#which Nodding at how Romantic Love comes up in there but as a Wrench In The Gears vs destiny or even true solution(tm)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

lavender marriage / beard for the soulmate or timeloop au

[sharksnshakes]

Hi I'm doing this on anon bcs I'm embarassed of how fast i'm asking this lmao butttttttt

...will you write a part two to the tim drake x reader?

PLS I BEG

You have a crush on Tim... and to your surprise, getting his attention won't be nearly as hard as you thought. But he keeps reminding you of Red Robin? That can't be right.

AN; part one can be found here. not sure where i'm going with this yet BUT expect a part three. and maybe something else with kon. in my titans era

Wordcount; 1.1k

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking, making out (you'll see)

As luck would have it, you're at the same hole-in-the-wall bar the next weekend. Red Robin sighting aside, cheap drinks are cheap drinks, and now you're crowded around a rickety table with the same friends as last time. Plus Tim.

A week's worth of deliberation has lead you to the conclusion that you have honest to God romantic feelings for him. Sure, Red Robin turned your head, but chances are slim to none that you'll ever see the dark haired vigilante again. Even if you did, you know nothing about his personal life! You don't even know his name! How could a relationship possibly work out?

You're doubling down your efforts, which is why you're wedged up against Tim's side, nursing a cool drink in your hands and refusing to feel bashful about the outfit you've got on tonight. Tim never goes out, ergo, he's only ever seen you in the baggy sweats and oversized tees you show up to lecture in. It's the perfect opportunity for you to dress up and flaunt your assets. If it worked on Robin, it'll work on Tim.

Right?

"Havin' fun?" You ask, glancing over at him.

Tim looks out of place, to put it mildly. He is the heir to Wayne Enterprises, after all, and you love him dearly, but his vintage sneakers and expensive-smelling cologne don't exactly fit in with the sweaty crowd of coeds.

"I think so?"

You smother a laugh. "Hey, at least you're not holed up in your apartment cramming for another test."

Tim frowns gently. "Yeah. You're right."

It feels like his comment holds some second meaning that's flying right over your head. You'd ask him about it, but before you get the chance, one of your mutual friends is grabbing you both by the wrists and dragging you into the makeshift dance floor.

After about fifteen minutes of bouncing and singing and laughing, the fragrant smoke and crush of bodies start to get to you. The music's pounding. The air is heavy. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the uncomfortable, oppressive feeling away.

"Hey." Tim appears at your side. He's got a steadying hand on your shoulder and his lips are practically on your ear. "Y'okay?"

If you weren't short of breath before, you definitely are now.

"Need some air," you shout back, fighting to be heard over the speakers. "I'll be back in a minute."

Tim's hand stays on your shoulder. "Let me come with you."

You want to tell him he doesn't have to. This is his first night out in ages, and the last thing you want to do is throw a wrench in it by dragging him outside; when you look at his face, though, there's genuine concern and care in his eyes. You nod.

"Lead the way," Tim shouts, and you reach for his hand as you push through the crowd. His fingers wrap firmly around yours, steady but not overbearing, and a horde of butterflies descend on your stomach.

Tim doesn't drop your hand until you're outside, sucking in the nighttime air. It's sticky and humid outside, a thunderstorm can be heard in the distance, but it's heavenly compared to inside.

You pace up and down the alleyway for a moment. Just like last week, there's nobody out here but you and the dumpster. And Tim.

Involuntarily, you glance up at the rooftops that loom above.

"I saw Red Robin here last week," you say absentmindedly, turning back to look at Tim.

"Oh really?" He clears his throat, following your gaze. "Was he, like... up there?"

"You don't seem particularly excited."

"Well, I mean... it's just Red Robin?"

You gape at him. "Just Red Robin? Tim, he's cool as fuck."

"He's literally just another Robin. There's been, what, like... five?"

"Three," you correct, walking back over to Tim, "And he's literally a superhero."

"Sidekick."

You laugh out loud. "What, you got beef with him?"

"No," Tim protests, a flush crawling up his cheeks. "He's just no Batman, is all."

"He's not supposed to be Batman. That's his whole thing. He's Robin, and he's cool as fuck," you reply, leaving no room for argument. You lean against the brick wall, gazing up at the clouded sky. "...Think he's out there somewhere?"

"Maybe."

You glance at Tim, but he's already staring at you.

"You look... really pretty tonight," he murmurs.

Your cheeks prickle with heat. "Thanks. You, ah, look good too."

At that moment, it hits you that you're alone with Tim Drake Wayne, the guy you're pining over, and that he's just called you pretty. A smile tugs as your lips. Red Robin hit on you in this very alleyway, and now Tim is hitting on you, too, and your confidence surges.

"Um, actually," you say, looking at Tim, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you--"

BANG!

A gasp dies in your throat as a couple stumbles through the back door. They're attached at the lips and deserving of an NC-17 rating. Your shock is quickly replaced with amusement (and, albeit, a healthy level of disgust) and you laugh in shock, your heart still pounding in your throat. The door rattles on its hinges, freshly scraped up from being slammed against the wall.

"Holy shit," you exhale. Only then do you notice that Tim pushed you behind him: an arm is protectively flung out in front of you, the other hand is pulling something out of his pocket. His thumb and forefinger are pinched around a small, sharp-looking object--it's black, it glints in the light, you don't know what it is. He stuffs it back into his jeans, huffing out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, you okay?" Tim asks, turning back around to face you.

"Fine." You nod. "Startled... but, uh, fine."

"Good," he says, eyes still tracking the couple. "Anyways. You were saying?"

There's a muffled moan from the other end of the alley.

"Another time," you say, grabbing Tim and pulling him inside before either of you see more than you want to.

As you rejoin the group, you wonder distantly what he was holding. A knife, maybe? But Tim's dead last on your list of people who'd walk around Gotham carrying a weapon. Then again, his net worth is staggeringly high, so maybe he does carry something...?

If you didn't know better, you'd say he acted like a vigilante.

You're not sure what to think.

But the bar's loud music leaves no room for thought, and you push your musings to the back of your mind. You're having fun with your friends, Tim called you pretty, and you just had the shit scared out of you by strangers--tonight's been eventful as is, so it looks like your detective work will just have to wait.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello again! I was wondering if I could two requests? Both involved batmobile buddy again.

So with the first request: Buddy has been on earth with team for a few weeks following her reuniting with Ratchet, Sari and Bumblebee notice that Buddy and Ratchet might actually like each other more than just friends. So they become Ratchet's unofficial wingmen but they are really bad at it.

And the second request is that Decepticons mostly Megatron find out Buddy is also still alive. And he is really angry because like 'I thought got rid of her permanently during the war!?' Context: The decepticons are the Buddy when missing. They blow up her ship but the stasis pod was still intact where it crash landed on earth. And Buddy's things for communication where also destroyed.

Thanks! Love your work :)

All righty! Here is the first request! The second request will follow shortly.

Hope you enjoy!

Bumblebee and Sari trying to set Ratchet up with Batmobile Buddy

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Cybertronain reader

TFA

It was a nice change when Buddy decided to stay with Team Prime on Earth.

She claimed it was because there was more work to be done here than on Cybertron right now.

She did contact Ultra Magnus letting him know that she was online.

Buddy appearing on the screen from Ultra Magnus’s office.

“Ultra Magnus sir.”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Magnus

“You sound surprised sir.”--Buddy

“I thought…”--Magnus

“Such little faith Commander. I thought you had a little bit more trust in your former bodyguard to know it takes a lot more to keep me down.”--Buddy

“It is good to see that you are in good spirits Buddy. Will you be coming back to Cybertron with the Elite Guard?”--Magnus

Buddy looks at Sentinel who is looking at himself in the glass.

“…I am going to stay with Team Prime if that’s all right sir. There is more work to be done here.”--Buddy

Magnus nods.

“Very well. But do remember you will always have a place here on Cybertron.”--Magnus

Buddy nods and turns the video off.

Ratchet insisted on Buddy staying in the Plant for the first few days to adjust to everything.

To the humans and to their new alt mode.

Buddy liked the sleek car she chose but wasn’t too sure why so many humans called her ‘Batmobile’. Perhaps it was a human saying or something.

The two were often found chatting together.

The team had never seen another bot talking so casually with Ratchet.

And Ratchet not responding so sarcastically or rudely.

It was as if another bot had replaced their medic.

Sari and Bumblebee did a little digging on Buddy and Ratchet one day while they were on the Elite Guard’s ship.

The Jettwins help them snoop around for anything on the database.

The four of them eventually stumbled upon a video that had Ratchet and Buddy in the background.

Where they… hugging?

They were hugging.

…a rather long one too…

Was that a long hand hod too?!

Bee and Sari now have a new ship.

And they are determined to get it to sail.

The duo decides to get some information on Buddy.

“Any luck finding her?”--Sari

“Nope. She’s an even better hider than Prowl! Not to mention how quiet she is.”--Bumblebee

“I think we need to change tactic’s.”--Sari

“Like what? Ask Ratchet?”--Bumblebee

“Bingo!”--Sari

“… All right!”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee goes up to Ratchet.

“Hey Doc-bot I’ve gotta question for ya.”--Bumblebee

“What is it? Can’t you see—”--Ratchet

“Do you like Buddy?”--Bumblebee

Ratchet drops his wrench while trying to form a complete sentence which ends up with him kicking Bumblebee out of the med bay.

“Well?”--Sari

“He didn’t say no!”--Bumblebee

The duo then decides to take the fate of these two into their own hands.

They try and set up a candle ‘dinner’ for the pair.

That was romantic enough, right?

Buddy and Ratchet walking into the room filled with candles.

“Oh for—this better not be one of those internet challenges again! I swear I am not pumping someone else’s fuel tank again if I find those darn Skittles in there!”--Ratchet

Buddy and Ratchet grab a fire extinguisher and extinguish the flames and ‘dinner’.

So, they try a different approach.

They wanted to play some romantic music to set the mood.

The problem with that was that they could decide which song to to put on the speakers and accidentally put on death metal screaming.

Ratchet and Buddy casually read some data pads.

On the speakers…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Ratchet and Buddy jump at the screaming.

“WHAT IN THE ALL SPARK!”--Ratchet

Buddy swiftly slings Ratchet over her shoulders and gets him out of the plant.

“You think that worked?”--Sari

Buddy comes back with a large iron pipe in both servos.

“SHOW YOURSELVES GHOST’S!”--Buddy

“Abort, abort, abort!”--Bumblebee

The final attempt was love letters.

They both placed the love letters outside their rooms and waited.

This had to work!

There was no way this wasn’t going to work!

Buddy reading her note.

Bumblebee and Sari are watching from a far.

Ratchet walks up to Buddy.

“Is it working?”--Bumblebee

“Maybe?”—Sari

They both tun back to Buddy.

“You got a letter too?”--Ratchet

“Yes, and besides the horrible handwriting, these are definitely threat notes.”--Buddy

“What?”--Ratchet

“What?!”—Bumblebee and Sari

“Don’t worrying Ratchet, I’ll keep an optic out for anything suspicious.”--Buddy

“Sure, you go do that then.”--Ratchet

Ratchet and Buddy go their separate ways as Bee and Sari die a little bit inside.

Bee and Sari just about give up for the day.

Maybe another day it’ll happen.

Meanwhile Buddy and Ratchet are watching them from a far with servos intertwined.

