’m working on some real luke fluff.

The rays of the rising sun made the lake look far more beautiful than it always does. Sure, you were used to the warm tones that always engulfed Camp Half-Blood and it’s not like the weather ever really changed, at least not unless the gods willed it to, but the colors of the sun reflecting on the lake, the low hum of the wood nymphs singing, and the distant sounds of laughter coming from campers playing volleyball were strangely comforting. 

Well, as comforting as it can be when you’re trying to find some quiet in the neverending fight that was the demigod life. It gets tiring, it always does. The fighting, the studying, the adoration of gods who didn’t even bother to give their children a sign of them caring. It was all so exhausting. 

But there was peace in this small moment. You were sat in front of the lake, your legs crossed as you closed your eyes, trying to enjoy the tranquility of it all. The calm moment didn’t dare to stop your hand from finding a home in the clay beads of your camp necklace and twirling them around, a seemingly normal act to anyone who saw you, that actually was a sign of you being aware of your surroundings, a small sign of the fear you carried around, a fear that had you always prepared to draw your sword in any given moment. Not ever fully in peace. Not unless Luke was there. 

“So you decided to start your morning without me? Ouch,” You turned your head at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, “A knock on my cabin’s door would’ve been enough, you know?”.

“Yeah? And risk waking the million campers that sleep in there? No, thank you. I would like to stay alive for a few more years, please.” You replied with a small smile, looking up to meet Luke’s eyes, his scar being more prominent in the morning, a red color adorning the edges of it.  

He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes before taking a seat next to you. He was silent for a moment until he muttered softly, “This is a nice view.”

“Oh, definitely. The lake always looks beautiful when the sun hits it the right way. I need to give the Apollo cabin their congratulations and some flowers for having a talented father.” You answered, your hand moving away from your necklace to hold Luke’s.

“Of course, you make my pick-up line about the gods. Can you give me a win over here? I’m trying my best.” He said with a smirk before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. It was a strange sort of thing he always did, even before you two started dating, he’d always find an excuse to hold your hand and give it a quick kiss. 

“I wasn’t going to let you get away with using a corny pick-up line on me, Castellan. At least be original with it.” A giggle escaped your lips, “Also, everything is about the gods, I thought you’d be used to it by this point.”

His face fell for a fleeting second, but he was quick to mask it with a small smile. “Right, everything always is about the gods.” Luke’s eyes moved away from your face, nervously glancing at the lake after his statement. 

You frowned when you heard the tone he used, he sounded almost.. bitter? You couldn’t even explain it. Luke had been acting weird ever since the camp came back from their annual visit to Mount Olympus on the winter solstice. At first, you thought it had something to do with Hermes being a total dick and ignoring him the entire night, not even bothering to give his son a pat on the back or a nod. But you’ve known Luke long enough to know he was past caring about what his father did, he was indifferent to what Hermes did–to what any of the gods did. 

The two of you were silent, sitting side by side in front of the lake in deep thought. He was thinking about gods know what, and you were busy trying to understand what was going on inside his mind. You decided to break the silence first, “You okay?”.

“I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.” 

He was quick to answer. It was almost as if he had rehearsed it and had it scripted beforehand. It was almost as if someone else had told him what to answer. As if he was under someone else's guidance. Under someone else's control. 

“Are you sure? Because it feels like you’re.. I don't know, keeping something from me?” 

“I’m not keeping anything from you. I’m not keeping a single thing.”

“Right. Sorry for asking.”

Luke closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and took some deep breaths, his chest moving up and down in a nonexistent rhythm, it was urgent and angry. He took a few more breaths, trying to calm himself before finally meeting your eyes again. 

“I’ve told you countless times to never apologize to me if you haven’t done anything wrong,” He reminded you of the conversation you’ve had millions of times, “Don’t ever apologize to me if you haven’t physically hurt me or something, alright? You’re fine. We’re fine.” 

He continued, “I’d trust you with my life given the chance. I’m not keeping anything from you, angel. You have to trust me.” 

“I do.” 

You didn’t see your boyfriend at all the following days. He always brushed you off by being busy with training or helping Annabeth plan for this week’s capture the flag. You weren’t the only one to notice his slight change of temper and personality, some campers from the Hermes cabin noticed it too. 

He kept pushing harder on his siblings, always insisting on them doing better. He was more violent than usual during capture the flag, not thinking about it twice before proving why he is the most talented swordsman in the last 300 years.

There was also this one time he volunteered to spar with a new camper.. it didn’t go well. He kept doing new maneuvers and techniques most campers didn’t even recognize, refusing to go easy on the poor thirteen year old girl. When you asked him about it, confused at the way he went too hard on the newbie, he answered with a dry “Where’s the glory in that? She needs to be prepared for what’s about to come.” It sounded as if he knew some kind of danger was approaching. As if it was a matter of life and death for the camper to learn how to fight against him.

You decided it was enough when you saw him skipping his daily chat with Annabeth, deciding he would rather sit by himself on the steps of the Big House for a little while. 

The walk from your cabin to the Big House was filled with self-doubt and twirling the beads of your necklace, you were nervous to face your boyfriend, which was stupid because he was the last person you’d ever expect to feel nervous with. When you arrived to the steps of the Big House and saw him sitting there, your mind went completely blank. 

You sat next to him and asked the first thing that came to your mind, “Would you rather fight 3000 ant-sized chimeras or a chimera-sized ant?”. 

An amused laugh bubbled up from Luke’s chest before he turned his head to face you, a smile taking over his handsome face. “I’ll take the 3000 chimeras, no doubt.” 

You smiled back at him, ready to ask him the question you spent the last thirty minutes planning, but before you could open your mouth he said, “Would you rather not be able to consume ambrosia and nectar for the rest of your life or.. see Mr. D without a shirt?”

You threw your head back with laughter, your face going red thanks to the lack of air in your lungs due to the laughs coming out of you, “I’d rather bleed to death without ambrosia than see Mr. D with a shirt.”

“Ditto.”

You decided to indulge in this back-and-forth game, after all, you hadn’t been able to have a real conversation with your boyfriend in days... you’ll take what you can get, “Would you rather not be able to leave camp ever again or turn against the gods?” 

“It would be boring to spend the rest of my life capturing a flag and growing strawberries… so I guess my answer is pretty obvious.” He answered while fidgeting with his fingers.

“You’d choose to turn against the gods?”

“Yup.”

“Huh, I guess capture the flag would be pretty hard when you’re pushing 90.”

Luke was silent, running his eyes through your face before asking, “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

He took a deep breath before replying, “Turn against the gods.”

You were silent for a few seconds, biting your lip and staring into Luke’s eyes, wondering if there was a right answer to this metaphorical question. You decided to give him an answer he’d like but also an answer you meant, “I’d go wherever you go. It doesn’t matter if it is a farm in the middle of nowhere or to the pits of Tartarus. If you’re there... count me in.” 

Luke cleared his throat and a serious look took over his face, “Sure, but if the time to make a choice came… would you go against them?”.

His persistence to try and get you to answer his question was making you nervous. The more he asked you about it, the more it looked like he was genuinely considering it. 

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you nervously played with one of the beads on your camp necklace. He took notice of it. Of course he did, he knew more about you than anyone, probably even more than you know yourself. 

Luke stayed silent at that, a somber look taking over his features, you could tell there was a turmoil happening inside his head. It was almost as if he wanted to let you in on a secret, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I... um. Well, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon—at least not in our lifetime. But like I said, I’d go wherever you go, to Tartarus and back.” 

That brought a smile to Luke’s face, he looked into your eyes, probably looking for signs of you lying but finding none, and took your hand away from your necklace, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “To Tartarus and back, baby.” 

He brought your hands down before leaning in to kiss you on the lips. There was a sense of necessity to feel your lips against his, he kissed you like the feeling of your lips was his only shot at salvation. He raised his hand to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss, craving the heat he only got whenever he kissed you.

You stopped him before he could take the kiss any further, “Luke, we’re in the middle of camp. There are children around us, if you want to make out at least take me to our spot behind the stables. Holy shit.”

Luke took a second to steady his breathing, “Sorry, angel. I’ll make sure to keep your suggestion in mind for later, though.”

“Shut the hell up, Castellan.”

