#what’s better is he seemingly doesn’t realize it either in both books and movies

[chloesimaginationthings]

Mike’s got that sopping wet cat boyfail rizz.

Mike either makes people love him or hate him instantly, there’s no in between

[letarasstuff]

Can I stay with you?

(A/N): This is based on this, this and this post. I really hope you are ready for the feels, because they are there and they are heavy-

Summary: Following the events of Emily's death, how will Spencer and his daughter cope with it?

Warnings: Angst and lots of it, mentions of drug use, contemplations of drug use, mentions of needles, we also got some bittersweet fluff

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _______________________________

A hospital is not a place where a child should be, Spencer knows that much. But he picked (Y/N) up on his way for two reasons:

The first one being the simple occurence that the babysitter is not able to keep her any longer, because she has classes in the next morning. The second one is selfish and the father knows that, but he needs her presence, the comfort she brings to him.

“Daddy”, the child breaks the silence in the waiting room, “Is Auntie Emily going to be ok?” She sits in his lap reading a book before looking up at him. Her eyes hold something he wishes to never see again: Fear. The fear of losing someone she loves dearly.

“I hope, Baby. But let’s not forget one important fact: Your Auntie Emily is one of the strongest women I know.” Spencer gives her a kiss on the top of her head and cuddles her closer to him, seeing (Y/N)’s eyes dropping. The rest of the team watches the interaction with aching hearts.

The girl is asleep for half an hour when JJ enters the room. Everybody gets up crowding her. Spencer is careful to not disturb his daughter as he moves her head to his shoulder and hooks his arm under her legs.

“She never made it off the table.” These words echo in the genius’ mind, seemingly being the only things he can think about. “I-I never had the chance to say goodbye.” JJ hugs him, trying to give some sort of comfort. In this process (Y/N) wakes up. As soon as she spots her father’s tears, she knows not to ask a question. Instead she loops her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be alright, Daddy”, the toddler recalls the words he says to her whenever she is upset in hopes to cheer him up.

The next couple days are hard on the whole team. They try to grieve together, especially while the funeral takes place. (Y/N) notices that the color black is fitting, since her Auntie really liked to wear it. She likes that they do the same to pay their respects that way.

“Auntie Penny, is she watching?” The blonde woman carries her while the casket is walked down the aisle. Since her death, (Y/N) doesn’t dare to say Emily’s name. She thinks if she avoids it, she is going to inflict less pain when she is talked about.

“Of course. Emily is in heaven and watches this beautiful beautiful ceremony we hold for her. So wipe that frown off and put on that smile she loved so much. Alright?” Confusing to her, the adults want (Y/N) to smile all the time. But they are frowning and crying more often than not.

“Can she hear us? Because I want to say I love her. I forgot to say it the last time I saw her.” Trying to distract herself from seeing the casket lowering into the grave, the girl plays with Penlope’s hair. She in turn has to fight tears back. Only now she realizes the impact the whole thing has on her.

“I’m sure she does. What about when the majority is gone, we go to her grave and talk to Emily? Do we have a deal?” (Y/N) nods.

As soon as the ceremony is over, Spencer takes his daughter, cradling her close to him. As if she senses his sadness, the girl is petting his back in a comforting way. He squeezes her closer to him, leaving her not much room to breathe.

“Daddy, I wanna talk to her. I need to get down.” (Y/N) wiggles in his grasp after she whispers this into his ear. Reluctantly Spencer lets her down and she toddles over to the freshly made grave. A little plastic card sticks out of the grass in place of a headstone.

The adults try to give her as much space as possible, they have to let grieve on her own.

“Hey, Auntie Emily. I-I wanted to say I love you, and I forgot to tell you this the last time so I say it a second time. I love you. And I miss you. I think Daddy misses you too. He is sad since you are gone. I’m too. I think it’s because we miss you. But I hope you like Heaven. Maybe you see my Mommy. When you do, can you say I love her?

“I’ll try to see you soon, Auntie. Goodbye!” (Y/N) goes back to her father and makes grabby hands towards him. Gladly Spencer picks her up again, putting a kiss on her head. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” The child mumbles, exhausted by all the stress and emotions from the day.

The father is relieved to have an excuse to skip the meal with the team. He is scared that the evening at the little restaurant is clouded by sadness and angst. Spencer doesn’t need that right now, a nice sit in with his daughter sounds way better.

After saying their goodbyes the little family sits in the car on their way to the apartment. As soon as Spencer starts the car, (Y/N) is fast asleep. He looks at her through the rear view mirror, happy to see her at peace. It gives the father time to sort through his own thoughts. Since Emily’s death (Y/N) tries to be around him constantly, which he is thankful for, because she keeps the darkness away.

Her last hours play again and again before his eyes. The different ways he could have stopped all of this. Why didn’t he say more when she began biting her nails? When she said “Laura Reynolds is dead”? Maybe all of this is his fault?

His forearm begins to itch. Exactly where Tobias Hankel injected the needle same as he did several times. Maybe, maybe it would make everything better? Just this one tim-

“Daddy? When are we home?” The small voice cuts off his train of thought. Spencer needs a few seconds to clear his mind. Did he really think that? Taking dilaudid while the reason he fought his addiction literally sits right behind him? “Just a few minutes, Sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed after dinner?”

As if she knows that the father can’t be left alone in this state, (Y/N) answers: “No, I wanna watch a movie with you. Can we watch Alvin and the chipmunks? I love Simon so much!” This places a smile on his face, the excitement in her eyes scare his dark thoughts away. “Sure, Peanut. We can watch whatever you want.”

It's the fourth evening in a row that the girl sleeps in her father’s bed. She either falls asleep there or climbs next to him in the middle of the night, so he figures he lets her sleep there right away.

“Good night, Sweetheart”, he tells her as they lay down. Even though it’s quite early for Spencer to go to bed it’s (Y/N)’s time. “Good night, Daddy”, she tells him while snuggling closer, “I love you. Soooooo much.”

The young doctor decides to take the next few days off from work in order to work through the events. The first one he spends coloring in books with her the whole day. While she works on her own books gifted by various members of the BAU, Spencer has his own extra made for adults. He can’t deny the soothing effect it has on him. The repeating moves calms the storm of thoughts inside his head.

The next day the two of them sit the whole day on the small couch in the living room, (Y/N) on his lap, and read. Sometimes they read for themselves, others the father reads outloud from his own or (Y/N) from her own. It’s kind of therapeutic to hear his child doing something he enjoyed his whole life.

“Daddy, do you think she feels lonely in heaven? There is nobody she knows, she has to wait for us to follow her, doesn’t she?” Not prepared for such a deep question, Spencer is caught off guard.

He clears his throat before answering. “Uh, Auntie Emily isn’t that lonely up there, you know. You can’t remember him, but Uncle Gideon, a friend from work and someone I looked up to, is there. He surely greeted her with open arms, happy to see her. And your Mommy is also there, she certainly asked lots of questions about you.” “A-are you sure? I told her to say Mommy ‘I love you’ when she sees her.” (Y/N) looks up to her father with big eyes.

He is not sure if he is lying right now to her, but he sees that his daughter needs the reassurance. “Yes, I’m sure.” To lighten the mood he begins to tickle her, which ends in a tickle fight which in turn ends in tiring the girl out and falling asleep while watching a Disney movie.

The next day is by far the worst since it all happened. Both (Y/N) and Spencer haven’t slept much due to nightmares from both sides (him comforting her as she tears him from his own), which results in a grumpy toddler and a non stop coffee drinking adult.

“Sweetheart, you need to put that shirt on. Auntie JJ is expecting us in ten minutes. Please, stop fighting me”, he begs, but she continues to cry. As Spencer tries for a third time to put it on her (Y/N) throws herself to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t want that, Daddy!” She finally gets out through her sobs. Spencer halts in his movements. “Why? That’s your favorite, Baby.” While (Y/N) begins to cry louder, he leaves the clothing article on the bed and gathers her in his arm, rocking her back and forth additionally to whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

“She gave it to me. I don’t wanna make it dirty or ruin it”, the toddler says between shaky breaths. For what feels like the trillionth time, the young agent’s heart breaks over this statement. He has a bigger vocabulary than the average English speaking person, but at this moment Spencer is at a loss of words.

“Sweetheart, I apologize for not acknowledging this right away. I’ll get another shirt out for you, ok? Thank you so much for telling and helping me.” Just a few minutes later the little family is on their way to the next metro stop. It’s then that Spencer realizes his day won’t be any easier.

“(Y/N) you can sit in the seat next to me like you always do. Why do you have to sit in my lap today?” Normally he isn’t someone who denies his child physical contact, but the seating chart has a logical purpose. Being on a train with a child means you have some kind of luggage with you, which leads to occupying a four seats compartment. In order to prevent somebody taking the seat next to him, Spencer places his daughter there. It’s a win win situation for everybody, really.

Unfortunately for him (Y/N) is extra clingy today and won’t stop crawling onto his lap. With a sigh he accepts his defeat and tries not to think about the amount of germs that fly around.

Another problem that torments the father: Over the last few days his cravings grew. Especially today the feeling, the need, for another shot and another high is undeniable for him. As if sensing this (Y/N) sticks by his side throughout the whole time, keeping his mind off of the drug that changes him.

While they are at the Jareau’s and Lamontagne’s household, his daughter refuses to play with Henry. “I wanna stay with you”, she murmurs into his shoulder. Again Spencer accepts his defeat and sits down on the couch next to his best friend.

“Sweetheart, you need to let me go. I have to go to the bathroom, you can’t come with me.” This is followed by a tsunami of tears. While JJ tries to console her, he slips out of the room discreetly.

Due to (Y/N)’s current grumpiness and Spencer’s fatigue they quickly call it a night, even though he could use some more comfort from his friends.

“Good night, Sweetheart. Sleep tight and dream nice. I love you”, he says after tucking his child in and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Night night, Daddy. I love you, too”, her small voice echoes back to him and makes him smile softly.

Spencer finds his way back to the living room and sits down with a book in his lap. As expected he doesn’t get much reading done, too distracted by his own thoughts. The events of the night of his colleague’s, his friend’s, death replay themselves over and over again.

What if he made his conclusions faster? He is supposed to be the smart one, the one the team relies on for making important connections. But he failed once so who knows what happens when he fails again? Next time it could be the whole team dying. He could die. He would leave (Y/N) alone with the team gone. His mother isn’t capable of caring for her and his father doesn’t even know she exists. She will go into foster care, into a home with too many kids. She will be looked over, too small to be seen. Her potential will go to waste and she will never achieve anything she is capable of. And all that because he hasn’t made a conclusion fast enough.

Spencer’s scars on his forearm itch worse than ever. One shot. Only one shot to make the thoughts go away. To make the guilt go away, the bad feelings. He needs it. He needs to cure himself from the symptoms of being a human.

Before the young doctor even registers what he is doing he already put his jacket on and looks for his wallet when a voice startles him.

“Daddy, i can't sleep. Can I stay with you again?” (Y/N) stands in the doorway, clutching her stuffed animal and her blanket, shielding her eyes from the light, oblivious to what her father was about to do.

“Oh Darling, of course. Do you want me to read to you? Or we drink hot chocolate and watch a movie?” He suggests, ready to distract himself from anything that’s going on in his mind. A few minutes later his daughter cuddles into his side while watching once again Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Spencer is just happy to have his light in his life all the time and is ready to tackle any task to keep her there, may it be once again the weekly visits for anonymous narcotics or time off from work to process the events together in therapy.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Never felt the rain

Summary:  Could you write something with Bill having a young daughter and when she asks him to go playing outside in the rain while he was working, he brushed her off, so she went out on own her own and got lost, so Bill thinks she went missing like Georgie?

A/N: here you go anon, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think, it would mean a lot! Also, thank you for requesting this, it had me writing again after a long time and I really missed it, so thank you

Bill has a habit of writing as soon as rain starts drizzling from the sky. He doesn’t usually maintain a schedule, especially not after going back to Derry for a second time an gaining six friends who flitted straight back into his life and who each deserved as much of his time as the others, but when it rains, he forces himself behind the computer.

He draws the curtains shut, puts on a pair of noise cancelling headphones, and hopes that the downpour stops soon. According to his therapist, it’s because the weather reminds him of the day Georgie died and he turns to writing as a distraction, and while she might not be wrong, Bill prefers not to think about the specifics. All he knows is that as soon as dark clouds gather, he retreats to his study.

Audra knows this, and has, to Bills great shame, been a victim to his snappish behavior when he gets disturbed, so she leaves him be, and takes their daughter, Lily, on a mother daughter retreat. It’s their own routine that work well for the both of them, and so far, there haven’t been any problems with it.

Today, the bad weather struck out of nowhere, the rain spatters drumming their own beat on the windows and the foundation of the house, and Bill and remembers how bleak Georgie’s last day on earth had been. He retreats to his study in quiet without informing his daughter or wife about his plans, and slips into an imaginary world, where there’s no rain or bad memories.

He gets lost in it, thankfully. The rhythmic tapping of his keyboard and his own hushed voice lull him into a state so fully focused it allows him to forgo his environment. That includes ignoring the rain, but also the wooden door opening behind him as a small child sneaks in, big blue eyes full of a playful innocence.

He doesn’t hear Lily calling out to him, and is only notified of her arrival when her hand tugs on the sleeve of his shirt. It startles him, a cursed ‘Jesus’, slipping from his mouth before he clamps his teeth over his lips to stop more from tumbling out.

‘Daddy’, Bill reads of his daughters face, before he finally clads off the headset and hears her voice filter through.

She’s Georgie’s age now, and she resembles him a lot. For one, she looks up to her dad with as much wonder as her uncle did, a daddy’s girl through and through. She has the Knick for adventure too, though Bill is not sure that’s always a good thing.

‘What is it honey?’ He asks her with a soft voice. He suppresses the twinge of annoyance, now he’s broken out of his concentration, it’s hard not to notice the outside, and it’ll be difficult to reenter his writing groove.  

‘Can we play outside?’ She suggest, lips contorted in a devious little smile that proves that Audra must have said no to her question, and she’s now trying her hand at the person she has wrapped around her finger.

Bill’s gut reaction is to agree. How could he not, when he made the promise to himself to always be the best dad he could be, ever since finding out Audra was pregnant. He swore to himself that he’d never neglect his child, never put her on the backburner for anyone or anything, and that he’d enjoy, relish in every memory he’d be allowed to make with her.

But, he can’t. Not in this situation. Not when Pennywise only came back a mere four months ago, and he was forced into painful memories and past mistakes. Not when he’s relatively convinced that IT’s gone for real, but not 100% assured.

He smiles painfully, and gently pulls his daughter in his lap. It’s not so much that he’s trying to spoil his daughter, it’s just that he loves spending time with her as much as she adores spending time with him. His heart twinges painfully at the notion of disappointing her.

‘Not right now Lil, Daddy’s working.’ He presses a kiss on the top of her head, and squeezes her a bit tighter when a particularly hard downpour causes his heart to clench painfully. If only he had given Georgie a hug like this before letting him out that day.

It’s far too late for that regret now, but he won’t allow the same fate to be bestowed upon his daughter.

‘Please?’ Lily pouts, blinking her eyes in a way that is entirely disarming. She’s so good at convincing, she would make an excellent actress one day. ‘It’ll be so much fun.’ She leans in closer on Bill’s lap, bumping her forehead against Bill’s chest. ‘I promise I won’t step in any puddles.’

It’s a complete lie of course, and Bill can’t help but grin at the idea of Lilly thinking she’s being sneaky about the whole thing, but still, he can’t concur.

‘Later, alright buttercup? And I promise that I’ll spend an entire day with you tomorrow?’

Lily doesn’t smile, so Bill does the one thing he’s become a pro at since becoming a dad; ticking her until she can’t help but laugh.

She shrieks instantly, squirming away from Bill’s fingers as the dance over her sides until she’s nearly toppled of his lip in her haste to escape him, and then giggles long after Bill’s stopped.

Once that too dies out, she bites her lip, seemingly scanning her chances of getting him to agree on going out anyway, but then she concedes.

‘Alright then’, she says a little bit disheartened, but agreeing none the less. She slitters back out as quiet as she came in, but not before a kiss over her shoulder and waving at Bill.

‘See you later dad.’

Bill smiles and waves back, crushed by love and grief battling in his heart for the upper hand, then he puts on his headphone, covers his ears, and he neglects to hear the front door open and lock with a deafening pull.  

----

In the end, it’s the guilt that makes him give up only a half hour after Lilly came in to ask for his time. He peruse the last line he’d written, he hadn’t managed to find his flow after the interruption anyway, and closes the document of his new book for the day.

He still can’t find the strength to go outside in this weather but perhaps he can convince Lily that watching a movie and snacking on popcorn is a much better activity then getting wet and cold.

He shuffles into the kitchen, where Audra’s is already at, and wonders if they have enough corn to put together homemade popcorn.

‘Do you think Lily will want to watch a movie? I’m thinking Disney might be the way to go?’ He inquires Audra absentmindedly while scouring the pantries for the ingredients he needs. He knows, just from the sounds of Audra’s voice that something’s the matter.

‘She’s not with you?’ Audra chokes out, voice pinched in panic.

Bill’s heart stops for a full second, before rabbiting so hard his chest feels like exploding.

‘What?’ He asks, but the words feel foreign, like he’s not the one saying it.  Audra’s responding look is enough to give him all the answers he needs.

----

The rain remains unforgiven towards Bill, the background of the yet another great tragedy in his life. Cliché as it is, it does help cover up his tears, about the only positive thing in his situation right now. Audra is next to him, on the same level of utter panic as Bill’s, but he hopes for her sake that he appears more composed then he actually is.

He viciously wishes for the losers to be with him now, but calling them would take up to much time and they live too far away to be of any aid anyway.  

His neighbors are aiding in the search, but they’re not enough. He doesn’t trust them like he trust his friends, he doesn’t want the life of his daughter depending on strangers.

They keep telling him that she’s fine, that she’s most likely having the time of her life without realizing how her parents are in shambles, but Bill can’t believe that. Lily’s been out for at least thirty minutes, that’s the time they noticed she had disappeared, and even Bill is shivering his socks off. He can’t afford to think about how cold Lily must be.

He separates from the group of searches after the weird glances he receives unsettled peeks when he ducks on his knees and calls out for his daughter in a sewer. Audra, who knows in part what happened to Georgie, lets out a sob.

Bill feels bad for leaving his wife all by herself, but he wants to cover as much ground as possible. He can’t wait at their front porch praying for Lily’s safe return, he knows from experience how feeble that is.

The options of where Lily could be are limited. Her friends live too far away for her to have walked to them, and there was only one place kids of her age liked to hang out. Still, when the park turns up nothing, he scours the area surrounding it, yelling out Lily’s name until his voice skips and a hoarse tone underline his words.

‘P-p-please.’ He screams with his head thrown back towards the sky, his stutter going unnoticed. ‘H-haven’t you t-t-taken enough from m-m-me?’ He’s unsure who he’s calling out too.

Bill’s attention is pulled towards a curtain that wobbles open, and old lady peeking from behind it, judging him with curious eyes. The first one to gossip apparently, but the last to help. Just as with Georgie. Bile threatened to spill as Bill walks on.

With his energy running low, as does his hope, Bill concedes to try and walk in the other direction of his home, to see if anyone else has had more luck than him. Then, seemingly using up all of Bill’s luck for the rest of his life, a wobbled; ‘Daddy’, cries out.

He’s never backed up so quick, and when he lays eyes on Lily, he’s never run that fast towards her either. It’s the pure and utter fear you experience as a kid, when you get lost in a comic in the store and you swivel back around to your mom, but she’s gone somewhere and you can’t find her.

That’s the feeling that linger when you lose someone close to you. And when she pops back up, that’s the utter relief Bill gets to taste now.

He’s back on his knees before he can comprehend it, and his hand curls around Lily’s back and head, cradling her so close this chest it’s nearly suffocating. Bill weeps, caressing his daughters hair as he checks her over.

‘Oh honey’, he chokes, swelling multiple times to force back the lump of tears.

Lily’s crying too, though it seems more out of reluctant than anything else.

‘I’m sorry dad. I just wanted to go out and play. But I fell and I think my bike is broken. I’m really sorry.’

Bill sorrow laughs. He can’t stop the ridiculous laughter that’s so absurd.

‘Lily, I couldn’t care less about a bike’, Bill explains, and he means it every bit. He pulls her back in a tight hug, allowing himself ten more seconds before he has to let go of her.

‘Please don’t ever do that again,’ he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on her head. He holds her as close as he wish he could have done to Georgie, if he had been found alive too. Maybe later, tomorrow or the day after, he’d have a more firm conversation about how sneaking out is not okay, but today, the relief wins over every other emotion or lecture.

‘Is mom mad?’ Lily asks, her own arms clenched around Bill’s shirt so tight it’s clear that she also had a large fright.

Shit, Audra. In an instant, Bill picks up his daughter, arm holding her up by the knees. She’s old enough to walk, but Bill has longer legs and walks faster.

‘No’, he assures her, despite a conformation of Audra. He’s sure his feeling are rekindled in his wife too. ‘But we have to let her know you’re okay. She’s worried too.’

‘Okay’, Lily agrees easy, her head resting on Bill’s shoulders. The rain isn’t that cold anymore, now that he has his child back in the safety of his arms.

----

That evening, Bill, Audra and Lily are cuddles together on their couch, watching Aladdin. Lily has long slipped to the land of dreams, but Bill and Audra want to keep her close for a little while longer. Maybe they’ll all spend the night here anyway, regardless of future back pains, but that’s a discussion for later.

Bill swipes one of Lily’s curls from her forehead gently, smiling when she snores deeper, then settles again.

‘Love you buttercup.’ Bill says, in his mind, he thinks, ‘I’ll never let anything happen to you.’

[elliesguitarstrings]

Silence (Part 1/Prologue)

Peter Parker x stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way... at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: This is my first ever post so idk how many people will see it but if you do feel free to send in any requests for Tom Holland or any of his characters and tell me if you like this story - part 2 coming soon!