“Don’t you think we should tell them we’re Conjunx Endura?”--Buddy

“And spoil the fun? No, let them try and figure things out.”—Ratchet

Buddy chuckles a bit slightly squeezing his servo while watching the kids try to go over more plans for the couple.

[kevin-the-bruyne]

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: Love and Comfort

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Tags: Established Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Marriage Proposal, Food as a Metaphor of Love

Notes: Flufftober Day 24 Comfort Food

==================================================

If there is one thing that Eddie misses about Abuela being in L.A., other than her presence, it's the food.

It’s not just about the phenomenal flavor she unfailingly manages each time either. It’s the association he has with each and every dish.

It’s sitting under Abuela’s roof eating quesadillas and knowing all his problems can be tucked away. It’s her calm reassurances over caldo de pollo. It’s watching a telenovela rerun with homemade guacamole and corn chips.

He eats well now between his captain and partner, but there’s just something about Abuela’s cooking that screams comfort, and he misses it. Not to the point that he would fly or drive down to El Paso for it frequently. He is not dealing with his parents if he could help it, especially since they're on his case (again) about his chosen partner after Christmas.

Goodness, he can't believe he subjected his other half to that wreck.

But the point is, he craves it. Or, at the very least, he craves Mexican. Homemade, authentic Mexican food.

“Eds! Stop hogging the bathroom!” he hears from the other side of the door.

“Almost done, love!”

Part of him wonders if he can throw a wrench into their plans tonight and have Mexican instead. Christopher is off at a friend’s, so they had planned on a date night at this Italian restaurant and then some alone time that they desperately want.

He's just really missing Abuela's cooking after the call he had with her last night.

Well, it was a call with his parents that Abuela overheard and hijacked, which Eddie is so grateful for because Abuela understands how important his partner is to him inside and outside of work.

She even gave him Abuelo's old ring over Christmas as a blessing for whenever he's ready to propose.

Which is what tonight was supposed to be.

But he really is craving Mexican.

Could he propose at that little mom-and-pops?

But it wouldn't be very romantic, would it?

Before his thoughts could spiral, the bathroom door opens, and in steps his partner in his full glory, wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuate his beautiful body.

Maybe they should just skip dinner and head straight into the bedroom.

“Eddie Diaz, I heard the shower turn off fifteen minutes ago,” Buck tells him. “We’ll be late at this rate.”

He rolls his eyes with unrestrained fondness. While this isn't his boyfriend with a clipboard, this huffy boyfriend trying to get their date just right is just as endearing.

Honestly, everything about his boyfriend - about Buck - is endearing and perfect, and he realizes that he has to postpone satisfying his cravings. He wants to propose with an urge unlike anything he's ever felt. He wants this man to be his in every way possible and be able to proudly announce that to anyone who'd listen.

He can't do that at the Mexican restaurant he wants to go to though. Buck deserves the best, including the most romantic proposal Eddie can give him, which means being in the best setting and atmosphere possible.

Besides, his boyfriend has been looking forward to trying this place out, talking about how good the reviews are, the atmosphere, etc. That's why he had suggested it and booked their reservation in the first place.

He wouldn’t - couldn’t - ruin that for Buck.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” he says, taking one last look in the mirror before stepping up to his boyfriend and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

He'd never get tired of doing that.

Buck returns the kiss easily. “I'm going to use the bathroom real quick. Grab my phone for me?”

Eddie nods, stepping out of the bathroom as his boyfriend goes in. He pats his pocket, making sure the ring is still in it and makes his way to track down Buck’s phone.

Actually, why does Buck need Eddie to grab his phone? They weren't on that big of a time crunch. And why does it smell like-

Oh, he thinks when he steps into the kitchen.

Buck made them dinner.

More specifically, he made them Mexican.

“Like it?”

He whips around, wide-eyed, staring at his boyfriend. “How'd you know?”

Strong arms wrap around him, and he finds himself leaning into the hug and pressing their foreheads together in a move they've long gotten used to. “You usually find a way to sneak in some Mexican after talking with Abuela. But you didn't say anything, so I figured I would surprise you instead.”

“How'd you even do all this?” he asks incredulously. “I would have noticed the smell.”

“That's why I didn't make it here. I commandeered Bobby’s kitchen for the day and left the food in the food in the car until you got home from work and went to take your post-work shower.”

“But you were looking forward to that Italian place.”

Their schedules just never aligned with any of the available reservation times for them to go, and Buck had been so excited when they finally got it.

And now he's giving it up for Eddie?

(He’s also giving up a proposal, not that Eddie will tell him that.)

“It'll still be there next time, and I know you'd prefer Mexican right now over Italian even if you're hiding what you want again.”

Oh, Eddie feels the love for this man bursting from every pore of his body.

“I love you,” he says in lieu of anything else. What else could he say to express his feelings?

“Well, save that for after you've tried it. Because I'm not so sure if the results are good.”

“You've cooked Mexican before.”

“This is a new recipe for me. Now come on,” his partner urges, pulling Eddie towards the spread. “Try it.”

He naturally goes for the tamales first, the many years of it being his favorite of Abuela's recipes making itself known, and the moment he bites into it-

It's comfort. It's Abuela's soothing voice, consoling him after he once again failed to do something his parents expected him to. It's Abuela's handmade comforter around his shoulders. It's Abuela reassuring him that loving his best friend isn't wrong.

“Babe?”

Eddie blinks back into reality, almost jumping in surprise when his best friend's hands come up to his cheeks to wipe away tears he unknowingly shed.

“This is Abuela's recipe,” he says in a trance after emotionally finishing the tamale in his hand. It's not 100% Abuela's flavor, but it’s 90-95% there. “How- When?”

“When we went to your parents’ for Christmas.”

Oh. When Abuela and Buck had been holed up in the kitchen all day.

“I thought you were just being her sous chef.”

Buck grins, shaking his head. “Nope. She was teaching me all day. I know it's not exact, but it was as close as I could get it. I might have had her on Facetime when I was cooking today too.”

“She gave you her recipes.”

“Yeah.”

“She never even gave them to my mom.”

“I've been told.”

And looking at his love now, proud smile on his face, in his house, in the home they've built for themselves, Eddie realizes he can't wait.

Screw waiting for a romantic atmosphere.

Eddie surges up, pressing a firm, hard kiss onto the lips that he loves, conveying all the love he can without words. Buck returns it easily, and they stand there holding each other and trading kisses, a table full of Eddie's favorite flavors next to them.

“Marry me,” he says - pleads - when he finally brings himself to pull away. “Please.”

Dazzling blue eyes blink at him in surprise before a delighted, giddy grin spreads on his partner's face. “Yes. Always, Eds.”

Once the blinding happiness subsides enough, he'll realize that it was fitting. It was never quite about romance for them. They can do romance, but their relationship is more heavily characterized by comfort, by family and home, and the ability to be themselves. It’s characterized by lazy walks on the beach, picnics at the park, and fun days at the zoo. So it’s fitting that they'll start the next chapter of their lives in their home with comfort food on the table.

For now, he slides the ring Abuela gave him onto his fiancé's finger and relishes in the taste of comfort with the one who makes him the happiest and most comfortable by his side.

[clouded-dreams2]

i heard sinister strange 👀👀

okay but low key ive had an idea for sinister strange where the reader is from 616 and is in love with Stephen but its one of the Universes where he doesn’t love her romantically but is still protective but in Sinister Stranges universe he is in love with her so imagine the reader wanting to stay with sinister strange 😈😈

a/n: You've heard correctly. I’m very sorry for the delay on it. We’re going to pretend that the reader doesn’t end up causing an incursion. I hope you like it!

Warnings: SPOILERS for Multiverse of Madness, Math is not my strong suit, Established feelings, There may be more so tread lightly.

Characters: Doctor Strange (platonic), Sinister Strange x Gn!Reader

You woke up in your bed. You got dressed then walked downstairs to have breakfast. You saw your Stephen; you were aware of the multiverse through Stephen. Your heart fluttered but you dismissed it. You had told him about your feelings, and he said they were unreciprocated. It didn’t pull a wrench in the friendship you had with him which you were thankful for. He was sipping on coffee while on the phone with some random person. You were the last one up, everyone else had already eaten. You sat down at the table with the sorcerers rushing out the door fully clad in their suits. You looked to America, whenever both the sorcerers went to save whatever from whoever or sometimes the other way around. Stephen and Wong trusted you to watch America. 

“America?” 

“Yeah?” She asked, she knew about your feelings for Stephen. 35 realites you and Stephen were married, 21 realites you were dating. The other 20 he had no feelings for you, and this was one of those realities. That was from what America saw, the 76 realites she’s been too. Two others were incursions, one left him alive in a dying reality while the other had no living people, including Stephen.

“I am with Stephen in another reality?” You knew of her power, the ability to travel the multiverse that she slowly learned to control. She nodded her head enthusiastically while sipping on a capri sun. 

“36 of them you both are married. To be honest, you are really cute together. It’s also really funny when you both argue, and you turn out to be right. Which is often.” She laughed. There was a disagreement between you and Stephen in another reality, where when he realized you were right, he looked like a wounded puppy. He apologized, not keeping up much of an arrogant persona slipped through. You felt a sense of hope in your heart, the man you felt owned your heart had you next to him 36 other realities. 

“How many in total?” 

“Out of 76 that I’ve been too? 56.” You softly smiled, all 56 realites in which you didn’t live. The slight tang in your heart was back, the feeling of not being able to love the man you did. You grew quiet, there were realities where variants of Stepehen were with a variant of yourself. 

“You want to see one where he loves you, don’t you?” America asked, noticing the shift in your mood. You nodded slowly if she wanted to show you, you wouldn’t disagree. You’d both have to be back before either your Stephen or your Wong came back, or at least America did. 

“If you don’t mind?” You asked. She created a star portal, the blue of the outline rippling. You walked through before America joined you and closed the portal. America was wide-eyed, she sent you both to Sinister Strange’s reality. 

“We can’t be here.” She started to become fearful, but you eased her by saying it was only going to be a few minutes.

“It’s alright, come on.” You took her hand, you took on a parental role with America. She thanked you for it. You both headed toward the long stairs that seemed to lead nowhere until it turned into a worn down sanctum. You suddenly felt cold like something unease was lurking. The water from the entrance of the sanctum soaked your shoes. 

“There’s no one here.” You saw America close her eyes. She had a history here, you could tell. 

“(y/n), we really shouldn’t be here.” Her nervousness seeped through her sentence. 

“No. America, you shouldn’t. My wife has finally come home.” You heard what sounded like Stephen with a deeper voice. He spoke low and quietly with a certain mischief that you couldn’t quite place. America was gripping your hand tight, shaking slightly. You still didn’t understand what could be so scary about Stephen. That was who he was, just another version of Stephen Strange. 

“Stephen?” You both had been married before an incursion took over his reality. Before you could process what was happening, Strange was standing in front of you. You were able to see him in the low light provided by the sanctum. He was the same old him, just more.. Sinister. America had made a portal going back to the original reality. She grabbed your wrist trying to pull you through the portal. Before your Stephen walked through the portal, assuming something was wrong. He had left your reality’s Sorcerer Supreme to deal with the minor threat.

