#you have no idea the stupidly long amount of time it took for me to write the tword

[mosaic-hunter]

just had the worst day of my life all i need rn is tickles

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.�� And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

I love the idea of “home” being a person, and this is demonstrated so beautifully with Xaden and Violet.

Violet spent her entire childhood moving from place to place with her mother’s work, from what I understand never really settling in one place or having one place to call home. It sure as hell wasn’t Basgiath, and I don’t think she’d consider Aretia to be her home yet either. Home is where you feel most safe, and Violet feels most safe with Xaden. He is her home.

I’m in Xaden’s bedroom. Xaden’s very warded bedroom. Safe. No safer place on the Continent, really.

(Iron Flame, Chapter 12) That quote took me a stupidly long time to find.

For Xaden, Aretia was always the place he thought of as home. It was where he was born, where he grew up, the place he loved the most. He sacrificed so much for the city, and helped rebuild it from the ground up. But he was willing to throw that all away for Violet.

“I will happily watch Aretia burn to the fucking ground again if it means you live.” “You don’t mean that.” He loves his home. He’s done everything to protect his home.

(Iron Flame, Chapter 36)

I really like this quote, mainly because of the double meaning in the last part. “He loves his home” yeah, Violet. You. He thinks of you as his home now.

Xaden saying he will happily watch Aretia burn down “again” is what really gets me though. The amount of pain he must have undergone watching the city he loved burn down when he was 17, he’d go through it all again to save Violet.

“You ward wherever you are, which is here.” “But your home…” It’s softer than a whisper. “You are my home.”

(Iron Flame, Chapter 64)

[itsohh]

Electra Heart Part 1

A/N: Female reader, I had this idea in my head for soooo long and finally got it down on paper. Idk if I love mk11 or mk1 Johnny more but I do love how they emphasize how smart he is in the new game. I love the idea of being stupidly rich and famous like him and just... him not knowing.

Summary: Being one of Earthrelm's defenders isn't easy. Johnny flirting with you doesn't make it easier but what started as an annoyance becomes something you welcome. Perhaps dating Johnny isn't so bad after all- so long as he doesn't find out that you're an a list popstar.

Word count: 6192

Warnings: None

Part 2 AO3

“There is one more we wait for.” Liu Kang’s voice was calm, patient as he looked at the four men in front of them. Having just being met, they constantly sized each other up. To be Earthrelm’s champions was no small feat. It was only at the hurried sound of feet behind them did the four men turn. Most of them made small glances, interested but not over-exerting themselves but Johnny was the one to truly look. 

Your shoes skidded slightly on the ground as you came to a stop and your eyes dated from the group of men before you. Admittedly it wasn't your most graceful entry. The weight of all eyes on you had you freeze a bit before your eyes settled on Liu Kang's. They were gentle and kind most genuinely. Something you didn't often see. 

“Oh uh-” You cupped your fist and bowed before him. “Apologies for making you wait. It was a mission to get time off from work.”

“I understand that your career is one of the most presidential demands and thank you for accepting my offer.”

“Anything that gets me out of the house.” You nodded to him and he smiled. With the gesture of his hand, he guided you to a spot next to the men. 

“What. A. Total. Babe.” A poorly hushed voice whispered as you walked and the snap of your eyes towards the voice caught the man in the act. Oh, you had seen that man many times before. Johnny Cage himself. 

As his eye made contact with yours he completely stilled. Only the corner of his mouth had opened in a comedic fashion and he leaned towards the men in red. 

The man next to him promptly elbowed him and hissed out. “Would it kill you to show her some respect?” 

“Oh trust me, I have a huge amount of respect.” He grinned and gave you his signature grin. 

“Now we are all here-” Liu Kang took control of the scene and commanded attention. “-allow me to introduce you all.”

-

“You know when the tournament is all done and dusted you should come star in one of my movies with me. I'm always in need of a hot love interest.”

“I'm no actress, Johnny.”

“You say that but I reckon you have what it takes. There's something about you that screams that you belong in front of a camera.” 

“Hm, no. I have to go back to work.”

Johnny rolled his eyes as he bounced a little on his feet. The pair of you continued to circle each other, ready for your spar. 

“I get being committed to your job but I swear that's always your excuse. How ‘bout this then, you let me take you out on a date?”

“You're a sound salesman's Cage, make them an outrageous offer so then your hard-to-sell offer sounds better in comparison when the second offer is the true one you wanted in the first place.”

“Hey, I would be totally down having you in one of my movies! But yeah, you caught me.”

You took a step forward and his focus was instant. Every move from both parties was highly calculated. “Whenever you talk about her, you sound a bit bitter about your ex. Are you sure you’re ready for another relationship?”

“Ho! I said date but would. Not. Say No. To a relationship with you, god damn.” He tilted his head and put his hands up. “And trust me, there's no lasting feeling there.”

“And why would I want to date you?”

“The question is, why wouldn't you? I mean look at all this.” He gestured towards himself. “I got fame, fortune and the good looks to go with it.” 

“That means nothing to me. Fame is a curse rather than a blessing. Privacy is removed for all eternity. Let me guess I become your side piece that you show off then get harassed by all your loyal fangirls that want to screw you. Besides I have enough money to support myself, any more would not bring me happiness. Finally, tell me, is there any intellectual maturity behind those pretty eyes of yours? Any at all?” 

“Wow you really put some thought into this, I'm surprised actually. Considering you always say no and all. But uh- you think my eyes are pretty?” 

“You ignoring everything I said and focusing on a compliment is so you Johnny in a way that answers my question completely.”

“Just one date, I will rock your world!” 

“I don't need my world rocked.”

“How about you tell me what you want from a man and I'll see if I can be that.”

“Johnny, if I ever go out with you it's to be with you, not someone you're pretending to be to please me.”

“I won't change, promise. Just see if what you like aligns with this perfection.” He gestured to himself. 

“Maybe if you impress me in this fight. Consider it a wager.”

“Easily. Deal.”

“But if you don’t- you stop asking me. Forever.” 

His face scrunched up for a moment and he weighed his head. “Fine deal, I won't lose.”

“I said to impress me. Not win.” 

-

The fight had started with your foot against his head. A kick. It finished with a different kick. One to your head. You had been a second too slow and hadn't been quick enough. It sent you directly down onto the mat in an instant. The last of your strength was gone and pain surged in your sinus. 

Your hands flew to your face as you curled up on your side. Johnny called out your name in shock before he quickly ran up to you. His knees slid down on the mats and you could hear his voice next to you.

“Oh shit! I didn't mean to actually- are you okay- oh fuck I'm so sorry.” 

You whimpered when you felt his gentle touch on your cheek and where your hand connected with it. “Hey-” His voice cooed before his head snapped up to one a monk that neared. “Go get a healer or something! Or Liu Kang! I don't know what you guys have just go get help.” He hurried and swallowed when he looked back down at you. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Let me look at it.” He lightly tugged on your hand. 

You were hesitant to move but slowly you rolled from your side to your back, legs still on each other. With a pained breath, you opened your eyes and allowed him to pull away your hands that covered your nose. 

Blood had covered them and ran down from your nose over the rest of your face. It was a constant flow but there was a decent amount of it. “Shit your bleeding.” His big brown eyes looked at you with complete concern as he cupped your face. Johnny was leaning over you, one hand planted on the ground next to your head for balance. He swallowed and quickly got something out of his clothing. A white piece of fabric which he held up to your face to capture the blood. 

“I'm so so sorry I-”

Johnny's voice was cut off when someone interrupted him. Liu Kang and a couple of monks behind him rushed down to your side and Johnny pulled back from you. 

“What happened?” Liu Kang asked. 

“We were sparing and I kicked her too hard. I didn't mean to properly hurt her. She's normally so quick to block I-”

“I understand.” Liu Kang nodded and turned his focus to you. Liu Kang took the cloth away from your face and stared at your nose. “Get me something for her pain.” He turned to the monk next to him for a moment. “This might hurt more but may I touch it?” 