Warnings: language, awkwardness, a little bit of fluff

italics mean flashbacks

~~~~~~~~

Today was a special day. Well, to you that is. To everyone else, it was just a normal Saturday. But to you, and hopefully to Peter too, it was special.

Today marks one year of you and Peter first meeting. One year since he walked through the glass elevator doors of the Avengers Compound. One year since you met your best friend. You remember it like it was yesterday.

Waking you up from a deep sleep, you hear a loud knock on your door, one you recognized only to be your dad’s.

He opens the door and peeks his head in.

“Hey, get up and come into the living room. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Barely awake, you respond, “No, let me sleep. It’s too early for this shit.”

“Watch your language young lady! Now get your ass out of bed and be out in ten minutes.”

He walks away, not even bothering to close the door.

You groan into your pillow and proceed to throw it across the room as you reluctantly get out of bed.

Lately you’ve been fed up with everyone in the compound, and you’re taking out all your anger on them. But what else are you supposed to do? Everyone treats you like a kid, but they still expect you to act like an adult. They don’t let you go on missions, but they still make you train. They don’t let you go to actual school, but they make you study twice as hard. Everyone is just so hard on you, especially your dad, and you’re fucking done with it.

You walk into the bathroom and pull your hair up into a quick ponytail, not bothering to brush your mess of hair. Hastily, you brush your teeth and splash some water on your face in an attempt to make yourself look somewhat alive, but the dark circles are still extremely noticeable. You walk back into your bedroom and think about changing out of your hoodie and shorts, but you decide against it. You look halfway decent, and whoever it is that your dad wants you to meet certainly can’t be so important that you have to change into something nice.

After a quick look in the mirror, you slowly make your way into the living room, dreading the coming interaction with another one of your dad’s boring co-workers.

However, when you look up and see a teenage boy sitting next to your dad on the sofa, your mood changes.

Your dad stands up and turns to you, gesturing at the boy.

“Y/N, this is Peter Parker, Spiderman, whatever you want to call him. He’s the newest addition to the team, and he’s moving into the compound in a few days. He’s the same age as you, so I thought you should show him around. So be nice.”

Peter blushes and smiles, giving you a small wave.

Suddenly you regret not changing.

He’s cute. So fucking cute. He has fluffy brown hair, brown puppy dog eyes, the cutest smile, and he’s your age. Your age. Everything about him is perfect.

Realizing that you have been staring for probably a little to long, you speak up.

“Um, hi Peter, I’m Y/N. Uh, it’s- it’s nice to have you here. Sorry I look like shit.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” Peter responds, just as awkwardly as you.

“You don’t look like shit by the way,” he adds, “you look pretty.”

You smile, about to say thank you when your dad interrupts.

“Well, that was really fucking awkward, but I think you two are going to get along just fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it then, see ya around.”

He winks at you as he leaves to go to his lab, and you roll your eyes in return, mentally hitting yourself at how embarrassing this whole interaction has been so far.

You turn to Peter, “So, uh, why don’t I show you around and you can meet everyone.”

“Sounds good to me!” he smiles.

You start in the kitchen and show him around the compound: the movie room, the game room, the pool, the sun room, the training room, the labs, and the bedrooms, introducing him to all of the Avengers along the way. Finally, you stop at the largest spare bedroom, which happens to be right across from yours.

“This is probably gonna be your room. No one really uses it right now but since it’s the biggest one I thought you might want it.”

“Oh, um, thanks, but even the smallest room here is like ten times bigger than my room, so I’d be happy with anything. But since it’s across from you, I’ll take it.”

You blush, not sure if he’s flirting with you or just trying to be nice. Either way, it’s not helping your already developing crush on him.

“So, um, that’s the tour I guess. What do you want to do now?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t want to leave so you can spend more time with him.

“Well Happy isn’t taking me back home until three, so we still have a few hours to do whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Do you just want to hang out in my room? Maybe watch a movie?”

“Sure! Sounds great!”

The two of you walk across the hall to your room and you open the door, regretting again your poor choice to not clean up this morning. Your bed was a mess, your clothes were strewn everywhere, and your desk was piled high with papers and books.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, my room is such a mess.” you exclaim, rushing to push your clothes in the corner and hastily pull your covers up in a sad attempt to make the bed.

Peter smiles and laughs, “Don’t worry, if you think this is messy, you should see my room. This is nothing.”

You laugh as well, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the TV remote. You pat your bed, motioning for Peter to sit down next to you.

“Y- you want me to sit next to you? Like on your bed?” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Oh, um, yeah. But only if you want. You can sit on the beanbag chair over there instead, I guess. I just thought the bed would be more comfortable. And you would be able to see the TV better.”

“Oh, um, ok. That’s fine.”

He makes his way over to your bed and sits next to you, and you silently turn on the TV, starting to overthink everything.

There was a boy. On. Your. Bed. You weren’t doing anything, but still. You suddenly realized how little interaction you’ve had with people your age. Even girls. You didn’t go to school, so you only hung out with the Avengers. The closest person to your age was Wanda, and even she was a lot older than you.

‘Am I being too forward?’ you started to think to yourself. ‘Should I have not asked him to sit on my bed? What is he thinking right now? Oh my god, this is so bad. He probably thinks I’m so weird. He probably hates me. Fuck.’

When you see him looking in your direction, you decide to stuff the thoughts in the back of your head and try to act as normal as possible.

“So, what should we watch?” you ask.

“Um, do you, uh... do you like Star Wars?”

“Are you kidding me? I LOVE Star Wars!” you exclaim, the tension and awkwardness easing slightly.

“Really? My favorite is A New Hope.”

“No shit! Mine too!”

“Then A New Hope it is I guess!”

You turn on the movie, smiling, and you notice that he scoots a little closer to you, seemingly more comfortable.

A few minutes into the movie, Peter breaks the silence between you two and asks, “So what’s it like living with the Avengers?”

“Oh,” you look away from the TV, “it’s cool I guess. But after a while it’s gotten pretty boring. And really frustrating.”

“Frustrating? Why?”

“It’s just, well, they treat me like a kid all the time. And before you say it, yes, I know I am a kid, but it’s still annoying. There’s no one here even close to my age, I mean fuck, Thor’s like 1500 years old. And none of them know how to talk to me. They act like I’m a toddler even though I’m literally sixteen and they never let me go on missions with them, because they don’t think I’m ready even though I’ve been training since I was like ten – “

You cut yourself off, realizing you’ve been ranting for probably a little too long.

“Sorry about that,” you mumble. “It’s just that I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this.”

“No! Don’t be sorry. That fucking sucks. Not gonna lie, you’re kinda making me regret moving here if that’s how everyone’s gonna treat me,” he laughs.

“They’re not gonna treat you like that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? I’m the same age as you.”

“Because. You’re a fucking superhero. They don’t give a fuck about your age if you can climb walls and shoot spider webs out of your hands.”

“Well, even if they don’t treat me like a kid then I’ll still back you up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and smiles. You blush and smile back.

“Thanks”

“Of course.”

He scoots even closer to you so that your shoulders are barely touching. If this had happened five minutes earlier, you would be freaking out. But now, something is different. You aren’t sure what, but you suddenly feel more calm and comfortable with him around.

You finish the rest of the movie in silence, and you realize you let your head fall onto his shoulder. You were scared he would push your head away, but he didn’t care.

“You awake?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night and my dad woke me up early, well, to meet you.”

He smiles down at you, and suddenly your dad bursts through the door. You scramble to sit up, lifting your head off Peter’s shoulder.

“Hey kid, Happy’s here to – oh?” He stares at the two of you sitting next to each other in your bed, both blushing. “Jesus, you’ve only just met and you already slept together? At least tell me you used protection.”

“DAD, OH MY GOD, NO!” you exclaim, blushing even harder now.

“Mr. Stark, I promise. We- we were just watching a movie. Nothing happened!” Peter assures him.

“Sure, sure,” your dad winks at the two of you.

“Dad, seriously. Nothing happened!” you groan in frustration.

“Whatever. Anyways, Happy’s here to take you back to Queens Pete. Be down in five.” He leaves the room.

“God, that was fucking embarrassing,” Peter laughs getting up from the bed.

“That’s my dad for you.”

You both walk to the door, and before you leave the room, you give him a small hug.

“I’m glad you’re moving in, Peter.”

“Me too,” he smiles, “Friends?”

“Definitely.”

You smile thinking back on the memory. After that day, you and Peter have spent almost every hour of every day together. You’re rarely ever apart, even at night. You sleep with him in his bed, and he sleeps with you in yours. The rest of the team bugs the two of you to get together, but you both agree that you are just friends.  Best friends cuddle with each other and kiss each other’s foreheads and play with each other’s hair, right?

[sneezefiction]

home

Kuroo x Reader - Scenario

desc: sometimes loneliness finds you in your weakest moments. however, even as you grapple with your feelings for Kuroo, he still manages to make you feel at home.

warnings: depictions/discussions of loneliness, anxiety, mild angst, briefly mentions family issues, language

wc: 4k

---

This isn’t exactly what Kuroo had expected when you’d texted him to come get you from the campus library. 

He’d driven up to the building’s curb-side donning a gray hoodie and a cheeky, cheshire grin, ready to take you back to the apartment and put on some sort of sci-fi movie. But as you slowly approach the dented, familiar car, your feet lightly dragging on the concrete as you grew closer, he realizes that the movie watching would have to wait.

Because as he opens the tinted passenger-side window, Kuroo can tell you’ve been crying.

It was dark out, something you had hoped would disguise your teary eyes. But grief was etched into the lines of a tired grimace and the illumination of the lamppost was just bright enough to reveal your tear-streaked cheeks. By the look of it, he could deduce that you’ve been wiping them away for a while now.

Kuroo can’t help but stare, taken-aback by the puffiness in your face and that lost look in your eyes. You seemed so vulnerable, so alone out in the open like that.

If it weren’t for his tight, surprise-induced grip on the wheel, he would’ve gotten out of the car and held you right where you stood. But his feelings for you were… more than complicated. You also appeared uncomfortable standing out there on your own, and understandably so. This wasn’t exactly your emotional norm. Or at least, knowing you, he didn’t think it was.

You tugged at your sleeves, biting your lip sharply enough that Kuroo thought it had to hurt, and avoided his golden gaze. You were ashamed that he had to see you like this. 

Kuroo, your roommate turned best friend, was finally witnessing one of your infrequent, but debilitating mental breakdowns. No one was supposed to see you like this, eyes red and lips bruised from frustrated chewing. It was rare to even see you cry outside of a movie theater or without your face being wedged between the pages of a book with some sort of sentimental value, so this was quite emotionally revealing to say the least. 

It must have come as a bit of a shock to your usually more talkative, teasing friend, but if he was startled, he didn’t show it. Kuroo kept a calm demeanor and softened his features after getting a good look at you through the window.

But you remained a safe distance from the car, not yet ready to hop in yet. Because once you did you knew there would be questions.

The bed-headed boy had always been observant, sometimes to the point where you wondered if he had mind-reading abilities. He always noticed your mood changes and quirked expressions even when you were sure you’d hidden them well enough. Whether it was the sparkle of elation in your eye when you’d received a good grade on a project you’d poured your all into or the way your face fell while you crashed onto the couch after a failed date, Kuroo knew each and every look perfectly. Some might wonder why he cared to memorize your expressions and their meanings, but you passed it off as something that all best friends could do.

Either way, the novelty of the situation had him at a loss, so you were sure that the questions would roll once you’d made it back to the quiet of the apartment.

But the problem is... questions mean closeness.

You didn’t quite want to be an open-book with him yet. At least not to the point of spilling your heart out all over him in a messy stream of tears and endless sniffles.

Not when you were balancing your friendship and feelings for him. Not when he made your heart flutter helplessly like that. Not when your living arrangements required a certain level of comfort and freedom from both parties. And definitely not when you’d just been crying over the perpetual state of loneliness you periodically found yourself in.

Because in all honesty, you really liked Kuroo. 

And you had every reason to like him. From the black, rooster hair that you’d ruffle first thing in the morning while he made his espresso. The displeased face he pulled whenever he attempted to drink it without milk and sugar to feel more ‘sophisticated.’ The goofy, jabbing comments that managed to make you laugh after an achingly long day… 

And those small, seemingly innocent touches. The ones that sent sparks flying within your chest, warming you from the center of your heart all the way up to your burning cheeks. His eyes grew warmer, dare you say affectionate, after seeing your face light up from one of his stupid science puns that other friends of his would simply sigh at. It had your heart on overdrive.

Feelings could really fuck with this world you two had built together.

It was already hard enough living with him. You were so close, yet still so far from his reach. Your sock clad feet could rest on his lap, but not your head. You could tug at his hair, but you couldn’t tenderly twirl it around. And he could always flirt with you, leaving your skin burning hotter than a midsummer Carolina night, but you wouldn’t let yourself comment back, fearful that your true feelings would come out.

But just like dirty laundry, you were airing yourself out to the world. Or at least to the ebony-haired boy who you considered to be a big part of your world.

You’re not quite sure why you’d called him of all people anyway. You could’ve just as easily texted someone who wouldn’t ask for an explanation. Your tears would’ve probably dried by the time you’d gotten home if you’d chosen to grab an Ub*r. But you knew he would be worried for you, though his sharp eyes hid it so well. 

Underneath all of the wit and humor, those scheming smiles and that fiery determination, Kuroo was softhearted. He would listen, advise, and worst of all… he would understand, which scared you. You had already fallen hard for him and letting him see into that blackhole, that pool of murky, suffocating loneliness, would only make you want to hold him more.

But for him to see right through you, right into your long-suffering feelings for him and for them to not be reciprocated… it would break you. 

“...Hey.” Kuroo’s smile fades, his softened voice pricking at your heart a little.

He sifts through the right words to say. What phrasing would sound the most comforting? What sounded the most natural coming from him? It was like trying to catch a plummeting piece of pottery. Kuroo wanted to break your mental fall and give you something softer to land on. You were all but shattering right in front of him, so he opted for words that soothed. Words he wished he’d heard years ago when he’d been at his lowest point.

“Let’s go home.”

‘Home.’

He said it so steadily. So simply. There was authority in his tone, but it wasn’t sharp. Just sure.

How could one little word give you so much hope? 

‘Home’ meant warmth. It meant safety and security. ‘Home’ was where you could be yourself, take a deep breath, and release whispery secrets out loud without fear of judgement. 

You knew Kuroo meant your apartment when he’d said ‘home’ but you can’t help but think that there was some sentimental value to it.

You gave a sniff followed by a quiet, slightly nasally response, 

“...Yeah. Please.”

You hear the click from him unlocking the car doors and you step in slowly, one foot in, then the next. Your hands, still a little shaky, plopped down on your legs and your eyes glued themselves to the dark, starlit sky through the windshield.

You’re exhausted and you feel a little out of place, but you’re just glad you’re not alone anymore, even if his steady, thoughtful gaze is basically burning a hole in your head right now.

Your breath quietly hitches at the sudden warmth seeping into your exposed skin.

He had rested a hand on your knee, a concerned look decorating his features, and begun stroking it slowly with his thumb. His methodical movements intended to soothe an already very fragile person.

Kuroo had only touched you like this once before. At a time when your eyes were frantic and your heart, pacing with worry. You had been drowning in finals papers and your mind threatened to go into an anxious spiral. Yet somehow, his touch, his selective words, and his offer to help you out had kept you afloat. Thanks to Kuroo, you managed to keep from breaking down then.

This time however, he was a bit too late.

But he kept drawing little circles, analyzing a new, yet strangely familiar face. An expression you hadn’t personally worn before, but that he’d seen somewhere in the past.

You feared that if he kept staring, the tears would start to fall all over again, his touch only reminding you of just how lonely you really were. So close to him, yet so far.

“Can we just go?” You plead, voice at a whisper.

And as you glance over to him, he can tell that there’s something you want to say, but you can’t quite put it into words. At least not right at this moment.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking…” Kuroo’s voice is low. He nods, but doesn’t quite finish his thought.

It would be better to get you home first before asking about anything. Otherwise you might shut down on him entirely. Whether or not you realized it, Kuroo was well aware of your tendency to avoid these more ‘personal topics.’ When something got too close to home, you were suddenly tired and needed to catch some extra Z’s. When he got a bit flirty, suddenly your phone became incredibly interesting. And any time he caught you close to tears, you would play it off as though it were nothing you couldn’t handle on your own.

But you aren’t nothing to Kuroo.

So far from it, actually.

You were as close to ‘home’ as he’d ever gotten. 

Without having much close family, home was more of a physical destination to Kuroo. A structure with a solid door and a bed to crawl into. Where he could study in peace and quiet...

But there was always an emptiness deeply set within that silence.

It was impersonal at best. At worst, the space was frigid and lifeless. The iciness of the house took a toll on him, resulting in an anxious, quiet child. One who could hardly speak to friends and couldn’t look an adult in the eye.

Only when he’d met Kenma, when he had finally discovered a place where warmth overcame the bitter tundra of loneliness, did Kuroo understand what ‘home’ was supposed to be like.

‘Home’ was always welcoming. 

It was birthdays with cake and ice cream. It became multiplayer video games and frustrated sighs or bickering after a shitty round of Mario Kart. It turned into short jaunts with friends to a local 7/11 where one could spend way too much money on a basket full of snacks. It was locking eyes with you for the first time after agreeing to room with a stranger at university. It was finding out that you two shared classes and could walk together every morning. ‘Home’ was found within the conversations that bloomed like a bright, young flower from your many hours willingly spent together over the next couple of years.

And in time, you two learned each other's patterns, quirks, and minds, thus growing increasingly comfortable in the other’s presence.

‘Home,’ in its truest form, is a beautiful thing and you wore it radiantly. To the point that Kuroo had caught his own fluttering feelings for you over the years, but even his best efforts to tell you were thwarted by your little diversions.

But that didn’t matter right now. Kuroo had finally gotten you two pulled into the parking lot after a painfully quiet drive home, so he needed to focus on getting you inside and comfortable.

“Just sit there, I’ll get your door.” Kuroo directed gently.

You nod, staying in place because you really didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now.

He tugs at the door handle and before you can blink, he’s got your arm looped around his. Something he only did teasingly in the past, usually resulting in you shoving him playfully away from you. You can’t bring yourself to push him off of you and, even though you’re already warm from the heat that’s spreading to your face, you find yourself leaning into his side.

Kuroo is comfortingly warm, you note. The way he tugs you closer has you mentally tripping over yourself. You can feel the heat from his forearm radiating through your thin, long-sleeved shirt as he walks you up the stairs and towards the apartment door.

The echo of your footsteps end as you two enter the flat and, knowing that there’s a lot to talk about, you opt to grab a fuzzy blanket from the basket beside the couch and prop yourself up on a barstool at the small kitchen island.

“You want some tea?” Kuroo turns his head to check with you, his hands already busy at work getting the water boiling for his own mug.

“Yeah, something with ginger in it maybe?” You mumble out, sniffling again.

“Already got it.” He shoots you a small smile, flashing you the tea packet wedged between his index and his thumb.

He knew you pretty damn well, you guessed.

“So y/n… you wanna tell me what happened tonight?”

Kuroo’s words are prompting, but you assume he’s already got some ideas of his own.

“Would you hate me if I said no?” You let a shy, humorous smile peek through your otherwise exhausted face.

“Y/n…” Kuroo sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the countertop opposite to your seat at the kitchen island.

He’s trying his hardest to maintain some level of calm, but the fact that you won’t tell him has him even more frustrated. You had every right to keep your business to yourself… but you looked like you were dying to tell him something.

Kuroo opens his mouth again, his brow creasing when you don’t answer, but you don’t let him get another word in.

“I-- I’m just not really sure where to start.” Your eyes grow a little hazy as you begin to decipher your feelings again. You let your elbows rest on the countertop, but use your hands to prop up your chin, glancing from Kuroo’s golden irises to the steaming water on the stove.

“You can start wherever.” Kuroo answers easily, his head tilting a little.

“It may take awhile to explain…” You press, both warning him and buying yourself some time.

“I’ve got all night, sweetheart.” He quips back, unfazed by your attempts at stalling.

He turns to pour the hot water into two mugs, tea bags already resting at the bottom of the cups. Kuroo turns back, grasping both mugs and setting both on the island, only to realize that your face has changed once again.

You’re anxious. Unsure. He can see it in the way you’re studying him, trying to gage his potential reaction to what you’re about to say. And unfortunately, Kuroo recognized the look faraway in your eyes. A blank, helpless stare that he himself had once wore when the sharp fangs of loneliness had once latched onto him.

So he takes a few steps toward your side of the kitchen, sets the mugs aside, and leans his forearms on the counter. Kuroo meets your eyes at a much closer range. Your arms fold into your chest in an odd, physical attempt to hold in a breath because his face is so close to yours now.

“Look…” He huffs out, “You really don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I need you to know,”

He lifts a hand out and tilts your chin up, leaving you dumbfounded by the confidence in his reassuring touch.

“You can tell me anything, okay? I’ll always be right here.”

He’d managed to, once again, send you into a state of complete, baffling security. It might’ve helped that, even bent over the counter, his towering figure and stronger build allowed you to feel just as protected outside as you did in. Not only were the butterflies in your stomach acting up again and the burn in your cheeks back with a vengeance, but a wave of bravery flowed into you.

And that word flickers through your mind like a firefly.

‘Home.’

And ‘home’ meant safety. And safety meant you could speak freely.

So you do.

“It’s just… I haven’t been doing too well lately.” You blink at him, words frank to the point that they’re almost hilarious.

He blinks back… and then a milder version of that cheeky grin is back, followed by, “Well, I think I could glean at least that much.”

Kuroo’s fingers fall from your face, but he doesn’t break eye-contact except to snag a chair. He sits right across from you, resting his cheek in his palm. Partly to cover up the tint spreading across his cheeks, partly to fix his full attention on you.

You give him a weak but real smile and slouch into your chair, letting your tight shoulders loosen up a little bit.

“Give me a break okay?” You flick his forehead and he bites his lip, but it still remains in that lopsided smile.

However, your smile fades as his own face grows a little more serious, drawing the both of you back to the topic at hand.

“Kuroo, I’ve just been really... lonely.” You let out, voice small and soft compared to the teasing tone you’d carried seconds ago. “Like there’s this weight, this pressure inside of my chest and it just won’t lift no matter what I try, y’know? But today...”

You huff, letting out a deep sigh, “I think I finally hit some sort of breaking point.”

“I mean, saying that out loud feels really dramatic, but I think that’s all I can equate it to? And I guess it just came out in tears...” You express, looking down at your hands and messing with your own fingers. You felt silly. Like you’d built everything up only for it to sound like a stupid little problem.

But Kuroo’s face convinced you that he was taking every word seriously. That every little phrase mattered.

“Okay…” Kuroo processes, scanning your face and glancing down at your hands.

“So then why didn’t you say anything before?”

Well… that’s a pretty fair question, you think to yourself.

Because being real with someone meant being vulnerable? Because ridding yourself of loneliness meant putting your secrets and feelings out there in the open? Because it meant that closeness and proximity would change with whoever you shared your thoughts with? And because, specifically with Kuroo, you fear that the attachment would be too much for you to handle? All of these were the truth.

It’s hard to pick one answer, so you choose something simpler.

“I… was scared.” You admit, looking away from his gaze.

“Have you always felt this way?” His question at first sounds straightforward, but there’s a somber twinge to his voice.

“...Even around me?” And there’s the pause. Your words had definitely stung.

“I- Kuroo, that’s not fair…” You catch yourself speaking faster than you can think. 

“You know you’re the only…” The answer is almost honest, nearly the truth… but the words catch in your throat as you realize what you’re saying. 

“I- I mean… not around you,” You stutter out, hands actually making their way to your face this time. “What am I saying…”

You’d started this night crying hurt-heavy tears from not being able to open up to anyone... And now you’ve been reduced to this flustered, hot mess in a matter of hours? Who even were you today?

“You were saying that, ‘I’m the only… ?’” Kuroo tilts his head once again, this time in confusion.

There’s a flash of panic in your eyes. But not out of fear. It’s out of… embarrassment?

Then a lightbulb goes off and Kuroo’s eyes widen slightly in a slow realization. The puzzles pieces had finally clicked together, one by one.

You were both so close. So close to touching. So close to being something more all the time… but never close enough to tell him how you really felt. About him and about how much things, to put it lightly, sucked for you right now. And you’d pushed it to be that way. You’d purposefully kept yourself away because openness hurts. At some point in time, you had somehow convinced yourself that being vulnerable on purpose was far more painful than suffering in silence.

And you can tell that Kuroo has caught on. But not because he’s grinning nor because he’s said anything to make you think so. No, it’s those eyes again.

He’s giving you that softened look again.

The one that could convince you that maybe there was more to this ‘friendship’ than what you were allowing yourself to admit. A look that reminded you of ‘home’ more than any other person, city, or beautiful, sturdy building could.

And, once more, Kuroo’s touch surprises you. A hand found its way to your own, grasping it firmly, the confidence in his outreach creating a deep contrast to the uncharacteristic, shy pink painting his cheeks.

“Kuroo-”

“Can I be completely honest with you?” He cuts you off, eyes fixed on your hands locked within his own.