The two of you spent the rest of your day being busy working on your own stuff. Luke was still sparring with some campers who were brave enough to go against him, and you were hanging out with the Dionysus cabin while they helped grow more strawberries. 

 You found Chris sitting in the amphitheater and asked him if he had seen your boyfriend, he replied with an annoyed, “He’s probably in bed or something, I don’t know.” You decided to not ask Chris if he was okay and walked straight to the Hermes cabin.

A knock on the wooden door was enough to wake your boyfriend up, you were aware of it when you heard a muffled, “Come in”. You found Luke sitting on his bed, his sword in hand while he sharpened it.

So he wasn’t asleep at all, you thought.

“Careful with the sharp part of the blade.” He looked up from his sword when he heard your melodic voice, your words snapping him out of the trance he was in.

“Oh, hi.” Luke put the sword down next to his bunk and moved to lie down, leaving a space next to him for you to join him. He hummed when you laid down next to him, giving a kiss to his shoulder blade and wrapping your arms around his torso. 

He turned to face you, pressing his lips to your forehead with a soft sigh. His eyes closed at the sensation while his hands traveled to your back, looking for ways to hold you closer. His features relaxing when he finally touched your skin. 

You couldn’t keep this weird tension going on between you two, so you decided to bite first, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, he replied in an almost scripted and mechanical way, “Talk about what?”

“The winter solstice visit, you’ve been acting.. different ever since we came back to camp.” 

Luke stiffened next to you, it made your heart drop. You’ve been dating him for a year now, and he had never been this cold—this uncomfortable around you. 

“I just... I think things are about to change.” He replied in a low murmur, his eyes closing again when you brought your hand up to caress his face, softly tracing his scar with your thumb in a delicate and loving way. Luke let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when he felt your fingers on his skin.

A smirk made its way to your face, “Change? yeah, in your dreams, Castellan. Campers will keep arriving and only 5 percent of them will get claimed, and the others will get thrown into your cabin.. like things always are and always will be. That’s not changing anytime soon.” 

Luke’s hand traced up and down your back in a soothing manner, “Yeah, maybe they won’t. Forget I even said that.” 

“Just because they won’t change, it doesn’t mean we have to accept it, you know?”Luke's eyes snapped up from your hands to meet your gaze, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re all on the same team here. Sure, the gods will never claim most of the campers and we will all probably die before we’re old enough to have children of our own... but is that really all that matters? We have each other. We don’t need them as long as we have the people we love with us.”

Luke tilted his head to the right to press a kiss to the palm of your hand that was caressing his cheek, “I don’t need the gods as long as I have you.” 

“Good to know we’re on the same page, Castellan.”

The two of you went out for a small walk by the lake and sat together in the dining pavilion at night. Your small conversation probably made Luke feel better because he was quick to go back to being himself, he kept greeting every camper he saw and holding your hand, not forgetting to kiss the back of it whenever he had the chance. 

Maybe it was you reassuring him about the love you had for him or maybe it was him being aware of you being willing to drop the gods at any time just to be with him, but he was completely normal during the following days, weeks, and months.

You were sure of it when you saw him walking around with the new arrival five months later, Luke seemed so excited to be showing him around. You greeted the new camper with a small smile when he introduced himself with a “Hi, I’m Percy Jackson.”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Hospital Trip | Fluff

Listen...this was supposed to be a crack fic. Apparently when I write long form fics I can't help but take it seriously. So this is romantic comedy now. It's fluff. I'm not a Zayne girlie but damn do I adore him...I might be a Zayne girlie. And a Rafayel girlie. And a Xavier girlie...I'm a whore.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Crack treated seriously, But also is this really crack anymore?, Romance mixed with comedy, flirting, Blood, Leg injuries, stitches, shots (the not fun kind) Synopsis: You had been enjoying your day when a small incident led you to the hospital. Thankfully your beloved boyfriend is taking care of you, but he does demand an explanation at to how you got injured...something you'd rather he not know. Word Count: 4,159

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Hospital Trip | Zayne x Reader

You let out an unamused huff as you leaned against the back of the hospital bed, looking off in the distance. Your leg was on fire at the moment and you weren’t exactly happy to be in the hospital. Thankfully Yvonne had been sweet enough to allow you to see Dr. Zayne about your injury (even though she insisted that Dr. Greyson was available immediately and Zayne was finishing up a surgery, you didn’t care.)

You perked up as you heard the door open, smiling the moment you saw Zayne. You weren’t even sure if he was aware that you’d be his patient as Yvonne didn’t bother getting you checked in. He looks up from the paperwork in his hands, seeing that you were sitting on his examination table with a dopey grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He said, his voice soft as he adjusted his glasses. He clearly hadn’t noticed that something was amiss as you shifted on the table.

“Well, you see…” You said, shifting more to show the inner part of your thigh. The thigh that happened to be getting blood on his examination table. The way you were sitting had helped it not pool too much, and the nurse that helped you in the room did place a small tourniquet around your leg (although in all honesty it wasn’t that bad).

Zayne paused at seeing the injury, looking at you and then back at your bloody thigh. His lips pressed together as he nodded in disappointment, realizing that you had probably given some nurses hell as they tried helping you and you refused. The hospital was used to your antics, especially when it came to your doctor. Unless you were dying, you insisted on seeing Zayne for everything.

He approached you, placing a hand over a section that didn’t have blood on it. You were grateful to be wearing shorts today so you didn’t have to take off your pants for this…although the thought of waiting for Zayne in his office in only your underwear was an amusing thought. An idea for another day.

The feel of his cold hand had you instinctually opening your legs up more for the man. He looked back up at your face and you couldn’t help but wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him.

“Is there a reason this hasn’t been treated yet? How long have you been here?” He asked, finally taking his hand away from you.

“Um, maybe ten minutes? I told them it wasn’t that bad and I’d wait for you.” You told him and he shot you a look. He sighed, going over to see that the nurses had already gotten him a tray of items he’d be needing.

You wouldn’t lie, you had gotten nervous when you saw the nurse wheeling the tray in and seeing it had items for stitches. You really didn’t think your injury was that bad. Granted you couldn’t feel your leg at the moment, but that's besides the point.

“If your leg is in this condition, you should’ve allowed another doctor to tend to it.” Zayne scolded, walking over to the sink and washing his hands.

You hummed before smirking, “Well I figured you wouldn’t like having one of your coworkers between my thighs, since you are the jealous type.” You teased him. Zayne shot you a small glare, but you knew he wouldn’t stay mad for long.

“Leave the suggestive comments please. There is nothing sexual about a doctor tending to their patients.” He said, pausing and letting out another long sigh. You wondered what was causing him so much grief since you saw a flash of something in his eyes as he remembered something, “I need you to take your shorts off.”

You barked out a laugh, “Nothing sexual my ass.” you said, going to unbutton your shorts, “I’m surprised you’re letting me take them off, you’re always so eager to be the one doing it back home.” 

“I said to leave the comments.” He said, placing gloves onto his hands as he approached you on the table.

“I can’t help it when you’re this easy to tease.” You winked before looking at the supplies he had been given, “So you gonna numb me up before you sew thread into my thigh?”

“I don’t know, should I be numbing you? If you have the energy to flirt, the pain must not be that bad.” He said, watching as you shucked your shorts off and placed them next to you on the bed. “Now might I be enlightened as to how this happened in the first place? If I’m not mistaken, today was your day off.”

You made a small, pained noise in the back of your throat as you thought back to what you had done. Nope. Absolutely not. He didn’t really need to know what had happened, did he?

“I tripped.” You lied, knowing he wouldn’t buy it for even a second. You’d rather tell him an obvious lie then do too good of a job and have him believe you. He always ends up finding the truth eventually, and when he finds out you actually lied to him, he always gets upset and distant. So you never did it to him. You’d give him the world’s fakest lie so he could tell right away.

“I’m not asking out of curiosity. I need to know if you might’ve gotten something in your wound. I need to know as your doctor.” A shiver went down your spine at the statement. There was always a difference between your sweet, caring boyfriend Zayne, and Akso’s Chief of Surgery, Doctor Zayne Li. You, of course, adored both sides, but seeing him switch to being Doctor Zayne was always hot.