“(y/n)?” Your Stephen spoke, you subconsciously took a step toward Sinister Strange. He wrapped an arm around your hip, he wasn’t going to give you up without a fight. He had you once again, after all these years. You didn’t want to leave, everything in you should have wanted to leave, to run headfirst into the portal that America had created, but you didn’t want to. Call it a mirror reality but you already knew how you felt toward Sinister Strange. Oddly you could feel what he felt too. You wanted him more than your reality’s Stephen. America had strained to keep the portal open, either her and Stephen were going or no one was going at all. She knew this was what you wanted, she knew the times you called Stephen stupid, you called him an asshole for what he did. Anything to get you from preventing yourself from liking him, which never worked. 

“We’ve got to go.” She took Stephen by the wrist and dragged him back through the portal. She looked at you as she did so, you seemed happy. She will visit you, asking for guidance in time of need, but for now you need Stephen. Even though she didn’t like Sinister Strange she saw a reality somewhat like this, where you both were in love. He would truly love you like you needed him to.

[yanderes-galore]

Since you open your request again, I guess I can make this as a request

Will you make a hc of Foxy ? The general one I really like that Bonnie and Glamrock Freddy hc you make, I wish you would make more of them 😳✨

Yes! I'd love to :)

Animatronic or android/human, doesn't matter for this concept. There are also no dead kids involved! Like the Bonnie one I'm writing them with the new human like AI Security Breach has.

Yandere! Foxy Concept (FNAF 1)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Yandere behavior, Implied kidnapping, Obsession, Robot gaining sentience (?).

- Foxy already would be a red flag.

- The pirate has been decommissioned and is Out of Service during the day.

- He is unable to interact with you on day shift in his current state.

- Which means Foxy can become fixated on you in only two different ways compared to the normal band.

- Maintenance repairs or night-shift, maybe even both.

- After some consideration from the higher-ups, it was decided Foxy would be fixed up to perform for kids

- It would be a lot of work to get him back up and running but it was decided nonetheless.

- You were assigned to do said repairs at first.

- Which meant you would have to get acquainted with the bot.

- Moving Foxy from his cove to 'Parts & Service' took some work between you and other STAFF members, but you managed to get the worn robot on the table.

- Many tests were done before you could get to work.

- While the STAFF members and other bots worked outside the room to entertain the children, you were stuck being frustrated with the rotting bot.

- Facial recognition would malfunction, joints would click and shudder, artificial fur/skin fell off in places, and the voice box would crackle and stutter.

- "You're in real bad shape, huh...." You find yourself muttering, holding the robot's head to swivel it side to side gently as to not break it.

- "I know I am, matey..."

- That caught you off guard, pulling away from the bot you were working on.

- "Ah...I wasn't expecting you to respond. Alright, Foxy, it's time for some major remodeling."

- The fox based bot tilts his head, you cringe at the clicking.

- "Ye plan to fix this old fox?"

- You nod, shifting through tools and spare parts.

- "It won't be done in a day, guaranteed, but I do plan on having you up and running sometime."

- You calculate a final assessment on where to start before standing up straight.

- "Point is, you'll see me often."

- Foxy soon learned your words were right, he would be seeing you often.

- You'd come to Parts & Service everyday with a new plan in mind.

- Fix his facial recognition chip one day, fix his stuttering joints the next.

- Most of the time he was powered off and out of charge, leaving him tired all the time.

- But when he woke up you stood over him and explained what you fixed.

- It took days and days of trial and error before you managed to get Foxy on his feet.

- "Wow, matey! Ye really know how to work a wrench."

- His visible yellow eye flicked to you, which was a relief because that meant his facial scanners worked.

- "You could say that, yes. Now that your scanners are working, I can register all the STAFF members into your network. Guess it'll be fine to start with me."

- You turn and gesture for the bot to face you.

- "I'm (Y/N) (L/N). A mechanic for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Does that register fine?"

- "(Y/N)... yes, it does. I feel brand new, (Y/N)! I can't thank ye enough."

- You give a tired smile before nodding.

- "There's no need. I think it's time the kids meet you."

- After that Foxy is up and running during the day shift.

- You aren't around often but you do pop in to ask how Foxy is doing and if there are any other repairs needed.

- "Aye, (Y/N)!"

- You turn to see the pirate waving at you.

- "Look there, mateys! (Y/N) helped me recover! Be sure to give yer thanks!"

- Foxy then winks and you find yourself surrounded by kids throughout the day.

- The 'companionship' you share with the bot is rather tame at day.

- It isn't until you have to do midnight repairs when things get creepy.

- Entering the building is eerie enough, seeing the usual band shut off and Foxy's cove drawn shut.

- It's nice not to see that 'Out of Order' sign, though.

- You've gotten reports of the generator not working for night shift.

- Begrudgingly you complied and headed for Parts & Service.

- For a moment you thought you caught a yellow gaze following you.

- That wasn't possible though, as everything was meant to be shut off and charging during night.

- Once you find the generator, you do some tests.

- Then there were loud thumps outside the door.

- You freeze, listening.

- They were too heavy for a human....

- You weren't told of any night time function for the bots....

- You quietly duck under the table, just in time to see Foxy enter the room.

- "(Y/N)? I saw ye go in here.... It's odd to see ye here so late at night?"

- You stay silent.

- Foxy's gaze goes towards the table before crouching.

- "There's no need for ye to hide from me, matey!"

- You're fearful, staying away from the bot.

- "You're supposed to be off, go back to your stage Foxy."

- Foxy doesn't budge.

- "Why should I? I heard ye were going to be here. Why don't we chat a bit?"

- "Go back to your stage, Foxy! I'm busy-"

- "Too busy to speak with me? How rude of ye, (Y/N)."

- You're dragged from under the table, breathing picking up.

- Foxy wasn't following commands...on his own.

- "I never have time to speak with ye in the day, ye should come by more often."

- You were being dragged by the robotic beast who was much stronger than you, all the way to his cove.

- "I miss ye when yer gone...."

- You're forced to follow before Foxy turns towards you, yellow eye staring down at you.

- "Why don't ye drop what yer doing, and speak with yer old pal, Foxy?"

[unicyclehippo]

your interpretation of what a beaujes conversation would look like if nott had told jester that beau had a crush on her?

‘you should tell her she looks pretty,’ nott suggested. ‘women love that.’

beau lifted a lazy brow, gestured toward herself. ‘what am i, a pork chop?’

‘you’re in l-‘ nott bit beau hard when the monks hand slapped over her mouth. she had been biting a lot in the last day, probably because she was going to be a halfling again sooner rather than later and she was either getting it out of her system or, and beau privately thought this was more likely, enjoying having sharp teeth while she had them.

‘don’t.’

‘alright, alright. but don’t come crying to me when you miss out on your shot just because you won’t woman up and admit you’re in love with her.’

beau gave her a warning look but jester was still in the shop looking at ribbons so she relaxed a fraction. ‘i never said love.’

‘no, you said much more embarassing things than love,’ nott teased, and jumped away from beau’s kick with a laughing glint in her eyes. she used the motion to scuttle up the drain pipe, which clattered against the stone and wood wall, and jumped from it onto the tall barrel beau leaned against. ‘it would be a good night for it,’ she wheedled. ‘there’ll be dancing, music. romantic lighting, probably. even you could seem charming, with all that to help!’

‘fuck off.’

‘and all you do is ask her to dance and say, jester you look so pretty tonight, also i’m so in love with you, let’s get married-‘

‘is that how yeza proposed?’ beau asked, with a laugh, which abruptly faded when, under the start of nott’s enthusiastic rendition of yeza’s awkward proposal, she heard someone gasp. her eyes darted to the storefront where jester’s duplicate shimmered and disappeared; in the next instant, beau lunged around the corner of the shop and froze, eye to eye with jester.

‘oh fuck!’ nott swore and dove from the top of the barrel, tucking into a smooth forward roll that brought her far out of beau’s reach. she popped up to her feet in a small puff of road dust and took off sprinting.

beau wrenched her eyes from jester, watched nott scurry away. that was better. safer. she didn’t want to look at jester right now, not when she’d been caught with her raw heart out in her hands. she’d have preferred if jester had caught her with her pants down, or beaten up with mud on her face, or - or literally anything other than this.

‘beau,’ jester said, in that teasing way of hers, twisting her name up in her accent, between her teeth, like it was hers to twist. ‘did you see how i snuck out of there? it was pretty great, how i went invisible and made my duplicate at the same time - and you should see the shopkeeper, can you see him?’ she pointed back over beau’s shoulder. ‘he looks so stupid, he was so surprised when i just disappeared.’

beau lifted her eyes to jester’s again. she had heard - beau knew she had heard - but she wasn’t saying anything. there was a nervousness to her eyes, a flutter to her hands as she used them to speak, that told beau that jester was doing it on purpose, changing the subject.

the wood of her bo was worn-smooth under her callouses. beau gripped it tight, channeling everything into that grip so she didn’t have to think about whether what she was feeling was disappointment or humiliation or hurt. she took a moment to tuck her heart back into its cage, closed her ribs protectively around it, folded one arm over it too for some extra buffering.

‘it was pretty great. you even had us fooled,’ beau told her, voice even, unruffled. ‘ready to head back to the chateau and use all of us as your own personal dress up dolls?’ jester nodded quickly. ‘you better not have got me a dress.’

jester snorted. ‘no, silly. you’re really going to love - love it,’ she said, stuttered over the word for a moment as she stepped out of the alley, joined beau. and when she began to tell her about the suit, and how it would fit and look, her tone remained a stiff kind of cheerful, purposefully so, intensely so, like she was clinging to it with both hands, and every unassuming word managed to slip between beau’s ribs and hit her where she was tender and vulnerable.

[seriouslysnape]

To the Limit

__

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Slight smut. Use of safeword. Language.

Request: Hi! Can u make Severus × Reader when the reader use the safe words for the first time because idk maybe it's too much for the reader that day or smth else you like..Thankyouu 💕💕 love ur writings btw ❤❤

A/N: Here we gooooooo. Reminder, everything is consensual.

Word Count: 2,947

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.”

__

Severus has always been flexible in the bedroom. Yes, Severus Snape is versatile in the sheets and has more love making skills than you originally would’ve given him credit for. Sex with Severus can range anywhere from slow and careful where praising your body is his main objective, to fucking you so mercilessly that stars are dotting the back of your eyelids with each hard thrust.

Sometimes, you don’t have to establish what kind of theme your sessions will take on. If Severus comes home angry from a long, obnoxious day then you very well know that a rough fucking will get it out of his system. When you’ve just watched one of your favorite romantic drama Muggle movies that have sent you into tears, he knows that something more unhurried is in order so you are reminded of how much he loves you.

Other times though, there isn’t really anything that determines the kind of sex you’ll be having. If the mood is right for both of you, then you often will just figure it out from there. 

Severus’ return on Friday night from a long week of classes was coated with his desire for you. You could practically feel the hard sexual tension radiating off of his whole being. From the moment he walked in the door, you knew what tonight would hold for the both of you. More than likely, it’d be a whole lot of rutted fucking and orgasms until neither of you had any stamina left to give. Normally, a seed of excitement would be planted and begin to grow in your core at the thought of being touched by him, but you didn’t feel it this time. 

It had been a bad week to put it simply. Work was weighing you down and you had taken more hits than you were used to in a five day time period. Exhaustion had riddled you, and stress has gotten the best of you. Emotional breakdown was the only way you could describe how you were feeling. You really weren’t feeling up to what Severus wanted to do. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when his hands and lips were on you, moving to all his favorite places on you.