You made a small nod and winced when his fingers made contact. “It doesn't look too bad, I've had worse myself over the years but I need to realign it. This may hurt a bit.” 

He steadied his two hands and you thought he would give you a count down but no- he quickly flexed them and moved your nose back into position. A loud cry came from lips and you snatched your head out of his grasp. 

“I'm sorry, it's better that you don't know when it's coming so you don't tense.” 

Liu Kang moved to your side more. “Here, let us help you up." He nodded to Johnny to slowly pull you up into an upright position.

It wasn't intentional but you leaned into the warmth of Johnny's support as hurried footsteps approached the group of you. 

“Thank you.” Liu Kang spoke and you felt his hand on your knee. “This will help with the pain, may I?” 

You blinked a few times and stabilized yourself before you nodded. His hand gently graced your nose as he applied an ointment. The pain relief it supplied was instantaneous and had you sigh. 

A groan left your lips and your breathing slowed. “Thank you.” You finally spoke and he pushed up on his heels back into a stand. 

He offered a hand to you which you quickly took and he pulled you up to your feet. 

“It looks a lot worse than it is, you will heal quickly.” 

“Whatever that stuff was, it did wonders.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I'm good now. Thanks really, don't worry about me.” You waved him off and he nodded with a smile. If anyone knew you were okay, it was him. Liu Kang nodded to Johnny before he handed you the piece of bloodied cloth and left. 

“I am so sorry I really mean it I’m-” Johnny was quick to apologize when your eyes landed on him. 

“It's fine Johnny. Relax, accidents happen.”

“Yeah but- god- I never wanted to hurt you. Ever. I got so caught up and- fuck- I'm so sorry.”

“Johnny, I'm fine really. It was a good hit, I should have been quicker.”

“It is not your fault.” He was fast to defend you, completely obvious from his earlier words. 

“And it's not yours either. That's why they call it an accident. If it makes you feel better, you certainly impressed me.” 

His concern wasn't killed but was covered up by interest in your words. “Oh yeah? Me breaking your nose is how I impress you?”

“No, allowing me to know something I need to work on impressing me. Which means you won our bet.” You looked down at the cloth in your hand and started to wipe away the blood from your face. 

“As much as I would love to know how you like your guys, let's get you cleaned up first.”

Johnny slowly took you back to his room where he got you a fresh cloth and wet it. He slowly started to clean your face and you let him. 

“Mmm.” You hummed as he cleaned you up and then took a step back to admire his work. 

“There! Good as new, save for the bruising.”

“I like someone that can take care of me.” You caught him off guard and his brows shot up. Johnny placed the wet cloth on a side table and pulled a chair opposite you. He sat down in it as you sat on the end of his small bed. 

“Yeah?”

“I also like someone who can make me laugh. Someone who can genuinely love me for every side of me. When I'm quiet when I'm loud. Someone who accepts how important my work is to me and doesn't try and ultimatum that away from me.” He leaned in as you did. 

“I like someone who can be genuine and be there for me just to listen when I'm having a bad day. Someone to hold me close when I cry. I want someone who can love me for me.” Your voice cracked a little and you broke eye contact with him. 

“I can do that.” He whispered and your lips curled. 

“Can you? Or can you just act like you can?” You stood up from his bed and his lips opened. 

“I can, I-”

“I guess we won't ever find out.” You shrugged, your voice a tease as you headed for his bedroom door. 

“Wait! What about our date?” He asked as you started to go through the doorway. 

“Date? The bet was to tell you what I want in a partner. Be them a dude or not. I never said I would date you. Thanks for cleaning me up but now I have to go change clothes.”

-

As Liu Kang explained how you all would fight to become his champion, Johnny leaned over to your ear. “We have to fight each other huh? If I win you go out on a date with me. Anywhere you want, best night of your life guaranteed.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“Same as last time, I'll never bring it up again.”

“You know most men are normally content with a woman telling them no and listening.” Kenshi huffed and Johnny put his hands up. 

“Hey! She's never told me directly no. Only used it as a bet wager. Probably because she likes it and just doesn't want to admit it.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Johnny. You are first.” Liu Kang’s words had Johnny's ears perk up. 

“Doing the best first huh?”

Liu Kang called out your voice and you could see the way that Johnny's entire body seemed to vibrate with excitement. 

“We got a deal?” He asked as he found his position across from you. A deep breath calmed your body and allowed you to focus. 

“You really want to place a bet on arguably one of the most important kombat fights of our life.”

“...Yes.”

“Fine. 

A grin formed on his face as he summoned you with his hand. 

-

As you looked at your phone you felt a presence appear. 

“You let Johnny win against you.” Without looking up you recognised Liu Kang’s voice. 

“And how did you figure that?”

“I've seen you work, seen you practice. Johnny is good but you pull your punches a lot against him. Today was no different.”

“It’s not moral kombat, I'm not trying to kill him.” You looked up and locked your phone with the press of a button. 

“True but I believe you rival Raiden. If you won against him I wouldn't have been surprised.”

“Truthfully? Since you said there would only be one Champion I didn't want to be it.”

“You don't believe you could do it?” He stepped fully into the room and sat down across from you. His eyes examined you as his eyes read your body. They softened into a look of realization. “You don't think you can handle the pressure.” He seemed so surprised by the fact it made you press your lips together. 

“Yeah. Why are you surprised?”

“Well, doing things in front of an audience isn't anything new for you. I would have thought you would enjoy the spotlight.”

“Not as me though. When I'm up one stage as Nightingale that's another person. She's a mask I put on. Admittedly it can be a liberating mask at times but this is scary being me. Doing something with my name and my face. It's not the same.”

“I understand and I thank you for doing this regardless.”

A knock at your door had both of your heads turn to face it. Liu Kang nodded to you and you spoke up. “Come in.” 

Johnny's head poked around the door and landed on Liu Kang’s for a second. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

“No, we were just discussing the fight. I was heading out anyway.” The fire god stood up and smiled as he left the room. 

“Soooo.” Johnny slid into the room and you swore his teeth shined as he grinned. 

“Yes, Johnny?”

“Pick you up at seven?” 

“From where? Johnny, we’re going to Outworld in a day. You can't be seriously thinking about a date.”

“No, no I mean after all this. Me, you, a world-class view and the best Wagyu you ever had.”

“No.” You folded your arms and his face dropped. Before he could say anything you continued. “You said anywhere I want. I don't want some flashy restaurant. I want at home-cooked dinner.”

“Oh thank god, I thought you were telling me no. Yeah, I can cook for you. Prepare for the best home-cooked meal you ever had.”

“I want to watch you cook it.” 

“Come on you doubt my ability? You really think I would purchase food then disguise it as my own cooking?”

“Yes. That's exactly what I think and the fact you brought it up tells me you had thought of it.”

“No way. You underestimate, trust me I know how to cook.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

-

Your house never really felt like a home. Not after your address got doxxed and you were never left alone. Paparazzi loved to sit there and attempt to get photos of you out of costume. In all honesty, you spent most of your time at your friend's loft. As much as you could, she didn’t mind.

That's where you were as you got ready. Lisa smiled as she helped you with your dress. “So what's his name again? I can't believe you went to a monk monastery and found a hot date.”

“Jonathan.” 

“And what does this Jonathan do?”

“Some acting.”

“Uh-huh uh-huh.”

“It's not a big deal.” You shrugged as her hands left your dress and you turned to face her. 

“Not a big deal?! I don't think you have been on a genuine date since ever. When was the last time you had a date that wasn't a PR stunt?”

“I don't know.”

“Nev-er.” She emphasized the two syllables. 

“It's one date and I already know the guy.”

“The fact that you already know him and agreed to go out on a date with him tells me there's going to be wedding bells in a month.”

“Lisa! No way. He's charming sure but I don't know. He might be one for the chase you feel? Might get bored.”

“Girl if he gets bored of you then we're all doomed cause then love isn't real.”

“He, like, split with his wife a few months ago.”

Her face fell you could see concern form on her face. “Shit, that's not great. If the press find out about it they could spin the whole-”

“Homewrecker story yeah I know.”