“Fine, then I assume if you’re asking as my Doctor, then you won’t be judging me when I tell you?” You said, shifting in your spot. You really didn’t want to tell him. He was the best boyfriend ever but god damn could he give your sass back ten fold.

“Sadly doctor’s are entitled to judge whomever they please, we’re just not allowed to voice it to our patients or coworkers.” He said and you huffed. 

“You’re judging me right now, aren’t you?” You finally murmured.

“Always quick to catch on.” He had the audacity to smirk as he grabbed the shot that you assumed had the lidocaine in it and waved it in place to tease you.

“Asshole…” You said under your breath. He looked at you with his eyebrow raised.

“What was that, you don’t want to be numbed?” He asked and a small, pathetic whine came from you.

“I mean my beloved boyfriend who is so kind, caring, and compassionate. The boyfriend who will do anything to keep me out of harm's way and fixes me up when I have booboos in the nicest way possible.” You said, pressing your hands together and smiling at him.

He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at your praise and you finally relaxed a bit, “I’m still waiting to find out what happened.” He reminded you.

"Okay, where to begin…” You said, tapping your lower lip, “Well I woke up a bit later than usual since I didn’t have work today. I went to the kitchen to get some breakfast and was going through the freezer when I noticed we didn’t have any ice cream left!” You began and Zayne gave you an unamused look.

At this point, Zayne was grabbing the alcohol wipes to begin cleaning off the blood so he could see the actual damage, “I don’t need a play by play of your day, darling, I need to know how you injured yourself.”

You chuckled at the pet name and Zayne smiled ever so slightly at the happy wiggle you did on the table, “Okay, but it’s all super important information.” You chided with a small waggle of your finger, “So I decided the best course of action would be to run down to the store and go buy some in case we wanted some ice cream tonight. So I got dressed and walked down to the corner store.”

“Did you actually manage to get any?” He asked and your smile fell.

“Well…of course I did. At first. I got the ice cream and it was all bagged up. I left the store after thanking this sweet new cashier, her name is Tamara by the way.” You said with a wave of your hand, “Then out of nowhere I heard this sweet little chirping and saw a baby bird was on the ground. Clearly he had fallen, but thankfully it had been in a bed of soft flowers.” You explained.

You watched as Zayne paused, thinking about what you said and shook his head, “Sit correctly please, I need to clean your wound.” He said, pushing your legs to a better position.

“Okay so clearly you know the corner store I’m talking about, ya? The one right by your apartment?” You asked.

“Our apartment? Yes, I recall. It’s the one that always has a sign outside with those drawings to draw people in on the newest products.” He said and you paused before giggling again at him calling it our apartment. You'd never get tired of that since you had only been living together for a short while.

“Then you know how there’s some construction going on right next to it. There’s that metal fence they put up to keep people out and there’s a tree right on the other side.” You said and Zayne nodded, “Well the nest was in that tree.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be in an easier to reach location?” He sarcastically murmured to himself. It was just loud enough for you to pick up, and you went to kick him before freezing at realizing it was your bad leg. The same leg that earlier you couldn’t feel, but when you made sharp movements apparently it was all you could feel.

“Well I couldn’t just leave the poor thing there to die, so I scooped it up and put it into my jacket pocket.” You said and Zayne made note that you didn’t seem to have a coat anymore. How curious.

You flinched away as Zayne began cleaning the wound, the alcohol burning but he held your leg in place as he continued dabbing at it. 

You cleared your throat, trying to not think about the sting, “So I managed to climb the fence without any issues thankfully. There were also no construction workers so I was all by my lonesome in my quest to put this birdie back in its nest.”

Zayne paused as he finished cleaning the wound, looking up at you from behind his glasses. You don’t know why you felt small under his gaze at the moment, especially since he was technically underneath you.

“Then I started to climb that tree to put the birdie back into its home. It wasn’t very high up in the tree thankfully, so it was easy enough to place him there.” You explained, happy about your accomplishment.

“I’m very proud that you managed to save a single chick by doing two very reckless things.” It was sarcastic as all hell, but you’d take the praise when you could get it.

“Thanks babe.” You said and he shook his head.

“This doesn’t explain how you ended up with a gash on your thigh.” He said and looked down at your legs, “Or why your legs have dirt on them…and probably future bruises forming.”

“Well, so the nest was home to an eagle! Can you believe it? It was very majestic looking as it began flying back to its babies.” You said, then you let out another hiss as he swiped a disinfectant of some kind over your wound. As if the alcohol wasn’t enough…

“Don’t mind me, continue your story.” He said and you got a sense he was almost amused now.

“Well apparently mama eagle wasn’t happy I was spending time with the babies because she swooped in to attack me. Obviously my natural reaction to an eagle coming for my throat was to flinch back. Sadly it caused me to fall from the tree and as I fell, I managed to catch my leg on a piece of the fence that was jutting out…thus ending in my giant gash and forming bruises.” You finally confessed.

You felt like an idiot, but honestly how were you supposed to know that would happen? You just wanted to save a baby chick that had fallen. Then BOOM! Eagle attack. To make matters worse you had fallen right on your ice cream and the concoction splattered all over your white jacket (alongside your blood since you used your jacket in an attempt to stop the bleeding) so you ended up just tossing them both away in shame.

You watched Zayne grab the needle that had the lidocaine in it and flicked it a few times to get the air pockets out, “And how, pray tell, did you get to the hospital? If the ambulance brought you in, you would’ve been treated in the ER right away. Since we’re having this conversation, it’s clear you didn’t make the right decision.”

“An ambulance would’ve been overkill.” You said and the look Zayne gave you said otherwise, “I just walked here. It’s only a few miles and the day was beautiful.”

Zayne could feel his eye begin to twitch at your lackadaisical response, “You walked miles with an injured leg that needed stitches. Did nobody try to stop you when they saw you trailing blood everywhere?” Oh he was a bit upset by this.

“Well people on the highway are normally like super busy and not looking at random people walking on the side of the road.” You said and Zayne seemed to be trying really hard to keep his cool at the moment. He wanted to properly scold you and tell you how stupid you had been; his worry wanting to turn to anger, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to lash out with emotions when he was trying to treat you as a patient. 

“Of course, you just casually walked on the side of a busy highway where a car might’ve hit you.” He couldn’t help but say in almost disbelief at the lack of self awareness. How he managed to fall for you was a mystery. He did absolutely adore you, but moments like this would only cause his hair to gray faster.

Zayne took the shot, carefully placing it on the edge of your gash and began injecting you with the medication. You let out a hiss of pain, the sensation being horribly uncomfortable. You held as still as you could though, wanting to tear up a bit from how bad it stung going in and watching as he moved it around wasn't helping.

“Are you making it hurt a lot because you’re mad at me?” Your voice came out in a dejected whine. Zayne had just pulled back the needle when he looked at you. He gave you a tired smile, his hand going to rub at the non-injured area of your leg.

“I apologize for the discomfort, but you should know that no matter how upset I am with you, I would never do something to cause you intentional pain like that.” He said, his hand feeling cool against your hot skin. It helped numb the pain, and as the medication slowly began working the entire area was numb to…everything.

You were surprised by how fast it worked, and even more surprised by how fast Zayne worked. He was already getting ready to stitch your leg up and you looked over at him with a cheeky grin.

“If you’re gonna sew up my leg, can you make a heart shaped design for me?” You teasingly asked.

“I’m a doctor, not a seamstress.” He said as you watched him grab the threaded needle and pressed it against your skin. As soon as it was about to go into your leg, you looked away. There was no way you’d be fine with watching him put a needle through your body.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish with the stitches, leaning back in his chair to check it over. You look down as well, a bit off put by stitches but at least it was going to heal properly.

Zayne began cleaning the wound and then grabbed the gauze, tapping your thigh to lift up as he wrapped it carefully. Once it was all wrapped up (sadly without a neat little bow like you requested) Zayne ran a finger gently over it.

“Does that feel better, darling?” he asked and you smiled, loving the nickname and nodding.

“Yes sir, feels a million times better…but I also can’t feel it at all so that might be why.”

“It’ll most likely feel sore and ache for the next few days. I’ll make sure to pick you up some painkillers from the pharmacy before we head home.” He said, going to take off his gloves and move the tray away from you.