“Well, it wouldn’t be like you to be anything else, would it?” You manage to stammer out, nerves reaching your voice.

“You’re not wrong.” Kuroo hums, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“But I think now is a good time to say that I never want you to feel alone.” He starts, “I never want you to feel lonely like that because you’ve always made me feel so… at home.”

That word again.

“Like I couldn’t be lonely even if everyone I knew left me. Because at least I’d have you, y/n.” And if your heart wasn’t already racing furiously, it’s now beating loudly enough that you would be surprised if he couldn’t hear it.

“Well, I mean if Kenma ditched me, that would suck and I’d probably be miserable for awhile, but that’s beside the point.” His lip twitches into a quick smile, lightening the mood.

“What I’m trying to say is that I- I like you. And, I think you might like me too…” He searches your gaze for some sort of confirmation.

“But whatever you feel towards me, I never want you to handle loneliness by yourself.”

“You’ll always have me. Whenever you need me. You’re home to me, y/n. I don’t say that lightly.”

He goes to release your hand, but you quickly tangle your digits with his, earning yourself a quick glance from his usually less revealing eyes.

“You’re home to me too.”

Your voice is small. The phrase comes out quickly. The emotion is heavily emphasized in that word ‘home’ again… but you mean it with every ounce of your being.

And looking into his eyes, you’re being affirmed by his knowing presence. That adoring look that’s reserved just for you, on full display. Absolute affection seeping through the gentle break of his smile.

“And I might like you too… just a little.” You break into your own small smile, reaching with the other hand to brush his messy hair away from his eyes.

And you’re shocked by the simplicity of your actions. Surprised by the sudden freedom you’ve given your hands.

Because now he’s close enough.

Close enough to card your fingers through his hair as tenderly as you pleased. Close enough to grab hold of him in a long, hopeful hug when the nights get cold or as dreams go sour. Close enough for his warmth to melt away the iciness of those lonesome feelings.

And best of all… Kuroo was finally close enough to call ‘home.’

---

Do Not Repost

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[softpine]

Could we get another you don't have to read but it's interesting text post?? 👉👈

omg i hope this is what you meant, but umm here’s some backstory about griffin’s roommates? because even my nameless extras apparently need deep lore in my mind?? fjkjsd

TW: mentions of drug addiction, homelessness, religion, abuse, and biphobia. + me not being able to stop talking ever.

jeremy; 19. gay. [also the guy from this post.] jeremy grew up smack in the middle of the bible belt. his parents wanted him to grow up and be a pastor like all the generations before him. he was a model child and no one expected him to run away, so his parents actually thought he was kidnapped when, on a random tuesday, he left in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. the police found him wandering towards the bus stop just a few hours later and dropped him back at home. everyone then repeated the same cycle again and again for years, before jeremy’s parents got fed up and agreed to legally emancipate him if he agreed to just stop embarrassing their family. he finally hit the road on his own when he was 15.

he met griffin at a train station out west a while later. griffin had just left his aunt’s house, and neither of them had any place to be. jeremy is the one that taught him how to pickpocket (although there was a lot less flirting involved in jeremy’s method – he relies heavily on the “dumb tourist desperately needing directions” angle). but jeremy can never stay in one place too long, so he left. a year later, they happened to bump into each other in another state and decided a coincidence like that was too big to ignore. so they started traveling together and eventually ended up in nyc, where they stayed. (well, kinda. jeremy disappears for weeks at a time and comes back with all kinds of stories.)

griffin sometimes gets pissed because jeremy likes to equate their 2 childhoods, but they were really nothing alike. sure, jeremy’s family was oppressive and he could never be himself around them, but they were wealthy, they loved him, they never laid a hand on him, and they’re still hoping he comes home someday. jeremy didn’t leave because he had to, he left because he wanted to. but he can’t seem to grasp the difference. still, he listened when griffin told him he should reach out to his family and let them know he’s okay. now they have scheduled phone calls once a month and they’re all happy with that amount of communication. 

all in all, jeremy is still a kid. he loves comic books, action figures, the atari he & griffin split 50/50, and going to the movies. he’s always looking for the next big adventure or something to make him feel more alive. unfortunately, that’s taken him to some darker places with drugs and alcohol, but he’s doing okay right now. he was worried about moving into an apartment because he thought it would make him feel too trapped, but he actually likes having a place that he chose, that no one is forcing him to be at. oh and no, he and griffin have never dated. jeremy just doesn’t know what personal space means. 

eddie; 34. straight [but probably aro/ace in modern terms]. he’s already been divorced three times, which he assumed is because he's a pushover, never fights for anything or takes his own stance, and seemingly lacks passion in every aspect of his life. for almost ten years, he worked as a personal accountant in the upper east side. his days were mundane: he ate the same breakfast (oatmeal), the same lunch (ham & cheese sandwich), and the same dinner (chicken noodle soup) every day. somewhere around the time of his third divorce, he realized he wasn’t going to find fulfillment unless he searched for it, so he quit his job, cashed out his family inheritance, and traveled through europe. as he was living in hostels and hitchhiking and relying on the kindness of strangers, he started to become well-acquainted with the homeless communities in every place he visited. he realized how out of touch he had become, and how privileged he was to be bored with his life. and thus, he had found his passion.

when he returned to new york, he got a new job in finance for a nonprofit organization for the homeless. that was nice and all, but he never got to see the benefits of his work, so he started volunteering at food banks and shelters. that’s where he met jeremy and griffin. jeremy was fascinated by how truly dull eddie is. he kept waiting for eddie to reveal some deep, wild, secret part of him, but it never happened. eddie never even bragged about his adventures in europe; he would always turn the conversation back around to others. by the time jeremy realized he really is that boring, he was already looking up to eddie as an older brother type (and griffin was just along for the ride).

eddie is the one that’s actually renting the apartment and then renting out the extra space to griffin, jeremy, and vincent at dirt cheap rates while they get on their feet. he agreed to keep doing this as long as they all have jobs (pickpocketing doesn’t count) and try to stay clean in jeremy’s case.

vincent; 21. bi. vincent grew up comfortable, but not wealthy, in queens, with his family who emigrated from singapore before he was born. his parents later got divorced, and now he’s the oldest of a combined total of seven siblings, though he’s always been closer to his mom and stepdad. growing up, his grades were just average, he had a few friends but was too shy to be popular, and he wasn’t particularly athletic either – he was on the swim team for a while, but he hated the competitive aspect. his favorite part was staying behind after practice and having the pool all to himself; he would float on his back for hours, just watching the pool lights reflecting on the ceiling. he struggled to fit in at school. this all changed when he started weightlifting during his senior year. he mainly started doing it as a way to keep himself busy, but he soon realized that the more fit he got, the more attention people paid him. he liked that.

soon after, he started his first relationship with a girl, kelly, who he intended to marry someday. they graduated high school together and both enrolled at the same college – though vincent hadn’t decided a major yet – and things were going great. he even came out to her as bi and she took it really well (especially for the time). they were settled into an apartment of their own at 19.

in his quest to figure out his major, vincent took up all kinds of new hobbies, his favorite being drumming. he even started a garage band with some of his friends. they started playing house shows, which ended up being somewhat popular, though they don’t expect to make it big anytime soon. at one of these shows, vincent ran into griffin and they bonded over their love of rock music. when vincent found out that griffin didn’t have a place to stay that night, he invited him to sleep on his couch – understandably, kelly was angry that he didn’t ask first.

kelly got increasingly more upset as time went on and vincent & griffin became better friends. even though nothing romantic ever happened between them (and i sure hope not, because griffin was like 16 at the start), kelly was convinced that vincent was cheating on her and that she was only there to cover for his “true” sexuality. when they inevitably broke up, vincent was devastated. not only that, but he now had to find a new place to live asap. that’s when griffin mentioned that he and jeremy were renting rooms from eddie and that vincent was welcome to join. and that takes us up to the present! (well, the “present” being 1987).

[lycorogue]

Thoughts about episode “Lie”

Okay. Here we are. This is back to the better writing I was talking about the other day. I love me parallel stories, so this was just *chef kiss* in that department. 

Before I delve into my thoughts on the episode itself, I want to take a step back and talk about my views of the non-love-square ships Lukanette and Adrigami. (Feel free to skip ahead; I have a header for when I start talking about this episode again)

Lukanette and Adrigami

For me, Marinette and Luka had romantic chemistry from the word go. As much of a Marichat shipper as I am, I knew that if anyone could make Marinette forget about Adrien, it wouldn’t have been Chat Noir. It would be Luka. Chat Noir would then come in at a close 3rd (a bit ironically) when it comes to Marinette’s heart. Meanwhile, Kagami slowly grew to have a crush on Adrien post-Riposte, and then charged forward knowing exactly who she wanted. On the flipside, though, I stand firm that there wasn’t really much romantic interest coming from Adrien. If anyone was going to make Adrien forget about Ladybug, it would be Marinette; not Kagami.

The episode “Frozer” - the one where Kagami makes her crush known for the first time, and Adrien first attempts dating her - practically gives us some foreshadowing of their entire relationship. Aside from clearly finding Kagami attractive (as showcased by the pink-bubbles-vision when Adrien first sees her sans-helmet in “Riposte”), he doesn’t seem to have any romantic inclination towards Kagami until after she cups his cheek and lets him know, in not so many words, that she likes him. Even so, it isn’t until Marinette basically gives the thumbs up that he should pursue this relationship does he give it a try. He’s still very uncomfortable around her, and only gets a bit more comfortable in “Animaestro”; probably because he’s seen his father around Kagami’s mom and just mimics that (as seen in “Backwarder”). Going back to “Frozer” though, Adrien spends most of his time with Kagami watching Marinette, and even abandons Kagami in favor of checking in on Marinette - something Luka could have easily done and probably doesn’t because he sees Adrien already on it and knows Marinette would prefer Adrien’s comfort. So Luka doesn’t push the issue. That whole ice rink interaction shows that, while Luka trumps Chat Noir as a potential alternative love interest for Marinette, Marinette still surpasses Kagami as a potential alternative love interest for Adrien. This, for me, is again hinted at in the episode Heart Hunter where, while enjoying himself seemingly equally with both girls, there’s just these little hints - complimenting Marinette more than Kagami, asking Marinette to choose the ice cream - that, at least subconsciously, Adrien is leaning a touch more towards Marinette over Kagami. His heart just isn’t all that into this relationship. This is again showcased in the New York special when Adrien (at least in the English dub; I haven’t watched it in other languages) asks Marinette to dance with him with an almost pleading tone in his voice. (To be fair, clearly Marinette isn’t thinking of Luka at all during that trip either...)

I think the final Foreshadowing nail in the Adrigami coffin is this dialogue from “Frozer”:

Kagami: “You still keep doing what other people want you to do.” Adrien: “No, I just want him to be happy.”

In the end, Adrien did the same thing with Kagami: he did what he thought would make her happy because he’s a people pleaser to his core.

Adrien of course found Kagami attractive and fun to hang out with. She was a fantastic companion, and I love their companionship so much. However, I feel like he dated her mostly because he knew he had to find some way of getting over Ladybug, and here’s this pretty girl who clearly has a thing for him, so why not???? Their parents were practically setting them up as a couple anyway, between the trip to the royal wedding and the movie premiere. Plus, this “approved” friend meant he could spend more time outside of his father’s house while genuinely enjoying the company. Win-win. He then did all the pseudo-dating stuff he’s clearly witnessed in media; kind of following a play-book as it were. 

However, he never did anything even remotely romantic or flirty towards Kagami that was on par with his romantic gestures and flirtations towards Ladybug (or even Marinette, for that matter). His love language is obvious after watching him with Ladybug, and he uses some of that same language (albeit subconsciously... probably...) while interacting with Marinette. Things like leaning in playfully (ending of “Troublemaker” and when asking Marinette for a macaron in “Despair Bear”), sharing a romantic picnic (“Glaciator”) even if it was just to cheer Marinette up, winking (the endless winking in too many episodes to list here), whispering in her ear (“Despair Bear” and one other that I can’t recall right now), Soft SmilesTM (“Chameleon”, pretty much all of the NY special, tons of season 3 episodes), confessing insecurities or secrets (“Gamer” and “Gorizilla”), or asking her to dance (“Despair Bear” and “NY Special”). I’m sure there’s tons more and each example has more episodes it’s showcased in, but you get the idea. Alternatively, Adrien just never used that same love language with Kagami. With her it all felt like calculated moves; it was expected of him to lean in for the kiss in “Heart Hunter” and “Miracle Queen”, or wipe away the smudge of ice cream by Kagami’s mouth, so he did it. Aside from his protectiveness and care for Kagami in “Onichan”, Adrien never really treated Kagami any different than his other friends.

Marinette, on the other hand, does show some of her love language towards Luka. She blushes around him and does that bashful little shoulder shrug. She makes excuses to touch his arms, hands, chest, or back. She literally leans on him. She has an interest in his interests and even goes above and beyond for gifts, such as the necklace (yay; Luka looks so good in a necklace!) and, unofficially, the contract with Bob Roth for Kitty Section. 

Granted, she doesn’t flirt with Luka like she does with Chat Noir, but, as someone who also used to flirt with my guy friends without truly realizing the romantic implications (I was a disaster as a teen, okay?), I don’t know if Marinette has truly realized how flirting is part of her love language. If she is anything like I was, flirting is more a fun past-time to see if you could get a rise out of someone in some sort of sextual-tension game of chicken or something. It’s not something you do with someone you have serious feelings for. 😝

Back to Kagami though. I want to stress that, while I didn’t see any romantic future for Adrigami, I do still very much like Kagami and appreciated the character development the writers gave her. I love her as one of Marinette’s potential friends and, as I mentioned, a companion for Adrien. I just never saw any romantic interest coming from Adrien towards Kagami. He never even truly seemed himself around her the way he is around Ladybug or Marinette. I don’t think he’s comfortable enough to not be Textbook BoyfriendTM around Kagami. He even mentions in this episode that him being a clown IS the real him and she calls bullshit (although @gale-gentlepenguin​ does have some nice commentary on how even that wasn’t exactly truthful and Kagami was right to call him out). Point being, Adrien loves to be nerdy and goofy and playful, and she just doesn’t get that????? A lot of what Adrien likes she seems to dismiss.

I’m sorry, Adrigami shippers. There could have been potential there as these two grew, but as it stood? I just didn’t see it.

The Episode “Lie”

Going back to my thoughts on “Lie” though with all of that above commentary for context. I just feel a bit cheated that Clearly-There’s-Mutual-Pining Lukanette gets ONE kiss lean-in for the whole “love rival” arc they’ve had set up for 1.5 seasons before the relationship implodes, but Clearly-Only-One-Has-Feelings-And-The-Other-Is-Just-Kinda-Going-Along-With-It-Because-Hey-He-Likes-Hanging-Out-With-Her-And-She’s-Cute-So-Why-Not Adrigami has THREE kiss lean-ins in THIS ONE EPISODE ALONE (not to mention the 2 from Heart Hunter/Miracle Queen)!? Like I said, I feel a bit robbed, but... well fed, Adrigami shippers, I guess...

Anyway, my heart hurts so much because yes, Kagami deserves someone who will take the time to be with her (just like how Luka deserves the same), but also, it’s not like Adrien WANTED to abandon her (much like Marinette not wanting to abandon Luka). These poor kids. All four of them. My heart breaks. 😢

I did feel a much stronger emotional gut-punch with this episode, which is surprising because a) we already saw a good 5-10 min of it in “Truth” so this episode was essentially shorter than the premiere, and b) I’m a much stronger Lukanette shipper than an Adrigami shipper (see above). So, bravo to the writers on this episode. I hate that this team broke so many hearts, but this is the caliber of writing I was hoping for. 

(I know Marinette is the Guardian, but can we agree to have more Adrien-centric stories, please? They’re just so good).

My final thoughts though: WHY ON EARTH DID THE WRITERS EVEN BOTHER WITH THE “LOVE SQUARE RIVALS” STORY LINE IF THEY WEREN’T GOING TO FOLLOW THROUGH!? ADRIGAMI AND LUKANETTE FINALLY GET TOGETHER AFTER 1.5 SEASONS ONLY FOR THE RELATIONSHIPS TO BE DOA BASICALLY THE NEXT EPISODE!? WHY!? TO RESET THE STATUS QUO THEY WORKED SO HARD TO SHAKE UP!? I already talked Friday about the lost story potential with Lukanette, but there’s also a lot Adrien could have learned from his relationship with Kagami. 

Adrien is still VERY vocal about his love, and, while he has learned a lot, matured a lot, and has eased up a lot, Adrien does still semi-burden Ladybug with his feelings; something Luka never did to Marinette. Adrien, possibly due to witnessing his parents - I have theories about the romance dynamic between Emilie and Gabriel - seems to have this view of love being okay even if unbalanced. Ladybug is far more powerful and crucial to the protection of Paris, but they are still partners and equals in their eyes. So maybe he feels the same about love; he may be more romantically devoted to her, but as long as Ladybug loves him even a little, it’s like they’re equals in romance... right???? So... yeah, a more balanced relationship with Kagami could have taught him how important a romantic balance is as well. Plus, if I am right in my assumption that he just kind of went along with the relationship because he thought it was expected, then he could have also learned something about being a people-pleaser. There was a lot of growth potential for both Marinette and Adrien in these non-love-square relationships, and it just feels squandered.

Also, as I mentioned with my review of “Truth”, I’m fearing that the writers are kind of railroading the Ladynoir ship. First, there’s Marinette realizing that she can’t have a boyfriend because he wouldn’t be safe, nor could she be truthful to him about why their time was so limited. The exception being Chat Noir, who can very much protect himself (except for when he’s shielding Ladybug, but she yelled at him for that in “Lie”), and she can be fully honest with him as long as it doesn’t involve their identities, and he very much knows and understands their time restrictions. In fact, he even goes so far as to state that ANY time with her is a gift he cherishes. He’s basically the perfect boyfriend for her in her situation; she just needs to be lonely enough to “realize” it. >3> On the Adrien side of things, Kagami tells him that she can’t trust someone who isn’t honest with her, but there’s Ladybug: fully understanding and completely trusts him even when she knows he’s lying. She also doesn’t fault him for their lack of time together and understands if he needs to run away without a moment’s notice. He’s already in love with her, but this whole situation just paints her even more as the perfect romantic partner for him. I get it, but I also hate it. I hate this feeling of this one corner of the love square being railroaded. It basically dismisses the other 3 corners as possibilities right alongside the Lukanette and Adrigami ships.

All that grumbling aside, I would like to give some applause to how the episode ended. I very much enjoyed that Kagami was like, “nope. You lied to me, and I can’t trust you, so we can’t be friends. I need time away from you. I’ll let you know if we’re ever okay again.” It shows the consequences of playing with someone’s emotions, even if under the best intentions. It also shows that it’s perfectly okay to cut out toxic relationships, even if the other person didn’t intend any harm. Well-intentioned people can still cause toxic relationships, and if you need to step away from them (as Kagami did), then you are completely valid in that decision. It’s an important lesson for kids to learn, I think. I’m just worried that Kagami brushing off even being Adrien’s friend (while justified) might mean not really seeing her in the show anymore, and that would be a shame. 😟 I do enjoy her as a character, and would love to see more of her growth. Plus, she is so limited in social interactions as-is, so I hope we see more Kagami and Marinette friendship growth.

I am also interested in how Adrien reacts to the knowledge that he can indeed ruin his friendships with people if they aren’t in the same emotional space. This is most likely what’s preventing Marinette from confessing: fear that Adrien will reject her so severely that he might not even want to be her friend anymore. So having Adrien now possibly have that fear as well has some interesting story potential (if the writers don’t drop the ball like they did with the Lukanette/Adrigami ships). Meanwhile, having a dejected Luka still offering friendship and support to Marinette - something clearly Adrien assumed would happen with Kagami; once a friend, always a friend - might give her the confidence to confess to Adrien, now trusting that they are good enough friends and he’s a kind enough person that they can still remain friends even if he doesn’t return her feelings.

There’s a lot of potential birthed from these opening episodes, but especially from “Lie” and I’m interested to see what the rest of the season is going to look like now.

Also... ARE WE SURE THAT LUCKY CHARM BRACELET IS ACTUALLY LUCKY!? IT’S BEEN THE HIDING SPOT FOR AN AKUMA TWICE NOW!

[whump-town]

Books & Bonding

(There is no point to this, it’s just a drabble I wrote after finishing my Art History paper) Enjoy some bittersweet father son bonding 

Jack is laying upside on the couch, the way Hotch has probably told him a thousand times before not to. So that his ass is propped up where a back would normally go and his back is where a butt should be. He’s letting the blood rush to his head because it, direct quote, “help him think better”. At this current time and place, Hotch is too distracted trying not to burn cookies in the oven and keeping pasta stirred. So he doesn’t waste his breathe telling his son, again, not to sit like that. 

“You just don’t understand,” Jack sighs wistfully. 

Hotch has managed to raise one strange kid. He’s seventeen-years-old and spends more time ranting and raving about books than girls (or, hell, boys). Hotch doesn’t even know where they stand on that. They’ve discussed gender and sex, in more of a book sort of way. Jack had gone on about chosen expression differing from biological traits and Hotch can’t even remember why that was. He just knows what followed it was The Hunger Games sequels because that had prompted a discussion on riots and Hotch’s personal beliefs on the government.

There’s never a dull moment.

Pausing in his pasta stirring, Hotch takes a moment to correctly process the rant he’s just been on the receiving end of. Rubbing his palm into his eye, he wonders if it would be simpler to talk about gender expression again. At least then he knew what to say. 

Now they’re… debating, what? Identities? 

Raising his son around the team might have been a bit of a mistake. Jack seems to consume the parts of the team that Hotch has always struggled with the most. Reid’s quickly devolving, circling rants about anything and nothing at all. Emily’s obsession with books that require a strange and open mind to the natural progression of the world. Fucking woodwork from Morgan. Where does that even come from?

Humming to himself, he collects what he thinks is a good response. “The point,” he asks, glancing towards the living room. Waiting for Jack to pop up and he does, resting his chin on the cushion as he watches his father. “The point is that there is a danger in being anyone but yourself, yes?” 

Jack nods, “essentially.”

Hotch hums, nodding his head. He might be able to remember the title of the book, Jack probably mentioned at some point, he does understand Vonnegut. Emily got Jack a collection of his work for Christmas last year after the two made an entire day of picking apart Margret Atwood’s “Handmaid’s Tale”. Of course, he’d also read the book but it was far more interesting to sit back and observe the two of them. 

“What does that mean for you?” Hotch asks. He means it. 

It seems to do the trick. To scratch whatever itch Jack wasn’t finding on his own. He deflates, sinking as he thinks about it. 

Seventeen-years. That’s how long it’s taken for Hotch to realize he’s a better father than he’d thought. Better than he could have ever imagined. He’d been terrified when he’d first been handed Jack. Shaking, the nurses had taunted him for that. He’s a federal agent who was in a national news making explosion, Boston, and he’s afraid of a newborn baby that weighs six pounds and some change. 

But he wasn’t afraid of Jack. He was afraid of those eyes looking back at him. The same eyes as his and the same eyes as his father. 

He and Jack don’t have a complicated relationship, not the one that plays out so tauntingly on the television in seemingly every movie. Not once, has he ever raised his voice or, God-forbid, even his hand. And Jack is pretty normal considering. Just a standard kid making his weigh through the world and the best part is-- 

he tears up a little just standing here thinking about it-- Jack always comes home. 

Hotch never had a home. 

A dad. 

“I don’t know who I am.”

Hotch blinks quickly, shaking his head. He’s not expecting that. 

Jack has moved from the couch, now aimlessly walking circles in the kitchen. He’s barefoot and in a sweatshirt, Hotch knows he stole from his closet. He’s worn the knees out of his jeans and the bottoms are rolled up. They’re thrifted and his favorite. 

The melancholy hits Hotch right in the chest. That stupid sweatshirt. He’d hid it in his closet because he can’t bear to part with it but he can’t stand to look at it. Haley used to wear it far more than he ever did. 

For every part of Haley left in their son-- the sandy blond hair, love for complicated books, and pacing that has always driven Hotch mad-- there are pieces of Hotch as well. The lanky body and hair that can only be contained with an unGodly amount of gel and a skilled hand. 

Where does Hotch even begin to explain the in and outs of identity? That this half-way through puberty child of his is built out of ancient love. The kind not meant to last but hurt. That it’s never as simple as  “I am”, it is everything. It’s not the sum of a whole. There is nothing set in place and Jack will change and change again before he even realizes it. He’ll hate parts and cling to others desperately but there will never be an answer. Yet, every guess he’ll come up with will be right. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Hotch assures him softly. This will make one hell of a conversation to have with Dave some time but for right now, it’s… complicated and he doesn’t have an answer. “You’ll figure it out,” Hotch affirms with enough confidence that they both buy it. Hotch doesn’t doubt for a second that his off the walls bookworm of a child will come to understand who he is. Today’s just not the day and that’s understandable. “For now, go pick a movie and I’ll bring you some macaroni, alright?”

Jack looks like he wants to push that. He doesn’t. A part of can rationalizes that his father doesn’t know the answer either and… A pang of sadness and a bit of fear hits his chest, his dad is tired. Too tired for the kind of long-winded conversation that Jack’s brought into play. 

It’s a strange fear that he’s carried his entire life. Mortality is a hell of a thing to become aware of. 

Jack curls up on the couch, he’s going to milk the hell out of movie night. Eating dinner on the couch is a rare gift and he’s excited by the thought of breaking a rule… sort of. 

“This the book,” Hotch asks two bowls in hand but stopped to bend and scowl at the book cover on the coffee table. 

Jack nods his head, taking his bowl and freeing one of Hotch’s hand so that he can pick the book up and examine it. “You can read it,” he offers, scoping too hot macaroni straight into his mouth. As one does, he proceeds to sit with his mouth open and look obscene as his mouth burns. He then follows it by another mouthful, as if that one will have magically cooled down. 