“You don't even have an album to profit off it either.”

“Yeah, I'm hoping to keep this all on the down low”

“Lips sealed. Where's he taking you?”

“Dinner at his place, it was my pick.”

“Smart.” She gave you a sly smile and tapped the side of her head with her finger. 

There was a knock on the door and Lisa pretended to go for it and you scrambled to get to the door before her. A loud laugh left her lips and you glared at her before she disappeared into the kitchen. 

You made your way to the door and cracked it open to see Johnny leaning there on the door frame, flowers in his hand. A bouquet of red chrysanthemums.

“You got me flowers?” At first, you thought it was a little corny but then you paused at the type. 

“I remember you looking at them back at the temple. We were training and took a break by them. You had the prettiest smile as you looked at them.”

A flush formed on your face at the realization he had been watching you. It was hard to tell when he wore sunglasses almost everywhere. “Here let me go out these in a vase.” You took them from him and wandered back into the loft. As you approached the kitchen a single hand came up from the side of the island and placed a vase on the surface. Lisa was obviously hiding down. 

It already had water in it. You put the red bouquet in them and settled them there on the counter. 

“Nice place you got here.”

“Oh uh, I didn't decorate it. All credit goes to my friend Lisa.”

“Well tell your friend Lisa she did a good job.”

“I'm sure she knows in her own way.” You mumbled under your breath. “Shall we get out of here then?” You turned to face Johnny as he looked around the loft.

“Right this way.” 

-

Johnny's mansion was massive and in every way, it screamed him. “Welcome to mi casa.” He put his hands up and walked backwards. Your eyes trained over the building as he led you through the building. It wasn't new by your standards, you were no stranger to lavish houses but you couldn't deny the stunning view of the sun setting by his pool. 

“And this here is the kitchen.” It was a massive room that had an island that connected it to the rest of the building. It had giant windows without curtains that continued on the view. He pulled out one of the island counter chairs and gestured for you to sit on it. 

“Mi lady.” You placed your hand on the counter and sat down.

“Thanks.” 

Johnny jogged into the kitchen and started to roll his sleeves up. He started to pull out ingredients from his fridge and cupboards. 

“So what's on the menu for tonight.”

“You said no to Wagyu so hope you don't mind pasta.”

He got a pot out. “Mmm, I do love pasta, what kind?”

“Rotini.” He dramatically said with a fake Italian accent. 

You watched as he picked up two onions from the cupboard and started to juggle them in one hand. 

“Faster.” You commanded with a devilish smirk on your face. His brows shot up above his glasses but followed your request. Faster and faster he went until he threw one up really high and caught the other. It landed in his hand and you started to give him a little applause as you laughed. 

“Johnny Cage the clown. How fitting.”

“I may be a fool but only a fool for you.” He tilted his face so you could see above his glasses and he winked.”

“That's so bad.”

“Ah, but you love it.” 

You rolled your eyes at him and slipped out of the chair. Johnny watched with interest as you approached and took the onions from his hand. You ran them underwater before you grabbed his kitchen knife and started to cut them on the waiting cutting board. 

“Thought I was making dinner.” He hummed and placed his hands on your shoulder. 

“Well someone has to make dinner while you're doing your circus act.” 

“In that case, we want them in small cube kinda shapes. We only actually need one onion.” 

“You just wanted to show off your juggling skills?” 

“Uh- yeah! Come on, of course, I’m going to do everything I can to impress my incredibly hot, smart and talented date.”

You shook your head as you laughed and he snatched away the spare onion. To stay productive he reached and got the garlic from a small container on the bench. Johnny pulled out a small bowl and crushed the garlic into it. 

“Is this good?” You asked and Johnny leaned over you to look. 

“Perfect.”

Johnny leaned over to grab a large pan and placed it on the element before he doused it in olive oil and turned it to medium heat. He grabbed some butter from the fridge and broke some off and added it to the pan. 

Johnny lined up a few spices and grabbed passata from the fridge. “I can cook but there is no way I am making my own passata.” He pointed it at you and you held your hands up in defense. 

“Never said a word Cage.”

“Good, I don't want any minus points.”

“I'm not grading you on our date Johnny.” You laughed. “Just be yourself.”

“Greeeattt. Because myself is my favourite person to be.”

“Never mind, I take back my words I am grading you and you just lost points.”

He made a dramatic gasp before his lips curled upward. 

“Oh, teach is there any way I can get extra credit? I’ll do anything. ” His brows wiggled and you grabbed a tea towel and whipped him with it. 

“You’re the worst now shut up, the pans sizzling.” 

His attention snapped back to the pan and he took a few steps towards you. When he was close enough to touch you he picked up the onion with cupped hands before he dropped them into the pan. 

“Mind stirring the pasta?” He nodded towards it. You grabbed the spoon that was placed to the side and followed his instructions. 

“You know, it's pretty crazy we both live in L.A.”

“Yeah, I moved here for my work. I don't think I ever quite made it home though.”

“How come?”

“I don't know, it's so loud and in your face. I think that's fine some of the time but other times I just want to hide away with the quiet.”

“Not a fan of partying it up large?”

“Oh I can party- trust me. I'm no shut in but like sometimes I need to rest. Just curl up in bed on my phone.”

“I get that.”

“Really? You seem so high energy all the time.”

“Ah trust me sometimes the Cage needs to chill at home with a drink. Not often-” He paused. “-But sometimes yeah.”

He stared off for a moment before he snapped back to the onions. Johnny grabbed the small bowl of garlic and dumped it. It sizzled and added to the inviting scent of the onions. 

Johnny added the passata and his lineup of spices and continued to mix the pan. “So what do you do for your work? I don't think I remember you saying at the academy.”

“Ah, it's not very interesting compared to you.”

“Awww come on, I still want to know. Considering how big of a deal it is for you.’

“Mmm, I'm an artist I suppose.”

“Woah really?” 

“Kinda I guess. It's whatever, I'm not really a fan of taking about it, to be honest.”

“No problem here, if you don't want to talk about it that's fine by me.” He smiled. 

“I appreciate it. But what about you? How's the directing business going?”

“Oh fantastic honestly, Mortal Kombat? A massive hit let me tell you. What did you think of it? Comparing it to real life.”

“I uh haven't actually gotten around to watching it.”

His jaw dropped and turned his entire body to face you. “You haven't watched it?”

“I guess I was scared maybe? Like I presume you put someone as me in it and I didn't really want to see myself portrayed?”

“Hey if you wanted me to write you out-”

“No, no, it's not that. I like that you're telling our story I just, ah, I've never been a fan of seeing recordings of myself.”

“You’re not? But how come? Loom at you your gorgeous. A grade triple S for super smoking sexy hottie.”

“It's a mental thing.” You shrugged and scratched your side. 

“Look, I don't understand that at all, but I respect that. How about I make a cut specially for you, that hasn't got you in it?””

You laughed and slapped his arm. “No Johnny that's sweet but I'm not going to get you to do that. Look if you want me to watch it that bad I will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’ll take it.” He pulled out some cream from the fridge and dumped it into the pan. Johnny turned it down to a simmer and got the cheese from the fridge. 

Johnny started to grate the cheese and you couldn't help but watch his muscles tense as he did so. You leaned against the countertop with your back and folded your arms. 

“How big of a cheese fan are you?” 

“Mmm go to town.”

“Hey hey! That's what I like to hear.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, man I was dying there at the academy without it. Practically gorged myself when I got back.” Johnny turned off the element and strained the water from the pasta. He let it sit for a moment before he added the cheese and finally the Rotini. 

Johnny fished out a fork from his draw but as he went to try it you grabbed his wrist. Caught by curiosity, he allowed you to direct it towards you where you put it in your mouth. 

A moan got caught on your lips as you let go of his wrist and enjoyed the flavours that delighted the inside of your mouth. It was warm and comforting in every way it should be. 

“Mmm, this is really good Johnny!” 

Despite your compliment, he just stood there stunned “Johnny?”