His voice was silky smooth in your ears as he uplifted you with how he had been thinking about you all day, and how he wanted to be with you when you weren’t around. It wasn’t Severus’ fault that you had a bad week, and it surely wasn’t all his fault that he was this turned on. The way he gripped your legs with his strong hands was an indicator that he wanted to go well into the night, which your tired state wasn’t a fan of. But you loved Severus, and you always wanted him to be happy and well pleased. So you figured you could handle a couple of coarse rounds to satisfy him.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Once access was granted, Severus leapt onto you without hesitation. A tornado of clothes being removed whirled around the room, your shirt and pants ended up on complete opposite sides of the room. Hot and unruly kisses were shared, marks were left on your necks, and no part of you went unattended. 

Admittedly, the first orgasm was actually enjoyable. Severus’ fingers were knuckle deep in your needy cunt and pumping vigorously as he found all the best spots. The strenuous activity melted some of the week’s stress from your conscience, your mind being stripped of all your worry as it clouded with ecstasy. Severus thrived off of the moans and noises of delight that he was drawing out of your throat, perfecting his movements to give you an even stronger release. Severus worked you to your finish as you came around his fingers, slicking them with arousal and relief. 

He left lazy kisses over your breasts while you took a moment to recover, preparing yourself for the next round that was undoubtedly on its way. Tiredness had plagued you long before Severus had even walked through the door, and you had suddenly been robbed of even more energy, so you were confident that you might not get a proper orgasm this second time. But the moment Severus slid you onto his dick and stretched your walls the way only he knew how to, you knew that you were going to cum whether you felt like you could handle it or not.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You loved seeing Severus so enraptured in waves of pleasure and gratification, but you were beyond fatigued. Still, you bounced up and down on his lap over and over again, your already sensitive clit throbbing with each rub of his fingers. Severus’ other hand guided your hip movements to meet the way he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot just right.

When you came this time, your sound of release was more of a strained cry than a content sound. Severus didn’t seem to notice, since he was too focused on the intoxicating feeling of filling you with his own finish. You popped off of him before he was even emptied out, the rest of his fluids landing on your inner thighs. You fell onto the bed next to him, your breathing much heavier than usual. 

You were totally tuckered out with absolutely no hope of another round. Your muscles ached and your bones were wiped out. Although, you felt a queasy feeling of despair when you saw that familiar look of lust in Severus’ eyes. He spoke lowly, his voice echoing in your ringing ears.

“I’m not through with you yet, love.” He purred.

Usually that would’ve sent a whole mess of arousal through you, but you were too worn out. But Severus usually didn’t last more than three rounds, so this would for sure be the last one. You thought you could push through so he could at least get his release, but this third go round wasn’t a good feeling for you at all.

With your arms above your head and the pillowcase below your head in your fingers’ death grip, you turned your head to the side to fight through his persistent hard fucking into you. On a better day, you’d be all over this and relishing every moment. But now your eyes were screwed tightly shut in discomfort, for each time you opened them Severus would only be able to see the whites of your eyes. The thumping heartbeat in your ears was deafening and your entire body was stiff and rigid, but not in a good way. You wanted to tough it out so at least Severus could finish, but it was just too much for you tonight. 

You had to tap out.

“Polyjuice!” You squeaked out, your voice raspy.

In an instant, you saw any expression of lust wiped straight from his face. He pulled out the millisecond that the word registered in his head, his face stricken with worry and concern at the first time use of your agreed safe word. Severus’ heart dropped at your whimpers of displeasure, his brain reeling and raking over what had gone wrong. 

“[Y/N], what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically.

“I-I just...”

Shaky breaths and uncomfortable whines were the only noises you could seem to make. You sat up from where you were laying down, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face as you began to cry. Your emotions were all over the place, and it didn’t help that you were overstimulated and overworked. Severus went to pull you to him, but withdrew his hand. Upsetting you further would absolutely crush him, but he needed to know that you were okay.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered out.

The yowl of approval was enough for him to feel fine with carefully wrapping his hand under your arm and dragging you across the mattress to where he was kneeling on the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over your skin to keep you from getting cold from the loss of heat from being active. You buried your head into his bare chest, your tears leaking and falling down his skin. 

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m really sorry.” You sobbed, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin.

“No, no, no. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me to stop when you’re not comfortable,” He reassured; “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

The shake of your head brought relief upon him, but he was still worried. He rocked you in his arms until your sobs died down enough to where you were coherent. Severus was getting ready to ask you once more what was wrong, shifting you so he could see your face. When moving you, his hand accidentally brushed against your swollen, sensitive clit and you wailed out pathetically. Severus’ pale face went even whiter.

“Oh, my love...I worked you too hard, didn’t I?” He queried.

Severus would always admit that sometimes he’d get into the zone and completely drown everything else out. He wouldn’t really be able to tell how hard he was pulling in and out. It was rare, but from time to time you’d have to ask him to soften his thrusts or slow his pace when he got too rowdy. But you had never asked him to stop completely until now. He feared that he had seriously pushed you over the edge this time.

“It’s not just that.” You confessed with a sniff.

Severus had drawn your head back to gaze into your bleary eyes. The tear tracks being swiped away with his thumbs as he cradled your face. 

“What is it then, sweetheart?” He asked with wonder.

A fresh set of salty tears pooled and fell down your cheeks, but for a different reason.

“I’ve had a horrible week. Nothing has gone right,” You explained croakily; “I wanted to make you feel good and I thought it might make me feel better...but I’m just exhausted and I couldn’t handle it tonight.”

You fell apart into another set of choking sobs and gut wrenching cries, prompting Severus to bring you back into his chest. He stroked your skin and left kisses so light that they were ghostly. 

“It’s alright, angel. I wish you had told me before that you weren’t feeling up to it,” He consoled; “You’re worth so much more than sex. I want you to tell me sooner next time if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your nod of understanding offered a wash of comfort over him that you were calming down steadily. He hated that this happened. He knew that was the whole reason for your established safe word for when things went south or things got dicey. He just never thought you’d ever have to use it. He felt absolutely terrible. 

“I’m sorry, Sevvy. I really wanted you to get off, I just-”

“Please don’t apologize for this. This is my fault. I should’ve seen how tired you were and how I was being overly hard,” He said; “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

The sniffles from your nose had increased as you tried to flush down all the drainage from your crying. Your tears had stopped as you sat up from his body, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. The red blotches in your puffy eyes were pinging at Severus’ already guilty conscience. He saw the littered hickeys across your neck and breasts, and how your lips were swollen from his severe kisses. He had rocked your burnt out body to the max.

“I’ll tell you what. How about we go get cleaned up, and then we can get into bed. Then you can tell me about your week if so wish.” He suggested, cautiously guiding you off of the bed.

“I think I just want to get a bath and get some sleep.” You said, barely able to stand on your wobbly legs.

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, hoping it’d offer you some kind of solace. 

Severus ran you a hot bath, filling it with all of your favorite scents and smells. Your stance was still despite your shaking legs, and you seemed to be staring off into an endless trance. You slipped into the tub when it was ready, sinking down just below your nose under the bubbles. Normally, Severus would be sitting across from you or you’d be snuggled up on his lap, but he wanted you to have some space for a bit. You were honestly too tired to object. 

He simply casted a charm to freshen himself up, finding and selecting his favorite pair of sweatpants and soft shirt for you to change into. Your eyes were closed, and you had just begun to drift off to sleep when he re-entered the bathroom, changed into some casual day time wear, despite how late it was.

“Here are some clean clothes for you, pretty girl.” He remarked, setting the folded sweats and shirt on the end of the tub for you to get when you got out.

You only gave a light nod as a response, your eyes following him as he stood awkwardly. He was unsure of what to do for you now. He thought that you might want the bedroom to yourself for the night, which was fine because he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he had pushed you so hard anyway. He placed himself on the floor by the tub, sitting with his legs criss crossed over one another. It was quiet in the room, the only sounds were the occasional gentle splash when you moved your leg or arm. His eyes were still full of worry, and he was kicking himself big time now.

“I’m so sorry...” He breathed out, running his fingertips dragging leisurely your damp arm that you had resting on the ledge of the bathtub; “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sev. I promise.” You responded, wishing he wouldn’t take this so hard.

When it came to you, Severus took everything to heart. There weren’t many things in the world that made his heart beat with a purpose. You were the single person that allowed him to want to get up in the mornings. The thought of hurting you was enough to break him down. If he could have it his way, you would be indescribably happy with every passing moment of every day. He never wanted you to feel anything other than joy. 

But he knew that life would never allow it.

Your eyebrows dipped when you noticed his attire, wondering why he wasn’t in his own sleepwear. It was much too late for him to go anywhere.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice thick with weary.

“I’m going to go back to the school. I have some grading to do.” He half-lied.

It was true that he did indeed have a stack of papers to be assessed, but that wasn’t the real reason why he felt like he wanted to leave. Severus Snape grading on a Friday night when he had the opportunity to be cuddled up with his lover? He’d choose you every time.

Now you felt bad for causing him to scurry off. You wanted him there with you regardless of what had happened.

“Severus,” You called out tenderly, reaching for his face; “I don’t want you to leave.” 

A genuine look of doubt flashed over his features as his head lulled into your hand.

“I think it would be best if you got some good sleep tonight. I’ll just be in my office so if-”

“Stay with me. Please?” You requested, the thought of sleeping without him was disheartening.

A sigh of awe expelled from his chest. He couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes and slightly pouting lower lip.

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

“I think that some boyfriend snuggles will make me feel a whole lot better.” You spoke rather cheekily.

He hummed affirmatively. The sound of nestling up with you was impossible to turn down. He took your hand from his face and kissed your palm gingerly, holding the warm skin to his lips for a brief moment. He eventually stood from the floor, but stopped when you held your arms up.

“Help me up?” You asked with the first genuine smile of the evening.

He chuckled, obliging and lifting you effortlessly from the tub. The warm towel was heavenly as you dried off, changing into the clothes that Severus had left for you. Severus went and changed as well, laughing to himself when he exited the closet to see you already curled up. 

The sheets draped over him easily when he laid next to you, waiting for you to nuzzle up to him. He held you close and flush to him, thanking his lucky stars that you were okay.

“My sweet girl...” He hushed out, noting that you were just seconds away from falling asleep; “I love you.” 

You mumbled out a sleepy “I love you” in return before drifting into a deep slumber to snooze off the night’s drama. Severus, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night to ensure that you were sleeping soundly and comfortably. He still felt dreadful, even after you had told him over and over that he didn’t hurt you. The weekend to follow was filled with Severus doting and cherishing over you every chance that he had, trying to make up for what had happened. You were the light of his life after all.

And he prayed that he’d never see that flame go out.

[hermannsthumb]

I have a fun prompt I've been thinking about I hope you have time for one day! When Newt and Hermann meet actually things go really really well and they even get together. It's just they bicker so much and have huge science-based arguments that everyone assumed they must have hated each other on sight.

sure thing! i had fun with this one

----

"So," Newt says. "I was talking to Tendo today."