Hotch puts it back down and takes note of the title. He’ll read it and then he’ll ask Emily about it. He settles down on the couch like he’s got any intent on watching this movie. In reality, he’s going to eat maybe half of his dinner and fall asleep before the rising action of the movie can even be established. 

“What’re we watching?”

Jack smirks and hits play, “gonna be honest, no idea. It has Keira Knightley in it so that was the appeal.” He glances over at Hotch, knowing that his father has no idea who the actress in mind is but he won’t ask. Not for reasons guided by ego but because it won’t matter.

By the time she comes on screen, Hotch is asleep.

Without comment, Jack pulls the throw blanket behind them down. He takes the bowl out of Hotch’s hands, setting on the coffee table, and covers Hotch up. With a sigh, he lays his head down on his father’s thigh. 

Hotch wakes just enough to realize what’s happening and wraps his arm around Jack’s chest, keeping him close. 

Knees pulled to his chest, Jack finds himself falling asleep too. For a moment, tears sting his eyes as he realizes that his dad is never going to carry him to bed again. He’ll never fall asleep on the couch and wake up half-wrangled up in his dad’s arms like a ragdoll too tired to protest but content beyond means. 

He just wishes he could go back and appreciate that one last time.

(the book in question is Kurt Vonnegut’s Mother Night and it’s my favorite book of his)

[geniedocroe]

CLOSE AS STRANGERS

(don malarkey X reader)

angst, potential fluff

wc: 4430+

you were very in love. in fact, you had been for quite a while. since your seventh birthday actually. it was a blur of memories now and you could just barely recognize it. thirteen years passed quickly. soon things began to change and the future you were seeing . . . it wasn’t very bright and happy.

donald malarkey (your best friend, soulmate, the person you were in love with) had always been very perfect in your eyes. there wasn’t much to despise about him. so you simply couldn’t. you couldn’t hate him. of course there were a few things that set you off. these were only little things though. for instance, when the two of you would share a milkshake or something of the sort and he’d accidentally drop it (he was fairly clumsy), or how he’d jokingly trip you (that ticked you off to no end), or when he’d notice everyone else but you . . .

despite these minuscule flaws you loved him. from his toes to the stunning freckles and ginger hair. he was as pretty as a picture. he truly was. you didn’t believe you were as pleasing to be around, but it was always a confidence boost when don politely asked your mother if you come outside for a while. you felt as though he cared when he did little things like that.

today was like any other. you sat on the front porch of the little house you had grown up in, reading a book.

you thought maybe that was why you weren’t as desirable as the other women in town. they all seemed so daft and boring. apparently these “men” didn’t appreciate someone who could use their brain. it frustrated you to no end.

your like any other day was actually very tedious. it was one warm day in june. your mother wouldn’t allow you to work because she encouraged you to attend college first, which you did, but it was summertime. there was not one thing for you to do. so half of your day was spent sitting on the porch, flipping through books you had appeared to have read hundreds of times.

the excitement bubbled throughout your chest when you saw a mess of red hair running your way. it was about time he had shown up. don ran through your front yard and up the steps. he stopped short of you, trying to catch his breath.

“good afternoon, ma’am.” the ginger managed to cough out with a very bad british accent. he never failed to try and turn anything into a joke.

you looked up from your book with a soft smile. you responded in the same accent. “good afternoon, my good sir.”

“the weathers quite alright today, isn’t it?” he questioned, sitting beside you on the swing.

“i guess it is looking rather nice.” you gazed towards the sky. immediately regretting your decision to be blinded by the sun, you blinked at him, seeing colors.

“nice enough for a walk?” don asked, dropping the accent.

you grinned, gently shutting the book before standing to enter the house. “let me ask my mother.”

“you’re twenty years old!” he called after you as the screen door slammed shut. your laugh could be faintly heard.

don gave a soft little chuckle at the sound of your own laughter. he thought it was quite musical. everything about you screamed peace. it was like tiny birds helped you get dressed in the morning, or mice aided you whilst cleaning the house. you were some sort of sweet dream. something that he didn’t even know he wanted, someone he didn’t know he needed.

he may have been smart at times, but he was completely oblivious to your feelings and his own. you hadn’t made it extremely obvious that you were infatuated with your best friend. however, you dropped a subtle hint every now and then. don would just seemingly dance around it, but after some time you realized he didn’t even know how love-struck you were. in fact, you didn’t think he shared that very same feeling. you didn’t think he even had a minuscule bit of that feeling.

don sure felt something, but he thought it was just nerves. his chest felt loose and fuzzy, his stomach seemed to have joined gymnastics, and he just couldn’t seem to stop wringing his hands when you were near. he didn’t hate the way it felt, then again he certainly didn’t appreciate it either.

seconds later you reappeared, slamming the screen door shut behind you. there was a distant yell within the house. don looked up at you with innocent eyes.

“she said yes, of course.”

he stood up with a grin plastered over his freckled face. you bounded down the steps with your dear friend in tow. as the two of you stepped onto the sidewalk, he looped his arm through your own. you appreciated this dearly. it was as close to holding hands that you were gonna get, but it was casual enough where people didn’t ask you too many questions. this action had also made you feel safe. like the two of you were just out of arms reach.

of course you never felt unsafe in don’s presence. you weren’t incapable of protecting yourself, he was just your knight in shining armor. don was there and you would never force him to leave.

“what book were you reading?” don asked, gazing over at you, taking you in as if there was no more time left in the world.

“the wonderful wizard of oz. i cannot tell you how many times i’ve read that book.”

don thought for a moment before replying excitedly. “do you remember when we saw the movie and you dumped that bucket of popcorn on that poor guy? his face is fried into my brain. that was truly one of your best moments.”

“i live to please.” you sighed, throwing up your free arm. “you know what i still can’t get over? how amazing judy garland is. like truly, she is perfect i think.”

“she may be judy garland, but she doesn’t have a thing on you.”

you ducked your head away as your cheeks began to grow warm. a little voice in the back of your brain was screaming at you to just tell him before it was too late. you didn’t know how much time you had left or what girl was going to come and steal him away before you got the chance.

the rest of your walk continued it silence. the empty moments were filled with tranquility. don felt as though he wouldn’t be able to experience times like this for a very long while. all he wanted was to be around his best friend. all he wanted was for you to understand. for you to hug him and tell him that everything would be alright in the end.

approaching “your spot” on this day was unlike any other. it was a beautiful maple tree in the middle of a field with one ancient looking tire swing. not a lot of people knew about this place so it was perfect to get away. to just be the both of you. this was your safe place. you loved it here. you practically grew up here.

you could faintly remember the moment everything changed for the two of you as best friends. the moment you fell in love. you wondered if don remembered it better than you did. you wondered if he even thought about it at all. because to you, it meant the world.

“hey don, can you promise me something?” you asked, hanging upside down from the tire swing. you struggled for a moment before jumping down.

“i’d promise you anything.” he smiled at you as you sat down beside him. the two of you leaned up against the tree, looking out over the field.

“promise we won’t ever be like my parents. that we’ll always be best friends. cause, my parents have no friends and i always want you around.” you wrung your hands together nervously.

“of course we’ll always be best friends. i promise.” he stuck out his pinky to you and you accepted graciously. “oh! i have something for you.”

don pulled his hand away to grab something in his front shirt pocket. the look he had on his face said everything. the excitement had built up at this point. in his hand was held a small chain with a locket hung securely on it. he handed it to you and watched as you inspected it. engraved onto the silver was “forever in my heart” with two tiny roses.

“wow, don!” you gave him a huge grin as he secured the necklace. you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. you spoke into his shoulder. “i love it. thank you!”

“happy birthday.” he said fondly as he pulled away. he stared at you for a moment before he made an impulsive decision.

it was quick and it surely caught you off guard, but don pressed his lips to yours in a fleeting motion. you stood their wide eyed as you blinked at your friend with burning cheeks. don’s face was almost as red as his hair. and you were sure you had never felt this way before.

even at seven years old, you fell in love.

you plopped down beneath the tree without a care in the world. dust flew up as you disturbed the spot with your presence. don stood hesitantly beside the tire swing. his hand reached out to hang onto the rope.

looking out over the empty field sent a warm sensation from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. the sky seemed to stretch for years and the grass was as yellow as ever but that never stopped you from adoring it. the soft chirp of birds was music to your ears. how could you ever learn to loathe a place like this?

“i need to tell you something.”

you looked towards don. he fiddled with the rope for a moment before looking up at you. he didn’t expect you to already be gazing at him with puppy dog eyes. the sight of you almost made his eyes well up with tears.

“i’ll always listen. you know that.”

“i know. that’s why this is going to be so hard.”

as he sat down beside you, you began to think. with the war going on you weren’t very confident in what he was meant to tell you. half the men you had gone to school with had already enlisted or been drafted. it was only a matter of time before don would be leaving too.

there was a moment of silence where the both of you gazed out into the open field. you had to remind yourself that this was the place you loved and that don was your best friend. he wouldn’t ever intentionally do anything to hurt you.

“y/n,” don turned to you, placing a hand on your knee. “i’m being drafted.”

you blinked at him once, twice, then a third time. he stared back at you with sincere, innocent eyes. he prayed that you would understand. that this would all be okay and your friendship wouldn’t suffer.

whatever preparation your mind had done was no use. not a single person on earth was ever ready to face war. it didn’t matter how old you were or how many horrors you had seen. don would come out of the other side of the war as someone else. you knew he would. he would barely make it out alive. you didn’t want to know that person.

“i have to go.” you muttered, shoving his hand away from your knee.

immediately you stood with don following suit. he looked so incredibly hurt by your sudden movements. this was not the reaction he had expected.

a part of you was telling you to turn around and hug him one last time as you stalked off. you knew he was following close behind you but you were hard to keep up with. it was like a giant black hole had materialized in your chest and was beginning to consume all of your organs.

a hand grabbed your shoulder and you whipped around at an ungodly speed. the tears in your eyes were visible. you weren’t angry. don took a step back from you. he frowned at your reaction but still managed to choke out a sentence.

“this isn’t my fault, y’know. i wish i didn’t have to go.” he tried to reach for your hand but decided against it at the last moment.

“i just hope you make it home some day. you stay safe wherever you go, kid. good luck.” you gave a small smile before turning once again.

don was quite taken aback. you hadn’t called him kid in years. it was a joke that had died away after being used one too many times. then it became something you only called him when you were hurting deep down. he couldn’t fathom that this was one of those times.

as you quickly walked through the field you saw flashes of your childhood before you. the good, the bad, all of it. you love it here. actually, loved it.

over the next few days, you and don had absolutely no interactions. you strayed away from him and he felt hopeless. any time you saw him approaching you, you ran in the other direction. however, he never seemed to chase after you. neither of you knew what hurt more.

all don wanted to do was say one last goodbye. he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again. there was some part of him that needed to see you but he couldn’t understand why. so, he left.

the day after don left you had begun to regret not going to see him. that black hole in your chest never subsided and you were afraid it was permanent. you had never gone so long without talking to him. the two of you had always been attached at the hip. if he never made it home . . . this silence would become your biggest regret.

your family looked at you with annoyance as you shoved the food around on your plate. you felt selfish to not want to eat but you truly weren’t hungry. you weren’t tired. you weren’t interested in anything. you had no motivation. it was obvious.

“what is the matter, dear?” your mother asked.

“nothing, mother.” you set down your fork, resting your chin in your hand.

“elbows off the table.” your mother instructed. you did as told. “it isn’t nothing, y/n. you haven’t spoke a full sentence in over a week. you haven’t left your bedroom. i haven’t even seen donald around here. are you ill? have the two of you gotten into an quarrel?” your mother questioned you with clear worry on her face. the rest of your family was silent. they looked at you curiously.

“i ain’t ill and there’s nothing wrong with don. he’s gone off to fight in the war. we won’t be seeing him for quite a while. we’ll be lucky to even see him again.” you huffed, studying the table cloth.

your siblings exchanged a glance. they didn’t understand the war. their naive innocent brains couldn’t comprehend why the war was being fought or why some people might not ever come home. you wished you could be as angelic as them.

“are you infatuated with that boy?” your father asked. mother elbowed him sharply in the side as your head shot up.

“infatuated?” you scoffed.

“let me tell you, y/n, military men are no good to marry. i like donald, but he’ll be completely gone after this war. they never come back home with a sane mind.” your father pointed his fork at you with a raised brow. “thought it will be such a same. he had a great future.”

“yes, because you’re such a great judge of character.” your mother dismissed her husbands opinion with a wave of her freshly manicured hand. “when he returns home you will dote on that boy. i’ve seen firsthand how much warfare can change a man, he’ll need all the help you can give him.”

you looked back down at your plate before looking up once more and scanning every face at the table. they stared at you expectantly.

“may i be excused?”

dear y/n,

i know we haven’t been on speaking terms and i’m sorry for that. i miss you so much. you are my best friend. your opinion means everything to me, but i hope you have tried to come to terms with my absence. it’s been over a year and neither of us have reached out to one another. that truly breaks my heart.

i’ve finished my training as a paratrooper. i’m sure you’ve never heard of that before. to put it simply, alongside the men i have trained with, i will be jumping out of airplanes with a parachute. it sounds terrifying, i know it does. however, i have trained with the best. you don’t need to worry.

i have met some amazing people during my training. it’s safe to say i’ve also met some insufferable individuals. there’s this guy named skip. he really became my best friend over the past year (of course no one could take your place). you would love him. he’s a great guy. super funny too.

my company consists of mostly good men. i don’t think i would ever say otherwise. they have to be extremely brave to want to jump out of an airplane. i have really gotten to know these men and i’m sure i’ve made bonds that will never break.

the beginning of my training took place in georgia. we ran up this mountain more times than i could even imagine. it was so painfully hot everyday. i don’t think i’d ever want to live there.

today i’m in a camp in new york. we leave in a couple days. we’re getting on a boat that’s heading over the atlantic ocean. i don’t know where we’re going or how long i’ll be gone. i’ve always wanted to visit europe, but not like this.

i hope you’re doing well. maybe you’ve graduated from school. maybe you have a great job. maybe you’re dating the best man you could find. maybe you have a kid. maybe you don’t have any of that. what a shame that’d be. you’re a real catch. you deserve anything and everything.

even if i don’t ever come home, i want you to live the kind of life that was always meant for you. find a new best friend. move on with your life. show everyone that you can’t be walked all over. don’t think that it’s all over because you won’t be seeing me again. in fifty years you could have everything you’ve ever worked for.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

dear y/n,

in about two days we will officially be entering the war. i’m terrified and i know i should be. i’m just trying to push through everything so that one day i will be able to come home.

there’s not much i’ll be able to say. i actually don’t know what to say. training has always been rough. they claim they want us to be the best. i secretly think they just want to see us struggle.

there has been a lot of difficulty over the past couple of months. despite all of this, there’s been the usual shenanigan. skip and our other friend alex, have dragged into some odd situations. i’m glad they do though. these are some memories i’ll hold close to my heart forever.

i still miss you. you never responded to my last letter. unless you did . . . perhaps i never got your response. i hope you’re doing great.

is there anything knew happening in your life? did you graduate? have you met any peculiar people? have you met anyone who’s completely changed your life? do you still go to that diner? i know you loved it there. i miss the milkshakes so much. are you working at all? do you miss me?

i pray that you will be able to respond to me. i’ll never know what my last letter will be. this could be it.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

dear y/n,

i still haven’t gotten a response. i hope you’re okay. i don’t know if you’re even alive. how horrible would it be if i was the one fighting in the war and you’re the one who’s passed?

this war is brutal. it’s horrible actually. i cant even explain how bad it is because those words aren’t even in my vocabulary. i’ve seen some really horrifying things. things that would make your hair curl.

we’ve lost people. good people. men with lives and families back home. people just like me. it just makes me realize that my days are potentially numbered.

i ended up getting into some trouble actually. a friend of mine and i had stolen a motorcycle. we went through the country in england and honestly i haven’t had that much fun in a long time. it was nice to let go and appreciate everything that was happening at the time.

if you are reading this, please respond. i need to know that you don’t hate me. or if you do hate me, i still want to know. i haven’t gotten many letters but every single one i get, i hope it’s you.

how are you? i really want to know. it’s been so long. are you okay? i miss you. i haven’t spoke to you in over two years. i’m sure something has happened in your life. something that has changed you completely. please respond, y/n.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

“hey mal!” skip called over to his friend who sat beside george luz.

don looked up curiously. skip, alex, john julian, and babe heffron stared back. they all shook furiously from the harsh weather of bastogne. taking the piss of conversations during their sad mealtimes were the only way to get by.

“who’s that girl back home that you’re constantly chattering on about?” skip asked.

“girl back home?” george echoed skip with raised eyebrows. “why have i never heard about this?”

don rolled his eyes as everyone looked at him with curious eyes. he had only ever spoke about you to skip. he hadn’t even told alex about you. i mean, what was there to say? you were only friends.

“i gotta hear this.” joe toye leaned forward to listen in.

“there’s this girl back home and she’s . . . she’s everything. you know, we were best friends. we grew up together. she hasn’t spoken to me since i told her i was leaving though. and – and i used to think i wouldn’t need her to just exist, but now without her . . . i feel like there’s a part of me missing. it’s horrible. she’s my best friend, y’know.” don explained. beside him george burst into uncontrollable laughter. skip and alex shared a look before cracking up as well. julian looked at babe with a confused expression. “why are you laughing at me?”

“sounds like you are in love with her, my friend.” joe nodded. george took a moment to try and regain himself but he burst back into laughter a second later.

“there’s no way. i’ve known her my whole life. i just - i just miss her, that’s all.” don pushed george away. the man was all but laughing in his face.

don felt like he was folding back into himself and pulling away from his friends. he didn’t want to bring you up and then get laughed at for your friendship. you hadn’t even spoken in years.

“you said you haven’t spoken in years?” julian piped up. don nodded. “well, why not?”

“i don’t think she wanted to face the idea that i wouldn’t be around for a while. she was pretty hurt. called me a name i hadn’t heard in years. i don’t blame her.”

“oh, so she’s in love with you too?” joe suggested and don gave him an incredulous look.

“i strongly doubt that.”

“you never know until you tell her that you love her too.” julian said.

“what the hell do you know about love?” babe snorted at the replacement next to him.

“i just think it seems kind of obvious.” julian shrugged. “he can’t realize that he’s in love with her and she could be in love with him and doesn’t realize it either. if the both of them can’t come to terms with it then the other would never know. so, they’ll both be suffering while they watch the other move on with their lives. might as well tell her now.”

everyone blinked at julian. for being so young and virginal, he spoke very wisely about love. he had more of a mind than don did. perhaps he would confess to you . . .

y/n,

i’ve never felt more alone. skip & alex got hit. they’re my best friends. i don’t know what to do. please tell me you’ll still be there when i get home.

-don malarkey

don,

i’m sorry about your friends. i’ll be here.

-y/n

dear y/n,

the past couple of months and years even have been extremely difficult. the war has changed my life drastically. it’s put me through the ringer. i pray it hasn’t done the same for you.

everyday i anxiously await the announcement of the japanese surrender. i cannot tell you how exciting that news was. the war is finally over. after years of all the pain and suffering for millions of people. of course, there’s still tons of rebuilding that will need to be done and there’s still so much that needs to be change. all i want to do is come home.

i hope you’re waiting for me. if you haven’t already met someone and started growing a life for yourself, i’d love to go out with you. you’re always the only thing i can think about. which is not good in a war.

i love you. i have always loved you. you mean everything to me and it’s hurt the both of us knowing that neither of us had said it sooner.

i’m coming home soon. i promise. i’ll be home before you know it. please don’t forget about me.

i miss you. i always have.

-don malarkey

[erin-bo-berin]

By Your Side

MASTERLST

This was requested by and is dedicated to @be-the-bravest​, my name AND birthday twin. The poor thing dealt with appendicitis and an appendectomy on her birthday and a few following days. I’m so incredibly sorry that you had to go through that on your birthday of all days, Erin, but I hope this makes your recovery a little better. This is some incredibly fluffy, sweet goodness and you can’t convince me that Spencer wouldn’t do this for someone he loves. Hope you all enjoy some fluff to start your week and happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 1,796

This wasn’t exactly how you’d planned your birthday.

You’d been excited about your birthday for months. You’d been dreaming about a day filled with spending time with friends, family and your boyfriend, Spencer.

You were too old for parties—not that parties were necessarily a bad thing—but you were one who much preferred eating out and going on adventures.

You’d planned an entire day; brunch with your family and Spencer at your parents house, browsing yours and Spencer’s favorite book stores, dinner with Spencer’s work family and then a movie marathon with him that night.

Spencer had even taken a day off of work, something he rarely did. Having a job in the FBI meant demanding work and you admired how passionate he was about his job. According to him, this was the first time he’d taken time off in well over five years. It was touching that he did it just for you.

When you were younger, the thought of getting older scared you. You’d realized with each year you turned a new age, you’d never get back any of those previous years. Now though, you viewed it as a celebration of another year filled with ups and downs—and making it through the year, especially when you got to celebrate it with the people closest to you. Besides, the older you got the less you worried about aging; you were only as old as you felt after all.

All of your anticipated plans evaporated as quickly as a snap of fingers.

The pain had begun the previous night, a dull pain in your stomach. You were expecting your period at any time, so you chalked it up to that. You went to bed early with a heating pad and no second thoughts. By the time Spencer had come to bed, the pain had eased a bit to the point of uncomfortable, but bearable pain and you didn’t consider anything else.

The bright, early hours of your birthday changed your opinion though.

You and Spencer didn’t have to be at your parent’s house for brunch until 11 am, but you woke just before 7, the pain in your abdomen more than you could bear.

You cried out as you tried to sit up in bed.

Either Spencer was just finely tuned to know when something was wrong with you or he’d slept incredibly light last night—something pretty unusual for him.

He was up in an instant, concern written all over his face as he checked on you. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Definitely in tune with you.

“My stomach is killing me,” you groaned, “What time is it?”

He peered at the alarm clock on his side of the bed. 

“6:49. Why don’t you lay back down? We still have a few hours before we have to be at your parents’.”

Spencer helped you lay back down and took your heating pad.

“Do you need me to reheat it for you?”

You nodded, in too much discomfort to talk.

“Get some rest,” he said, kissing your head before heading downstairs.

A few minutes later, he returned with the newly warmed heating pad, wrapped in a hand towel and placed it on your lower stomach.

“Has the heating pad helped any?” he asked, recalling that you’d slept with it last night as well.

“It was last night. But now it doesn't even touch it,” you whimpered.

You’d never given birth, but you were certain this is what labor felt like.

The pain was like internal sharp pin pricks, but then it’d ease off into a more mild and dull sensation. No matter what you did though, the pain was still persisting.

“You look flushed,” he commented, worried.

“I’m about to burn up,” you said, tossing the heating pad aside.

He felt your forehead and looked even more concerned.

“Where exactly does it hurt, Y/N?”

You motioned to your lower abdomen and then to an area slightly to the right.

“We need to get you to the emergency room now,” he said, his mind made up.

“What? No! I’m fine!”

You tried to sit up and cried out at the sharp pain, tears forming in your eyes.

“Babe, it could be anything from an ovary issue to gallbladder issues. It might even be appendicitis, you need to get it checked out now.”

You knew better than to argue with him. Whatever plans you’d had for your birthday had just gone out the window.

•

You sat hunched in the emergency room as Spencer checked you in. You were in so much pain now, you couldn’t talk.

Unfortunately, it was a wait, but at least you were on the high priority list.

You sat, half hunched, half curled into Spencer, whimpering and clutching his hand the entire time you waited.

“I know honey, I know,” he whispered.

He alternated between rubbing your back, kissing your head and murmuring softly to you.

It took over two hours, but considering the normal wait time, you were pretty fortunate.

Things moved pretty quickly after that.

You were taken back, a full exam and blood work being done. Next, came an ultrasound.

An agonizing amount of time passed as you waited for the results of the ultrasound while still in a good amount of pain.

Spencer didn’t leave your side though. He tried his best to distract you and take your mind off of your pain.

He also was kept busy by keeping everyone updated. Between your parents and the team from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, his phone had hardly left his hands.

Your friends and family were amazing, sending you birthday wishes, videos to lift your spirits, even some of their kids had made drawings for you. It helped some and you were eternally grateful for Spencer as he kept showing you new well wishes with a smile on his face.