“Thank you, doctor.” You finally said. Despite all your teasing, you really were happy he was the one treating you. You always felt the most comfortable when he was in charge of your care, after all.

Zayne looked over at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose and tilting his head, “Don’t think you’re off the hook. I haven’t forgotten what you did.” He said and you huffed.

“Now why did you have to say that?” You murmured, watching as he went over to his desk. He began typing things up on his computer, looking through some files it seemed. Once he saw what he needed, he clicked his tongue.

“We can discuss your actions when we get home.” he said, looking you over, “For now I’ll need you to wait here. I need to grab some things. It seems you’re due for a tetanus shot, and with your most recent endeavor of getting cut on a metal fence, I think now is the best time for it.”

“Wait…a shot?” You groaned, “Oh you’re mad, mad.” The accusation fell on deaf ears as he was already heading out the door. 

With another huff, you crossed your arms and looked at the clock. After only five minutes you decided you had enough and got on wobbly feet. You could barely feel your thigh still so it made it awkward, feeling almost like you were walking with a partially dead leg.

Still, you limped with purpose and eventually got to Zayne’s large desk. You didn’t care much for all the paperwork; most of it was medical jargon that went well over your head. No, you were curious about if he kept some of your gifts.

You opened up one of the drawers, smiling as you saw a sticky pad with little pears on it being the first thing in sight. You also saw a handful of pens that doubled as flowers. You felt all warm and fuzzy seeing how the items were clearly well used. 

Then you heard the door open.

You froze in place, staring at Zayne who was carrying a few items. You two made eye contact for a moment and he only sighed, shaking his head. It wasn’t like you could run away from him. You watched him close the door behind him and it clicked as it locked.

He walked over to you, placing the shot down on his surprisingly clean desk. He towered over you in that moment, making you feel small yet again. He went over, lifting you gently as he paid attention to your newly wrapped leg.

Your ass met the cool wood of his desk as he sat you on top of it, “Can’t you behave for five minutes?” He asked and you looked away to avoid eye contact.

“I wanted to see where you kept the candy…” You murmured, as it was half true. You didn’t want to admit you were checking to make sure he didn’t toss out your little gifts.

“Next drawer over.” He said and you looked over to see his hand grazing the edge of the desk, opening the drawer and grabbing the candy, “However only good patients get it. If you behave for your shot, I’ll give you a piece.”

You knew him damn well, he’d give you a mint no matter what happened. He was always a sucker for spoiling you, even when you were acting up and being a total brat.

“Alright, Dr. Zayne. I’ll be good.” You huffed, looking at the delicately wrapped mint in his hand. He placed it next to you, then went to grab his supplies. You watched patiently as he cleaned an area on your good thigh then grabbed the needle.

Once again, you can’t look at the needle as it goes into you. However, this time the feeling was so much worse. You cursed under your breath, your hands going to Zayne’s shoulders to grip onto for some stability. Thankfully Zayne didn’t falter as he finished up, taking the needle out and placing it next to you.

His gloves hand goes to rub soothing circles over the area in apology, before he grabs a plaster and places it on top where a small bead of blood was already trying to come out of.

“Are you alright?” He asked finally and you grumbled under your breath.

“Ya…” Your hands tightened on his shoulders, not wanting him to leave, but also being a bit upset at all the pain you had endured because of your antics. It wasn’t fair, why couldn’t you do stupid things without consequences?

One of Zayne’s hands cupped your chin, forcing your face up to look up at him, “You need to be more careful in the future, understood? You got off lucky with only a few stitches this time.”

A small whine comes from the back of your throat, your cheeks reddening at his proximity. Your eyes couldn’t help but glance down at his lips for a second before going back to his eyes.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Zayne as he leaned down, giving you a short and sweet kiss before parting. His lips found your cheek next, then your other, then finally your forehead. He leaned his forehead against your own as he looked at you.

“Let me finish up some of my paperwork then I’ll take you home. I don’t need you walking on this leg right now.” He said and you pouted. Who knew how long it would take for him to do all that paperwork, “I promise it won’t take long.”

“Fine…but do I get a reward when we get home for being so good?” It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Zayne was practically between your legs as he leaned over you. Your pants were still on the table across the room, and you desperately wanted him to just kiss you properly this time. You wanted to be gasping for air by the time he parted from you.

Zayne paused, noticing the current predicament before smirking. His hand left your chin, instead going to box you between his desk and body. He leaned closer, pressing his lips near your ear.

“You want to know what I’m going to do to you later?”

You shivered at his suddenly husky voice, your hands grasping onto the lapels of his lab coat. You bit your lip, feeling suddenly hot in your own skin.

“I’m going to have you lay in bed and make you drink plenty of water and rest while your leg heals.” He whispered in your ear.

You let out an annoyed groan as his body left your own, standing at full height as he went to begin cleaning. “That wasn’t sexy at all.” You complained.

“Falling from a tree and gashing your leg open is also rather…unsexy.” He said and you groaned, a small smile spreading on your lips. Touché Zayne, touché.

“Okay can we at least stop by and get ice cream on the way back, then cuddle on the couch while we watch a movie tonight? I think I deserve extra cuddles for the pain I’ve had to endure.” You said with a small pout.

“I find those terms to be rather agreeable. It’s a date.” He settled on. You giggled as he picked you up from his desk and took you back to the examination table. He placed you on a clean spot and handed you your pants.

Sometimes dating a doctor has its perks.

Sadly dating a spiteful doctor had plenty of downsides as you later learned that night. You, curled up against his chest, as he puts on a movie for you two to watch. A documentary…on eagles.

[gin-juice-tonic]

So, for Starters: Book Of Bill Spoilers warning. Another opinion from me below. (Here's my first opinion I shared, if you havent seen it) This new one is about the lost journal pages again, of course.

Originally, I wanted to make a super big crazy essay about all the reasons I think the journal pages in BOB (The Book of Bill’s given name) are fake, and show off my super-cool totally completely sound deductive reasoning techniques in the process.  

Unfortunately, knowing myself I’m not sure I’m actually capable of accomplishing such a feat. You all know how I tend to post things in parts, sometimes out of order, often never finished. However I would like to share something in particular that’s been eating at me that I’ve seen… partially discussed, but only partially. And certainly not the part that I would like to discuss. 

It’s about the rats.

You know, the rats.

I saw these rats being talked about since before I was even able to have a look at the book myself. 

But before I get further into it all, I would like to start off with a joke: 

Why did dead rats, eggnog, a land orca, shrimp colors, It’s a Small World After All, and an Anti-Cipherite Suit cross the road? 

Well, that’s easy. To get to the other side. 

Of the book, that is. 

If you’re anything like me, you probably skipped right to the journal pages upon contact with the book. And if you’re even MORE like me, you were probably left a little confounded by them. Not only did they seem… wrong somehow. But they also felt random. Full of odd choices of subject that didn’t make a lot of sense. Could these pages really have come from journal 3? If so, why do parts of them feel so… completely out of context? 

And this is where the rats come in. As I mentioned before, I saw many people discussing them. In particular, they were noting their connection to this passage from earlier in the book:

Many of the related discussions also felt odd to me. Though I lacked the knowledge to be able to articulate why at the time. UNTIL, I read the book for myself from start to finish. That's when I realized something:  This is not the only time something from earlier in the book connects back to the journal pages. In fact, it happens many, many times throughout the earlier passages. (Here is a small collection of them for your perusal.)

And then it started clicking into place. The reasons the pages felt like they were so abnormally out of context… is because they WERE lacking context!

Now, before you can finish saying “Gin, you’re an idiot.” I would like you to ponder these three questions: 

1) Why, if these pages were taken from Journal 3, should they require context from outside of it to be able to be completely understood?

2) Why is it that this context can be found in what Bill Cipher has been writing in the preceding passages up till now? 

3) If you put food in a mogwai’s mouth at midnight EST but drive it over the CST time zone line back to 11PM before it can swallow, will it still transform into a gremlin? 

Okay, you caught me, that third one is unrelated. But the first two I believe require further thinking. So let’s delve a little further into the idea. Consider this the real third question: 

3) Are we to seriously believe that these, the only pages of J3 still lost to us, just so happen to tie into the new topics from the rest of the Book of Bill over and over like this?  