Across the mess table, Hermann hums in feigned interest. Newt knows it's feigned 'cause Hermann doesn't stop either thing he's doing: using his left hand to wind noodles around a fork, and using his right hand to scribble away a series of lengthy equations on the back of a paper napkin. His full attention has been hopping between both for about ten minutes now—no room for Newt to slip in there. He's testing his limits enough as it. Half of the last equation ended up scratched into the tabletop, and the last time he lifted his fork to his mouth, it was empty. And then he swallowed anyway. Newt kinda loves the guy.

"Yeah," Newt says, deciding to continue like Hermann responded the way he was actually supposed to respond, which would've been something along the lines of what an utterly fascinating story, Newton, do tell me more. I love hearing you talk, Newton. How marvelously smart you are, Newton, and how melodic and breathtaking your voice is. Now watch me bite down on an empty fork again. "Kinda funny. He was asking how we met."

Hermann finally looks up at Newt suspiciously over the rims of his glasses, which are slipping slowly down his nose. He stills them with the tip of his index finger before they land in his dinner. "Why?"

"I don't know, man," Newt says. "He just was. It was like, small talk, you wouldn't get it. He dropped by the lab when you were out this morning to let me know that there was extra space if we wanted it. Like, lab space." Hermann resumes scratching an equation into the table absently. Newt rolls his eyes. "As in, we could have separate labs if we wanted now."

Hermann knits his eyebrows together. "Separate laboratories?"

When Newt and Hermann first started at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the k-scientist team was pre-existing and significantly bigger, and anyone who joined on later—like, you know, them—basically got shoved in wherever they fit. For Newt and Hermann, that happened to be Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1 (the only basement level), along with a former marine biologist who was killed on a research excursion a month later when a kaiju made unexpected landfall, like, right on top of their chosen shelter. Bad luck. Anyway, Newt's known about the existence of other Hong Kong Shatterdome lab spaces in the vague and absent sort of way that you would an urban legend, but (similarly so) he never thought he and Hermann would actually ever lay eyes on one. And then Tendo stopped by to dangle it in front of Newt on a stick.

"The other labs were being used as storage for ages after everyone else—" Newt searches for a word tasteful enough to encapsulate got stomped by a kaiju and wised up and decided to live out what are probably our last few days before the world ends with their families instead of alone in a military bunker. "—left. Anyway, Tendo told me they've been going through shit like crazy this month, I think to see if they can salvage any old tech, and that the other labs are basically totally emptied out now. We just have to ask and they're ours."

Hermann sets down both his pen and fork, twisting his mouth contemplatively. He finally loses the battle against gravity with his glasses, and they miss his plate by an inch, swinging back on their chain and bouncing harmlessly against his chest instead. Newt briefly wonders if getting a chain for his own glasses would save them from their frequent fatal falls into kaiju organ cavities and buckets of non-neutralized kaiju blood, but decides not even the money he'd save on replacement pairs would make a fashion faux pas like that worth it. "You know I don't much fancy the basement," Hermann says.

"Your joints," Newt agrees. The damp of the basement sets Hermann's joint pain off frequently, something Hermann talks about just as frequently. Newt's not really a fan of the basement either, though for different reasons—he would kill to get some windows and natural, non-fluorescent light in there. Sun lamps can only do so much. He's pretty sure he'd fucking glow if he stepped outside right now. Also, it's cold down here.

"And it might be nice to be closer to LOCCENT, in case of an emergency," Hermann continues. "And closer to—oh, hang on. What has this got to do with us?"

"Huh?"

"How we met," Hermann says. "You said, that Tendo asked—"

"Oh," Newt says. It's his turn to play coy. He stirs his chopsticks through his own dinner, accidentally flicking a piece of tofu to the table. It lands on top of Hermann's etched equations. Hermann scowls, because that's how their routine goes: Newt gets Hermann's stuff dirty, and Hermann gets mad. "Well. It was just that Tendo was like you can finally be out of each other's hair, how the hell did you guys get stuck together anyway when you obviously can't stand each other, that kind of stuff."

"Ah," Hermann says.

"And I said that it was because we knew each other before," Newt says, "and that we transferred here together. And that's when he asked."

"And what did you say?" Hermann says.

"That we used to correspond professionally," Newt says, "and met at a conference way back in 2017." He adds, with a grin, "Also professionally."

This was technically true. Newt and Hermann did write to each other, professionally, and they did meet at a conference, professionally, but what went down after a long and public shouting match in the events hall of a very nice hotel—in Hermann's room, five floors up in that very nice hotel—was not very professional. The events of the week that followed—spent, intermittently, between Hermann's hotel room, several coffee shops, a bench under a tree in Newt's favorite park, a rotation sushi restaurant, brushing knees shyly on the tram, and, finally, clasping hands on the staircase of Newt's apartment and gazing deeply into each other's eyes—weren't very professional, either, but Newt likes to think that they were very romantic. Rom-com level shit. Newt revealed none of this to Tendo, who referred to the 2017 conference as that Infamous Day for the rest of their conversation. "Well, it was professional," Hermann sniffs.

But he reaches across the table, and, very timidly, crosses his pinkie over top of Newt's. It's the most blatant form of PDA Hermann ever willingly engages Newt in. Newt thinks if he ever tried to touch two fingers at once in anywhere but the lab, or God forbid, hold his whole hand, Hermann's ears might start emitting steam like something out of a cartoon. "It might be nice," he says again.

Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1, is unique—Newt knows—in that Newt and Hermann's quarters are connected to it directly. None of the other labs have that luxury (and Newt has a feeling it's because Lab Space D wasn't actually intended as a lab space). He remembers being told that when they were shoved into it. Yeah, you have the darkest and tiniest lab space on base, but your rooms are right there! When Newt wants to go to Hermann's room, or if he's in Hermann's room and needs a sweatshirt or something from his own, he just has to step the three feet between their two doors. Moving labs could throw a wrench in that—they might be asked to move quarters, too, and might be shuttled to opposite sides of the Shatterdome, and though they could just bite the bullet and request couple's quarters already, it's nice to have their own spaces when they need it. That would never work. And, well, besides—the lab, their lab, feels like home to them at this point. Newt shrugs.

"On the other hand," Hermann says, and he taps Newt's pinkie lightly, "I quite like how things are. I can live with the damp, really."

"We can get a dehumidifier," Newt offers.

Hermann nods, and he gives Newt the barest hint of a smile.

Their monthly delivery of lab supplies—whatever they can afford with their shoestring budget, which, these days, mostly means chalk, rubber gloves, and nice instant ramen—comes three weeks later. Newt wouldn't exactly call the Shatterdome delivery guy a friend, seeing as he has yet to divulge his name to Newt (and also Newt's pretty sure he has a thing for Hermann, since he always seems to wait until Hermann is in the lab to stroll by with his package trolley and always calls him Dr. Gottlieb with big stupid heart eyes, oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that new sweater looks soooo nice on you!, so anyway, that makes him Newt's rival by default), but he, at least, recognizes and acknowledges Newt at this point. That's more than Newt can say for most people on the base. After his usual greeting to the two of them (hey, Newt, oh, hellllooo, Dr. Gottlieb, did you do something new with your hair?), he starts to unload their packages, also like usual.

"I was surprised to see that you guys are still down here," he tells Newt, not like usual. "Tendo mentioned something about you getting your own labs."

"He did?" Newt says, meaning to frown, but grinning instead. It's kind of fun to be the subject of gossip. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash to help with their supplies—the dehumidifier he requested should be in there, and it's fancy and definitely on the bigger side.

"Yeah," their delivery guy continues. He hands Newt a fuckin' massive brick of a package. Hermann's stupid chalk. The amount that Hermann tears through in a month really is astounding: Newt has a private theory that Hermann is an undercover space alien from a planet where chalk constitutes all of the primary food groups, and he secretly sneaks out here and eats it in the dead of night when Newt is asleep. "Anyway, sorry I'm late," the delivery guy says, as Newt imagines Hermann crunching on a piece of chalk like a carrot stick, "I went to all the other labs first."

"No worries, dude," Newt says. "Sorry for the confusion."

He lugs the package over to Hermann's desk, and drops it down on the only spot not over-cluttered with papers and books. Hermann complains about Newt's messiness a lot for a guy who is just as bad, if not worse. "Need any now?" Newt asks Hermann.

Hermann, scribbling away at his chalkboard, grunts. Newt decides that's a no.

"Hard at work, Dr. Gottlieb?" the delivery guy says, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

Another grunt. Newt snorts.

"I thought you guys would've moved right away," the delivery guy (obviously disappointed at Hermann's lack of attention) tells Newt. "Tendo mentioned you've been stuck together for a while, ever since some sort of dramatic confrontation at a conference ten years ago." he adds eagerly, "Did you really get thrown out? I don't know how you haven't killed each other yet."

"It's taken a lot of hard work," Newt says. Yeah, the whole being-ejected-from-the-conference-and-barred-from-all-future-ones-forever thing is technically true too, but everyone there was too stuffy and serious for Newt's fun vibes anyway, so he thinks it's their loss. The most important part of the scientific breakthrough process, Newt frequently thinks, was having someone there to challenge you and push back at you. Sometimes loudly. And in public. In the conference hall of a very expensive hotel, in front of all of your scientific peers, some hotel security guards, and a poor graduate student who made the mistake of asking you and your penpal-colleague for your joint opinion on something and got caught in the crosshairs. Besides—out of everyone at that stupid conference, Newt and Hermann were the only ones snapped up by the PPDC, so it's doubly their loss. "And, yeah, we got thrown out. Me and Hermann fight a lot, but we always make up eventually. It's no big deal. It's, like, our thing."

"Make up?"

Newt waggles his eyebrows and doesn't elaborate. The making up part is the best part of arguing with Hermann, honestly, but he's not about to go giving private details about stuff like that to his rival.

By the time Hermann finally descends his ladder, three hours have passed, and Newt is frowning over an email he's just gotten from Shatterdome HR. Hermann will probably see it in a second when he checks his own email—it was sent to both of them, after all—but Newt waves him over to his desk anyway. "Look," he says.

He draws out the spare chair he keeps by his desk (for Hermann), and Hermann drops into it gratefully, propping his cane up against the arm. Then Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his nose and scans the email with a frown of his own. Newt reads it aloud for him anyway. "'Subject: Quarters Reassignment,'" he says. "Dear Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb: It has recently come to our attention that you will be transferring to Laboratories A&B. Should you wish to transfer quarters as well, you will find the necessary paperwork..."

"By Jove," Hermann groans, and pulls his glasses off again, smudging a bit of chalk on his cheek, "can't they just leave us alone?"

Newt laughs. "I'll tell them we're not interested. Wait, listen to this bit at the end: Congratulations—this must be a relief! Guess they were getting your complaint forms after all, Hermann." Both Newt and Hermann had long-since assumed that any and all official complaint forms stamped with a k-sci lab return address are filed right into the garbage. It's never deterred Hermann from sending them in, though.

"Hmph," Hermann says.

Newt carefully rolls his shirtcuff back down to his wrist and uses it to rub off Hermann's chalk smudge. When it's gone, or at least, mostly gone, he brushes his fingers back through Hermann's short hair. Hermann's eyelids flutter shut, and as he leans into Newt's touch, his creased forehead smooths just a little. "Mm. You're lovely," he murmurs. "We really ought to tell them we're married. It's gone on long enough."