The diagnosis came back quickly, when they saw the ultrasound. Just as Spencer had suspected, it was appendicitis.

“You’re in luck, our surgeon is going to be able to fit you in for this evening. We need to remove the appendix as soon as possible to avoid any further complications,” the doctor on call—Dr. Martin—told you.

“Happy birthday to me,” you mumbled.

After Dr. Martin left, a nurse was the next to come in. She administered antibiotics to help fight any infection and told you the anesthesiologist would be there soon to prep you for surgery.

The day had simultaneously passed in a flash yet crawled at a snail’s pace. You no longer cared that it was your birthday, you just wanted to feel better. You were exhausted, in severe pain and wanted to cry, as if that would make you feel any better.

“I’m sorry you feel so awful, baby,” Spencer frowned, stroking your hair from where he sat next to the hospital bed.

You mumbled your thanks sleepily and yawned.

“You should try to sleep,” he frowned.

“I would if it didn’t feel like there was a knife lodged into my abdomen,” you groaned.

After the anesthesiologist arrived and administered your medicine, you didn’t remember much. With your exhaustion and the drugs both combined, the world blurred increasingly around the edges. Just as you were about to give into the seduction of sleep, you heard Spencer say something to you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll be right here by your side the moment you’re out of surgery.”

•

The next thing you remembered was waking up in recovery.

“Surgery went well, Y/N,” Dr. Martin said, “You should be good as new in two weeks.”

You gave a groggy groan and fell asleep again. It dawned on you that you hadn’t even checked to see where Spencer was, but before you could open your eyes to look, sleep took hold.

-

Your eyes opened again and it was dark outside. Only one light above the bed illuminated the room besides the moonlight that shone through the window.

“Nice to see you awake again,” you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend.

You looked over and saw Spencer refilling your water cup for you.

“I got you some jello,” he grinned.

“Ugh, ew,” you groaned, turning up your nose.

You were definitely not a fan of jello—much to Spencer’s dismay.

“Hey, I resent that,” Spencer chuckled, “Technically I asked the nurse for some for you, but in reality I’m gonna eat it.”

He walked over to your bedside, leaning over and kissing you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired and sore. Hopefully I get some good pain medicine,” you smiled weakly.

“Oh you will. Your nurse was just in here ten minutes ago and administered your first dose. She said it should be kicking in within a half hour.”

“Thank God,” you mumbled.

Your eyes raked over your boyfriend who—like he’d promised—was still at your side. He looked tired and rattled but relieved to know you would be okay.

“How are you, Spence? You’ve been up since 7 this morning,” you commented, worried about him.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he frowned, putting a hand to your cheek, stroking it gently, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I hated seeing you in so much pain.”

“Guess we won’t be having kids then,” you joked.

“Y/N,” he gave you a look, but he was smiling.

“Pretty sure I can survive labor if I survived that pain,” you said, “At least with labor you get an epidural. Spencer, invent an epidural for appendicitis, stat.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling, a trait you loved about him.

“I think you need to rest, honey, you’re clearly sleep deprived.”

“I don’t want to,” you pouted, “Can you cuddle me?”

“I’m not gonna risk hurting you,” he said adamantly.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s my birthday still, right? I want cuddles.”

His face softened, any trace of his earlier humor gone.

“I’m so sorry you had to spend your birthday like this, Y/N,” he said, frowning.

He pushed a piece of your hair off your face and sighed, seemingly resigned to something.

“Alright, you win. Scoot over.”

You smiled, moving slowly and carefully over in the bed in an attempt to make enough room from him.

He spread out next to you, positioning himself to face you.

“Better,” you said.

You smiled your first real smile of the day then.

“You know, I may have had a shitty birthday, but I’m glad it was another birthday spent with you. You hardly didn’t leave my side.”

“I’ll always be by your side, no matter what you face.”

He took your hand, bringing it towards his lips and kissed it gently.

“I love you,” you smiled up at him.

“I love you too.”

 He returned your smile, placing an arm very gently over your waist.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

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[captcas]

Khristmas Karaoke

Khristmas Karaoke by capthamm

Their annual Khristmas Karaoke sheds light on relationships, old and new. read on ao3

“Come on, Killian… She does this all the time. Aren’t you better off without her at this point?” Emma slaps Neal’s arm at his shitty attempt to comfort their friend after Milah ended things… again. She won’t admit her boyfriend is 100 percent correct, because that’s not the point. Killian has alwayshad a thing for Milah no matter how awful she treated him and each time she ends things, Emma knows it breaks him a little more.

She keeps waiting for the time it breaks him entirely.

It’s their friends’ annual Khristmas Karaoke– Mary Margaret insisted on the alliteration– and Milah just didn’t show. It’s a big deal when someone invites a significant other, effectively indoctrinating them into their core group of four– David, Mary Margaret, Killian, and Emma. This is Neal’s second year, which really, truly only freaks Emma out a little (a lot), but it was supposed to be Milah’s first. Killian, Emma’s ever cautious best friend, refrained from inviting her last year, but when Emma said she was bringing Neal again, Killian jumped in immediately and said he was bringing Milah.

Milah chose tonight to tell Killian she didn’t want to see him anymore.

Figures.

With Milah, it was always about her and Emma is convinced Milah’s selfishness is the only reason she was still with Killian. He treated Milah like a queen without so much as a birthday wish in return. (Seriously, she forgot one year and Emma was left to pick up the pieces Killian so gallantly insisted were nonexistent, but Emma could tell– she can always tell with Killian.) Either way, Milah’s lack of interest in anything to do with Killian always made Emma uncomfortable. She wants more for her friend; knowing he deserves more than to be someone’s puppy dog.

But Emma would never say that to Killian. She looks over at him and he’s clearly sulking, so she does what any best friend would do, “Come on KJ, we’re singing.” He goes to protest but Emma grabs his arm before shouting her drink order to David who mock salutes. “Ok go pick something, I’m going to run to the bathroom.” Killian nods, still seemingly unwilling to play along but too nice to deny Emma anything. She shoves him towards the stage and heads towards the bathroom.

After freshening up, Emma heads back towards the stage only to run directly into another woman. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The woman looks up and a flash of recognition crosses her face. Emma recognizes her too, but she can’t put her finger on it. They both wave awkwardly before Emma heads to the stage and the familiar woman heads into the bathroom.

Killian is standing next to the stage flipping through the song book when she approaches, “Anything look good?”

“Hmm?” Emma can tell he’s in a different universe and she figures now is as good as any to tell him how she really feels about his Milah .

“Killian, I know you loved her… or love her… whatever. But she keeps you on this retractable leash so she can use you when it’s convenient for her.” Killian doesn’t look at her but she knows he’s listening. “I’m not saying her being a shitty person makes this hurt less, but Neal asked to come tonight… just something to think about.”

It’s her last comment that makes Killian turn towards her, “So you love him then?”

Emma should know how to answer that– she and Neal have been together almost two years, it should be easy– but when Killian poses the question, the correct answer seems to fail her completely.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

It’s a non answer, and Killian knows it, but Emma doesn’t have time to unpack her sudden stumble when posed with what should’ve been an easy question. She’s told Neal she loves him hundreds of times... so, why can’t she say she loves him to others? Something in the back of her mind whispers it’s because Killian is the one asking, but she shoves it down. They’ve had their chance– maybe hundreds of chances– and the timing just… never lined up.

She’s so deep in thought, she almost misses Killian’s answer, “Aye, that he is.” He looks at her intently, maybe expecting her to elaborate, but Emma is coming up short. She doesn’t understand why she couldn’t give him a straight answer– in truth, she doesn’t want to admit why. Somewhere deep down Killian knows this, because Killian knows her . He concedes after a few moments of silence, turning back to the task at hand, “Let’s sing the Grinch.”

Emma smiles, memories of their yearly Grinch Binge, echoing through her mind. Mary Margaret and David can be… a lot. They are very in love and don’t mind showing it off, so ever since they finally got together, Emma and Killian sprouted a few traditions of their own. Neal never liked Christmas movies, no matter how hard Emma tried to get him to watch even the easy ones like Elf with her. Killian loves them– especially the Grinch. So every year, on the Saturday before Christmas, Emma and Killian hunker down and watch every version of the Grinch they can find. When the new one came out last year, they went and saw it in theaters before watching the rest of them. It’s silly, and some of the versions are old and awful, but it’s their thing and Emma looks forward to it every year.

As the first chord hits, Killian still seems to be in his head, so Emma starts, “ You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.” She accents the words by singing in the lowest voice possible, and directing them at Killian. He’s clearly holding back a smile so she continues, “ You really are a heel. You’re as cuddly as a cactus,” she wiggles up against Killian causing him to burst out laughing before joining her for the rest of the song.

They sing it awfully, but neither of them even needs to look at the prompter. When it’s over they bow obnoxiously as Mary Margaret and David cheer. They break into a fit of laughter before hugging tightly. She finally composes herself when over Killian’s shoulder Emma sees something that makes her blood run cold. She must noticeably react because she hears a concerned, “Swan?” in her ear, but she can’t focus when it feels like the entire room is underwater and she’s drowning.

The name of the woman from the bathroom comes rushing back to her as she watches Tamara kiss Neal in the back corner of the bar. She recognizes her as the secretary at Neal’s office and suddenly all the pieces are coming together: late nights and business trips paired with a suspicious lack of increase in income. How could she be so stupid . If Emma hadn’t gone to hug Killian, she never would’ve seen them, her view blocked by the bright lights of the stage. But she did hug Killian and she does see them.

She’s going to be sick.

For a brief moment, she hopes Tamara just came onto him, and waits for him to push her away. He doesn’t, in fact Emma’s pretty sure Neal leans in further. Emma feels her face turn beat red. Before she can think about what she’s doing, she lets go of Killian and leans into the microphone, twisting her body so she can still see Neal and Tamara, “Neal Cassidy, we are done. Tamara, once a cheater, always a cheater but he’s alllll yours. Merry Christmas everyone!”

She feels Killian go stiff at her side when he realizes what just happened. She grabs his wrist, knowing full well his instinct would be to go beat the shit out of Neal.

It’s her instinct, too.

But, in an attempt to be a bigger person, she drags Killian (and herself) back to the table. As they approach, Killian is stoic, David is hiding his head, and Mary Margaret looks like she’s about to explode. Both halves of the annoyingly happy couple begin to talk, but hesitate as they clearly look for the appropriate words for a completely inappropriate situation. Emma cuts them off, “Shots? Shots. Bartender, please put these on Mr. Cassidy’s tab.” Killian goes to protest, but Emma practically pours the whiskey down his throat, subsequently ending their pity party for the night.

. . .

Mary Margaret and David are long gone, but Killian has been a worthy partner to avoid self-pity with. Somewhere between the three shots of Fireball and her third Captain and Coke, he assured her she deserved better while they threw metaphorical darts at each other’s significant others. She knows she should be sad about Neal, but the longer she spends with Killian, the less she seems to care. Maybe it’s the drinks, or maybe it’s the company, but Emma finds herself up on stage, one more time, with Killian cheering her on... much to the chagrin of the rest of the bar.

Emma isn’t sure what song she’s singing, when the host called Mary Margaret’s name Emma subbed in enthusiastically; she’s feeling good despite the events of the night and she’s ready to go. It takes two seconds for her to recognize Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” and only two more for her to start serenading Killian obnoxiously from across the bar.

But it’s all fun and games until the words you’re singing sink in.

“ I just want you for my own,

More than you could ever know”

The more she sings to Killian, the more she realizes the words aren’t very far off from how she feels about him, no matter how cheesy this song truly is. She’s always ignored her feelings for Killian, brushing them off as inconsequential and platonic– due to proximity and nothing more— but they’ve been nagging at her since he asked her if she loved Neal. Somehow, telling Killian she loved someone else would feel like the final nail in the coffin for any chance she had with him.

What is she thinking?

Emma feels the emotions bubble up inside of her until she’s practically overflowing– and then she’s literally overflowing… all over the stage.

It doesn’t take long for Killian to rush to her side, scooping her up and hauling ass to the bathroom. If she didn’t feel so sick, maybe she’d have room to be embarrassed. Killian doesn’t speak, just springs into action– holding back her hair, and keeping her comfortable until she’s entirely emptied out. She sits back, finally feeling well enough to register how embarrassing this situation actually was, but Killian doesn’t miss a beat, “Alright, Swan. Let’s get you some water. I’ll be right back, aye?”

He helps her lean against the wall and hurries out of the bathroom. Emma hangs her head in her hands while she lets the wave of emotions wash over her.

She’s very thirsty.

She’s very embarrassed.

She’s very in love with her best friend.

Fuck .

Killian returns with a glass of water and a toothbrush– how the fuck did he find a toothbrush? She finds she doesn’t really care and is just grateful to have someone looking out for her at all. Killian stands patiently in the corner while she brushes her teeth and downs the water. She turns to face him and maybe it’s the hydration, but she already feels better. “Well, now that I’ve topped off a perfectly shitty night. Are you ready to go home?”

Killian chuckles and nods before reaching out his hand to lead her from the bathroom and out of the bar. They walk hand in hand, swinging their arms between them until it gets a little colder and Emma finds she still has just enough of a buzz to go for it. She wraps her arms around Killian’s, hugging him tightly before resting her head on his shoulder. They’ve done this a million times, but tonight it feels different– she wonders if he feels it too as their pace slows and they walk in silence.

Emma’s always been on the search for that missing piece, the part of her that will undeniably make her whole. For a while she thought it was Neal, but she sees now she was trying to fit a corner piece into the center of her puzzle. She’d like to think, as they walk arm in arm in a comfortable silence, that Killian could be that piece, but she’s not sure. When she’s with Killian, she doesn’t feel like there’s a part of her that needs to be filled at all– not because he filled it, but because he sees her as complete.

Maybe this is how it's supposed to be– not loving in spite of the missing, broken, or faded pieces, but because of them.. Killian has loved her through everything. She’s just been to blind to see it as anything more than friendship– just happy enough to even have that. But what if she could have more. Mariah Carey starts singing in her head again and Emma feels like maybe she’s let her thoughts get out of hand, but when Killian’s thumb brushes gently over hers, she thinks maybe he’d understand, “This isn’t all I want for Christmas.”

Killian stops abruptly, “I’m sorry?” When he automatically apologizes, Emma realizes she needs to elaborate. Nerves course through her— years of heartbreak playing like a broken record in her mind telling her to put up her guard and run the other way. She’s not sure she’s ready for this— to share her entire self with him, but is anyone ever ready? Is there anyone she’d rather tell? The the resounding “no” that echoes through her train of thought which encourages her to continue on,

“No, no, I mean… You know when you’re a kid and you write out your Christmas list with everything you could possibly want and send it to Santa, and you are sure if you get everything on that list you’ll be truly happy?” Emma is positive she looks insane right now, but Killian is nodding and seems to be following along. “Ok, then Christmas morning comes and maybe you get one or two things off the list, but you already forgot about all the other things because just having this one thing is enough to make you happy. It’s not complete, and it’s not everything, but it’s everything to you at that moment?”

Killian nods, moving closer to her, brushing a stray snowflake out of her hair as the sky begins to open up making the everything around them feel a little bit more magical.

“Well, you’re my entire Christmas list and having you as a friend was the gift I was happy with. Just having you in my life was enough. From the time we were thirteen and you punched Robin for calling me a bitch, to the Grinch Binges, and junk food nights where we eat til we’re sick– I never wanted to give up any of it. I mean… 15 years of friendship...” Something in Killian’s eyes shifts and Emma starts to feel nerves rise through her body. She has to keep going before she chickens out again, “It’s not enough anymore.”

Killian looks like he’s about to apologize again, his eyes drooping in confusion, clearly not understanding her confession, “I’m sorry, Swan– I can try to be better– I know Milah she–”

“No, you idiot. I want more. I want the whole list. The entire Christmas list. All of it.” As Killian processes what she said, Emma stands there for what feels like eternity, heart more on her sleeve than it’s been her entire life. She’s about to speak again when he lunges forward into a kiss that can only be described as Christmas magic.

(Any other day she’d hate how cheesy that sounds, but right now her nerves are on overload and her lips feel like they’re on fire so she’s over it.)

They finally break and Killian rests his forehead on hers, cold from chill in the night air, “Swan, I’m s0r–”

“Killian Jones don’t you dare apologize.” He laughs and leans in for another kiss, this one softer but still affecting Emma just as much. They break again, and Emma feels Killian smile against her lips. She silently wonders if she’s too old to send a thank you note to Santa, or the universe, or whoever placed her right in this moment. Kissing her best friend is not where she thought she’d end the night, but now— in a crazy turn of events—it’s the only place she can imagine being. “Wanna head to my place, put on the Grinch, and make out a little?”

Killian laughs again before answering enthusiastically and taking her hand. “As you wish.”

And she does. As it turns out, Killian Jones satisfies every Christmas wish she has for the rest of her life. He also has the tendency to blast “All I Want for Christmas Is You” every year on their anniversary, even four years later when Emma knows for a fact the small onesie wrapped somewhere under the tree is sure to be Killian’s favorite Christmas present to date.

Even after opening the surprise gift, Killian assures Emma his favorite present will always be her, but when she hears him hum their song to little Hope in the middle of Spring she knows that’s not entirely true. (Still, Emma finds she doesn’t really mind.)

@mariakov81​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @nikkiemms @bawley-bug​

[yyparkq]

hooked

characters: park sungjin x reader

word count: ~3.2k

summary: park sungjin is almost a perfect boyfriend for you...until he abruptly starts being emotionally withdrawn from you a few months into your relationship.

genre: fluff, smut

tw: mentions of anxiety, unprotected sex, slightly toxic relationship

requested by @parksungjinsfan

a/n: had tons of fun writing this really warm and cozy sungjin, thank you for the request!! tbh, i always see him as someone i’d be comfortable to share everything that’s on my mind. and i feel like he’s one of the very few people who will never judge you for your stupid mistakes but is also someone who needs to be taken care of. im blabbering too much. enjoy the story! :)

There was nothing special on the day you first met Park Sungjin. Like any other normal college student, you were able to find yourself a small circle you can trust and have fun with. Because of them, you have encountered the seemingly quiet and mysterious guy from the engineering class. He was best friends with the guy your close friend, Erin, was dating.

If first impressions last, like how they say it does, you’re fairly sure you would barely get more acquainted with a Park Sungjin. Unlike you, Sungjin is more reserved with a constant hang of serious air around him, like the type of person who barely laughs when someone makes a joke in front of him. He doesn’t always hang out with a lot of people but when he does, he’s always got an earphone dangling in one of his ears as if saying he’s only halfway present. He dresses neatly albeit casually—oftentimes in a plaid or button-down shirt and faded jeans with his dark, wavy hair falling shortly before his dark brown eyes.

He’s a pretty decent guy but not really the type you see yourself to be dating. But when you accidentally met him at the movie house alone and decided to grab dinner after, you two hit it off so smoothly. Turns out you both share the love for the book that was recently adapted onto the big screen. You two talked over dinner nonstop about the movie, how it varies against the book, the great and bad parts that were changed, the cast that played the role, the cinematography, the lines. Your exchange that night was nothing but informative and honestly, you craved more to be with him after that night so you asked him to hang out with you again. Sungjin already had a perfect proposal to invite you the second time if you didn’t ask. His mind worked extra hard trying to keep up with the conversation with you while thinking about how to ask you out for the second time at the back of his mind.

It was a ticket to an international classical play that he had up his sleeves which you gladly accepted.

One impromptu date was followed by a few more. After classes, you will meet over snacks or spend time in the library, reading and studying together. On weekends, you will try to watch movies you find interesting or go to museums.

You dating each other has not been a complete secret from your friends and you’re glad at how supportive they are to your new relationship.  Somehow, you learned that Sungjin is actually an easy-going person, he talks and laughs a lot when he’s comfortable with the people he’s with. He’s knowledgable and he knows how to listen and strike up a healthy argument when needed even though sometimes he could be a little awkward and even seem standoffish.

Your friends think that your relationship is pure and innocent—almost platonic as one could say—but they couldn’t be any more wrong. Yes, you and Sungjin maintain a totally discreet relationship when you’re in public and with friends. It’s not like you have to tell anyone but you laugh inside when some of your friends ask about the status of your sex life. You never responded to such questions positively, not too comfortable in sharing such intimate details about your life with anyone, and somehow it painted an idea in their heads that you and Sungjin have never had sex yet.

The thing is, you two are fairly active in that regard. There is an unbelievably strong bond between you and Sungjin after the first date that is almost impossible for either of you to resist.

It was after the third date when you first give in to your desire. After spending time looking at ancient monarch artifacts and roaming around the museum, you were met with heavy rains the moment you stepped out of the museum building. Being in the middle of the summer, neither of you had attempted to check the weather that day for any sign of impending downpour that day. Your thin, white button-down shirt styled as a dress stuck to your skin as you both ran for his car across the parking lot, rendering your clothes almost transparent the moment you climbed into the passenger seat. The sight of you being wet and in close proximity with Sungjin didn’t help him control himself either.

“Would you like to come over to my place?” he asked coolly after giving you his spare jacket from the backseat to cover yourself. Even with his imaginations going wild, he’s still a gentleman in your eyes.

“Sure,” you nodded, well aware of what’s about to come next. It could be seen as taking things too fast but frankly, you didn’t care. You wanted this and it seemed like he did too.

You blushed when he flashed you that warm smile that reached his eyes before starting the car and driving away.

Sungjin refused to let you go home that night until you practically cannot walk. He fucked you senseless until you’re almost out of your wits, one orgasm after another until you’re quivering uncontrollably.

It has been five months since you started dating. Everything’s going pretty well in your relationship except that you are in no exception for fights and misunderstandings. Everyone says it’s normal in every relationship but for you who has barely had a serious relationship like what you currently have with Sungjin, it’s a foreign feeling trying to make amends with someone you’re romantically involved with and had to choose the next move.

This is the first major fight with him. The last five months of dating have been wonderful until weeks ago when you noticed that your boyfriend started withdrawing himself from you, physically and emotionally. This stressed you out though you still tried your best to be there for him. Whenever you two are alone, you couldn’t really talk to him about anything for more than five minutes. His mind obviously wandering off and he never realizes it when you stop mid-sentence until you’re parting ways. Whenever you try to ask what’s been bothering him, he just easily dismisses it off, saying he’s tired and he lacks sleep—which is also why you tried to limit your meetings after classes and dates, thinking it would help him a bit to spare a few more hours to rest. This side of Sungjin is completely new to you as you’ve known him for being so straightforward in telling what he thinks or feels and is usually logical with his actions. The fact that he no longer shares what’s bothering him makes you think of a hundred different reasons for being cold towards you.

Has he had enough of you? Did he realize you were too plain and boring for his liking? Were you not good in bed? Did he find someone else?

The blood on your face drained at the thought of Sungjin going out with some other girl. But you can’t stop him if that’s what he wants, can you? You can’t tell him how to feel. Of all the things, to be an obsessive girlfriend is one you’re dreading the most and after all the sacrifices and adjustments you made to try to help him with whatever burden he’s lifting, you’re determined to let him find the answers to his troubles himself. It’s not that you no longer want to help him, you love him too much, after all, but how can you help someone who refuses to help himself?

“Sweetie, have you tried talking to him again lately?” your friend, Yejin asked.

You glared at her and disappointment crossed your face. Has she really been listening to ask that question?

“No, I mean, I thought the last real conversation you had personally was like, what, almost two weeks ago? Did you try seeing him after class again after that?”

The three of you sat at your usual place in the coffee shop when your class was canceled by the professor to attend some personal matters.

Shaking your head, you reached for your cup and took a sip before answering. “I haven’t. He kept saying he’s tired and needs sleep so I gave him time to rest. And it’s been four days of merely receiving a text message from him. He won’t text me unless I text him first. I have no idea what’s happening to him,” you looked at Erin’s direction. “Did JB say anything?”

“That motherfucker doesn’t tell me any of his friends’ business, Y/N, but let me see if I can get anything.”

Even your friends who got closer to your boyfriend can’t think of him as someone who would cheat or be entertained by other girls. After a whole hour at the coffee shop trying to guess the possible reasons for Sungjin’s actions,  they suggested a silly plan of making him jealous to see how he responds when you’re on the brink of being taken away from him.

You did not like the idea. It was ridiculous and manipulative. You’re no longer in high school.  

“Come on, that could be a wake-up call for him. Just think of it as a social experiment and you’ll be fine,” Yejin tried to persuade you.

Ridiculously scary. Deep down, you’re also scared of how he will react to this plan. What if the situation worsens instead of getting better? He could just not talk to you again forever and you'll be dwelling in your own pain alone because of a stupid idea. But doing something is better than sulking and doing nothing, right? You’re young, and when you’re young, you can be stupid for free.

So you agreed and you started planning your own little scheme with your friends, hoping not to cause any further damage to your entire relationship.