And since you’ve done so well thinking thus far, I’ll ask a fourth question: 

4) Are you aware of the concepts of Watsonian and Doyalist analysis? 

Assuming you don’t and you won’t google it, I’ll skip to the important part. Watsonian analysis is to analyze a story from within it, as if you yourself were Watson making deductions in a Sherlock Holmes novel.  

Now, from a Watsonian point of view, what happens when we try to answer our earlier questions? Why should it be that the Book of Bill provides so many of these points of reference to the journal pages? 

One possible line of thought could be that Bill wrote the earlier passages of his book *around* the idea of what was contained in the pages, but I think this doesn’t work for a few reasons. For one thing, the purpose of the book is to get the reader to make a deal, not to take a whole novel to set the stage for a 3 day mini Ford adventure. For another, not all of what I described prior is really fit to be called “context”, is it? The rats, the “Small World” cassette, and the Bill-Suit are one thing, but Eggnog? Shrimp colors? Land Orcas? I certainly wouldn’t define them that way. If anything, they’d be better suited to being called “references”. And unlike the more contextual ideas, there’d be no real need for Bill to sneak mere references to the pages into his grand story.  And lastly, there are a great deal of Bill pages that have nothing to do with the content in the journal pages at all.

So what exactly am I trying to say here? 

If we do intend to think of the callbacks outlined above as references, the only logical conclusion within the story is that the journal pages themselves are referencing back to the Book of Bill, not the other way around.

But… how? And why? Something Ford has written in the 80’s shouldn't be able to reference something Bill is writing post-weirdmageddon certainly. 

That’s because “Ford” isn’t referencing it at all!

And as for why… Well, have you ever noticed when you're writing a story on the fly, things you wrote earlier all come crashing back to you as you try to wrap things up? I believe personally that the journal pages are nothing more than a strange endcap on Bill’s crazy train of thought! And the "references" are just fuel that further the pages creation. Almost as if, to quote someone much more knowledgeable than me on this subject…

In the end, all I've described above (as well as other aspects of the pages I've not mentioned here) leave me with the impression the pages are not real.

As I stated only a bit earlier, the idea that these pages, the only pages of J3 purported to be lost, should be so connected to the rest of the book is beyond coincidence to me. Not to mention that in order to take these pages as total truth, you must give credence to several other passages of Bill's book as well. And I'm not too keen on having to trust him that much.

To all who have read this far, even to those who may have scoffed at the ideas in here or think I've only written up nonsense. Thank you for reading and considering my thoughts.

I am not saying anyone must agree with me on this. I know some people have found the pages to be important and meaningful to them, and I do not wish to give the impression that I think my view is the end all be all correct one, or that I think lesser of those who believe in them. I only want to share my own opinions. And to anyone else who found the pages to feel "off" somehow, possibly validate their feelings too.

[shouts-into-the-void]

Just read screenshots of the Aaron extra chapter and I have so many thoughts, so here they are:

It's always so funny to me to be reminded of the fact that the animosity between Aaron and Neil is mostly one-sided. Like, Neil finds Aaron frustrating, but all the antagonistic stuff he does to him is ultimately in service of helping him in some way and while he's angry when Aaron provokes him, he otherwise regards him with disinterest and even expresses the desire to see what he's like when he's relaxed and enjoying himself during the party with the Vixens. Meanwhile Aaron just really hates that man.

I really appreciated Nora using this chapter to clear up some of the gripes a lot of the fandom has had with Aaron's character in the past and confirm that Aaron's comments to Nicky have to do with his cousin making graphic and unwanted sexual advances on their teammates, and his accusations towards Neil were from a place of concern for his brother. I also liked that it was pointed out that of course he would have at least some internalized homophobia due to being raised by religious zealots in a conservative area, but is unlearning it due to Nicky.

On a similar note, I'm glad that we were provided the context that Nicky's inappropriate behavior is a defense mechanism to weed out people who might hurt him rather than legitimate advances, because I think the fandom tends to forget that he is also a character with extreme trauma written outside of the "perfect victim" stereotype. His actions aren't okay, but the entire point is that they are the result of what he's had to endure just like every other member of the team

The implication that Andrew specifically signed with the Foxes so Aaron could go to college

Aaron and Andrew have the same nervous habit of picking at loose thread

It causes me physical pain to see Andrew clearly trying to open up to Aaron about his self-harm, but because his way of communicating is less straightforward (he doesn't lie, but he because he stuggles to confront and be open with his emotions, he presents the truth in flowery, vague language) and because the two dont really know or understand each other, Aaron can't fully grasp the implications of what he's saying

On the subject of things that cause me physical pain: baby Aaron telling his mom that he wanted to be a neurosurgeon like the people on TV and her laughing and saying he'd never make anything of himself. Fuck Tilda Minyard, all my homies hate Tilda.

Andrew is so uncomfortable, someone Get Him Out of There.

Going off that and his nervous habits (that Aaron mentions he did often enough to be noticable as a habit premedication), I am highkey wondering if the reason Sober Andrew doesn't talk to anyone outside Neil is because he's just. Socially Awkward.

We get a little bit of insight into Andrew's "misogyny" (I personally think distrusting certain people as a result of extreme personal trauma is a little bit different than just being sexist, in the same way women distrusting men because they're used to being harassed and belittled isn't misandry, but that's up to your personal opinion) and that his distain for Katelyn comes from the fact that he thinks she's stringing Aaron along and will turn out to be awful like his previous girlfriends (there's also a notable implication that Aaron has the same self-destructive tendencies as Andrew, and may be why he went out of his way to get him into college and on the straight-and-narrow) also see that this extends to Bee as well despite their close relationship, with him being so afraid that she'd reject him for being gay that he can't even look at her while talking about Neil, probably made worse by the fact that she's a maternal figure for him, which is where this trauma response originates.

Aaron is the only person on the team who's aware that Andrew hasn't slept with Neil, and the only one to grasp the significance of the fact that they've gotten close to that point already despite Andrew's trauma, outside of Renee

It was overall really interesting to see inside Aaron's head (I actually wouldn't mind a book from his perspective, he has a similar way of thinking to Neil but much more grounded) and to see Andrew through the lense of someone who just views him as Just A Guy

[mikanotes]

don’t even bother ft. aventurine x gn!reader — just something short bcs his va is too good at his job and him voicing that post made me go oh wow! warnings cursing, clingy aven and reader in denial about their feelings, one suggestive joke, badly written Sorry! this is very much dedicated to nour enjoy ur bf

The light of the sun indicates that the day has started much longer ago than you had originally thought. You cling onto sleep, nevertheless, not at all fond of the idea of facing the day properly.

“Alright. I understand.”

There isn’t need for any context for you to get that the second disruption of your attempts at going back to dreamland is a call concerning work, of all things. The clear exhaustion and barely concealed frustration in Aventurine’s voice as he speaks to the person on the other end of that call indicates he probably feels the same as you.

Irritated enough to go back to sleep immediately after hanging up.

“Let’s schedule the interview for today.” he says, sounding like he’s stretching. Oh, great. He’s decided to be professional and get up. You hear him heave a long sigh, probably after hanging up, and blindly try to reach for him.

“No.” you mumble, frowning slightly. Aventurine hums, seemingly surprised, then chuckles.

“Hm? No?” he repeats, and leans down. You open your eyes enough to see him cover the painful rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. He looks at you and tilts his head with a smile, “Not even a hello, huh? You’re so polite.” his voice drips with sarcasm.

You try to press your palm to his face but he grabs your wrist before you can, laughing. He presses closer to you and leans his forehead to your shoulder. “No what?” he asks, whispering. You don’t appreciate the chill that runs down your spine. He’s so close.

“No to leaving before me. I heard that call.”

He smiles against your neck before pulling back to look at you. “Who says I’m leaving?” he huffs softly, “I was just trying to sound awake, okay? And since when were you this clingy?”

“I’m the same as usual,” you complain, turning to lay on your back, “I just don’t want to be kicked out become the actual room’s owner isn’t here, is all. It’s a pain to deal with.”

He’s right. You’re not a clingy person. In fact, you don’t usually find yourself sleeping in the same bed as anyone, no matter how close you are to them. This is just… A rare occurence.