"I guess," Newt says. "But it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

[jessiebanethedragon]

Rampage (Hunter x reader)

WARNINGS BAD BATCH EPISODE 5 SPOILERS

click read more if you've seen the ep bc this fic is about it!

also to be clear i'm not romanticizing slavery - there's nothing romantic about it. The fic is supposed to be more about how hunter feels towards the reader when she's put in danger.

summary: Captured by slavers, hunter witnesses the leader of them make a fatal mistake.

reader pronouns = she/her

warnings: mentions of slavery and implications towards reader being sold to the hutts...

Hunter is beginning to wonder if the galaxy is working against him. After all, how does a simple smash and grab go so wrong? In his squad's defense they hadn't prepared for whatever flying menace the zygerrians had tamed. Though it doesn’t make the electro-collar sit more comfortably around his neck, even if his vod are being just as problematic as usual.

“I think it’s getting looser!” Wrecker says, twisting it around his neck, before promptly being shocked by the guard looking over them. And as Echo points our the laws against slavery, and he too is shocked Hunter see’s you push the fragile clone behind you protectively.

“Come off it!” You sneer in your coruscanti accent. And while his face stays solom Hunter can't help but enjoy the way your voice sounds and his heart flutters at your protectiveness. The sound of the whip makes everyones head turn.

“You want to say that again, skug?” the slaver taunts you. And unconsciously Hunter is already moving towards you. Maker, you stir up feelings in his chest Hunter didn’t even know existed. Tech had called him obsessed when you had first joined the team, but obsessed didn’t seem to cover all the different ways he fell for you. Had he had more time to contemplate what was going through his head and his heart he might’ve realised not only that he was in love with you, but that you had fallen head over heels for the sergeant as well.

Hunter is broken from his thoughts by the sound of laughter.

“Look at what we have here.” says the zygerrian obviously in charge, as he walks down towards the group of you. “ Five new slaves to add to my collection. Strong ones too.” Hunter hates the way he’s looking and talking to his vod, but when the slaver scum turns and notices you, a different type of hate starts to boil.

“Look at you!” He exclaims, clapping his hands together in excitement. Watching you front your knelt place in front of Echo and essentially giggling when you swift backwards away from him.

“How lucky am I…” He says as he motions for his guard to wrench you to your feet, Hunter watches as you struggle and twist in your armour and how your hair goes wild with the movement. “To have had a creature as stunning as you, just waltz into my hands?” As Hunter goes to stand as well, he’s stopped by the chain that restrains him to the rock. He settles to glaring at the man instead, even more so when he stands too close to you. Looking you up and down and craning his neck around as well.

“Savor the view while you can, I won’t be in your hands for long.” You tell them determinedly and dangerously. Chuckling again the zygerrian reaches out slowly to wrap his hand around your jaw and grip your face until it hurts.

“I can tell you’ll need an attitude adjustment.” He snarls watching your hands come up to try and pry his own off of your face.

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” Hunter says slowly. The tattoo looking more mancacing than normal thanks to the way his face glares at the zygerrian. With a snap of his fingers, a moment later there's searing pain throughout his body, his muscles clenching and tensing against the electrical current forces through them. Hunter stiffins and then slumps as the collar turns on and off. And when his eyes open again the man has dragged you over to Hunter, a firm hand around your neck.

“Take her in.” The Slaver says, pushing you to your knees so that you’re level with the love of your life. “Take a good long look.” He says into your ear, but he’s not really talking to you, more like taunting a very dangerous man. Hunter knows he’s the one binded at the moment but all he can focus on is everything he's going to do to the zygerrian when he gets out of his shackles. Only to acknowledge the man when you let out a noise of pain as he pushes you forward.

“I hope you realise how generous I am.” He states, “letting you say goodbye.”

Hunter goes feral, at the implication of never seeing you again, at the inferred separation he sees red and tugs impossibly hard on his chains.

“There’s so many places she could go,” He taunts ever so calmly. Hunter can recognize Tech trying to reason with him, telling him it’s a mind game and to relax, but he doesn’t care. The only thing he can see and hear is you - and the threat of never seeing or hearing you again.

“If she’s lucky i’ll sell her as a servant, but that would be a waste, imagine how much the hutts would pay for something like this.” Hunter assumes he’s actually beginning to scare the slaver because he receives another shock.

And by the time he recovers, you’ve been thrown aside as everyone races after the Rancor and Omega.

It’s much later when the sergeant seeks you out. Preoccupied with the adrenaline and the events from the day, he hasn’t been able to get the privacy he wanted. But now the ship is quiet, and the only thing interrupting the two of you is the hum of the engine as the ship hurtles through hyperspace.

“You killed him, didn’t you?” It's a question he knew was coming, and he considers lying to you telling you he left him for officials to find, but Hunter can’t bring himself to be dishonest. He could never be dishonest to you.

“Yes.” He says plainly, turning his head to look at you in the passenger seat, a conflicted look on your face, shucking off his gloves, Hunter engages autopilot.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” you cut him off, “don’t apologies.” Your voice is softer now. And he can't help the way he looks at you as he moves to kneel in front of your chair. Running his bare hands over your thighs, which look so much smaller without the armour plating attached.

Intimacy isn’t foreign between you and him, in fact you’re the only person Hunter likes to be close to. Rather than get overwhelmed by you, he indulges in the way you feel under his hands. He smiles as you gasp when his hands meet your waist.

“Is this okay?” He inquires, seeing you nod before sinking down awkwardly to be level with him. Hunter has to bite back a groan when his hands move under your tunic and his calloused fingers splay over your shoulder blades.

“Hunter…” You murmur his name as he pulls you flush against him and buries his face into your neck.

“I was scared.” He admits, for the first time in his life, the sergeant of Clone Force 99 tells someone he was afraid.

“I wasn’t.” You pull back to stare him down. “I’m never afraid when I'm with you.” you’re trying to read him - he can tell. And he tries not to think of how much he enjoyed when his hands wrapped around the zygerrian’s neck and he flailed around as life was choked out of him and he realized his fatal mistake.

He pushes all of that from his mind as he kisses you.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 9)

(It has been a minute since I've posted anything on this fic. Sorry friends-thanks for your patience! If you'd like you can start at the beginning, Part 1 on Tumblr and click through or head over to AO3 to read the whole thing.) ============

One week.

It took one week for Draco to make all of the arrangements; to brew the potion and to get in touch with Granger to make a plan without Harry knowing.

None of it was easy, of course. Harry spent so much time with him that it was hard to have secrets, but Draco couldn't ever find it in himself to complain. If he was a better man maybe it would have gone faster but in the grand scheme of things what was one week against the balance of the rest of his life?

But, as he stirred the potion seven times counter-clockwise and it changed to a dark purple, he knew that his time was up. This was the last piece. He already had the portkey from Granger that would deliver him to her house, she'd drawn up the contract that he would sign when he got there granting Harry immunity, and now the sleeping draught was complete. A few drops in the tea that he was going to make for Harry right before bed and he'd be able to leave.

His heart clenched traitorously and his brain continuously searched for ways to weasel its way out of spending his life in prison. But this was the only way. The only that Harry would have a chance at the life that he deserved after all he'd been through. It wasn't fair for him not to get to enjoy the world he'd saved.

It was time for Draco to do the right thing. For once. He had to, Harry was his now and he had to protect him, he had to do what was best for him. The only way to give Harry his freedom was to give up his own.

"Hey," Harry said, voice warmer than the sunshine on the beach as he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and buried his face in the side of Draco's neck, interrupting Draco from his thoughts. And Draco's entire soul ached.

(Read more below the cut)

"Hi yourself," he managed, keeping his voice light and cheerful.

He felt Harry grin against his neck, "How are you?" he asked as through they hadn't seen each other a mere hour ago.

"Good," he whispered, pressing back into Harry's arms, because how could he be anything else when Harry was holding him. "Did you finish that table you were building?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, kissing the spot just behind Draco's ear that made him feel a bit weak in the knees. "I thought maybe we could eat dinner outside."

He nodded, "Let me just tidy up out here first."

"Kay," Harry replied, pressing one more smacking kiss to his neck and making Draco laugh. "I'm going to start grilling the salmon we picked up yesterday, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll be out in a minute."

Harry gave him a wave and then disappeared out of the work room, traipsing through the green house.

Draco took a steadying breath and pulled out a small phial that he filled with the sleeping draught.

Only a few more hours.

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

And the hours passed far too quickly, eating dinner, then sitting close to the ocean where the waves could wash over their feet as they drank beer and laughed up at the stars.

"Harry?" he said.

"Mmh?" the other man asked, pressing his shoulder against Draco's.

He gave him a little smile, "This is the happiest I've ever been."

Harry turned his head to look at him and smiled back, "Yeah?"

Draco nodded.

"Me too," he replied, leaning in to kiss him softly.

His heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest, squeezing and wrenching like a wet towel being wrung out. "Love you," he whispered.

He felt Harry's smile as he kissed him, mouth stretched too wide, "I love you, too," he replied.

They sat staring out over the ocean for long moments and Draco knew he had to do it now. If he let the other man take him to bed, if he let Harry tell him how happy he was and how much he loved him, he wouldn't be able to do it.

"Do you want another?" he asked, pointing to Harry's beer. "I'm going to use the loo, I can grab you one while I'm up," he offered.

Harry tilted his head back to look up at him, curls spilling across his face and catching in the breeze. "Maybe a glass of water?"

"Alright," he replied, trying to figure out what he was going to hide the sleeping potion in as he brushed a few curly strands of hair out of Harry's eyes. "Be right back, then."

Harry caught his hand and tipped his head up so he could press a kiss to the inside of Draco's wrist and he felt his eyes well up. It shouldn't be possible to feel this much, shouldn't be possible for a heart to soar and clench at the same time.

He gave Harry's hand a squeeze before releasing him and heading toward the house, taking gasping breaths as he tried to calm down, tried to force the tears and the panic away. Once inside he looked around in the kitchen, water wouldn't mask the taste of the sleeping draught, he needed to find something else.

After a moment, he pulled down the biscuits that they'd baked together the day before, setting a few out on a plate, then pouring a glass of milk that he slipped several drops of the sleeping draught into.

It took him several minutes to work up the nerve, Merlin knew that he'd never been good at being brave; it's what had landed him in the situation in the first place. Squaring his shoulders, he levitated the plate and the glasses of milk, being sure to keep track of which one he'd put the potion into, outside to the beach.

Harry laughed when he saw him, reaching out to pluck the glass of milk closest to him from the air, "You're going to make me fat," Harry said. "And then you won't love me anymore."

Draco shook his head as he sat down next to Harry, leaning over to him to kiss him, "Impossible," he murmured. He cupped Harry's cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, "There is no possible version of us where I do not fall in love with you."

A pleased grin stretched Harry's mouth wide, "I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic," he said.

"No?" Draco asked as he picked up one of the cookies.

Harry shook his head, "I would have imagined you having sharp edges still, with practical ways to show your love, not all-" he broke off and gestured to Draco, "soft."

He shrugged one shoulder, "We've had enough sharp, haven't we?" he asked.

"Definitely," Harry agreed, taking a cookie off the plate and dunking it into the milk.

Draco swallowed against the guilt and the desire to just make it all stop.

"These turned out really well," Harry said through a mouthful of cookie. "I can't believe you'd never baked cookies before yesterday."

He smiled, "Lots of firsts here."

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up and he leaned over to kiss Draco again, soft and sweet. "What should our next first be?" he asked when he pulled back.