“Huh? Oh yeah uh-” He cleared his throat and shook off his stunned state. “You go into the dining room over there and I'll bring it out.”

“You don't need my help?”

“Trust me you've been plenty of help, I'll be there in a second.”

The dining room was a lot more separate in its own way. It was on the side of the house and gave a view not to the pool but the large garden outside. It felt in its own way a lot more private somehow. 

There were two large solo unlit candelabras in the centre of the table while a setting for two had been prepared.

You found a seat and after a couple of moments, Johnny came through the door. He had a fake moustache on and a tea towel draped over one arm. Johnny held a pair of plates with a metal round cover over the top of them and practically bounced over to the table. 

He put one across from you and then one in front of you. The metal covering was lifted and he gestured towards it. “For the lady, our finest Rotini.” A return of the fake Italian accent. “And would she like a drink with her meal? Wine perhaps?”

“Waters fine thanks, I'd like to be able to remember this.”

There was a glint in his eyes at your words and he vanished for a moment. “The finest water we have.” He placed a glass on the table and then poured a jug into it. Johnny placed it on the table and then lit the two candles. 

“Now is there anything else we can do for the lady?” 

“Mmm, perhaps a dinner date would be nice, just someone to keep me company.” You played along and brought the glass of water to your lips. 

Johnny ripped off the fake moustache and dumped it to the side with the towel. “Hey look at all this! Mind if I join you?” 

“Be my guest.”

“Man, this place has great service.” Johnny slid into the seat across from you and removed the top. He was about to pick up his cutlery when he paused. Then he fished a small remote out of his pocket a clicked it. Behind you, a speaker started to lightly play soft music and you could only roll your eyes. 

“Hey got to have a good soundtrack to your life huh?”

“Whatever you say, Cage.” You bit into the pasta and you had to admit he had cooked it to perfection. “I admit I'm surprised you can cook this well.”

“My mom taught me when I was a kid. Credit goes to her. Was a pain in her ass too, I always kept eating everything.”

“Wow seemed like littles changed huh?”

“You love me.”

“Sure Cage whatever you say.”

The meal the pair of you eventually finished and Cage disappeared for a moment when he cleaned the table. You were left alone in the dining room as music continued to play. 

“Now, how are you? Looking for dessert because I can get us some if you want.”

“Ugh, I think I'll die if I eat another bite thanks.” 

“In that case…” He dramatically held out his hand. “May I have this dance?*

“You dance huh?” You took his hand. 

“Of course!” He led you past the end of the table where there was room. “Do you?” His voice was far lower and quieter than usual as you placed your hands against his chest where you leaned into him, far from proper form. 

“I do but I kinda just want to sway if that's okay.”

His hands settled on your waist as he soaked in your proximity. “Hey, anything the lady wants.” Johnny pulled you against him and the pair of you slowly swayed to the music. 

“I had fun with you tonight. It's been a long time since I cooked for let another cooked with someone.” 

“Thanks for cooking for me Johnny. Despite what I say, or when I act annoyed, I enjoyed myself as well. A lot.” You lift your head and looked into his eyes. Slowly, one hand drifted from behind his neck down to the side of his face where you cupped it. 

Johnny stayed almost completely still and allowed you to take the lead. Then slowly you started to lean in and just as you closed in, lips just about to touch- a loud barring sound came from your phone. 

Snapped out of it, you pulled away from Johnny and desperately went for your phone. 

“I'm so sorry I have to take this.” You apologised and answered your phone as you left the room. 

-

“Jackson you said you wanted work like my old stuff, this is like it.”

“Yeah, but a love album? The style might be the same but the messages? This is all different.”

“What do you mean it's not a love album it's a party one. Pop music about sex and shit.”

“I have fucking ears, Gale. I know when a song is about falling in love. Who's the person huh? At least give me a heads up before there's a scandal.”

“There's not- I'm- look” You stuttered as Johnny came into the living room and headed to get a drink but didn't disturb you. 

“We can talk about it tomorrow come into the studio tomorrow morning at eight. The actual one, not your home one.”

“What? No, I always work from home I'm not-”

“That was before you delivered me a fucking love album. This is not your old work!”

“But it's the work you're getting from me you can take it or leave it.” You hissed. 

“Look, we can make it work we just have to do a little editing. Just come into the studio, no buts. Be there.”

“No I-” The line went dead. You let out a sigh of frustration and combed your hair with your hand. 

“Might have only heard some of your side but I presume that was work?”

“Yeah my manager called, I have to come in tomorrow. Look Johnny this has been great really and I wish I could stay but if I'm going I'm tomorrow I really need to get back home and retire.” Guilt formed on your face but he didn't get mad. 

Cage shrugged and draped an arm around you. “Don't sweat it, we’ll get you home nice and early. There's always next time.”

“Next time?” You cocked a brow as the pair of you started to head towards his front door. 

“Yeah. Next time.”

Admittedly you spent most of the car ride grumbling about your manager as Johnny attempted to cheer you up. Eventually, you found yourself back at Lisa’s doorstep. 

“Thanks for the ride, Johnny.” You stood in the doorway as he leaned on the door frame. 

“Anytime.”

“I had a good time, that was really nice.”

“That's what I've been telling you babe!” You rolled your eyes at him and snaked an arm around his neck. You leaned in and soon your lips connected with his. At first, he only moved slowly, testing the waters to see where you were going with matters but as you pulled him against you he committed fully. 

He pressed against your body as one hand found your backside and started to feel it up. Johnny's tongue danced against your own. Just as he started to get comfortable you broke away. A sound rumbled from his throat and you couldn't help but grin at him. Your hand drifted from his neck up to cup his cheek. 

“Fuck.” He whispered and went to kiss your neck, just one last touch. With your free hand, you gently pressed on his chest and he got the idea. 

“Goodnight Johnny.” You hummed and you swore he practically whined. 

“One more.”

“Next time.” A promise. 

“Next time?” He sounded pleased at the motion. 

“Sure, got to give these back.” You stole the glasses off his face and escaped out of his grip. One last wink, you shut the door behind you. Lisa popped up from the couch with wide eyes. 

“Some actor? You didn't tell me you were going on a date with Johnny fucking Cage! ”

[b4tasquad]

✭ HANDSY: NIKO OMILANA

Authors note: the lack of beta squad related stuff on here makes me sick every time i open this app. therefor i’ve made it my mission to not only revive the beta squad # but also find others that love them as much as i do. please hmu if you like them, i beg 🙏

Warnings: eh nothing really. just language, lmk tho.

…

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t have someone else in her place.” Niko stares intently on the flat screen facing him, eyes set on you getting placed in position in the other room.

When the YouTuber got told that they’d be filming a blind date video like this, he was excited. Not only would he see two people spend a long amount of time with a complete stranger, but he’d laugh and joke about it while getting paid. It was a win- win situation. What he hadn’t seen coming was the special guest on today’s episode being you, his girlfriend.

Now, he had to watch guys try to flirt and win you over, and had to fake being happy about it too.

“The people wanted her.” Kenny shrugs from his seat next to him on the comfortable sofa, eyes on his phone but still knowing who his best friend was talking about. He was referring to the post they made on their official account, asking people to comment who they wanted featured more in videos. Majority of the comments asked for you, another famous influencer in the Uk, who had been spotted around the guys before.

“My girlfriend, really?” He still feels uneasy. Not in a million years would he think you would ever leave him for another guy, but ideas that the internet would start shipping you with someone else were entering his head. It made him feel sick.

“That’s what you get for having a secret relationship.” AJ replies making the rest of them break out into mocking laughter. The group knows the internet would break your relationship into bits, overanalysing and picking on everything but they still found humour in how mad their friend seemed to be at the thought of his girl being on fake dates

“So funny.” The tall boy rolles his eyes. When AJ, Chunkz and Sharky sat behind him doesn’t stop laughing, he makes a move to hit every single one of them. “Shut up.”

Fortunately, they’re told to get into position, making them ultimately shut up. The camera got set up and the person behind them giving them a signal to start.

“Today we have a special guest!” Kenny introduces.