You and Aventurine getting one too many drinks at a nearby bar, you realizing you didn’t get yourself a hotel room prior to the whole ordeal, and crashing in his luxury bedsheets before he could protest.

And the worst part of it? You slept well.

In any case, the problem was that the warmth of someone by your side as you slept felt much more comforting than you’d expected it to be. Maybe it was just the previous night’s drinks residue blurring your thoughts. Maybe that’s what made you say no to him potentially leaving before you could actually process it.

Maybe it’s just because it’s him, and you never really mind him being so close to you.

He sighs and moves over your figure, planting his arm at the side of your head to hover over you. “You’re an awful liar. You wouldn’t last at poker.”

“Enlighten me. What the hell am I lying about?”

“This.”

He smiles, and it somehow makes you all the more aware of the distance between the two of you. It’s not nerve-wracking but it’s not uncomfortable. And it’s not comfortable, either, but it’s somewhere there in the middle. It’s on that line that makes your head struggle to keep up and that’s more than enough to tell you how badly you’re handling what should be a routine, by now. This is nothing new, come on.

“Who am I lying to…?” you continue.

He scoffs. “Yourself. I can practically see the gears turning inside your head. It’s almost cute.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Almost.”

He smiles to himself but doesn’t add more, moving away from you. He breathes out tiredly as he leans back against his pillows, a hand moving to cover his eyes. “You should get the higher-ups to call for a room for you. No one’ll bother you then.”

“You’re the higher-ups, do it yourself, you have the funds.” you imitate a robotic-sounding voice, then sigh, “That’s what they’ll tell me.”

“Mm, will they, now?”

You look at him. Only then do you notice the sun on his skin, his slightly messed up bangs, and the one button holding that cursed hotel pajamas top. You press your eyes shut with half a mind to hold back an annoyed groan. Don’t look at him like that, you repeat in your head.

You and Aventurine are friends. He likes to tease and flirt but that’s just how he is, so there’s really nothing more to it. You work as a negotiator for a group who frequently deals with the IPC’s offers and request for help to convince people of their grandiose plans. And Aventurine is arguably very high-up in the ranks of the IPC. It’s a wonder you even became friends, but it has been a long while now. A long while of bantering, clinging into each other just a bit too much, and listening to the other’s stories the very few times either of you actually opened up.

— Most of those times being after drinks. Nevertheless, it counts for something.

But you’ve never seen him in this kind of light. In sunlight! You’re not seeing him in any kind of new light at all. It’s just a different atmosphere than what you’re used to around him. You’ve spent time talking for hours at quiet bars or helping each other out in the most chaotic situations, but it’s never been this.

It’s so… calm.

But your phone rings. You sigh heavily before you grab it and answer the call. “Hello?” You barely get to properly register who called you before the voice of your senior at work starts complaining in your ear. You grimace.

Aventurine stares at you curiously.

“… This is really last-minute. Seriously?” you say, then wait for an answer. Seems like you’re needed somewhere again. But calling you saying to get to a location one system hour later is just… “Fine, I’ll— I said fine. I’ll be there. Yeah. Yes, sir.”

You hang up. Quiet daydream’s over.

“Turns out I’m gonna need to leave, anyways.” you mutter, sitting up. You suddenly become very aware of how comfortable it was simply laying there talking with Aventurine. Now that you’re faced eith your usual duties and loud coworkers, you’re forced to realize just how soothing the man’s presence is in comparison.

You feel a hand on your arm. It’s warm on your skin, holding some remains from the sun’s touch. You turn your head to see Aventurine’s fingers trailing down slightly, seemingly in thought. “How about…” he trails off, brows furrowing.

“How about?”

He looks up at you and grins before pulling you back into him, wrapping his free arm around your waist swiftly. You end up much closer to his face than either of you had anticipated but you don’t move away, and neither does he.

“How about we take a day off?” he whispers.

You try to say something but no word comes to mind. Aventurine stares at you for a while and you notice his gaze flitting down your face for a flicker of a second before he grabs your arm more firmly and pulls you closer, leaving you no room to even attempt thinking. “Hm?”

“I, you… Fuck you.” is the only response you manage to get out of your throat, and even that sounds half-hearted. It almost sounds like a question, even. You have to blame it on the exhaustion. You brain’s not cooperating, right now.

“Are you offering?”

Now he’s done it. You manage to grab his pillow from underneath his head to swat it at him, making him exclaim in surprise and soon yell for mercy. “Okay, hold on, hear me out, I’m sorry!”

You lower the pillow, looking down at him. You’ve been close before but straddling him’s a new one. Outside of fighting, that is. Maybe this counts as fighting.

“Good Heavens.” he huffs, hair at least ten times messier than it was before, “Okay. That was unnecessary.”

“False. Deserved.”

“…Perhaps.” he clicks his tongue, and carefully picks his pillow from your hands, like it’s a gun threatening to fire at him. “But that was no answer to my offer. Shall we take a vacation?”

“You get to decide when your vacation is?”

His sigh sounds nothing short of exasperated. “Just play along, will you? If you do, I’ll find a way to cover for both of us.” he says, fingers touching your face for who-knows-why. His eyes focus back on yours and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

You’re not going to immediately say yes.

“Fine. Full blame’s on you if my boss kills me.”

He laughs, seemingly pleased with your answer.

“Then rest.” he says quietly, pulling you against his chest. You tense for a while, then relax. Now the sun is on your skin, too, and its warmth almost seems to beckon you back into sleep. Or is it his arms wrapped around you? You can’t tell.

Maybe the world feels a bit less harsh and cold when Aventurine is with you, and maybe you just shouldn’t bother questioning it.

[swiftlyinlove]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but there's always been a little spark between you. When he cancels your plans for Christmas, you're determined to prove that you know him better than anyone else.

warnings: idiots in love, christmas fluff, a little angst if you squint??

word count: approximately 4.5k

a/n: Hi! It's been a long time since I wrote much of anything, but writing this for Christmas has been an absolute joy. I love Spencer so much, and this poor boy just suffers... I wanted to give him a happy ending for Christmas - or a happy beginning. I hope you like it.

The first thing you realized after the beep signaled the end of the phone call was how weird Spencer was acting lately.

To be fair, you two had an unconventional friendship. Due to the nature of his job, Spencer was often busy and therefore you couldn’t communicate as much as you'd like to, but you'd set up a base rule to make sure you never lost touch with one another: mandatory Friday night video call.

Every Friday, without fail, you would Facetime. Spencer wasn’t fond of technology, you were aware, but he’d gladly face his prejudice and lack of knowledge of anything digital if it meant talking to you. It didn't matter if he was home or if he was in another state for a case; come nine pm on a Friday, you two would be catching up about your lives.

That, of course, meant that you'd grasp at every opportunity you could to be with each other. He was in town for a case? You would meet up and have dinner if he had time; if he was doing something important and couldn’t finish it in time for dinner, he would drop by your place at the craziest hour in the morning and lie down next to you, gently shaking you awake to reveal he had gotten take out from your favorite restaurant.

Despite being awakened from your slumber, you would greet him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen - well, after letting out a little shriek of surprise, to which Spencer would respond with an “It’s me, little menace” and a chuckle that would make your heart flutter every time. 

The nickname had originated from your childhood. Spencer didn’t have many friends in middle school, and the fact that he was much smarter than kids his age didn’t help. His classmates either made fun of him or avoided him altogether, but you were… different. 

When you first moved into town, you were very nervous for your first day of school. Making friends was never easy for you, as your peers would deem you rather weird for always having your nose stuck in books. However, you quickly realized you had nothing to worry about - it took one look at little Spencer Reid, reading Crime and Punishment at the lunch table, for you to know you had found your place.

You sat next to him, ignoring the snickers from the so-called “popular kids”. He hesitantly lifted his gaze from the wrinkled pages - you reckoned he had probably read that book many times before -, expecting to see someone with a mean scowl ready to taunt him.

Instead, his wide eyes were met with your bright smile, your rosy cheeks, and your adorable ponytails, and he frowned in confusion. “Hello…?”

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” You greeted him excitedly. There was something about him that made you feel confident, so you continued. “I’m new here and I noticed you were sitting alone. And that seems like a really cool book if you don’t mind me saying, and I just thought you-”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. You could feel your cheeks warming up, and you were sure you looked as flustered as you were feeling. Before you could even dwell on how embarrassed you felt, Spencer’s lips broke into a smile. 