For days, Erin made up stories about a guy from your class who is making a move on you and told her boyfriend about the plan to make Sungjin jealous. When JB said his best friend interrogated him about the innocent guy, she knew the plan will be going well so she came up with another without telling you.

As a celebration for the nearing end of the finals, your seniors decided to throw a grand party. Such parties should be considered a tradition already since almost everyone finds an excuse to get wasted after studying hard for the whole semester. You’re not one to miss such a celebration, especially when you ever really party during after the hell week.

Overhearing JB’s conversations with his girlfriend about some dude lurking around you has brought him back to his senses. For the last couple of days, he contemplated and reflected on his attitude towards you. He’s been a jerk to you lately and frankly, he didn’t know how to approach you again after that. He’s been too occupied in his own head that he forgot he actually has you now, someone who’s more than willing to share his troubles. Before he knew it, he was dashing through his car to the party where Yejin told him you’d be.

You came to the party to try to not overthink the problem between you and Sungjin. After surviving the finals week with emotional baggage, you know you deserve some booze to celebrate walking out of at least one thing alive. the last thing you hear about your little scheme with your friends is that Sungjin fired questions to JB. But he didn’t talk to you after that. Thankfully, you were also too busy to worry about your grades and it’s been a great distraction so far. Now that the finals are over, you’ll be damned again.

Sungjin found you scooping from a large tub of ice cream from the kitchen, bottles of beer and half-filled party cups surrounding you in the little space. There is a guy beside you laughing at the way you’re trying to scoop a frozen solid treat using a regular spoon. You’re too focused on what you’re doing that you didn’t see him come right in front of you.

To your surprise, Sungjin snatched the tub out of grasp and grabbed your hand. You needed a second to process what just happened but you are elated to see your boyfriend after nearly three weeks.

You let Sungjin pull you but were shocked when the guy beside you grabbed on your other wrist. What the hell? You didn’t even know his name. You saw Sungjin squint at the nameless guy and you immediately yanked away from him, wincing at the sudden jerk of your own hand immediately after.

Sungjin kept you to his chest as he waded through the sea of drunk people. All the while, you kept looking at his face. It felt months since you’ve been this close to him and at that moment, you were just ready to feed on whatever excuse he could say. He could lie to your face at that moment and you’d still be happy to welcome him back into your arms.

Merely a few feet from his car, you stopped walking and tugged on his arm. You slowly closed the distance between you two and encircled your arms around his shoulders when he turned to look at you.

Sungjin looked at your face closely, noticing you’ve lost some weight by the way the dimple on your left poked your cheek a bit deeper than the last time he saw you. His hands automatically found their way at your sides.

“I miss you so much,” you whispered while searching his eyes.

Sungjin leaned forward and kissed you feverishly. He guided you on your back until you are leaning toward his parked car. He pressed his body against you and you continued kissing until you both needed to gasp for some air. After resting for a few seconds, he began nipping and sucking on the sensitive area on your neck.

Proper communication be damned—you need him to touch you and you need it as soon as possible. You squirmed beneath him to try to close your legs when you felt wetness pooling in your panties but Sungjin’s left leg was pressed between your thighs.

He understood what you’re trying to do and immediately pressed a thigh against your core, amused to feel your wetness even through the material of your panties. His cock twitched inside his pants.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he repeated as he embraced you tightly and kissed your temple before opening the door and letting you inside his car drove away.

Sungjin's hands quickly reached for the zipper of your dress, letting it pool around your feet, as soon as you reached inside his apartment. In an instant, his mouth was back against yours. He lifted both your thighs to circle his hips and your arms circled his broad shoulders for support.

You felt his hard shaft poking your entrance and you reached down to undo the fastening of his pants, pulling the waistband down just enough to free his throbbing cock.

Sungjin hissed when you grabbed his cock and spread the leaking precum over his tip. “Shit-”

You bobbed your hand up and down his length until you felt being laid down on the mattress, your boyfriend hovering over you.

He bucked his hips lightly to your touch and buried his head on your shoulders, to suppress his sinful moans.

You felt his body shake and he peeled himself off of you. “Baby, stop.”

Sungjin lifted his body and kissed the side of your head before reaching out to remove your soaked panties. He kissed and occasionally nipped the inside of your thighs before nudging the tip of his nose along your slit.

“Fuck, Sungjin stop tea—” you shrieked and were cut short when he licked a stip between your folds. Your hands immediately found purchase at his hair, tugging at it every time he licked your core and sucked on your clit.

“Language, baby,” he groaned hoarsely before inserting a finger into you. He continued his ministrations to your core, adding a second and third finger shortly after. “Need to stretch you up a bit more, baby. Damn, you got tighter without my cock deep inside you huh.”

You tried to stop Sungjin’s hands when you felt your release nearing. But he didn’t budge. He even picked up the pace and encouraged you to let go.

“Are you cumming, baby?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded, unable to stitch words at the pleasure of having him between your thighs again.

“Words, baby. Use your words. Did you miss this? My hands and cock working on your pussy?”

“Sungjin—fuck, yes, I missed you and your cock inside me” you breathed and struggled to look him in the eye. “I missed you fucking me after classes.”

The memories of Sungjin fucking you in the most boring places brought you easily over the edge. In a few seconds, you are shaking uncontrollably and you felt your juices streaming out of your core deliciously.

Sungjin smirked as he leered at your pussy leaking out of cum. His hands didn’t cease its movements and continued to fuck you with his hands. Your whole body is almost quivering.

When he sensed you’re nearing your second orgasm, he grabbed his cock and positioned himself at your entrance. He coated himself with your juices before slowly pushing inside of you.

You stiffen for a short moment, trying to adjust to his size, and then slightly rolled your hips.

“I love you,” Sungjin whispered against your ear. “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, this time against your lips, before bottoming out and sheathing himself inside you again.

You cried out in pleasure as he started to thrust into you harder and chased your orgasm.

Sungjin remained sheathed inside you even after shooting his load, his cock warming itself pretty nicely inside your pussy as he cuddled you on the bed.

Neither of you attempted to strike a conversation. You were not sure about him but the activity rendered you rather tired. A sound sleep while being cuddled would be much appreciated at that moment. Until you heard Sungjin sigh loudly. You looked over at him and saw his eyes being distant again.

“You have that look again,” you started slowly. You propped yourself in one arm, looked at him with adoration, and stroke his cheek. “Babe, you don’t have to tell me everything all at once. But please, don’t push me away. I love you and it’s hard for me to see you suffer on your own.”

He was fazed by the sadness in your voice. How could he ever deserve a girl like you? The last thing he wanted is to disappoint and burden you with his own problems and he thought at first he’s been doing a great job with it.  

Sungjin took a deep breath. He reached for your hand on his cheek and kissed it, bringing your torso against his once again. All the major problems that took the most space in his mind were spilled. He told you the pressure his family is bestowing upon him with the graduation and board exams around the corner and also their expectations for him to continue the business his father started.

You listened to his troubles. At that moment you knew you just needed to understand him, to try to perceive things in his shoes.

Sungjin isn’t the type of person who openly shares every little trouble he has as he’s afraid to burden other people. He believes everyone already has problems of their own and own demons to fight and dumping his worries could just add to that. But, oddly enough, hearing himself talk about it kind of helped to look at the situation again and evaluate his feelings and actions. As he continued to tell you his worries, he realized that it isn’t so bad to share the burden with your most trusted person.

[koushisatori]

Anniversary

First of all: If you happen to stumble across this, please cut me some slack and be gentle with me. English is not my mother tongue, and on top of that, I got rusty by procrastinating everything (literally) for the last half-year (*μ_μ) I am apologizing in advance if something is weirdly written.

This is also my first ever piece of fanfiction, so I have to get used to that to :(( So if you got ideas or anything, I’ll gladly try to fulfill your wishes to simultaneously improve my writing.

Hmm, is there anything else? I hope not, and if there is, I’ll add it !! 

tendou x f!reader

genre: small bit of angst, fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.7k

note: /

__________________________________________________________

usually, your relationship with Tendou is smooth sailing, both of you decided to take the step of moving in together relatively early, exceeding the common couples limit by not only doing this barely a year into your relationship but doing so in a different country far from your family and friends

(both of you learning french together to survive a new life in an absolutely foreign country...however, the first months of grocery shopping were disastrous ) 

you both became a couple in your last year at Shiratorizawa, surprising absolutely....well,...no one, honestly

every person just seeing a moment of your interactions with each other would have guessed that you already were dating

Tendou and you were the embodiment of being disgustingly in love - like people see you and feel  s i n g l e wanting to have what you two obviously found with the other

(SemiSemi, to this day, shudders violently thinking about how he caught you two making out in the storage room a week after Tendou finally confessed to you <3) 

anyway

while Tendou followed his dream of becoming a chocolatier, you began to study - enter: stress

after finishing his required training he got a job at a high-class factory (everything his handmade and super expensive?? You’re just so lucky to be his better half and get to taste his creations for free)

they value his skills and invest in him to become better, but that also means that his time for you shrank even more

you understood that, of course, and it's not like you didn’t spend a lot of your times crouching over books either with being close to receiving your first degree

in general, your fights are stressed-induced, and as quickly forgotten as they came up bc...let’s not beat around the bush, both of you are shit at staying mad at the other, especially if it means cutting short the already sparse time you currently have <3

they’re usually about petty stuff, too

recently though it happens more regularly and they ever so slowly started to border on painful

he stays at work for longer to perfect his already otherworldly skills; and your patience is running thin with all the deadlines and exams putting immense pressure on you

both of you are just so unsatisfied and stressed and...so fucking tired

it’s always forgivable though

you don’t mind planned dinner dates turning into movie nights with him falling asleep on you after what feels like seconds

because he’s there, pressing his face into your side or stomach hard enough for you to wonder if he’s trying to suffocate himself, while his long arms are around your waist holding onto you as if his life depends on it

he doesn’t mind being splayed across your lap watching the latest episodes of his series while you type away on your laptop, even though you were supposed to enjoy a nice weekend lazying in front of the tv with him 

a forgotten date hasn’t killed you yet as well, but the amount of times it was currently happening allowed insecurities to have their way with you

both of you always make up for it one way or another (leaving an apology breakfast or even taking it to bed, buying flowers, sharing the sweet kisses you were supposed to enjoy the night before,...) 

but this time, he didn’t just forget to be on time for any date.

he completely missed your anniversary

you spend the whole afternoon cooking his favorite dish for dinner, making yourself all pretty for him, wearing the jewelry he got you for your birthday, it was some kind of tradition by now

just to be stood up, dinner turning cold and your mood sour

no message, no callback

around 11pm he - finally ! - gets in touch with you 

‘‘(Y/N)!! Bunny, did something happen? Did you miss me so much?’’

you could hear the dopey grin he was wearing while teasing you, one you usually loved, one that was contagious

but it didn’t help the pain and disappointment nesting in your heart, right now

he really didn’t remember

was the date so insignificant to him? were you no longer a priority?

you swallow around the lump in your throat, desperately begging your brain to not amplify your insecurities even more

‘’No...it’s...it’s alright, I just wanted to know when you’re home...’’ your attempt to keep the doubts and pain you experienced that second hidden was pointless, because even on the phone, your boyfriend was able to look right through you

‘‘Bunny what’s wrong?’’ he asks worriedly

normally you’d say that it was alright, that you’d speak later or directly say what was bugging you so terribly

this time...you didn’t feel like talking or maybe even fighting, scared that he might confirm your thoughts and leave you

‘’It’s nothing, Tendou,...’’ you hear him wince, you can’t remember the last time you called him that ’’don’t bother with me if it’s not as important to you.’’ 

‘‘Not as...’’ a moment of silence follows, in which he checked the date and, lastly, Tendou understood ‘’Oh. Oh shit, (Y/N),...Bunny, please, wait for me, please, let me explain...’‘

It’s not the answer you wanted (on the other hand, what answer would that be?)

‘‘I waited...and I’m tired,’‘ you add without thinking, hanging up before he even got the chance to answer

while you don’t want things to end...you can’t help but think ‘what if?’ - that thought alone though is enough for the dams to burst

With a soft groan, you blink your burning eyes open, noticing your spine protesting and pop from the uncomfortable position you fell asleep in. A glance at the alarm clock elicited another tired groan, the 4 on display mocking you. 

The burning and overall sluggish feeling controlling your body immediately reminded you of the things that had taken place. That his scent surrounding you arose solely due to his pillow in which you had pressed your face.

While you obviously weren’t on the best of terms right now, a small part of you was still hopeful and reached out across the bed in search for the warmth your red-haired better half usually provided. Unsurprisingly, your hand met a cold bed half.

An annoyed sigh later, you sat up and rubbed over your eyes angrily. You were hurt, which should be understandable, but remembering his overly happy tone even with evident tiredness underlaying it, you guessed that he didn’t stay behind on purpose and that, maybe, something good had happened. So to say, you as well behaved like an idiot.

Suddenly, you remember the last sentence you said. Realizing what it implied, you felt like banging your head against the wall. You wanted to be understood by him. What you didn’t want was to give Satori the time to allow his anxious tendencies to fester while he was alone, foregoing untrue, negative ideas. The fact that he still wasn’t in bed with you, was proof enough which lead to you cursing out loud.

While your last words towards him told something differently, you surely didn’t want to leave him or him to leave you. Both of you could work things out, you always did, and…well, you always hoped that it would stay that way until you had lived a fulfilling life as a couple, with grey hair and wrinkles taking your last breath together wherever life would lead the two of you.

The simple solution was to communicate like the grown adults you are. 

Determined to talk through it the way you should have done earlier and maybe...just maybe get some cuddles afterward, you swung your legs out from under the blankets. After you quickly put on some warm, worn-out socks, you quietly leave the bedroom and tip-toe through the hallway.

You expected the apartment to be silent, to be dark. What you didn’t expect is the soft light coming from your shared kitchen. Or the clinking noises of bowls and pots colliding lightly, lowly muttered, sleepy curses, and even quieter sniffles interrupting the barrage of words from time to time.

Upon hearing those little sounds - no doubt coming from your anxious boyfriend - your heart clenched painfully in your chest. This is your injudicious doing. Straightening your back, you stepped into the kitchen, slightly squinting against the much harsher ceiling lights assaulting your eyes.

The original plan was to offer a heartfelt apology, and follow it up by an honest declaration of love and the proposal to talk about everything. There were a lot of things that needed to be cleared up between you and Tendou. But after entering the kitchen, you came to an abrupt halt.

Your eyes wandered, lingering on cuts, burns, and blisters that blemished your boyfriends' pretty fingers. Slowly, your gaze continued to move up his arms and shoulders, tensed and screaming out his fear of losing you. For a moment, you hesitated, but you eventually lifted your gaze to meet his wide eyes, as red-rimmed and puffy as yours. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Normally, you would find it adorable and stretch your hands out to cup his cheeks (not to pull him down, definitely not) and press a kiss to his lips...but right now? You really just felt like crying, seeing your Satori so heartbroken over something you said carelessly in the heat of the moment.

Suddenly wincing, Tendou quickly pulls back his hand to his chest away from the hot stove. Yet, he did not dare to break eye contact with you. Seemingly afraid that what he currently saw is nothing but a sleep-deprivation induced hallucination. That you would just vanish if he so much dared to even think of blinking.

The stupor rooting you to the spot though vanished in favor of closing the gap between the two of you to help him.

‘‘Tori...’‘ you croaked worriedly, eyes flickering down to his hands and back up to his watery, sad eyes. ‘‘I’m so sorry,’’ you whispered. Any louder and your voice might break. ’’...let me take care of you.’‘ 

You turned off the stove before you gently tugged Tendou behind you to the bathroom. Making him sit on the edge of the small tub, you gathered everything you needed to patch him up with rehearsed movements.

For a while, both of you were silent. 

You carefully worked on disinfecting cuts and putting special creams on the different wounds and burns, while not hurting him any further. Concentrating on ignoring the thick tension of untold apologies, and fear. Doubt weighing heavy on the two of you. 

Meanwhile, Tendou couldn't help but admire your features. Your soft hair - faintly smelling like peaches and anis - falling into your face, hiding away your pretty (Y/E/C) eyes. He loved to get lost in them. Or how your tongue poked out between your lips in concentration and the little scrunch of your nose when you thought that you could have done better. 

Even in this hazy state of mind, he knew for certain that he would try to hold onto you for as long as possible. That he would do anything to make you forgive him.

After you finished gently wrapping band-aids (silly ones with colorful patterns just the way you both love) around his fingers, on his palm, and back of his hand, he quickly moved them to hold onto yours.

‘‘Don’t leave me.’‘ Tendou's voice is just above a whisper, and if you wouldn't have been that close to him as you were, you would have missed it. But you could hear him, and your eyes immediately met his, filling with tears all over again.

‘‘Satori, I’m-’‘

‘‘(Y/N), please...please, don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. Of course, I care. Our relationship, you...nothing’s as important to me as you are. It was the only thing keeping me sane that last week. I don't know why I forgot about it. I truly feel horrible.'' he started. ''Please, believe me. I love you so, so much. I...I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to.’’ Even with his voice quivering, it was crystal clear just how serious his words were to him. 

He needed to get it out in the open. There was no way in hell that he would allow any doubts about your relationship to fester in your mind.

‘’I was held back to talk about the upcoming Christmas preparations that I’m supposed to be leading this year, and then I was called into the boss’ office and I couldn’t check my phone,’‘ the desperation to explain still evident, Tendou resorted to rambling about the happenings of the day.

‘‘I’m sorry for hurting you, but Bunny, I beg you...I know that we haven't had enough time those last weeks, that we didn't have any if we’re honest. I understand that you must feel neglected. I will change that, give me a chance to make you forgive me, please.’‘ 

It wasn’t like you wanted to cry again, but the tears rolling down your cheeks seemed to have a mind on their own. ‘’ ‘Tori...’’ you sniffled, your voice breaking away at the last syllable. ‘’Can I hug you?’’  

The relief on his face spoke volumes, and before you even got the chance to make good on your words, he already stands tall in front of you, enveloping you tightly.

Securely wrapped up in Satoris’ arms, you feel like coming home after months away. Or like taking in the first gasp of fresh air after holding your breath underwater for too long. With Tendou holding onto you like this, you found the strength to answer.

''I'm sorry, too...I love you so much, and...I know you always have a reason, and it was childish to hang up on you and leave you worrying alone instead of talking to you. And...if you neglected me those last weeks, then I did the same. We both were too busy for each other...'' 

After a short pause, you ask: ''B-but we can work it out, right?’’ Slowly, you looked up to him. ‘’I want to spend my life with you, Satori. Don’t listen to dumb me 5 hours earlier. 5-hours-ago-me was so stupid, and petty, and does not reflect my true wishes,’’ you added. ’’No one of our old friends wanted to put up with me the last week because I’m so head over heels in love with you and all I do is tell them ‘’You should have seen what Tori did for me’’ and what I plan to do for you...I can feel them roll their eyes from the other side of the world!’’

Suddenly aware of your very honest words, you pushed your face against his chest to hide your burning cheeks. Embarrassment painting them in a pretty hue of pink. 

Tendou hadn't realized that he had actually held his breath listening to your words until he chuckled a bit breathlessly. The remaining tension possessing both of your bodies faded away after that, allowing you to relish in the feeling of having the other in your arms again.

After a while, you bravely gazed up at him again, even with your cheeks still set ablaze. ''Come to bed?'' And with a sweet smile, one that reached his eyes and made your heart stutter, he nodded. 

Things between the two of you weren't ideal quite yet, Tendou kknew that much. But they would be. Tomorrow would be a new day. You would hopefully agree to celebrate your anniversary a day later. He hoped, that you would agree to spend it with him from the first second you woke up to the very last before you fell asleep. You will hopefully enjoy the news that his promotion was topped with holidays that allowed you to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with your families in Japan.

He also hoped for you to say yes when, surrounded by your friends, he would ask you to marry him under the Cherry Blossoms in spring.

Things weren't quite ideal, but watching your peaceful expression while sleeping on his chest, he knew, all the up and downs were worth powering through. He would embrace every hardship if that meant keeping you by his side forever.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Jack Goodman

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Most of these can probably go for both normal jack and ghost jack but the hcs center around him being amongst the undead. I wouldn’t mind writing some hcs specifically for human Jack though)

- You first met Jack in highschool. Initially, you were friends with David who was in a few of your classes, but soon enough David introduced you to Jack and the three of you became a trio.

- Jack fell for you the moment he saw you, or at least couldn’t help but find you incredibly attractive. You probably thought he was just nervous when you first met with the way he was stumbling over his words and acting so awkward. Gosh, David had a field day with him after you left.

- To Jack, you’re completely out of his league and there is no chance that you would be interested in him. But he has to try. Too bad his “trying” isn’t nearly as obvious as he would like it to be.

- The two of you gradually spend more time together, going from only hanging out once in a while; and only with David, to hanging out for hours on your own. Every time you’re together he tries to psychically project his feelings into your mind.

- Its nearly a year later that he actually tries to put the moves on you but at that point you’re such good friends that you don't even notice what he’s trying to do. Every proposition of a date is just him asking to hang out. Every romantic compliment or pickup line results in you laughing and telling him to stop messing around. He doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

- When the three of you graduated highschool, you’d decided that you’d take a year off and vacation in Italy. The boys wanted to go backpacking so they agreed to meet you there. Of course, they never really did, did they?

- You were beside yourself when you heard about what happened. Here you were, in the middle of a foreign country supposed to be having the time of your life and instead, you find out that one of your best friends is killed by an animal and that the other is recovering in a London hospital. Jack was dead, it was like the idea wouldn’t register in your mind. Jack was dead and you’d never see him again.

“Y/n came to my funeral. Gosh, she really looked torn up,” Jack smiled at David almost sheepishly. “Do you think now would be a bad time to tell her how I feel?”

- It was a few days after his funeral that you first saw him again. You though that you were going crazy, that your grief had gotten the better of you and you were having a serious lapse in your sanity. But it all seemed far too real, too detailed to be a hallucination.

- After hearing about what happened, you’d cancelled the rest of your trip and went back home. You’d holed yourself up in your room for a week before you finally forced yourself to go outside, though it was only to attend Jacks funeral.

- You were curled up on your bed, still dressed in your funeral attire and feeling utterly miserable as you fumbled with a book you’d borrowed from the boy for your plane ride to Italy. The room was quiet, save for you sniffling, ...up until a sudden voice rang out.

“You never did get the chance to give me that back.”

- Your eyes widened as you clumsily sat up and turned around. There he was, standing in the doorway to your bedroom; torn and bloodied but there. You watched as he walked inside the room, smiling at you as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. Feeling the mattress sink under his weight was what fully convinced you that you weren’t just going mad.

- Your mouth went completely dry as you looked at him. You couldn’t think of anything to say even as you tried your hardest. All you could manage to get out was a “how” and a clumsy sounding “what”.

“How ya doin y/n/n? Wonderful service wasn’t it. I was glad to see you there. I think my parents were too, they always liked you,” he said sweetly though the words held a bitter air. “You know, I was thinking about sticking around here a bit. You said I was always welcome and, well, being around the dead all the time is really starting to bum me out. I much prefer your company.

- You inched closer to him, placing a tentative hand on his cleaner shoulder before moving it to touch his undamaged cheek. His skin was cold but you could touch it as though he were really there. Letting out a sob, you lunged forward, smushing you’re lips against his cheek and pressing your forehead to the side of his head.

“Well don't get all mushy on me now.” 

- True to his word, he did stay, albeit in intervals. Every now and again, he’d disappear for a while but he always came back and was seemingly content and relieved to be around you.

- Its not very long after he comes back into your life that he finally confesses his feelings. He figures that, hey, he’s dead, what else has he got to lose? So one night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, he enters your room and kneels beside your bed, delicately shaking you awake.

“Y/n/n? I know its late but I’ve been sitting up and thinking. Thinking about my life, all the things that happened, everything I should have done. I realized that I didn’t do much at all. I mean; I should have met more people, went out more, slept around more.” he chuckled softly though it sounded more like a scoff than anything else. 

“But you see, I can live with all of that, or, well... nevermind! The point is, that there was one thing that I should have done that I never did, something that I can’t just let go of. …I should have kissed you Y/n. I should have kissed you and never stopped. I was an idiot, I was an idiot because I never told you how I felt when I had the chance. Well now I’m a lousy mess of ghostly meat but I’m going to finally tell you.” He paused, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves. Even in death, he was a coward. 