“It’s me.” You speak flatly, hearing his words through the mic in your ear. “I’m the special guest.”

You can hear the guys groan hating the lack of happiness in your voice. Keeping up his role and hiding the fact that you were in a committed relationship, he clears his throat. “You gotta be more enthusiastic than that. You’re on beta squad, we’re giving you a chance to make a name for yourself.”

If you hadn’t been on camera, you would threaten to break up with Niko, but since you were you tried a different approach. “You’re almost speaking like I don’t have more followers than you. Bitch I’m making your career.”

“A round of applause.” Sharky tells at your bite back, and Niko side eyes him knowing of the small crush he had on you. It wasn’t hard to tell really, the guy took your side on literally anything and smiled stupidly at the things you said.

“Niko could you zip it, we’re paying her for the minute don’t drag it out.” You can’t help but laugh in your seat at Chunkz’ words, nodding in approval at his humour.

“Anyways.” You continue, eyes set on the camera as you cross your legs. “Let’s get into the video.”

The boys introduce the idea for the video and that’s when you remember this is the first time they’ve done it on their channel. Basically, you’re going to be going on an arranged date with a guy, and the group have certain stages you had to go through to help you find ‘your perfect match’.

As Kenny concludes the whole thing, you can’t help but roll your eyes and sigh. “ I’m not even looking for a guy. I’m all good.” You tell, a little smile on your face as you think of your lover. As if catching on to it, Niko also stupidly smiles in his seat, feeling much better about it now.

“Contestant one.” They call out and the next second, a blonde walks into the little setup. From across the table you thin your lips a little as you look over him.

“She hates him!” Chunkz cackles, pointing at the scene on the screen. “Did y’all see that little lip thing? This gyal is crazy for that one.”

Niko grins to himself.

“Hey.” The guy greets, and to be polite you get up and hug him, muttering pleasantries. You’re going for a friendly and comfortable hug, your arms loosely wrapping around his middle. The guy on the other hand tightened his hold on your waist, hands creeping down.

“Hell no.” You push away, a disgusted laugh rippling out of you at this actions. “D’you not have shame? Mans tried to grab my bunda before introducing himself. Get him out. Can I vote people out?”

The four other members, slowly look towards Niko, watching almost fearfully as he gets up from his seat, not caring wether the camera was still on. He wasn’t thinking logically, only feeling anger as someone got handsy with his girl. You’re laughing at the guy, not even giving him a chance to explain himself when Niko storms in, eyes set on the unknown guy.

“You, get the fuck out.” He points towards the exit. Behind him, the rest of the guys run after him, calling for their friend to stop.

“Niko, chill.” Sharky tells him, coming up to him and stopping him from doing something stupid. You’ve completely frozen near the table, never seen your boyfriend so mad.

“I’m not going to stop, what the fuck? This lad is proper mad, trynna grab her.” At his words you finally snap out of your shock.

“Let it go.” You plead with him, coming to stand besides him. Still wary of the countless eyes of contestants and others, you make a note to not touch him and plead with your eyes instead.

He silently nods, but he’s not done. “He’s out. Or me and y/n aren’t doing the video.” To someone who only know you two as influencers, they must think Niko is crazy. Not only raging, but threatening to leave the video for a girl he didn’t know that well must’ve seemed crazy.

“Why are you so mad?” The guy who minutes before tried to touch you questions, standing a good distance away from you guys.

“Don’t fucking speak, you little shit.” You tell him, sick of him. Because of him, your boyfriend not only got uncharacteristically mad, but the guy you didn’t know had managed to make the whole thing weird.

It wasn’t a question for the rest of the beta squad, without even a second of thinking they got the guy removed of set, him cussing him out as they do so.

“You good? Can we continue?” AJ asks, his question directed to the two of you. Niko’s chest was heaving, and with the lack of eyes on you now, you take a hold of his hand, kissing the back. It seems to relax him a great deal.

He nods. “Yeah.” Letting go of your hand, he leans down to hug you close to him, secretly kissing your covered neck, whispering a little “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” You tell him, nodding to give him even more reassurance. “Don’t worry about these guys, I don’t want anyone but you. This is just a video.”

Even though he doesn’t seem completely content with the idea of it, he seems to feel much lighter than a few minutes ago. Now, seemingly in the joking mood again, he huffs a laugh. “I should’ve smoked his jaw.”

Kenny is the first one to break as he hears the words, imagining Niko in a fight. After that, the rest of the guys fall into heavy laughter, and you can’t help but let out small giggles yourself at the thought of your funny and problem solving boyfriend getting into a physical fight.

As if you’ve betrayed him, he looks at you with widened eyes and an open mouth, before addressing his friends behind you. “Stop laughing!”

They laugh even more at that.

[wehangout]

So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.

[junipers-archive]

Are Saturdays for Spencer sill on going? If it is can I please ask for a Spencer x Ballerina!reader? Where they both are old childhood friends and she was Spencer's first kiss but had moved away due to him going to college and her because of dance and met each other again when the BAU were investigating a case at her dance company and they hate it each other because of a misunderstading and could they have lots of sexual tension and make up in the end. I love your works. Keep up the great job 🥰 and congrats to your new milestone 🥳

Wow, ok I'm going to try to fit this all into one blurb but wonderful idea!! Thank you for sending and thank you for reminding me ab this! ( I'm glad to have reached the milestone with all of you!)

You'd moved away once the both of you had finished college, earning a bachelor's in fine arts you'd been offered a job at a prestige dancing studio up state. Spencer hadn't understood, the plan was to move into together, live in the same apartment as you took on separate jobs. You weren't supposed to lose touch.

You'd been childhood best-friends since as long as you could remember, both having crushes on the other at some point and then again during college. You never acted it on it though, both acknowledging you'd rather be friends than break the bond by becoming more than that.

You regretted it in your time apart, always knowing that guys like Spencer only existed in one in a million.

You'd never expected to see him again, at least not when a serial killer was killing dance students/teachers around your age range. That was the reason he'd visited you, albeit he wasn't as enthusiastic as he was years before.

"Y/n you need to quit your job. Or you need to go into protective custody. You're exactly the type of girl this guy is looking for!" He had stormed into your apartment once again after his team had found another body, this time the woman had the same physical attributes as you.

"I can't just uproot my entire life Spence! I've made a name for myself here, I have respect! I can't get that anywhere else!" You'd been through this conversation a hundred times since he'd been assigned the case.

"Look I'm just looking out for you." He'd towering over you know and despite yourself you were this close to leaning into his touch as you look up at his big brown eyes. "You are-were- you were my bestfriend not too long ago."

You frown at that, you are his best-friend, no amount apart would ever change that. "I look out for myself Spence, I'm a woman living alone, you don't think I take precautions?"

"Of course I do, but that only makes you a bigger target. This guy- he's dangerous! You could get hurt- or worst you could-"

"Why do you even care?" It hurt him that you had to ask but he knew you had the right to, the last conversation you'd had before you left for the job had ended in a screaming match. Only for you to end up in the same city as him, yet never once had he tried to contact you.

"I just-" might as well come out in say it, he'd waited his entire life to confess maybe you'd stop being so stubborn if he did.

"I was in love with you before you left. I still love you. Y/n you were my entire life! We'd spent every waking moment with each other, and then you got accepted to the same school as me! God knows I would've gone anywhere you went. I just, I fell in love with you and then you told me you were leaving. You broke my heart."

You were speechless, utterly and stupidly speechless at a time you shouldn't have been. Which gave him the oppurtunity to continue.

"That's why I care. Y/n I still love you, after all these years you are what matters most to me. And this unsub he's not one we've seen before. He's meticulous and god knows what he could do to you if-"

Although words don't come over you, actions do, you pull him in by his tie pressing you lips softly against his and he relaxes into your touch.

When you pull back you find your voice, "You couldn't have said that a few years ago?! Jesus, I was in love with you too idiot!"

He chuckles at your choice of insult, "No one ever calls me an idiot."