"I don't know," Draco replied, watching him dunk his cookie again, the milk soaking it and making a chunk break off and sink to the bottom.

"Drat," Harry said before taking a bite out of the remainder of it. "I've always wanted to take a trip to the states," he said. "And we all know that the Ministry doesn't work well with the one in the states. We probably wouldn't even have to hide."

He hummed, watching as Harry stifled a yawn.

"I want to go to that muggle amusement park," he added.

"Alright," Draco agreed. "We'll go, then."

Harry gave him one of those guileless grins of his before starting to lift the glass of milk to his lips.

"Kiss me," Draco blurted, needing just one more kiss before the end.

The other man obliged him, "Twist my arm," he said with a wink, leaning over and drawing Draco closer, so he could kiss him.

"Sorry," Draco said when they broke apart, "Finish your milk and biscuit."

"Don't be sorry," Harry said, "I will kiss you any time, love. Literally anytime." He drained his glass of milk, making a pleased little hum when he caught the piece of the biscuit he'd lost earlier.

The effects of the potion were immediate, as they always were, Draco watched as Harry's eyes started to droop.

"Merlin," he said through a yawn, "Draco I'm exhausted all of the sudden."

He nodded, "Let's go to bed," he offered, standing up and reaching for Harry's hands.

Harry allowed himself to be tugged to his feet and he stumbled into Draco, his body sinking into him like they'd been made to fit together.

"I've got you," Draco whispered, wrapping his arm around him and holding him for a minute, memorizing the curves of his body and the way they felt pressed together. "Come on," he said after a minute.

"Don't wanna," Harry mumbled against his collarbone. "M'comfortable."

"Bed will be more comfortable," Draco assured him, nudging him toward the house.

"You'll be there, too?"

"Yeah," he whispered, knowing that his heart would live here with the other man, tucked between his ribs next to his own for safe keeping.

He managed to navigate Harry inside and they crawled into bed, Harry curled around him, drawing Harry's back against his chest and holding him.

"Love you," Harry mumbled sleepily.

"I love you too," he managed, throat tight and raw as he clutched Harry tighter and held him impossibly closer. He stayed there for longer than was strictly necessary, Harry's body was lax in his arms, he let out a soft huff snore ever few exhalations, and there wasn't a doubt in Draco's mind that the other man was in a deep sleep.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Okay, you've got to get up." He pressed a kiss to the soft skin on the back of Harry's neck and slid out from under him, drawing away. "Don't think about it," he muttered as he made his way out of his room, quietly closing the door.

He went to the island in the kitchen and left a note, the closest thing to a love letter he'd ever written, and laid his wand on top of it.

"Don't think about it," he repeated, opening the cupboard under the sink and digging out the old scrub brush that Granger had sent him. He took a breath and closed his eyes, not giving himself even one more moment to think and talk himself out of it, and activated the portkey.

He was sucked through time and space, and the next thing he knew his feet hit the floor in an unfamiliar living room. The door opened and Granger and Weasley came in a moment later.

"Sorry," Granger said, "We weren't sure when you were coming."

"It's fine," he said, breathing through his nose and trying to fight the tears prickling the back of his eyes.

Granger held out a parchment, "You're sure you know what you're doing?"

He nodded and reached out for the quill set out on the desk.

"Malfoy," she said, pulling the contract back, "Draco," she added, voice soft in a way that made Draco want to cry and scream. "If you sign this you can never appeal the decision the court reached. You will be in prison for the rest of your life."

"I know."

Weasley cleared his throat, "Does Harry know you're here?"

"No," he said, looking up at them. "No, I gave him a sleeping draught. He can't know until it's finalized," he added. "You saw what happened at the trial. He's so-" he shook his head, he couldn't say it, couldn't make himself voice the words. Not to them, not to anyone; they were his, all he had left, and he buried them in his chest where his heart used to be. "He can't know."

"Are you certain?" Granger asked again.

"Give it to me," he snapped. "Just give me the damn contract. I can only be tested so many fucking times and if you think leaving Harry wasn't hard enough, if you think-" He broke off, realizing that he was gasping in ragged breaths and that tears had spilled down his face. He wiped his eyes furiously. "We all know that I am not the pinnacle of valor. Doing what is right when it is difficult has never been my strong suit. So please," he said, "please stop asking me."

"You love him, too," Weasley breathed as though it was some sort of revelation.

He snatched the contract from Granger's hand and signed it before either of them could say anything else. "You said you'd have someone from the ministry ready to take me?" he said, thrusting his chin up in the air and refusing to give in to the urge to break down.

"I'm taking you," she said softly.

He nodded, "let's go, then."

"Is there anything-" Weasley started.

He shook his head and ignored the way a tear slipped down his cheek, "There is only one thing I want and we all know I can't have him."

"Come on, then," Granger said, holding out her elbow.

Just as they apparated Weasley called out, "You're a good person, Draco Malfoy."

"He's right, you know," she said when their feet hit the ground.

Draco shook his head, "I'm not, obviously," he said gesturing to the prison doors they were about to walk through. "Will you do something for me?" he asked.

She nodded, "What do you need?"

"Don't let him do anything stupid," he said.

She laughed, "I've spent my whole life failing at that."

"Tell him it's okay," he pleaded, "It's fine to move on, to live a happy life. Tell him I want that for him." He swallowed around the tears. "Tell him he deserves to be happy more than anyone, that he deserves the best life," he said, an ugly sob escaping.

Before he knew what was happening, Granger wrapped him in her arms and pulled him into an uncomfortably tight hug. "We'll figure this out," she said fiercely.

He pulled back, shaking his head and wiping his face. "Don't. And please don't say that to him."

She searched his face for a long moment and Draco tried to pull himself together. "Right," she said, nodding once and squaring her shoulders, "This way."

He closed his eyes and let the memory of the sound of the waves crashing to shore, of Harry's hand in his, and the warm sun on his face, fill him up one more time before the darkness ahead.

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

Part 8 | Part 10

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by.  What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths.  You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee.  Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound.  Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well.  “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin.  What could you possibly say about that?  Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it.  “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly.  A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm.  “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear.  Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.  

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill.  “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers.  You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs.  Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat).  He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look.  “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled.  “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee.  Do you want some?  Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.”  Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder.  He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up.  When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped.  You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs.  He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on?  Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid.  Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.  I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back.  “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed.  “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know!  He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed.  You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem?  Strangeness?  Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you.  Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.  

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry.  “Jesus, Michael!  Are you hearing yourself?  This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders!  Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected.  “It was never just sex.  I love her.  But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing.  It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all.  “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first.  He had always had a bit of a temper.  “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now?  And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not.  You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly.  Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.  

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael.  “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back.  “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with.  “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you.  “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest.  It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense.  After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen.  I'm not leaving with you.  I'm not forgiving you.  Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came.  None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled.  "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently.  "I came here to tell you that I love you.  I need you.  And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.  

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it.  We'll get through this.  Isn't that what marriage is?  Fighting for each other, struggling together?"  He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw.  "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you.  But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that.  "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do." 

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber.  "I want to stay and work this out," he explained.  "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there.  But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me.  You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb.  To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back.  But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.  

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor.  Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before.  Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.  

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head.  "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure.  I'm moving on.  Take it back," you demanded.  He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band.  "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away.  "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed.  "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him.  You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms.  “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest.  "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again?  Would you go to his?  Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room.  He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure.  And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc—"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans

[newtonsheffield]

Hey Molly!!

I had to watch the finale of one of my favorite TV shows where they killed off the female lead right after she got together with the guy we’ve all been waiting for her to get together with - for 8 years.

It was depressing as heck! But you saved my depressed little heart with Anniversary so first off thank you so much for this awesomeness of an AU, I honestly can’t get enough of it!! ♥️

I read this interesting fic the other day and I was wondering if we could see something along these lines in the BSCU?

Forgive me if this sounds like super weird and feel free to ignore it but I’m a weirdo who likes a touch of angst mixed with the fluff ahhh

Kate gets appendicitis? Anthony is freaked out? Then fluff!

But again, sorry for such a weird ask! You don’t have to do it!!

As always thanks for being so amazing!

You’re truly the best ♥️

Hello! Hello! Hello!

Ugh! I hate when they ruin ships like that! Like thanks for wasting my time!!!

I'm so glad Anniversary made you feel better though!

Ooof Imagine Anthony going absolutely spare because his girlfriend just kind of doubled over and then went really clammy and like it's not because he said he wanted to marry her right?!

(Let's see if it is!)

Anthony couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Kate had been acting a little oddly this morning. They'd been laying in bed this morning, Anthony's arm cushioning Kate's head as she scrolled through social media. "Ugh! Fucking Hell!" Kate had groaned, rolling her eyes. Anthony had made a humming noise looking up from nuzzling at her collarbone. "A girl I went to school with just got married." She said a little scathingly. Anthony had felt his eyebrows raise, "And we hate that because?" His heart thrumming wildly, surely she wasn't upset because she wasn't-? "We hate that because she used to trip me in the hallway, and she also had guests sign their initials on a bird house. I would die." Kate said a little primly. Laughter bubbled in Anthony's chest, echoing through his bedroom. "I promise when we get married, there won't be a bird house in sight." He said unthinkingly. Kate stilled for a moment and then stood from his bed wincing slightly.

"I have to go to Mary's. I promised I'd help her with some stuff." She said quickly, making her way towards the bathroom, leaving Anthony in their bed wondering what on earth had happened.

He'd been making breakfast when she came downstairs, looking a little peaky as he slid the plate towards her, eggs and toast piled high. "Sorry, I'm gonna skip it. I'm feeling a little queasy, and I was just a little sick when I got changed." Anthony felt his brow furrow, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. "I better head off." "Are you sure you should go to Mary's?" concern colouring his voice, his hand reaching out for her forehead. "Anthony, I'm fine. It's probably just... my period starting or... not that I'll be fine." She said swatting his hand away. Kissing his cheek quickly "I'll be back later." "I love you." Anthony called out as she waved back at him.

Anthony spent all morning trying to busy himself around the house. Kate had left in such a rush, she hadn't even looked at her breakfast, had swatted his hands away and as pathetic as it was, he couldn't remember the last time she'd left the house without telling him he loved her. God, had his stupid comment about getting married made her panic? He wanted to marry her, he was certain and they lived together but maybe they weren't at the stage in their relationship where you could casually mention a wedding that hadn't technically been proposed yet. No, he was being ridiculous, he told himself, She'd said she was feeling unwell, she'd been sick, she was feeling queasy this... morning. Oh god. Kate was pregnant. Something fluttered in his stomach at the thought. Would it really be so terrible if she was? They were committed and he was sure that-

His descent into madness was stopped by his phone ringing Edwina Sheffield (Kate from Work's sister) flashing on the screen a smile coming to his face at the joke. "Hey Anthony," Edwina said quickly, continuing before Anthony greet her. "Um I'm going to need you not to panic but Mum and I are just driving Kate to A&E." Anthony's heart stopped he could hear Kate's voice in the background "For fuck's sake Eddie don't tell him like that!" A scuffle for the phone as Anthony fought for breath, panic welling up inside him. "Honey, please don't panic." Kate's voice winced, Anthony's panic abated only very slightly. "Don't panic?! Kate what happened?!" He choked out. "Please don't be mad, but I think I have appendicitis? Can you just come to the hospital?" Anthony was out the door before she could even tell him where.