“Y/n. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you and never once has that love gone away; …not even in death. I know this isn’t very orthodox and that I’m not a very nice looking corpse either. …And maybe this whole thing is insane and I never should have said anything at all!” He spoke as though he finally realized how bizarre the situation was, an nervous edge in his voice. He paused and collected himself before speaking again. “…but I did say it, so now we’re just gonna have to move on from here.” 

- None of his dreams could have ever prepared him for the sheer shock and joy that he felt when you told him that you liked him too. 

“So you’re saying we could have been together all of this time?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. With a tired smile, you beckoned him into your bed and laid back once again to go to sleep, this time with him by your side. 

-  You had your first date in your house, cuddled up on your couch and watching movies. It was just like any other day yet different at the same time. It felt right. 

- The two of you shared your first kiss that same day when you were saying goodnight to each other. You were going to go to bed and he wanted to stay up a bit longer so he walked you to your bedroom. You both paused at the door before he leant down and kissed you gently, saying goodnight with a smile as you retreated into the room. 

- And so, the dead joined the living... in her small studio apartment. 

- Jack is sort of an indoor boyfriend so to speak. He’s a ghost; and a mangled one at that, so you can’t exactly be seen with him out in public. 

- He’s a bit clingy. He’s pretty much always alone when you’re not around so he hates when you have to leave him.

- I hope you don't mind gore because his isn’t going away anytime soon. 

- Please let him kiss you. Please. He is literally begging you to makeout with him.

“I know the face is a bit messy but my lips are still perfectly intact.”

- Humor is sort of a defense mechanism for him. Whenever he’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say; or how to say what he wants to say, he’ll just keep cracking jokes and trying to make you laugh in an effort to ease the tension.

- Getting surprise visits. He’ll most definitely scare you with the way he just pops up wherever you are, though its hard to stay mad at him when he says that he missed you. 

- Sudden butt pinches and grabs. He puts his hands behind his back whenever you turn to look at him, glancing away and whistling before looking at you with a little devilish smile. 

- Jaw kisses. He loves them and he loves giving them though he uses his for evil. 

- Cuddling? He loves it though it may be a bit difficult with his …injuries. You'll usually lay side by side and hold hands while you sleep or you’ll clutch his hand  to your chest and snuggle into that. 

- You can’t exactly go on dates so you’ll have to find things to do at home, unless you want to go somewhere very secluded. 

- Picnics in the woods. 

- Late night walks. You’re pretty much only able to go out with him when it’s dark, otherwise you’ll have to pretend he’s not there which certainly puts a damper on things. 

- Curling up on the couch together with some hot chocolate and a corny sitcom. 

- Giving him some goddamn toast. There's not much to eat in the spirit world and god does he miss your cooking. Would you mind making him something?

- Talking to a corpse is boring. To him, you’re a much better conversationalist, even if you think you're a bad one. 

- He has a bad habit of speaking when he shouldn't or saying the wrong thing. Nowadays, there’s not too many instances where that's a problem though it’s certainly earned him a few glares from you. 

- Lovingly calling him meatloaf and chopped liver. He …tolerates it; only because you look at him so sweetly when you do so. 

- Is he legally obligated to say your name; at least, twice during every conversation of yours? At this point, you’re honestly pretty sure he is. He doesn’t use nicknames though he doesn’t have anything against them, he just prefers saying your real name. 

- He has kind eyes, doesn’t he? It seems like whenever you turn to him, he’s always gazing down at you with this sincere look of absolute adoration. It makes your heart skip a beat every time. 

- Jack is a bit naive when it comes to girls or, rather, girls he’s in love with. He always believes what you say and falls for your devilish little tricks. 

- David definitely teased him relentlessly for his crush on you and was betting on the two of you getting together. The circumstances aren’t the best but at least it happened, right? 

- He’s a fan of old literature and makes references to it whenever he can. If he finds out you haven't read his favorite novel, he will literally sit you down and force you to.  

- Teasing compliments. They aren’t the most romantic but hey, they still make you smile. 

 “Baby there is nothing mediocre about your body.”

- He likes sitting in your bathroom while you take a shower so that the two of you can talk. He also likes doing it so he can watch you shower but you like to focus on his interest in what you have to say, it’s much sweeter. 

-  He’s a horny boy, even in death. Are ghost boners a thing? Well he’s certainly gonna find out. 

- Being welcomed home by a smooth jazz record and him patiently awaiting your arrival with a somewhat suggestive grin.

- Every time you say something all lovey dovey to him, he swears his heart nearly starts beating again. He never knows what to say back, he usually just turns red and laughs all shyly.  

- He makes a big deal out of your birthdays, he doesn’t let you just forget about them or treat them like any other day. You’re alive! You’re another whole year older! …Fuck! …You’re aging and you’re going to keep aging.... He’ll try not to think about that part. 

- Getting to hear little bits of gossip. No one can see him so he’s certainly witnessed some interesting things, interesting things he likes to tell you about. 

- Nosy ghosty. He snoops around your stuff constantly. He’s practically memorized your entire house down to a T. 

- Having to accept that there’s a lot of supernatural things in the world. Werewolves, ghosts, and who knows what else; they’re all real and your life has just been completely normal up until now. 

- Getting to have all of your questions about death answered though some of the more painful things, he’ll keep a secret just because he doesn’t want to make you upset. 

- I feel as though his looks can depend on his mood and also the type of spiritual day it is. You know how some days are considered more spiritual than others? Well on those days, he’s normal, looking very chipper and with a lot of energy. On bad days, he’s practically a skeleton with a few flaps of dried up skin. 

- He usually hides away during his bad days, not wanting you to see him like that and be scared away. You reassure him that you’ll love him no matter what but a part of you is sort of thankful. You don’t know if you want to see him all horribly decomposed. 

- He does get jealous. I mean, he’s a ghost, you're human. Plus, he was a loser in life, why wouldn’t you pick the attractive living guy whose hitting on you over him. 

- He uses humor to pretend like he isn't bothered by the guys actions but will call him an asshole or something otherwise insulting later when you're alone together. Like out of nowhere, he’ll make some offhanded comment about the guy and you’ll realize he’s still mad about it. You just agree with him and give him a kiss. 

- A part of him; a selfish, disgusting part of him wishes that you were dead. That something would happen to you, something quick and painless but something. On one hand, he wants you to live the life that he couldn't. But he also can’t help but want you with him, encased in eternity as beautiful as always and just how he remembers you. 

- He used to be more of a coward but now that he’s dead, he really has nothing to fear, does he? The only thing he’s worried about is your wellbeing. 

- You’re very good at changing his mind and convincing him to do things. He defends himself by saying its because he likes you so much and that you should consider yourself lucky that he does. 

- He’s not stupid, maybe a bit cowardly at times but not stupid, if something doesn't feel right he’s getting the hell out of there and making sure he takes you right along with him. As much as he’d love an equally undead girlfriend, he knows you aren’t ready to go and shouldn’t be going. 

- He’s quite protective of you. He hates even thinking about you being hurt in any way. He literally can’t even hear about it in hypothetical situations. 

- He cant stand seeing you cry. He never knows what to say or do. He always yearns to comfort you but god, how does he do that? He’ll usually just rub your back and let you cry into his shoulder, trying his best to crack some carefully selected jokes in an attempt to make you feel better. 

- He can be annoyingly persistent when he wants something. He wont let up so unless you’ve got real thick skin and the patience of a saint. You’ll wind up doing what he asks just to get him off your case. If you don’t do it for him, he’ll wind up doing it for himself anyways so don’t sweat it too much.

- There's constant short lived bickering between the two of you. It’s just how he is. He’s a smartass, especially when something bothering him and highly argumentative when something doesn’t sit right with him. You don’t have all that many real fights though. 

- He apologizes when he’s in the wrong or when he feels that he could have handled things better, shyly and jokingly pleading with you to not try and exorcise him while pressing little kisses across your face. 

- He doesn't say he loves you very often. He deems it a very serious thing to say and saying it makes him nervous so he keeps it reserved for special moments. 

- Well, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon so I hope you’re ready for a long relationship. 

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

On assumptions, understanding, belonging and love.

Moments in Martin's journey understanding other people and finally himself.

or

Martin's journey in understanding, accepting and loving his asexuality.

a/n: some quick notes: Jon is sex repulsed, Martin is somewhere between neutral and favorable. While Tim and Sasha dont exactlty say they are aro they are! Jon is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns and i desperatly wanted to explore that but this is already twice as long than intended-

also while I am (half) Bolivian and speak spanish I am not at all fluent in Tamil so if there is any mistakes lmk! hope you all enjoy!

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

Sasha had convinced them to go get drinks together, as it had been a rather stressful couple of weeks since Martin came back from the siege of his apartment by Jane Prentiss.

Sleeping in the archives was not exactly helping the situation for Martin, or Jon for that matter.

So they decided to go to a pub and try to force a sense of normality everyone really needed.

Martin was having a great time, with the relative calm and safety he hadn’t had in a while, even Jon had something like a smile playing on his lips as Tim told a story from one of his university mates that had accidentally thrown his roommate's engagement ring down a drain. 

Martin zoned out for a bit, enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and his friends laughter and Jon’s animated movements that indicated that he was talking about something he actually found interesting.

 Jon was apparently telling his own story with some relation to engagement, something about a girl at a wedding that had acted strangely, Martin caught something about “purposely spilling wine on her dress”, which Martin agreed was quite wierd. 

“She was totally trying to woo you, Jon.” Sasha said as Jon got to the bit where they had to help her find some clean towels in a storage closet. 

 “I assumed she was just having a rather hard time,” Jon said, seemingly only now thinking of the implications of spilling wine on your dress and then faking needing help, to be fair to Jon that was a very weird tactic to pull and Martin would not have put two and two together either.

“Well what did you do in that closet then?” Tim asked with an incredibly over the top suggestive look. 

Jon pulled a face then, Martin thought it looked rather endearing really with his nose all scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, but he was clearly uneasy. 

“I don’t- I don’t really do… that sort of thing.”

Martin snapped back in the moment, feeling a weird but familiar anxiety in his stomach as the conversation lulled. He felt rather protective for a moment, instinctively knowing this seemed important. This turned out to be rather unnecessary, as Tim spoke up again quickly.

“Oh,” He and then, earnestly, ”I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jon.” 

And then Jon smiled, properly, like he didn’t often and waved his hand dismissively but pleased.

“Thank you, well it's not like you could have known that, but anyway as I was saying-” 

 It was but a moment, but it stuck with Martin for a bit, mulling it over and not really understanding his own reaction.

 Eventually Martin settled back into the pleasant buzz, enjoying his friends chatter and Jon’s over exaggerated hand gestures.

-

It was an uncharacteristically slow day in the archives, not a worm in sight and Martin had only a bit of boring research to do for a very clearly fake statement.

Martin usually tried to be nice about it but this one featured a guy named “Richard Dickson” and was entirely about a fever dream someone had about a haunted accordion, he had listened to the recording that Jon had emailed him and it sounded like even he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at it.

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Sasha said as she handed him back the statement. “Sure, I know we are being attacked by a worm woman but I really hope we can draw the line at haunted accordions that play spooky renditions of High School Musical and a prophetic dream guy called Dick Dickson.”

She was laughing too and Martin thought that she looked better than she had in awhile, it was nice, seeing her like this. 

“Well at least I won’t have to stay extra time for the research of this one, I would go home early but.” he shrugged and gestured in a you know the whole staying here cause of a worm woman situation, she gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well I am leaving early, got a very fun evening planned.” she said with a wink.

She had looked really rather excited and somewhat giddy all day, Martin realized. 

“Oh,” Martin said, “Who is the lucky person then?”

Sasha looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, slowly blinking at him, then the penny dropped.

“What? Oh no, I mean- Tim I guess, we usually have a sort of movie night every once in a while, this one is extra special though, because I found this book about the categorisation of demons, it’s partially in latin? Tim said he would help me look into it. ”

Martin felt his face heat up, feeling the urge to profusely apologize, Sasha continued however:

“It’s not like that though,” she said with a rather annoyed look, and then somewhat softer, “I am not really a dating kind of person, you know?”

Martin wasn’t sure he fully understood what she meant, but that was fine and she was clearly still very excited, so he relaxed.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed, I do hope it’s not one of those books Jon goes on about, they aren't exactly...friendly.”

Her eyes lit up once again.

“Oh it's definitely not a Leitner! I do look out for that sort of thing, the interesting thing about the book is though-”

And she went on for a bit, the moment somewhat unimportant in a way but it still churned in Martin’s mind. 

-

Things with Sasha...shifted after the Jane Prentiss attack, everyone had different ways to cope with trauma of course, Martin knew that.

Maybe that was the thing really, while Tim, Jon and Martin himself were having a hard time processing (even if Tim and Jon refused to properly acknowledge it) Sasha seemed fine, a few weeks of being shaken maybe and she was now back to her regular old self. 

She even had a new boyfriend, Martin had no idea why that irked him so much.

He’d said as much to Tim, who was sitting next to him while both slacked off from their jobs on the stairs to the back courtyard of the institute (why there even was a courtyard was one of the great mysteries of this place).

Tim looked uncharacteristically solemn, seldom did he let his walls down like this. 

“I thought I was in love with her you know,” he said rather suddenly, “I mean we’ve been friends for years now and there was- is no one I would rather spend time with, so I mean if not her then- then who?”

He sighed and Martin made comforting noise, trying not to break whatever spell had made Tim genuinely speak about his feelings. 

“I mean I figured out I wasn’t in love with her before this whole...thing, we talked about it, I think? Some stuff is hazy. Just- I shouldn’t be jealous you know? She is allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.” Martin said seriously.

Tim sighed and leaned into Martin, who enveloped him in his arms.

“Sure, doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck though.” 

And well there wasn’t much Martin could say about that.

After a bit of comfortable hugging silence Tim spoke up.

“Maybe her boyfriend is a vampire though, I totally get to be jealous about a vampire.”

“Tim don’t say that.” he said, trying to hide a smile. 

“What?” Tim said, pretending to be serious, “Everything is possible Martin, worm women and all that, I could obviously not compete with a vampire and their sexy glittering skin.”

Martin shook his head, not able to contain his laughter anymore.

“Can’t believe you are exposing yourself as someone who watched Twilight.” he said.

Tim smiled wickedly up at him from where he was still half cuddled into him.

“The fact that you got that reference exposes you in turn,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “Check mate.”

“Touché.” 

Then Tim stood up and said: 

“Well, Time to go back to our trans containment zone.”

“The fact that we just happen to be trans and were transferred to the archives is a coincidence.”

To that Tim only answered: “Trans-ferred Martin, can’t you see? You cannot call that a coincidence.” winked and back in through the door he went. 

Martin let out an exaggerated long suffering sigh.

Back inside they walked to their respective desks.

“Well lets hope work gets lets shit.” Tim said. “That’s such a low bar, and yet.”

“Paciencia y fé.” Martin said, which was in his repertoire of spanish phrases that just didn’t pack the same punch in english along with “ya pasara” and “digamos que si”.

Tim shrugged.

“Don’t think whatever grandmother made up that phrase could have imagined it being applied to our situation.”

“And yet we still have to hope for it to get better don’t we, see it works.”

Tim flashed him one last smile as he sat at his desk and Martin went to put on the kettle.

-

Martin had assumed Jon’s I-don’t-do-that-sort-of-thing included dating as well and it hadn’t bothered him really, he enjoyed clinging to his crush to Jon like a small steady comfort, even if he knew it wasn’t actually going to amount to anything, there was no harm in day dreaming after all and Martin was perfectly capable of caring about him as a friend too, it was harmless.

Of course the fact that he now knew Jon had been staying at his ex-girlfriends place and the fact that Jon might actually date people didn’t really change anything.

At least that is what Martin tried to tell himself as he shakily poured two cups of tea and mustered the courage to walk to Jon’s office. 

And he was at least a little right, even if Jon dated people, even if Jon would return his feelings (which Martin really did not let himself dwell on), these were particularly unfavourable circumstances to start a relationship, there was the matter that neither of them was able to string together a conversation, because the mundane ones sounded so inane and hollow and the important ones required being genuine and vulnerable and they might just be somewhat allergic to that. 

And there was the matter of the impending apocalypse they had to stop.

Martin knocked on the door and he heard a soft: “Come in, Martin.” from the other side of the door. 

The office was a mess as always and Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and had aged about ten years in the last few months. 

But Martin’s breath caught in his throat anyway because, as was usual for Jon now, he also looked just a little more...comfortable, as you could anyway. They were wearing a hoodie with cats on it that was just slightly too big and a long flowy patterned skirt. 

Jon clearly caught martin staring because he ran his hand through his hair a bit self-consciously and said: “I know it goes against dress code, but I think you get a pass after you get kidnapped by an evil circus.” 

“Oh I mean, you look nice, I mean it looks nice on you. I didn’t mean to uhm, stare?”

“It was- I was just joking.”

“Oh.” 

They just stared at each other, painful silence falling over them. 

Jon broke the silence clearing their throat.

“So... you brought tea?” They said.

“Yeah, it's for you.” Martin said and immediately cringed because who else would he have brought Jon’s favorite chai exactly the way he always takes it.

Jon smiled though, reaching out to take the cup from him. Their hands brushed just a little and Martin's brain briefly shut down and he realised that maybe he should admit to himself he was really hopeless and too far gone.

That is though, how he ended up stupidly staring at Jon’s hands and how he spotted the shiny black ring on the middle finger of his right hand. 

“Thats a nice ring, don’t think I have ever seen you wear jewelry before.” 

That seemed to snap the tension out of the moment a little, Jon looked down at the ring and smiled a little.

“It's an ace ring,” they said, “I used to wear it a lot a while back, not sure why I fell out of the habit, but now I guess I think I am allowed whatever small comfort I can get.”

They were looking at the ring and then at Martin. 

Martin wanted to freeze the image right there, at the small not quite guilty smile Jon had as he looked up at him, at the feeling that things were OK, good even just for a bit.

Then something fell off Jon's desk and they both startled, flinching at the sudden loud noise. 

All the worry and tension flooded back into the room immediately.

“Right.” Jon said. “Did you need anything else?” 

Martin wasn’t sure how to even answer that.

So he just shook his head and started to leave.

Just before he was about to turn around Jon called his name, Martin turned around to face Jon that seemed to be fighting for the words he wanted to say.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled a sad smile.

“Anytime.”

-

It’t not that Martin had never heard the word asexual before, or that he didn’t know Jon was ace, he’d just never dwelled much on the actual meaning of it.

He had however never heard of ace rings before and he gave it a google for curiosity's sake. 

A black ring usually wore on the right middle finger to indicate the wearer is asexual (“ace”). 

It seemed nice to Martin, small token of your connection to a community, of course his curiosity did not end there, he had assumed previously Jon didn’t do relationships at all, and if he did, what did asexual mean then?

He found out rather quickly that asexuality was about sexual attraction, and aromantic was another thing all together, he also found out that asexuality didn’t mean a person couldn't have a libido, or like sex.

And maybe he just stood there staring at his laptop screen for a while knowing that sexual attraction had never really made sense to him, maybe it felt like something clicked.

And so knowing he definitely did not have the time or the emotional energy to deal with it he quickly closed his laptop, he had an apocalypse to stop and a boss to dispose of after all.

-

Martin was trying very hard to read Hija de la fortuna by Isabel Allende, every other sentence he sighed and grabbed his phone to look up a word the meaning of which he didn’t know.

It was frustrating, he once had been almost fluid in spanish as a child, but then his dad had left and his mother wasn’t able to and didn’t want to maintain his fluency. He hadn’t exactly had time or money for classes either and so now he attempted to regain some of it by watching movies and reading books.

It was not just the language of course that made it hard, Martin was so entirely full of worry. It was rare he got to spend a day in his flat these days, usually cooped up in the Institute hiding from something, or at the side of Jon's hospital bed talking to him, reading to him on occasion.

The anxiety, the fear, the pain, it had festered into Martin, the tiniest sounds made him jump and even when he got tiny little moments in which he wanted to, needed to, rest he still felt like a watched prey animal, or the full force of grief threatening to crush him.

Today he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, nothing remarkable had happened in a handful of days and it made him uneasy, he was waiting for Melanie to call him about a new attack, he was waiting for Peter to summon him with a weird cryptic request. 

And you would think that with all this other worry he wouldn’t be fretting about his sexuality.

But apparently there was plenty of anxiety to go around for all the areas in his life and he just couldn’t get that moment, months ago now, out of his head.

He sighed at set the book aside, grabbing his phone and opening google.

He felt like he was 14 again asking his mother what gay meant and getting only a nasty look in return, or 17 and anxiously looking for a book about being trans in the library. 

It was silly to look it up and read articles about how to know you were ace, because he already knew somewhere, but he desperately needed the confirmation.

The third or so blog post he opened was about a woman in her 50’s that had recently figured out she was ace.

Its freeing  the article read it’s freeing to be who you are and to understand yourself better, even if you aren’t sure, its OK, it will be OK.

Martin was only crying a little, he laid down his phone and stared at the wall.

He thought about how he had never quite fit, he wasn’t quite english, not with the people asking him where he had come from or asking his mother as a child where she had gotten him from. He wasn’t Bolivian either, he had never been there, his spanish was limited, he could only cook about three and a half recipes that the internet had taught him.

He had never been a woman and he would never fit what society thought of as a man. And what that exactly meant for his relationships.

He never understood other people, but he never thought he was bad enough to seek help for it.

Sexual attraction was vague and he didn’t get it, but in the few relationships he had had in the past he hadn’t minded sex, he enjoyed watching a nice movie together just as much but there was a nicety to it, especially taking care of someone else, having them unravel infront of you. And he had found it weird that he didn’t want anything back, that he felt uncomfortable sometimes.

He imagined he meant he was wrong, like with everything else Martin Blackwood also couldn’t do that right. 

But maybe there was something here, in Martins corner of human experience, in the small stack of books about Bolivia that he read, in the trans pin on his backpack and patches he sewed onto his clothes, in calling himself gay man even if that didn’t cover the nuances because it felt good, in the chew necklace that hung around his neck because it eased his anxiety.

Just like all of those things, Martin was ace, he wasn’t wrong or broken he was just different and there were all those other people who were different too and it was nice. 

And Martin was crying because of the overwhelming sense of belonging, and because he finally understood Tim when he had once asked “But what does romance even mean, Martin?” and he would never get to tell him, because this is yet another thing he and Jon could have talked about if the world had been kinder to them, this is something he could be talking about to Jon if he wasn’t in a coma.

But even in these miserable circumstances Martin made sense to himself a little more and no one could take that away from him.

-

The past week in the safehouse had been a whirlwind of emotions, but both Jon and Martin were trying, trying hard to heal, to learn how to feel safe again, to love each other.

For all that trying they hadn’t talked about it much, it was hard still, but Martin was quietly holding on to the hope that they would get there.

Today had been quiet, with the biggest setback being that Jon had found it hard to find all the ingredients for the sambar he wanted to make for dinner. 

“I know it won't be like my Pāṭṭi (பாட்டி) taught me, but you would think they would at least have coconut.”

Martin found their grumpiness adorable, reveled in the mundaneness of this worry. And he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter when they finally had found coconut and Jon had held it up triumphantly.

The food had been delicious and now they sat on the couch, it was hard Martin craved touch so dearly but it was like stepping into hot water after standing on ice for a while and Jon flinched so often, not used to not being hurt and sometimes Martin’s unnaturally cold skin brought up unpleasant memories. 

They could have wallowed in guit and yearning, but they were both stubborn, and so even if it took a while and millions of slow movements and asking if something was OK they managed. 

So it was that Jon had his legs draped over Martin's lap, enough to bring comfort, not too much as to be overwhelming, and their hands were lightly on top of eachother.

Jon seemed pensive, but not worried, Martin shot him a questioning glance.

“We went at this in such a sideward way,” Jon said, “I mean we live together now but we haven’t really...talked about it. We never- we never asked?”

There was a beat of silence where Martin just looked at Jon and then a smile spread over Martin's face.

“Jonathan Sims do you want to ask me out?”

Jon averted their gaze in a way that meant even though Martin couldn’t see it they were definitely blushing.

Martin just couldn’t contain his delighted laughter.

“Must you laugh at me,” Jon said, faking offence, he was also smiling now.

A bit of seriousness returned to his voice as he spoke up again.

“I don’t care that we have done it all backwards Martin,” they said, “But, I love you.”