Your roll your eyes playfully shoving him slightly, "Yea well you deserve it. But I guess, I could take a leave of absence, but only for a little while! Just until you catch this guy."

He pulls you into him by the waist band of your jeans loops, tugging you until you're so close to him you can feel all of him,

"You know, you live pretty close to me now, we could always resume where we left off, you could move in, like we always planned."

"Wow, my idiot has brains." You really were the only one to ever call him that.

[justanamesstuff]

All I Need

Chapter 3

Matty Healy!dad x f!reader

A/N: Chapter 3 is finally here!! Thanks for all the support ♥ Please please please let me know what you think, if you have doubts, what are you excited to read, ANYTHING is welcomed :) Have a nice reading!

Warning: swearing, FLUFF, angst, mixed feelings, typos.

Word count: 2.6 k

MASTERLIST

Y/n let out air, she didn’t acknowledge holding, closing Amelia’s room door. Nap time equals a miracle that day. Her daughter was out like a light, and Y/n was thankful for it. Matty and Y/n didn’t get a good amount of sleep the night before. No due to a good reason. Both of them bumped around 2 o’clock in the proximity of Amelia’s room. A loud, strangled noise coming from her little mouth. They tried everything. They tried to rock her back to sleep, but she wasn’t having it. Too scared after a nightmare.

Matty and Y/n took turns holding Amelia, reading stories and hugging her little frame. Even when she stopped crying, sleep was far.

Every bit of attention was on Amelia. It was the first time in a couple of days that Matty didn’t disappear from Y/n’s presence. Amelia’s mother was truly surprised. Matty asked about what they could do next or proposing ideas that came to his mind, nothing far from that.

For Y/n, the reason for his change of mood seems to be about the tracks George had been sending Matty. He had spent long periods inside the homemade studio. Amelia played around him sometimes. Or he was off to the actual studio. Y/n missed his presence from the first week but, at the same time, it was a good thing thinking about the date. It started to make her anxious, and the prospect of having Matty roaming around would have made the situation worse.

She was convinced that Matty was deeply into work. With time, they would fall into the friendship shenanigans again.

Y/n dragged herself downstairs. She was longing for her bed, for some sleep. Her mother/ adult persona thought otherwise. Nap time was usually the time of day she kept up work stuff and also -if it allowed it- she would do laundry or house cleaning.

The prospect of answering emails from her boss dreaded her. Y/n ungraciously fell on a chair around the kitchen table. She opened her computer, the email page loading as slowly as her brain was functioning.

Matty folded his arms, watching her from the door frame connecting the kitchen and living room. He empathized with her tiredness. Matty couldn’t stop himself from admiring Y/n. Even looking worn out as Y/n seemed, she managed to look beautiful. Her messy bun on top of her head, big hoodie swallowing her body and no makeup on. Amelia had his personality and moped hair as well, even though the beauty came from his mother. All of it.

It was imprinted on his mind how smooth her skin was, the touch of her hair and the warmth she exuded. He shook his head. The tickling of the clock reminding him Friday was coming up. Reminding him, she was going out with stupidly handsome Paul. No him. His stomach flipped inside.

“You should go and take a nap…” Matty startled her, Y/n’s eyes opening fully again. She didn’t notice him or her eyes closing in front of the screen.

“I can’t.” Y/n tried to blink away the tiredness and focus on the first email of a big list.

“Yes, you can.” Matty insisted.

Y/n started to get annoyed. She wasn’t great at taking orders, even less from people that didn’t talk to her for days. She was moody because of lacking sleep, and Matty was presenting as the perfect person to take all her anger with. “You look like shit, you should take a nap! Need it more than me!” She snapped.

Matty didn’t move a single muscle. He didn’t take it personally. Annoying her even more. “Yeah, being a bitch with me won’t supply sleep.” he chose to say. “Come on-” Matty insisted again, with the voice he used for scolding Amelia.

“Fucking leave me alone, Matthew! Fuck off!” Y/n knew she was overreacting, and regret it immediately. He was being nice, but she wasn’t having it with her.

Matty lifted his arms in surrender, his cheeks full of air and his eyes wide. After a minute staring at her side face, he turned around. Returning to his previous position, laying on the couch.

Y/n let her head fall. A few drops fall on her keyboard.

***********************************

Matty was scrolling on his phone mindlessly when Y/n’s frame appeared beside him. He didn’t look up. Faking reading something important or interesting. He wanted to make her pay. For the abrupt, but also because of his sour feelings being hurt days before.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n apologized, sniffing loudly. She didn’t know why the crying started, or even why she couldn’t stop. Matty’s facade shattered into pieces so quickly that it was almost pathetic. Or he thought.

The singer sat up, reaching for her hand. “It's okay, Y/n.” He told her. His voice sounded so tender, it made her cry even more. She felt pathetic this time. “Come here.” He tried to make her come closer to his body. The urge to make her feel better was strong.

“No,no...” She shook her head. A resemblance of Amelia last night.

“Sometimes…” he started drawing circles on the skin of her hand. “I wonder who Amelia took her stubbornness from.” Y/n snorted at that. A first win, made her laugh. “Let’s take a nap”

“Huh?” Y/n looked directly at his eyes. It had been so long since they were that close. His brown eyes were so welcoming, warm, his curls falling perfectly everywhere and for worse he was wearing -what Y/n stated as- Marty’s best hoodie: the Nike blue one.

Matty pattered the couch. “Lay down.”

“Matt…” she didn’t have to ask what he was implying. If she was true to herself, Y/n was dying for a cuddle from him, although her pride was bigger.

He frowned, Y/n wanted to run a finger to sooth it. “If you don’t lay down in two seconds…” He lifted two fingers from the other hand, the one not holding hers. “I can assure you, I’ll make you.”

“Mat-“

“Stop making a big deal out of it.” He was making a big deal out of it inside his head. He was desperate to hold her, at least for two hours. Y/n didn’t read minds, and for her, his sayings wounded her heart. She looked away from him. “Okay, then....”

Matty was true to his word. In a matter of seconds, Y/n came from standing to being pushed into the couch. She gasped loudly when Matty let himself fall beside her. “You are fucking crazy, Matthew Timothy Healy!” She turned her head to look directly at his face. She didn’t expect to be that close.

“You knew it from the beginning. Still…you had a baby with me, darling!” He joked. Y/n blushed hard.

“Shut up.” She hit his shoulder, he laughed. Y/n’s eyes were still red from crying and from being tired. Matty caressed her cheek. Y/n breath stopped. The way she was looking at her was difficult to crack. She chose to hide her face behind her hands.

“Come here.” he instructed, extending his arms. One behind her head, leaving his hand resting on the top of her back. His right arm secured her in place, pressing his hand at the bottom of her spine. Y/n couldn’t help snuggling into his body. A wave of relief washed over her. “You comfy?” his smirk was obvious, even when she wasn’t looking at his face any more.

“Mhm.” Y/n answered drifting already.

Matty chuckled, kissing her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

It was wrong, but it felt so right to be in his arms again.

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

Matty woke up at the sound coming from the baby call. Amelia was making sounds, not shouting or crying. Just trying to talk, repeating the few words she learned. Mostly daddy and mommy. Matty smiled wide at the thing broadcasting at his right on the coffee table.

He went to stand up, but the weight of Y/n’s head made his head turn to his left side. Y/n didn’t wake up. Matty felt bad to disturb her, but his whole body hurt to the thought of Amelia awake and alone inside her crib. “Y/n…” He started, slowly, his voice deep from sleep. No response. “Y/n” He tried again. This time, the only answer was her coming closer to his body. It was so obvious she was deeply asleep because Matty knew she would never do that while fully conscious. At least when they’d been together, he was the one clinging from her body, starting things and demanding attention. The solo thought of her trusting him at that moment of vulnerability made his heart beat faster. Although, his mind wasn’t slow to remind him: ‘soon she would let Paul do this’. That startled him out of his daydreaming. “Y/n, Amelia is awake-'' The only mention of their daughter woke her.