And that was it. From that moment on, you had been inseparable. Well, perhaps not physically; after all, he was academically way ahead of you and everyone else, and he even managed to graduate from high school at only twelve years old. 

That didn’t stop you from hanging out every moment you could, nor from exchanging letters every single day when he went to college. To this day, you still had those letters, safely tucked into a charming wooden box you kept on your bookshelf, but you’d never tell him that (although you were sure he knew, as the great profiler he was).

So, despite being separated due to your busy jobs - his more than yours - and living in different states, it wasn’t a surprise when you started arranging to spend the holidays together.

Since his mother was still institutionalized, Spencer didn't really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with and therefore didn't care much for the traditions. You, on the other hand, loved the holidays, but since your parents had passed away when you were in college, you were also alone during the season.

Thus, you cut a deal. Every year, he would use his extra vacation days to take a week off around Christmas and you would take turns visiting each other. Usually, you were both very excited about this occasion – it was one of the rare opportunities you had to be together in person, and you missed each other terribly.

This year, though... You had just called Spencer to confirm the date so you could book your flight to Quantico, and he had simply managed to say he couldn’t take time off before hanging up on you.

You were confused by this but chalked it up to it being one of those days for him. Working at the BAU, Spencer had to deal with a lot of gruesome cases often and, after a really bad one, he didn't find any energy to do much of anything.

While he'd never avoided you per se, when those days coincided with your phone calls, you would try to comfort him the best you could, and sometimes even managed to cheer him up a little. 

This time, you didn't even have the chance to, and that threw you off. Still, if Spencer was in a bad mood, maybe he just didn't feel like talking. Not even to you.

Deciding to not push it any further, it's only a few days later that you brought up your trip to Quantico, this time via text. You spent the entire day nearly jumping at your phone each time it vibrated, expecting a notification with his name on it.

It was only later that night that you'd get your answer in the form of an ‘I can't this year’. You read the text over and over again, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, but you had hoped that, once he was in a better mood, he would be just as eager as you for your shared holiday season. 

It occurred to you that perhaps something happened, perhaps he couldn't file for a vacation because he had a big case that he couldn't step away from.

But if that were the case, he would've told you so. He would've explained, apologized even, and tried to schedule another date for your trip to make it up to you. So, you concluded, he just didn't want to see you.

That thought haunted you for the entire week.

Finally having enough of feeling blue and not getting any work done, you decided to go straight to the source in search of answers. Well, source adjacent - Spencer was still replying rather coldly to your texts, so you couldn’t ask him directly. Penelope Garcia was the next best thing.

You had met the members of the BAU after a particularly successful case in your city. Their flight would only leave in the morning and Spencer thought he could take the opportunity to take you to the cinema for a late-night movie, just like the good old days of your adolescence.

However, Penelope and Rossi had other plans. To properly celebrate their hard work that led to saving multiple women who had been kidnapped a few weeks prior, they decided to take the team out for dinner in a nice restaurant.

“And it’s mandatory. It’s not like we have anything else to do tonight, so no excuses.” She had warned in a playfully threatening tone. 

Spencer shifted in his spot while putting away his things in his satchel. After all the years he worked at the BAU, he still hadn’t told his coworkers - his found family, really - about you. It was the one thing he kept close to his chest, the one secret he wanted to keep forever.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brushed his hair behind his ears, not daring to turn and face the team while he spoke. “I sort of already have plans.”

His voice was so quiet that the team wasn’t sure they had heard him correctly. After a moment of silence, Derek’s lips curled into his (in)famous smirk and he gently nudged Spencer’s side, making the lanky boy turn around to face his friends.

Spencer’s cheeks were flushed and he kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to face the curious expressions on their faces. But when Derek nudged him again, asking him “Who’s the girl?” with such a teasing tone, he couldn’t help but look up.

“She’s just a friend.” He blurted out, eyes immediately widening upon the realization of what he admitted.

While the rest of the team just shrugged it off and dived into their conversations, Derek patted him on the back - the force of which sent Spencer stumbling a few feet forward -, and Penelope lit up like he had just told her that he won the lottery.

“You have to bring her!” Penelope begged, grabbing his arm as they walked towards the door of the local precinct they had been working on for the case. “I want to meet this mystery woman.”

Penelope didn’t say it to him then, but she was sure you weren’t ‘just a friend’. She might’ve not been a profiler, but the look in his eyes when he spoke about you and his hesitation to cancel your plans for the sake of the team made her think that perhaps you were much more special to him than he realized.

Her suspicions were, of course, confirmed when he showed up at the restaurant a few hours later with you in his arms, wearing an elegant black dress and a radiant smile on your face as you whispered something to him, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles.

Spencer tried to feign indignation at your comment, but he couldn’t help but smile as he led you to his friends, who were all watching the interaction with surprise and disbelief. Your laughter calmed when you reached the table, but the smile never fell from your face as Spencer introduced you, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That’s when Penelope knew.

You clicked rather well with his friends. They were, naturally, very curious about you, and you did your best to answer all their questions. Meanwhile, Spencer, who was sitting next to you, placed a hand on your lower back, making sure you didn’t feel overwhelmed under the attentive eyes of his friends.

Penelope and you were a match made in heaven, Spencer reckoned. You quipped back and forth the entire night, even swapping numbers by the end of it, and Spencer even joked that you had found a new favorite FBI agent as you made your way to his car.

Chuckling at his statement, you stopped in your tracks, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite. But she’s a close second.”

Spencer was sure his heart had stopped right then and there and that he had gone to heaven.

Since that night, you frequently called Penelope to talk about numerous things - from the latest TV shows you were both hooked on to recipes for dessert -, but you rarely talked about Spencer. Until today.

“Penny, I need your help.” You blurted out as soon as the blonde answered your call. 

“Woah, woah, calm down my friend,” Penelope answered, amused and slightly worried about the urgency in your tone. “What’s on your pretty little mind?”

All it took for Penelope to know something was wrong was two words. “It’s Spencer.”

“What about boy wonder?” The technical analyst questioned, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“He’s been acting so cold lately.” You explained, sighing in exhaustion as you plopped down on your couch. “Well, you know how we always arrange to spend the holidays together?”

Penelope hummed in agreement - every year when Spencer would put in a request to take time off during the holidays, she would make sure it was at the top of Strauss’ paperwork, knowing he was doing it for you.

At her approval, you continued. “This year I was supposed to come to Quantico, but every time I try to bring it up, he shuts me down and just says that he can’t. I don’t understand why he’s acting like this and it's been driving me nuts all week.”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at your image on the phone. 

“Are we sure we’re talking about the same person? Because he seemed pretty excited last week. He wouldn’t shut up about how he found the perfect gift for you and how he couldn’t wait to see your face when you opened it.”

This confused you even more, and you frowned as you processed her words. “Yeah, well, this week he can barely text me back. I don’t want anything crazy, Penny, I just want to be with him for Christmas.”

“I don’t know what happened. As far as I can tell, he did put in the request for a vacation.” Penelope replied. Then, her face lit up in realization and she cursed under her breath. “Morgan.”

“Morgan? What does Derek have to do with this?” You asked, more disoriented than ever.

“Wait here,” Penelope said, quickly getting up from her chair and leaving you to stare at her empty office. She returns a few minutes later, looking pretty annoyed, to see you making a cup of coffee in your kitchen.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweet cheeks.” The blonde said apologetically, making your gaze return to your phone, forgotten on the counter as you waited for her.

You quickly picked it up, registering her distressed expression. “What happened?”

“I found out why Reid’s acting like an ass to you.” She replied, her voice softening as she saw the glimmer of worry in your eyes. “It seems like Morgan has done quite a number on him.”

“What do you mean Morgan has done a number on him? What did he do?” You questioned, growing irritated by Penelope’s ability to beat around the bush. You loved her, you really did, but you just wanted to know what happened.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but since you’re so upset…” Penelope trailed off, pursing her lips. “Morgan better pay me back.”

“Penelope, just spit it out.” You interrupted, your impatience reflected in your tone.