And as he said that Martin stared at him, mouth agape and his heart thundering in his chest, he lost his ability in any language. Jon said it firmly and securely and Martin really didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the feelings he had, Jon continued however. 

“And we don’t have to do anything but it just feels like we are dancing around several conver- Martin? Are you alright?”

It was only then Martin realised he was crying and he could only ask:

“You love me?” 

Not because he didn’t know, but because sometimes you just need the confirmation.

Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course I do.”

Martin wanted so badly to answer him, to reproach but he couldn’t, not yet, instead he blurted.

“May I kiss you?”

Jon smiled, a tad nervously.

“That's sort of what I wanted to talk about,” they said, “boundaries?”

Martin understood the necessity of such conversations he really did, but it did not mean he was going to enjoy them.

It did come as a surprise however that Jon suddenly got very nervous and said.

“I mean- I just- I am ace, Martin.”

Martin cokced his head in confusion and said:

“Yeah, I know.”

Jon mirrored his confused look.

“You do?” and then more sour, “You listened to the tape?”

And fine Martin admitted to himself, maybe they should talk more.

“No? You told me, like ages ago.”

Jon laughed, relieved, happy.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ironically my memory is foggy. It has been a rough couple of...years.”

Martin hummed something of affirmation, because he also knew this seemed like a nice moment to come out, and he felt the very familiar anxiety in his belly. Idiotic anxiety because Jon was also ace and there were no stakes in this situation at all. 

Maybe it was just the fact that he had never said it aloud.

Martin heard himself speak:

“I think I am too,” and he could hear how stupidly nervous he sounded, “ace, I mean.”

There was a vague ringing in his ear and if he had been in the position to he might have just run out of the room, apparently facing down unknowable monsters didn’t make coming out easier.

His fear was cut down by the fact that Jon was absolutely beaming at him.

“That's great!” they said, “I mean not that I would have minded if- but it is nice to have someone understand, that's all.”

It was, it was amazing to have Jon here smiling up at him holding his hand and understanding him.

“It really is,” Martin said, then gently bringing the back of Jon’s hand to his cheek and leaning into it, “Doesn’t mean we don’t have to talk boundaries though.” 

Jon smiled at the small gesture and then said serious:

“I don’t want to have sex, ever.” 

Martin knew it sounded like people had tried to debate them on it before and it made his chest ache.

“I know,��� he answered and then because honesty was key, “I am not adverse to it, but obviously if you don’t want to, we won’t, ever.”

Jon sat up a bit then, lifting his hand from Martins and gently cupping his cheek. Martin's pulse quickened, his hand moving almost automatically to Jon’s arm.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“It's nice,” Jon said, smiling a bit cheekily leaning forward,  “So long as it isn’t tongue kissing that is.”

Martin leaned forward until their breaths mingled at their lips where all but touching.

“May I kiss you then?” He asked, breathless.

Jon could only nod and they both leaned forward the last inch.

Time must have stopped for a bit as they kissed, gentle and full of a thousand promises. 

They both moved away from the kiss gently, they were both tearing up a little, Martin felt so much so strongly and he pulled away from Jon completely.

“Just need a moment.” he said and smiled at Jon's reassuringly if a bit shaky. 

“Take all the time you need,” Jon said and then softer, “Anything you need.”

And Martin was sure he had never loved anyone more. 

-

On the fourth day of their third week in Scotland Jon had gone to run some errands in town and had come back with an incredibly nervous air about him they were sitting across from Martin at the table twirling their hair and checking his pocket every once in a while.

It was making Martin incredibly antsy and by the third time Jon had looked like he wanted to say something only to then go back to the crossword he was definitely making no progress on Martin had had enough.

“Sol mio,” Martin said, very much enjoying Jon’s wide eyed flustered he always got when Martin called him pet names. “Will you please tell me what is wrong.”

Jon looked at him sheepishly.

“There is not something wrong, per se.”

Martin gave him a look.

Jon sighed and stood up, grabbing a small box from his pocket. 

“Nothing is wrong I just… bought something for you beloved.”

Martin very nearly had a heart attack when Jon opened the box and there was a ring inside. Upon closer inspection it was a beautiful black ring and Martin understood. 

There was silence as Martin could do no more but stare at the ring and then at Jon.

“I see how a ring might come over as a gift now,” Jon rambled nervously, “it is not like that- I mean that is something we will have to talk about. I was afraid it would be too much? It is engraved too and I just hope I didn’t-”

Martin cut him off: “Jon let me see it properly.” 

Jon handed him the ring.

Martin lifted the ring out of the box and saw the engraving on it.

 நான் உன்னைக் காதலிக்கிறேன். I love you. Te amo.

Martin promptly sat down again, it was so sappy, just a tad ridiculous and stupidly cute. It hurt in his chest and tears stung in his eyes.

“How did you know I wanted one?” he asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and said:

“You were talking a few days ago, about how you would like something like a- like a token, to remind you and I thought an ace ring might be nice.” 

They lifted their right hand.

“We match now.” 

Martin silently moved to put the ring on, it fit perfectly. He ran his fingers over the tiny groves of the words on it. 

An anchor. 

A small reminder that he belonged, here in the world, here with Jon. 

Martin stood up and gently enveloped Jon in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Jons hair as he placed a small kiss on top of their crown. “It’s perfect.”

[lord-explosion-baku]

Socks (For Lack of a Better Title)

Mirio x F!Reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing (??)

A/N: I do not write for Mirio basically because he’s the epitome of sunshine and I don’t think I’d be able to grasp that well enough (he’s too good for me!!!), but I had a small smut idea for him and it’s a very special guy’s birthday. I love them and they deserve the world, but I can’t give them the world so they can take my smut.

“A sub??”

You ignore your other slack-jawed peers sitting around in the same circle you’re in and take a sip out of your bottle, keeping stern eye contact with Mirio Togata, who’s staring at you incredulously because you’ve just deemed him a submissive. You let the frothy liquid slip down your throat and smack your lips, as if to point out that you haven’t said anything too out of this world. You repeat yourself with even more nonchalant confidence with a shrug. “Sub.”

“I think I can kinda see it,” says Kirishima who sits perpendicular to you, but it seems that he’s only trying to back you up because nobody else will. Mirio looks to him, mouth agape, but he keeps his smile present. Pink dusts his cheeks, either from the beer or your accusation. It’s cute and you stand by your point.

“I don’t think so,” Mirio finally chides, taking a swig of his beverage. He looks to his socks, then to you, and you lift a brow.

“Care to dispute my claim?” you say, taking a business-like approach, as if you’re in civil court and your friends around you are the judge and jury.

“Sure,” he says, “I think I’m pretty dominant.”

“Do you have witnesses?” You slap back without thinking, and your friends around you snicker. You don’t actually want to know if Mirio has slept with anyone in the room. In fact, you hope he hasn’t. You and the ex-permeation user have been growing closer if the past couple weeks, and you haven’t been too sure what that closeness entails besides sporadic boba runs and last minute studious cramming. Since the incident that’s left him quirkless, you’ve made it a point to let him know how important he is to you, and you’ve feared that maybe, while trying to be there for him, you’ve made it seem like your relationship is nothing more than platonic. Still, he’s never talked about girls and you’ve never asked, but you’ve mostly hoped that maybe you could be the girl he talks to other people about.

“I’m innocent until proven guilty!”

“That’s exactly my point! You’re innocent. You seem like the kind of guy that would ask permission before doing anything.”

“Is it so bad to be a gentleman?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think you’d have an easier time if someone else held the reigns and guided you.” You pause, trying to think of the perfect thing to equate Mirio to, and your face lights up when you come up with, “a puppy! You’re like a Labrador retriever. Ready to please and receive commands and such…”

“Okay, I can definitely see that,” Kirishima, who’s quickly becoming one of your favorite friends, chimes in.

“A puppy.” Mirio considers this, mouth pushed to the side in that cute way it goes whenever he’s thinking hard about something. He decides not to battle that, instead turning back to you, and asks, “then what do you think you are? A dom?”

Another wave of snickers bounce around the room and you can’t understand them. Is the idea that wild? You don’t think you come off as someone more passive, but until that moment, you hardly considered yourself a dominant either. Now you can, if only to spite your doubtful friends.

“Sure! I would say that I am!”

“What makes you a dom, and me a sub? I’m not doubting you,” Mirio says, though the tone of his voice suggests otherwise, “but I am curious!”

“For one thing, it would mean that the two of you are compatible.” Yaoyorozu, who mostly stays silent during these kinds of discussions, nods to you. You could either kiss her or kill her. She’s dealt with you mooning over Mirio plenty of times in the past, so her adding that in might’ve done a good service for you, planting the idea of you and Mirio together in his head, but you’re now the physical embodiment of the monkey-covering-his-eyes emoji.

“A dom that’s been nursing a beer for the last hour and a half…” you hear someone who’s having a different conversation say. As if your drinking habits have anything to do with you in bed.

“I wanna hear what Ms. Lightweight has to say about this issue.” Mirio grins at you and you can tell that he finds your flushed face amusing. You’re so embarrassed that you can’t even remember your real reason for calling Mirio a sub to begin with!

Throwing any hope of sounding intelligent out the window, you point at Mirio’s feet. “Mr. Togata is wearing socks, your honor.”

The room goes silent. You hear a silent, “socks?” from some faceless individual outside your vision.

You continue, scrambling, “a true dom would make a decision: keep their shoes on or take everything else off. It’s the indecision that says Mirio would’ve done much better if he had someone else instructing him.”

Mirio looks to his socks and you can almost see an exclamation point above his head. You might’ve made a valid point by the looks of it, and he doesn’t say anything more when he sees you wearing your shoes, thank goodness.

Someone says they’re through talking about socks and shoes and the conversation moves to a topic more interesting to the masses. You can’t help but still feel a bit flushed. Two out of five times you look Mirio’s way, you catch him staring at you. Of the remaining three times, he catches you staring at him, and the sixth time both of your eyes meet seemingly at the same time, he smiles. It’s not the same smile he shares with the group for when Denki Kaminari says something stupid. This smile is warm and genuine, with a hint of curiosity.

You make a decision to get up and excuse yourself, explaining the the one beer you nursed throughout the night has made you sleepy. You brush off friendly objections and make your way to the stairs. You don’t go up before looking back at Mirio who holds the same curious expression he did before. You part your lips and climb the stairs. You hope he doesn’t know how embarrassed you are.

Once you’re in your room, you make no rush to get ready for bed. You’re not actually all that sleepy; you just spent too much time around everyone else when you really would rather have just been with Mirio. You think about texting him— maybe he’ll wanna see a movie tomorrow, but as soon as you decide against it, there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Mirio, a sockless Mirio, leaning against your doorframe. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, he says, “I’m here to dispute your claim.”

Your cheeks grow hot. He can’t mean… he can’t really mean… anything by that. Could he? You’re so struck with bewilderment that you don’t even realize you step to the side to let him in until he’s gliding past you. You close the door and hear a surprising click! You did that, but you don't remember making the decision to lock your door.

Your room has never really seemed too small to you, not until you see Mirio standing in the middle of it, talking in all that is you: your thoughtless tchotchkes, your messy bedspread, your various posters, until finally his eyes land on your bookcase.

You don’t know why you’re suddenly so embarrassed about the collection you’ve got going on. You’ve got Paula Fox and Khaled Housseini— books that you could speak endlessly about, though at the bottom shelf, you have books that you read in middle school that you choose to ignore, but haven’t wanted to part with.

You step in front of him with intention, but Mirio is so much bigger than you, and he still manages to read out loud, “Broadway Musicals of the 1980’s?”

Your blood boils. “You wanted to… dispute your claim?” you urge, trying to draw his attention away from anything other than your books, but Mirio isn’t having it, probably sensing your embarrassment. He has to get you back somehow.

“You’ve got… quite a few books about musicals…”

you clear your throat. “Your claim?”

“In a moment— what’s this?” Mirio reaches around you, his arm just barely brushing against your stomach. You swallow harshly, bringing yourself into full defensive mode, because you know what he sees: a bottom shelf book about vampires that you failed to put back on the bottom shelf!

“I love musicals!” You admit, turning to face your bookshelf. You seat his hand back and you’re too aware of how close he is behind you. Your heart flutters, very unlike a dom, but he isn’t allowed to see the look on your face.

“Do you?” He asks with genuine curiosity. It could have easily been something to tease you about, but he doesn’t. Instead, he asks you to talk about your favorites, particularly the ones from that damned book, your lifeline.

You speak. He listens, only asking a few questions about things he’s genuinely curious about. You wonder if he actually came to your room to do anything, or if he just wanted to check in on you... because he’s your friend and a good one at that.

Your breath catches when he snakes his arms around your waist. You feel a chill while he moves his face through your hair to find your neck, and suddenly you’re jelly as lips press against your skin. He kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder, large hands squeezing your sides and you think you’ve lost your sense of sight, the second thing to go after you find yourself unable to speak.

Mirio grins against you, lips brushing farther up your neck. You allow your eyes to close and lean your head to the side, granting him more room for his lips to roam. You try to steady your breathing, but it’s heavy; you’re too obvious and Mirio knows you’re trying not to sigh.

“Keep talking,” he purrs, fanning your ear with warm breath, but it’s not him. At least, it’s not the Mirio you know. This Mirio’s voice is deeper, aggravatingly alluring, dark and husky— a fantasy you didn’t know you had come to life.  “I wanna know more about 42nd Street.”

You’re certain he’s teasing you now and you want to be mad about it, but you can’t. It’s sweet that he’s paying more attention to your words than you are. You could keep talking after you’ve gained some ounce of composure. Hell, you could babble his ear off until the two of you lose the mood and decide to do something else to pass the time. You have board games— you could easily beat him at a game of battleship, but will you truly be winning if things escalated to battleship? Figuratively speaking, you could keep speaking until Mirio eventually trails his hands down past the hem of your pants, but, figuratively speaking, that would mean he’d win. He’d be the dom making a mess of you while you held no power, and you aren’t going to let that happen.

Screw battleship. You had a boat right behind you and you’re going to steer it.

You turn abruptly to face him. This catches him off guard for a split second and you use that to your advantage. You reach up to the back of his head, grab a fist full of his surprisingly soft, not-so-gelled hair, push yourself up against him, and your lips collide with his like stormy waves crashing against unsuspecting beaches. Mirio’s quick to grip onto you from behind, pulling your body flush against his hardened chest. He’s warm and you feel good pressed against him. It’s not fair. It’s not fair because it’s not enough.

You run your tongue along his— he doesn't taste like beer like you expect him to. He tastes faintly like Colgate washed out a couple times, and a more prominent minty flavor. You grin against his lips. He must’ve stopped by his dorm to brush his teeth before he came to you. He wants to taste good for you and he does, but he doesn’t want you to know that he wants you to think he tastes good.

You eye your bed, the goal. Your hands slide down to his shoulders and you add a bit of pressure onto him, trying to push him back all the while you struggle to deepen your kiss is far too apparent. Trying to move Mirio is similar to trying to move a mountain. He pulls away, eyebrows raised, with a complacent grin that tells you he enjoys watching your struggle. You huff.

In a higher, more loving voice, Mirio asks, “what is it, girl?” while cupping your cheek with his large hands, and you vaguely recall comparing him to a Labrador retriever while you tried to explain yourself earlier. You scowl back at the motionless mountain and his grin widens. He brushes his thumb against your pursed lips. “What do you need? You may speak”

Even though you know Mirio is only taking on this contemptuous persona to prove a point, it infuriates you. Frustrated, you leap up at him, wrapping your legs around his torso, and striking. him with another deep, impassioned kiss. He stumbles back a bit, and you think that maybe you could win, but the sturdy Mirio catches himself with one leg, pushes back, and slams you into the book case.

You gasp at the short pain pinching your back, but it’s nothing compared to the sensuous feeling of Mirio’s desperate lips grazing your neck. You moan, one hand holding onto Mirio’s muscular shoulders, while the other grips the second highest level of your bookshelf. Paula Fox falls to the floor, followed by Khaled Housseini, and you couldn’t care less.

You find yourself craving more of his touch, more of his warmth, more of his skin, so you grip onto his jacket and usher it off of him. Mirio holds you up one handedly while his free hand rips through your blouse, the buttons of your shirt scattering to the floor to dance around Fox and Housseini. You knot your fingers into the back of his shirt and whine. In the position you’re in, you won’t be able to get his damn shirt off, and he doesn’t hold that same predicament. He’s able to unclasp your bra with singular, nimble fingers and that joins your buttons, your tattered shirt, and your books on the floor.

“Mirio,” you hiss through your teeth as his own teeth graze one of your puckered buds. He doesn’t stop, but he looks up at you tentatively. He slides his pink tongue out to lav over your sensitive nipple, and your body melts into him.

“Bed,” you say with less ferocity and Mirio complies, bucking you up so that you’re even higher and easier to carry towards your mattress.

Mirio’s knees reach the edge of your bed and you try to use the weight of your body to make the both of you topple over. He laughs in response, seeing through your obvious advances, and swings you around to the bed, but you kick your legs just enough that you land on your feet on your sheets, towering over him.

You feel a little ridiculous standing on your bed when it should be used for much more than that, but you’re finally able to get his shirt over his head. If you weren’t flushed enough before, you certainly are now. Everyone has seen Mirio naked, there is positively no avoiding that, but there’s something different about being right in front of him, feeling the heat of his ripped body so close to yours that make your stomach turn to knots. He chuckles at you because you don’t realize you’re gawking.

“Yeah?” He says, both as a question and an affirmation. Mirio isn’t one to say something as preposterous as, ‘this is the real deal,’ but he says so much more with a simple, ‘yeah.’

Instead of replying with a ‘yeah’ yourself, the easy route, you grab his hand and lead it to your side. His eyes mellow as he runs the back on his pointer finger up and down your body, over to wear the waistline of your jeans. He kisses you right above your naval, then right below it, and your body shivers in response.

“So soft,” he muses so quietly that you can assume it’s not meant for you, rather he’s voicing his thoughts aloud. His fingers go to the button of your jeans, but he pauses, purses his lips, and narrows his eyes.

You begin to fret over the thought that maybe he’s finished. Maybe he’s come to prove a point and just by getting you flustered and topless on your bed, that point has been proven— game over, goodnight, see you never, bye. Then his eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow gently.

“Can I?” He asks, pulling slightly on your jeans.

Mirio Togata is a glorious mountain, a cute Labrador puppy, and a polite gentleman. You find victory in the fact that you were half-right about something, and despite being absolutely charmed by the man who you’re going to let fuck you senseless, you must gloat a little bit.

You bring your thumb and forefinger to his chin, tilt his head up, and say, “I don’t know. Can you?”

Mirio’s eyes flash and you can see the heat of desire in his longing stare. The pools of his eyes grow heavy as he unbuttons your pants, kissing you right above the hem of your underwear, and says, “let me.”

And you do. You let him. You let him ease you down, you let him push your body onto the mattress, and you let him relieve you of your jeans, your bottoms, your doubts, your inhibitions. And it’s fine, and it’s good, because his cheeks feel fantastic brushing against your skin, and his tongue is extraordinary teasing you between your thighs.

Mirio is a gentleman and the way his tongue paints maps against your quivering heat would be charitable, if not for the fact that he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. He hums when you sigh, tentative to every twitch of your body, every sudden gasp you elicit, every surprising tug your tangled fingers give to his beautiful, golden hair. Mirio draws coils deep within your belly, building a tension that’s dark and deep, until he has you arching your back, squeezing your eyes tight, and seizing as pleasure bursts and breaks and floods the entirety of you.

When you’re no longer grasping at the sheets and you’ve gained some sense of composure, you look down to see Mirio practically wagging his tail, ready to receive affirmation— praise for a job well done. You smile and pet his head, probably a little too smug with the picture he portrays even though you’re wordlessly thankful for all that he’s done, and say, “good boy.”

The eager look on his face is replaced by something more mischievous. He brings his lips to your fluttering bliss and gives it a long lick, calling back your senseless shaking.

“M-mirio,” you mewl, shaken and overly-sensitive to his treacherous tongue. “What are you—? I’ve already—!“

His fingers edge the center of your desire while he pushes the rest of his body closer to you. He levels his head with yours, fingers running circles between your thighs, causing you to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Have you?” He asks, even though he knows too damn well that you have. He captures a wistful moan with his lips, tasting your pained pleasure as if it were only an appetizer for a grand feast.

“Yes!” You say breathlessly just as his fingers curl into you. Your mouth hangs open and he watches you lose your mind with delight.

“but you’ve been such a good girl,” he whispers huskily, slowly pumping his fingers, setting you up to blow you away, “and I might not be so innocent.”

He bites into your neck and you claw at his back. It’s only then that you realize he’s lost his pants. You don’t think he realizes he’s slowly grooving against you, erect and throbbing, and your eyes roll back imagining him inside of you.

“I want you…” you whisper as his tongue glides against the shell of your ear.

“Mmm?” His low thrum tickles you in a way that’s both sweet and enticing. That’s what he is… sweet… you want him to know that you think he’s sweet. You want to make him feel good, too, maybe even while demonstrating that you still have some fight in you, despite your shaky hands and uneven breath.

You reach down and gently pull his hands away from your center. You roll on top of him so his back is to your headboard and you look down on his cute, surprised face. You lean down to give him a sweet peck. He sighs against your lips, “you’re beautiful,” so you kiss him again, deeper, memorizing the curve of his lips and relishing the soft groan he gives when you reach around to grab the base of his cock. You pump it, edging yourself closer to him until the two of you are aligned.

The tides of his eyes are heavy with need while his palms smooth over your thighs. You bite your lip and look towards his abs, clenching and unclenching from anticipation.

“Let me?” You say, posing it as a question, when really you know he wants it just as badly as you do. His answer comes when his hands grip tightly onto your hips and he pushes you onto him.

You roll your hips, wielding a steady rhythm, only allowing Mirio to keep shallow and slow thrusts as you get used to both his length and his girth. He’s breathy while the head of his cock accepts most of the attention; he’s sensitive and you can tell by how he shudders every time you sink a few centimeters lower on him.

“Please,” he rasps, and you don’t realize it until you see his brows furrowed above desperate azure eyes scanning over you that you’re torturing him and he’s letting you. Your hands cover his and guide them up and down, picking up your pace until you’re finally hitting his hilt.

You moan, loud enough for anyone in the next room over to hear, though you’re relieved by the fact that most of your friends are probably still downstairs, playing the same game that’s lead you and Mirio here.

Your name teases his lips, lost to a mixture of swears and grunts. The yes, god, please, fuck, you feel incredible, god’s fill the room just as much he fills you. You groove against him, skillfully trying to keep hold of the reigns, but Mirio’s strong body has more control over you even while he’s the one against the sheets.

Mirio’s large enough that you feel a stretch and the thought sends jubilant waves cascading throughout your body. He thrusts into you, making you cry out in glee and pleasure while bouncing on his shaft. Sweat wedges between your motor bodies and you don’t care, because  it’s wonderful; you feel him. You coil around him, nails imprinting tiny crescents into his muscular back while his lips roam your collar bone, your chest, your breasts, until they find yours, and he kisses you like it’s his god-given right.

You’re in ruins when he tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your face away, still close, but not close enough that you can kiss him once more, just enough that you feel his panting fanning your face. He eyes hold you steady— you don’t think you could look away even if you wanted to— and tears prick your eyes when you’re swarmed with the realization of what those beautiful, round eyes hold: adoration.  

Mirio loves you, and he’s displayed that not only with your ambiguous friendship, but with the way he’s handled you on this singular night. Even while trying to prove a point (he’s the dom), he’s shown restraint. Even when he slammed you against the bookcase, he could very much have hurt you more than that simple pinch, but his arms guarded you and kept you safe and still.

Hell, he could have ripped your pants off at any second of the night, but he wanted to make sure that you wanted the same.

Mirio loves you and he’s displaying that now through his touches, through his whispers, through his liquid eyes that show much more than fiery lust and circumstantial desire. They show care, and devotion, and reverence. You want to tell him you feel the same, but you feel a tugging pulse from your belly.

“Mirio,” you choke out and just as you feel a jolt, he stutters inside of you.

He grasps your sides and flips you onto your back. He says your name likes it’s a hymn as he hammers into you, praising you with loving kisses and nips. You squeeze around him, feeling the surge build up and spill out. You can’t let go of him while your body sings pleasure and gratification in energetic waves flowing up from your toes to your shoulders— overwhelming ecstasy taking you over.

He spills onto your sweat covered stomach, bowing his head against your shoulder. Your fingers tickle his sweat covered back and you coo at him, happy. He lets his body hit the mattress next to you and he stares at your body like he can’t believe what’s happened.

“You-” he breathes, but shakes his head, deciding that whatever he was going to say can’t amount to what he’s feeling.

“You,” you agree, sinking into your pillow. You’re not sure that you can believe what happened either, only the evidence lays out clearly through the tingles in your fingers and the mess on your stomach.

He tries again. “That was—“ but he’s at a loss for words. You brush his hair back and kiss him. He wraps his arm around your torso and brings you into a warm, already-too-familiar embrace. “Should I get like a towel or something?”

“No,” you say, “not yet. I’m happy here. I’ll probably just shower anyway.”

“Can I join you in that shower?”

You snicker. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Hey.” You feel him grinning against your shoulder. Then, he laughs. “Don’t forget to take your socks off before the shower.”

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