“Right- Fuck, how long did I sleep?” Y/n rest on her back, Matty still tangled around her. It was addicting to hold her. Matty felt like it was his last time to hold her like that, so he would make the most out of it. Letting the thought of another man touching or holding her aside for the rest of the day.

He stretched to hold his phone, looking at the number above the picture of a tiny Amelia wearing his ‘Sincerity Is Scary’ hat. “We-” he stressed. “We slept for almost two hours, love.”

“Did you sleep too?” Y/n started to lift her body. Missing his warmth.

Still lying down, he smiled “Would have never thought to disturb your princess slumber, so I just held you…at some moment I fell asleep.” he shrugged his shoulders. Y/n avoid his eyes. Matty laughed, lifting himself. “Stay there!” he instructed her. Y/n raised her eyebrow. What was all about with his orders that day? “I’m going to grab mel-mel.”

“Okay.” she accepted because she had zero energy to walk or move from the couch. Once he reached the door, she continued, “But stop bossing me!”

“Oh, you love it!” He wasn’t wrong, but Y/n preferred to keep her silence.

Matty came in a blink of an eye with a happy Amelia wearing one of her soft onesies. “Hi mommy!” Matty lifted Amelia’s tiny arm, waving.

“Mommy, mommy.” She repeated.

“Hello, my darling! Come here.” Y/n lifted her arms, welcoming the weight of her little love. “Did you have nice dreams?” Y/n made conversation with Amelia. The one-year old bubbling away.

Y/n was so focused on Amelia, kissing her rosy cheeks and smelling the scent of her curly hair, so she didn’t notice Matty movement. He went and lay down exactly as he rested on the couch during their shared nap. Y/n sensed him asking for space when his leg bumped into hers. “What are you doing?” Y/n asked.

“Trying to cuddle.” He said, like nothing. Amelia wiggled, trying to get out of Y/n’s hold. She crawled until she reached Matty’s upper body. He rounded her with his arms, and looked up at Amelia’s mom. “Come here. We’re not taking a no for an answer.”

Y/n didn’t understand his behavior. She couldn’t deny it was nice. Y/n felt like they were a proper couple with their daughter, being a family. Like ‘a proper family’. One of those tails talked about. It was false, she knew but the feeling inside her chest was stronger than any reality. She let herself fall beside them.

Amelia’s body between her parents. After some arrangements -Matty held Y/n as before, meanwhile Y/n made her arm a pillow for Amelia–, they settled into a nice conversation. They chatted and laughed like they hadn't done in a very long time. Matty and Y/n felt at peace, and Amelia was excited to have her two favourite people in the world around her.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

“You two what?” Grace shouted, dragging attention from some customers at the supermarket.

“We cuddled…two times in the same day” Y/n repeated as if it were their normal behavior.

Grace left the bag of biscuits, forgetting about their shopping trip. She looked up and down Y/n’s body, trying to figure out what was out of place. “Do I have to remind your little brain that he is not your boyfriend or what?”

Y/n dropped more groceries into the cart, looking directly at Grace. “Yes, Grace. I know we aren’t together. But-”

“But nothing!” Grace complained, folding her arms.

Y/n copied her friend's actions. “But it felt nice…like right.” She assumed.

Grace let her arms fall, moving them exaggerated around. Y/n was grateful the supermarket wasn’t that pact. “Y/n, my love, my best friend, my everything-”

“Cut the shit!”

“I know you are not that dense. Sometimes, I doubt it…TIMES LIKE TODAY!” She shouted; making some customers looked at the pair, wondering what was happening.

Y/n felt embarrassed. Afraid also that someone might recognize her. “Could you keep your voice down? Please!!” Y/n said, through clenched teeth.

“Could you keep your brain functioning? Please!” Grace, without giving importance to where they were at, shot back.

“You don’t get it!” Y/n whispered.

“Oh, no…I do get it. I know he’s the father of your beautiful and adorable baby. Sure, he’s hot and handsome or whatever. I don’t understand how you people believe that because he’s so old, his gray hair-”

“Grace!”

“Right. I know he means a lot to you, but please think out of your gut. One moment of cuteness it’s not equal to be your partner or loving you or… I don’t even know what crosses your mind!!”

“You said you get it!” Y/n said without looking at her, still with her arms folded protecting herself, looking away.

“Some parts…”

Y/n tried to push the trolley forward. “Oh, god!” Grace objecting the passing through.

“Y/n, I really mean it. He’s not going to change only because you cuddle”

“I know! Okay?”

“Do you? Really…do you? Because I’m not at all convinced you fully know.”

“I’m not saying that everything is going to change. I’m not that naive. But what if he wants to try something, and he’s scared to ask. Should I talk to him? Because if he does-”

“HE DOESN’T!” Grace shouted again.

Grace had a solid case, she left Y/n with no arguments. “You’re being impossible!”

“No, I’m being truthful, and you hate it” Y/n’s formed a line and her mouth shut. “Babe, I adore you” Grace rounded the trolley. “I want you to find someone that truly loves you and not some famous and pretentious singer that confuses you. Or should I remind you he wasn’t talking to you?” Y/n purposely ignored that fact. “That he questioned you going out when he goes around fucking everything that moves, ha?” Grace held her hands.

“Yeah…” Y/n tried to suppress the tears coming to her eyes.

“I don’t mean to be harsh or sadistic. I need you to stop focusing on him, okay?” Y/n nodded. “What happened with your rush to ask Paul out?” Grace tried to cheer her up.

Y/n forgot about it since Matty and her spent the evening together. “I-” She stuttered.

“No, you’re not canceling it. I don’t care if Paul ends up being not right to you..or he’s bad in bed or whatever. You’re going!”

Y/n chuckled sadly. “I’m so confused now. Fuck”

“Come here” Grace embraced her into her arms, a bear hug. “You can do it! Fuck Matty Healy!!” Y/n’s friend shook her from side to side.

“Oh, are you ‘the 1975’ fans?” A man passing by asked. Y/n and Grace looked at each other and burst into laughter.

[forgottenroisin]

OOC | Lord & Lady Malconaire

so this post might be pointless, and not to have yet another malconaire family thread running, but i was responding to aoife's comment <3 and i realized there's a lot i don't know about the girls' parents and i'd love to hash that out w you guys, if lizzy doesn't already know? @thelongforgottenrealm

ok so first id love to establish first names for our love birds? [ this site ] might help w that ;D next, id like to discuss a lil their timeline as well as the broader timeline re: valentina and her kids coming onto the scene etc, bc, for example, the thing tht actually spurred this comment was me realizing i have no idea if rosie remembers her mom at all!

speaking of, rosie's bio says she doesn't remember much abt when they were wealthy, so we know that she was still pr small when valentina arrived on the scene, and from that im guessing their mama died pr early into in her life but im not sure how long lord m was a widower -- was it decades? years? months? esp since the remarriage we now know was politically motivated it really could've been any timeframe at all since it wasnt him moving on, etc

but anway! yeah basically just a few basics would be great <3

so yeah to get us started imma start w what we know (using the first event as year 1 since im not sure what the years supposed to be plus lbr roderick's probs did smth stupidly dramatic like re-starting the calendar w year 1, day 1 being his coronation day etc smdh so who even knows whats going on)

year 1 -- birth of valentina (as a result of this being the first known malconaire event, this whole calendar is a timetable of valentina's ages when everything went down which is pr interesting for me as her rper heehee)

year 18 -- birth of cassimir

year 22 -- births of sonya, cillian

year 23 -- birth of eithne/presumably lord and lady m were married by this time, if not before?