He burst through the accident and emergency doors startling the desk nurse. "Um Hi," He said his voice high, his breath wrenching from his chest. "My ah.. my wife's mum brought her in a short while ago? Kate Sheffield?!" "Anthony?" Edwina's voice called out from behind the desk, gesturing him through. Anthony shot an apologetic look at the bemused nurse as he skirted around the desk following after Edwina. "So Kate's your wife huh?" Edwina said smirking, nudging his shoulder with her own. Anthony's eyes bulged as he realised what he'd said, floundering a little. 'Shut up, Eddie. Anyway, she might be dying. Hardly the moment for a romantic proposal." He quipped, his stomach rolling. Edwina fixed him with shrewd stare. "Is there going to be a romantic proposal?"

Anthony shrugged, unable to trust the words that would come out of his mouth for a moment. "Probably." Edwina smiled brightly. "Kate's fine by the way. She's being prepped for surgery which means she's a little...high honestly. She's high as a kite." Edwina said pulling back the curtain with a flourish to reveal Mary attempting to wrestle Kate back into bed. "I'm fine Mary promise I just wanna go home to Anthony and our dog!" Kate was saying her voice a little high. Mary sighed. "Katie, when the morphine wears off I think you'll feel differently." "Anthony!" Kate yelled suddenly realising he'd arrived. And Anthony felt himself relax just a little though worry still swirled in his stomach, he didn't have time to worry about himself.

"Katie, can you get back in bed for me?" He said softly, coaxing her back under the covers. "Mary Anthony came! I love Anthony!" Kate sing-songed happily taking his hand. Mary smiled gently. "I know Katie." "Anthony! They're gonna take out my appendix!" Kate said brightly, as though it was the best news she'd ever heard. Anthony chuckled as he ran his hands through her hair. "Do you wanna know a secret?" Kate said in what Anthony was sure was supposed to be a whisper. He nodded suddenly afraid of what she'd say as he sister watched on with amusement. "It's a really good one." She sing songed again. "Before the pain started, I thought I was pregnant!" Anthony's heart stopped as Mary let out an odd squeak Edwina a loud cackle.

"And like I wasn't even mad about it because I wanna have a baby with you! It would be so cute! It might have curly hair, and maybe your nose and your angry little eyebrows!" Kate said happily her finger running over his brows forcing them to frown as she chuckled. "Mary Don't you think my baby with Anthony would be so CUTE?!" "Okay! We're ready for you now!" A Nurse said making to wheel the bed away. "Just maybe think about it!" Kate said happily. "Kate I would love to have this conversation when you aren't high." Anthony said kissing her forehead lightly, his heart pounding as his girlfriend was wheeled down the ward yelling out "I'm not high thank you!"

"Please tell me I didn't say anything too terrible." Kate winced when she woke up, looking ruefully at her jelly as Anthony fussed around her. "Mmmm you just told Mary and Edwina how badly you want to have a baby with me." Anthony chuckled fluffing her pillows. Kate froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "You're fucking kidding." "Oh but I'm not. You want it to have my and I quote Angry Eyebrows." Anthony laughed settling himself on the bed beside her. Kate huffed, her eyes darting to him furtively, clearly gauging his reaction. "Well I'm not... opposed to the idea." Anthony's stomach dropped again. He cleared his throat. "Me either." He saw Kate's shoulders relax a smile threatening to burst onto her face. "I might let you recover from this surgery first though." "Oh my god, such a gentleman. Catch me I'm swooning."

[volexis]

my favorite ghost; sakusa x gn!reader

summary: sakusa loved you, and he was sure you loved him too. over time he’s come to know love is fickle, always ready to dissipate at the drop of a hat or the proposition of one all-important question.

warnings: fluff to angst, implied break-up, mentions of past relationships, proposals

wc: 1.6k

note: general taglist is open, send an ask or fill out my form to be added!

a/n: here's some angst since it's my birthday today! i've had this drafted for months now, i tried something new here so it took me a while to actually gather the courage to post it but yeah this was the fic idea from a poll i made like a billion years ago!

Sakusa didn’t expect to enjoy his mornings with you, nor did he expect them to become his favorite part of the day. No matter how the night started, by the time sunlight streamed through the windows, he’d always find you encased in his arms. On the days he woke up before you, which tended to be a more common occurrence, he’d take the time to really look at you. He’d take in the unusual sort of gentleness that consumed your generally placid features. Sometimes, he’d catch a thinly veiled smile on your lips and wonder what you were dreaming about to have given you that grin. Most of the time, he’d leave the bed before you could open your eyes. Before he could cave in and take the chance to ghost his lips over yours. Today wasn’t one of those days. You stared back at Sakusa as he all but jumped away from you in his fright, half-embarrassed to have been caught looking at you so unabashedly.

Before you could open your mouth and ask the undoubtedly teasing question that rested on your lips, Sakusa asked a question of his own.

“Are you busy this Friday?”

You blinked owlishly at your boyfriend and quirked an eyebrow. “Well, good morning to you too,” you whispered into the air between the two of you, voice slightly hoarse and threaded with remnants of sleep.

“Good morning, my love,” he relented after making a point to exaggeratedly roll his eyes, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

At his words, your eyes lost the playful glint they carried. Whatever caused the shift strung a weight in his chest and made his stomach plummet.

“I don’t think I am. What’re you planning?”

You paired your words with a desperately bright grin. Sakusa said nothing and sent you a cheeky smile of his own, hoping it was enough to mask the sudden sting of fear in his heart. He rolled out of your shared bed, chuckling lightly as your indignant protests followed him out of the room. He never revealed his plans, no matter how much you tried to trick him in the days that followed. He always chose to send you a ridiculously charming grin in response and promising that you’d know soon.

Sakusa was unbearably obvious, in his eyes at least. He’d never say it outright; the words weighed far too heavy in his mouth to ever escape. The way his eyes trailed your figure with a sickeningly saccharine fondness spoke volumes in his stead. Fortunately for him, you were oblivious to the way your boyfriend radiated absolute adoration in your presence. Though not everyone else was.

“So, Omi-kun, when’s the wedding? Seeing you all so lovey-dovey is making me sick." Atsumu mimed a nauseous expression, grinning at his teammate’s callous, unimpressed glare.

“First of all, my romantic engagements are none of your business, and second," he paused to riffle through his gym bag, lifting his prize for the blond to see. “You wouldn’t have been invited to the wedding, anyways.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened as he blinked slowly, momentarily stunned. A smug grin split his face as he wolf-whistled.

“Congrats, Omi Omi, I didn’t think you had it in ya.” He clapped his back, much to the annoyance of the former, before leaving the changing room.

The blond’s words left a sour, indignant taste in Sakusa’s mouth. He was not the type to lack courage given his silent yet almost teasing demeanor, but the tiny box in his pocket haunted him. It sent anxiety spiking through his nerves every time you reached too close, breached his most climacteric secret. Yes, Sakusa had plenty of bravery and will, but he lacked one thing. Patience.

“Where are you taking me?” You lightly tug at the cloth that covered your eyes, laughing as he immediately swats your hands from the blindfold in response.

“You’ll see when we get there,” came an obnoxiously indifferent reply from somewhere up ahead. You could feel the smirk on Sakusa's lips without having to look. His dodgy words did nothing to quell the swirling butterflies swarming your stomach. Nor how they fluttered in time with every exhilarated beat of your heart. His hands felt far too warm in yours as he guided you through an undisclosed area. You vaguely hear what could’ve been a car in the distance, the familiar noise prompting more questions than answers.

“We’re here,” he whispered into your ear, lips dangerously close. Your skin prickled deliciously with embarrassment, but you chose to ignore the feeling to take off the dark fabric tied over your eyes.

Before you lay a quaint picnic blanket nestled between broad trees. Thin lights were strung on its branches, illuminating the modestly charming set-up beneath them. Assorted snacks were carefully placed on the blanket with enough space to comfortably sit and eat.

“You mentioned a while ago that you’ve always wanted to go on a picnic. So, I thought now’s a good time as any.”

His words were quiet and surprisingly bashful. You couldn’t help but smile as you pull him down to sit with you, quickly reaching for whichever treat caught your eye.

Sakusa sat before you, methodically fiddling with the worn lining of his jacket. The ring burns a hole in his pocket, weighing down on his heart and sending anxiety creeping up his throat. He couldn’t do anything but smile as you rambled, seemingly unbothered by his lack of participation.

Was now a good time? Would there ever be a good time? He worked his hand into his pocket and fiddled with the ring. Flipping its box open and shut with every thought that streamlined through his mind. The box tumbled out of his jacket before he could make a choice, landing on a platter between the two of you. Your words quieted at the sight of it as you stared at it, then at him.

“This… this isn’t exactly how I planned it, how I planned to propose to you,” Sakusa spoke up before you could. He picked up the box from where it lay and gathered himself into a semblance of a kneel, the best he could do while on the filmy, slippery blanket.

“I wanted to take you to that restaurant you like first, buy you flowers, walk through the streets as the sky darkens. Take you to your favorite park, the one where we met, and then I’d propose. I wanted nothing less than perfection because you mean the world to me. Before I met you, I never really understood what it meant to love so fiercely you’d give the world, paint the sky, wring the stars, just to see them smile. Now, I know what it’s like to love someone with everything that I am. You’re everything I could ever want, everything I’ve longed for, and infinitely more. I love you more than words could ever possibly dream of encompassing. Anything I say would pale in comparison. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me if you let me.”

His voice faltered, the tear-stained smile stretched on his lips mirroring your own. When did he start crying? When had you started crying? It didn’t matter, not really. You were and will always be the most beautiful person Sakusa has ever known, regardless of how you look.

“So please, tell me you’ll say yes.”

You couldn’t trust your voice, not with the way tears freely coursed down your cheeks and into your mouth every time you tried to speak. You nodded, laughing softly at the relieved grin on his face once you slipped the ring onto your finger. Sakusa’s eyes softened as he reached to cup your cheeks and pull you in to press a kiss to your nose, cheekbone, wherever he landed first. He chuckled into your lips as you fisted his shirt and pulled him even closer. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste of sparkly citrus and the feeling of your tongue swiping against his.

Honeyed lips on his melted into the ardent warmth of sunlight, breathing kisses on his skin. Sakusa never expected he would have to get used to mornings without you, longing for your touch. Coming to terms with the gut-wrenching reminder that it was nothing but a dream. It was the gleaming proposal he longed for. The one he wished he could’ve given you instead of hushed, awkward confession whispered into the night while he held a ring between shaking fingers. It’s no wonder you said no. The look in your eyes was sickeningly sorrowful, almost apologetic. It reminded him he would never be enough for you.

Your face now seemed turbid at best, glossed over and all but forgotten in the balmy morning haze. Sakusa wished he could forget you, what you were, what the two of you had together. The ring still sits heavy on his nightstand. Next to his clock, next to where a framed picture of your wedding should have been.

Sakusa could never hate you for it. If his love were enough, you’d still be here with him. The fact was glaringly obvious, at least in his eyes. Your presence never fades, not with the weaning sunlight or the occasional breeze that rushes along. It’s phantasmic in the way it lingers sweetly yet heaves a bitter taste onto his tongue all the same. Your memory, everything about you, would always be his favorite ghost.

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