“Fine. I told you Reid wouldn’t shut up about you, and Morgan may or may not have teased him about his feelings for you and it may or may not have caused Spencer to clam up in his shell.” Penelope rushed through her words and you blinked, unsure you had heard her correctly.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears as you asked her, “Spencer… Has feelings for me?”

Penelope looked reluctant to answer your questions, clearly not wanting to violate Spencer’s privacy. Ever since she met you, she knew you and the resident FBI genius were destined for each other, but she wanted you to discover on your terms.

“Penny, please.” You sounded out of breath, and it cleared any sign of hesitation on Penelope’s mind. 

“Baby girl, I can’t be the one to tell you that. You have to ask him.” She responded, her voice full of empathy. “But between me and you, I’m pretty sure you know what the answer is.”

Spencer was certain that he was in the 9th circle of hell. 

Ever since Morgan’s comment, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He always knew what you two had was special.  You knew how to make him laugh; Spencer didn’t consider himself to be difficult to entertain, but he could be quite oblivious to his coworkers' jokes sometimes, especially if they were about him. But you? Oh, you managed to make him laugh hysterically with a simple comment, and it endeared him. 

You had been with him through the good and the bad, after all. You were there at his graduation, celebrating his first Ph.D. - and the two that came after that, too - and you were right there by his side when he watched his mother be dragged away to a mental institution, holding his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

That was what he loved most about you. He could always count on you to be there for him. He recalled the first moment he realized you were much more than a friend to him.

It had been after the Tobias Hankel case. Spencer slipped in and out of consciousness as the doctors dragged him through the hospital, murmuring to themselves about testing the drugs in his system and checking his vitals.

His life wasn’t in danger anymore, but he was oh so tired. He had spent days upon days of captivity without a wink of sleep, locked in an empty cabin where he was tortured by two of Tobias’ personalities, and all he could think about between getting tormented and getting drugged was you.

He was sure he was going to die then, and his main concern was that he wouldn’t be able to see your pretty smile again. He would tell you this when you appeared at his bedside a few hours later, claiming that you received a call from the hospital - unsurprisingly, you were each other’s emergency contacts - and had threatened a stewardess to get a ticket to the next plane to Virginia, and you would call him ridiculous for it.

It was only when you were sitting next to him on his hospital bed, his head leaning against your chest as you combed your hands through his hair, that he allowed himself to cry, to reveal how truly scared he had been under Tobias’ hands.

You whispered sweet nothings in his ear as you softly lifted his head, making sure he was looking at you when you softly kissed his tears away. His arms had tightened around you, a silent sign of his gratitude, and he knew then, he knew, you were everything to him.

How could he have not fallen for you after all that? 

But he could never tell you. He had been rejected many times in his life, but if he was to get rejected by you? He was sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

So he tried to bury his feelings deep inside him, keeping you a secret from the people who knew him best and, when the time came, introduced you to them. As a friend. Because that’s all that you were. Friends.

When Morgan teased him about his feelings for you, Spencer entered panic mode. If Morgan could see Spencer was madly in love with you, then you could see it too - you could always read him like a book, after all.

And if you hadn’t brought it up… You didn’t want to. He knew you’d never want to hurt him, so the only logical conclusion he could reach was: you don’t feel the same.

He tried his best to avoid you. Cutting you off whenever you brought up your plans for the holidays, replying to your texts with short answers, and even refraining from watching Doctor Who in his free time, because it only reminded him of how you two used to lie on your couch during summer break and watch it together. 

What he didn’t count on was opening his door in mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve and seeing you standing in front of him, coat covered in the snow that was falling outside the comfort of his building and a small smile on your face.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.” You said bashfully, not sure how he would react to your presence. 

“Merry Christmas.” He replied, his breath knocked out of his lungs at how beautiful you looked standing there. He might have fallen in love with you all over again. 

After a beat of silence, he wet his lips, looking at you with the same wide-eyed gaze he greeted you with when you were kids. “What... What are you doing here?”

Your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “What, you thought I was gonna miss Christmas?”

Seeing you in front of him, hearing your voice without the faint static of the phone for the first time in a while… it was surreal to him. He couldn’t help but cave in and wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer into a tight hug.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders just as tightly, your body finally relaxing against his. You could feel his nose nuzzled into your neck, and you smiled against his shoulder.

“I missed you.” You whispered, letting your words linger between the two of you.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back, and you knew he was sincere. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I know.” You breathed in his scent, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder before pulling away. He reluctantly let you go, a remorseful smile on his lips.

Spencer guided you into his apartment, and you took note of how he put up your usual Christmas decorations. “You managed to set up the tree by yourself?” You teased him.

He chuckled, watching as you settled on his couch and patted the space next to you. He promptly followed your lead, sitting down beside you. “Yeah, it was a real challenge.”

Before you could even reply, Spencer reached out to grab your hand, his thumb softly caressing your knuckles to calm his racing mind.

“Look, I’m so sorry. I’ve been stuck in my head lately, and it’s not fair that I treated you like that. We’ve had this tradition forever and I feel like I disrespected it and-” Spencer rambled, and you pressed your lips against his to shut him up.

Your sudden action stunned him, and he couldn’t help but succumb to your spell. Placing his hands on both sides of your face and closing his eyes, he kissed you back as gently and tenderly as he could, feeling you melt against him.

Once you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a lovestruck, surprised gaze. He seemed to be speechless, which made you giggle.

“I hope that was on your wishlist this Christmas.” You joked, leaning your forehead against his. 

Your gaze softened as you took in his expression. “Penny told me everything. In all seriousness, I understand why you did it.  I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

He gulped, feeling vulnerable under your loving stare. He always got the impression that you could see right through him.

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been in love with you almost my entire life, and when I finally realized it, I was afraid that if I acted on them, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He murmured, his tone growing sadder.

“And when Morgan joked about my feelings for you, I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been as discreet as I thought and perhaps you already knew and didn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t hurt me.” He continued, closing his eyes again as if the mere thought was too painful to bear. 

He took a deep breath, his thumbs starting to slowly brush against your cheekbones. “I didn’t want to face you and find out if it was true, because… Because my heart couldn’t take it.”

You listened quietly to his words, his touch on your skin grounding you and sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It broke your heart to hear him speak like that, as if the mere thought of you feeling the same never crossed his mind, as if it was absurd. 

You knew he had low self-esteem, a permanent scar from all the times he was bullied throughout his life, but his self-deprecating view never ceased to shock you.

“Spencer…” You whispered his name like it was sacred, like he was something to be worshipped, and it made his heart skip a beat. “I know all your favorite songs, how you take your coffee, and your favorite books. In order. I know you. I’d be crazy not to love you.”

You could feel him exhale in relief at your quiet confession, his racing mind finding solace in your words. “Really?”

“Of course.” You replied with a chuckle, leaning forward to press a feather-light peck against his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since we were, like, sixteen. All I ever wanted was to be the one to give you everything you want.”

He smiled as you pulled away once again, thinking about how much time you two had lost while dancing around your feelings. Although, he supposed, it wasn’t lost time - you had spent those years giving each other love, even if it wasn’t necessarily romantic.

“We’re both idiots.” He replied, making you laugh once more. You stood up, grabbing both of his hands and guiding him to the kitchen. He followed you with a bright smile on his face; he would follow you anywhere, he suspected.

“I was thinking I could make those cookies you like and, afterward, we could perhaps… snuggle by the fireplace?” You suggested, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

He pretended to think for a moment, before he finally gave in, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple. “Anything you want, little menace.”

Spencer hummed, burying his face further into his neck. “I was thinking of reading a few books. Santa was going to keep me company.”

Later that night, when you were both snuggled up against each other in front of his fireplace while eating the gingerbread cookies you both made, you asked him curiously, “What were you planning to do for Christmas, if I hadn’t shown up?”

You laughed quietly at his admission. “Well, Santa doesn’t know you like I do.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Your genius agreed, peppering little kisses onto your skin. “You’re the best Christmas present ever, do you know that?”

“Yeah? Wait until you see what I actually bought for you.” You replied, a playful smile on your face. “Besides, a little birdie told me you got me the perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m gonna kill Penelope.” He muttered under his breath, sending you into a fit of laughter. 

Well, maybe this Christmas time

You'll finally realize

That I could be the one

To give you everything you want