year 25 -- birth of brigit

year 26 -- birth of saoirse

year 27 -- birth of aoife

year 29 -- birth of roisin/last known year in which lady m was def alive

year 48 -- surrender of astaira to roderick/battle of m may or may not have already taken place but obv would've been before the formal capitulation -- im guessing it was the same year tho since the v next battle led to the surrender, but anyway likely this is the year in which lord m died, and certainly he was dead by this time

year 50 -- the present

so some notes!! i believe @forgottencassimir said...somewhere haha that cassimir was probs abt ~teenage when valentina married lord m, so that puts the marriage likely between years 31-37, and we know that rosie hardly remembers their wealth at its full height, as well as the fact that valentina was the direct cause of its loss, so she was probs 6-8 when that happened, so that puts their marriage between years 35-37ish, most likely (also never fully appreciated the age gap between rosie and cassimir till i started really thinkin abt this alksdjfaklsdfj), so we're safe to say, i think, that lady m was def dead by year 37 also, i don't want to assume anything, but i do think we're pr safe to say that the battle of m took place in the year 48 and, therefore, that lord m died in year 48

this means that the smallest amount of time lord m spent without the woman he loved was 11 years SOB, and it ALSO means that at the smallest range valentina and he were married that long, and that its been at LEAST 13 years since the marriage of lord m and valentina and thus their kids have been siblings all that time/she's been their stepmom that long etc, but possibly for even longer!

are there any major events whose timetable we know that im forgetting? i feel like there are hahah but im drawing a blank

anyway, this is all quite rambly, and quite possibly lizzy already has all this info for us and i just never thought to ask before now hahaha but yeah!! i was wondering <3

[pbandjesse]

Today was a really nice day. It was full of activities. And my feet hurt and I'm really glad I'm in bed now.

I slept alright last night. But when I woke up at 8 I did not want to get up. I did not want to do anything. I heard James in the kitchen mixing their cookies. I just laid quietly and it was good.

I slowly would wake up and felt pretty good when I did. I checked my email and saw some from the title company so I texted James to come ask them what we needed to do. They came and told me that they were filling out the forms and I would have to do some parts once I was up. Sounds good. I went and got dressed.

There was not much I needed to fill out. Is this your first home? Address, etc etc. It is very exciting process but it is an incredible amount of forms and pieces of paperwork and all that kind of thing.

We had a lot of tasks to do today. No rush but the plan was to leave at 10. I would finish getting ready and James made me an egg salad toasted sandwich. And I worked on my knitting. I'm very close to being finished that. But the work continues.

We left here and headed to Hampden today go to the bank to make a wire transfer for the deposit. This was scary because while we have been working at this for a little while now (realistically I know our search has been very short compared to some people's journey) but this is the first time we have actually paid any money. And neither of us have ever sent a word transfer before so it was scary!! But the man who helped us was so lovely.

He is also working towards buying a (much more expensive) house and him, and the other two people who worked there congratulated us when we were finished.

We did have to call the title company to confirm the details and James got a money order and a word transfer confused and got a little flustered but we got it all sorted and it honestly didn't take long.

I had an appointment with away at 11. But we still had time to go to the wine source and pick out fancy snacks. Originally we were getting them for each other. Then we decided we would get them for ourselves and just give them to each other. We each got a few things and we will wrap them up for each other. It was silly but it was also just nice being with my husband and buying fancy snacks.

We went to awah and it was really nice to see everyone. They had a gift for me: a candle, some cookies, and a gift card for Amazon. So sweet. We chatted about my class and what's up and the possible house and all the excitement. On top of it being the week before Christmas! Wild. A house for Christmas???

While we were out the air quality test was happening at the house. And we confirmed the home inspection tomorrow. Which means we get to go see the house. I am going to bring a tape measure so I can have a better idea of the layout and not just from memory. I will also try to get pictures and videos.

We left there and decided to go to Pepe's for lunch. You know?? Pepe's?? Fun for the whole family??? This means nothing but me and James were laughing stupidly hard about this bit and I don't want to forget how much we were laughing and having fun.

We enjoyed our lunch at the diner. And then headed home. I texted with my dad about money and saving and the budget I came up with. We will actually have some move wiggle room in our budget which is pretty sweet.

I did a lot of knitting and sewing. James wrapped gifts. It was a really nice afternoon.

I would knit and sew until 5. And at 5 I got dressed in my Kristian the American girl doll outfit. Did my hair. Got all cute.

And then it was time to go to the BMI party!

And it was such a lovely party. I had so much fun talking to everyone and telling stories. Margaret caught us in the car before we left and she grabbed a ride with us there (her husband would come later and took her home). And I just had so much fun catching up and telling stories. Me, Gaby, her friend and Adam were screaming about conspiracy theories and I got to introduce them to the concept of the hollow earth which is one of my favorite. It is legit the silliest one.

Dinner and talking was fun. There were s'mores but the little fires they had were causing so much smoke that we were very afraid the sprinklers were going to go off. Had to open all the garage doors. But I was just running around and having a great time.

I loved seeing Meril and we took pictures. Everyone thought my phone clicked was so cool and a few people borrowed it. And I promised to get a link so other people can buy their own because. I even showed Stanley's wife on her phone so they could do it themselves. She would return it when they were done and I promised James would help Stanley get one too.

The voting for best desserts was fun and the raffles were really exciting. Jessica's daughter, Sofia, was able to be awake for the party this year (she was very new last year) and we became best friends. We were holding hands and jumping. Me, her, her dad, and Jessica all held hands and jumped a whole bunch and it was very silly. I held her for a little and we spun and we were very best friends now obviously. Jessica kept saying how much she liked me and I'm like. Incredible. I love little baby Sofia.

After lots more pictures and getting to tell people about the house, James was helping to clean up and then we were heading out. Almost last ones out.

I drove us home because James had a few beers. We listened to music to loud and danced in the car and it was very silly and very fun. And when we got back here I put on another song and we danced at each other. The mood was just. Fantastic.

I grabbed a shower. Sweetp bit me on the back of my leg??? Ouch! But now we are all just cuddled up in bed. And I am ready to sleep.

I don't have to drive out to camp tomorrow. We are volunteering to wrap gifts for the Y's angel tree. And then it is time to go to the home inspection!! Ah!

I really hope it goes well. There are some things that may be wrong that are fixable but the things I don't know like the electrical or the plumbing or the roof are the concerns for me. I did get a price for home insurance and because the house has a flat roof there might be a concern about insuring it. So I went on a long search about what we would do if it needs fixing. I just want to make sure we can handle whatever it is. I will not get us in a place we can't survive. And right now we have a budget for fixes but they have to be within reason. But I know a lot and I trust myself to make the right call. Can't be wishy washy on this one.

I am going to go to sleep now. I hope you all sleep great and having a good night. Until next time!!

[lululawrence]

Hi! May I ask why you choose to send cards to people you don't even know? Do you pay for everything yourself?

lolll ya know, valid question. the first year i did it, i offered christmas cards only to my mutuals and they weren't homemade. i just bought some cute ones from target and mailed them off to the people in my group chats and mutuals from tumblr who saw my post and reached out. i had seen some other people offering cards to their mutuals the first christmas i was on tumblr, and i loved that idea so much i wanted to do the same, so i did.

after that first year, though, i had so much fun and had a decent amount of interaction with my blog even if i didn't really know who they were, i figured why not offer cards to everyone? no one has to take me up on it if they don't want to, if they aren't comfortable sharing their address, that's fine! they just won't sign up. i didn't know if there would be a big participation or anything, but i figured it was worth a try. i kinda stepped up my game that year and got some boxed handmade cards that are absolutely beautiful to send out. i still buy a box of those just in case something goes wrong and i run out of my own homemade cards now, so i have backup, because i love them.

more people than i expected signed up for the cards that year, and i had so much fun! it really took a time of year that is full of depression and anxiety and stress and worries for me and allows me instead to focus on other people. on helping others have some cheer during the holiday season. i've always been someone who believed that if i'm having a hard time, the best way to get through it is to turn my focus outward and instead find ways to help other people. so i continued!

i had wanted to try to make my own christmas cards, like i used to when i didn't have any kids and when my oldest was just a baby, but it took a few years to get to the point of being able to do that. it took a lot of work and was of course a much longer process, but i'm not really an artistic person. card making was something i felt like i could do decently well and was a bit more personal, you know? and again, it was a way that i could find joy during a time of year that is insanely difficult for me because it is just riddled with triggers. adding the making of the cards to the mix has meant that the last few years has been a big learning curve for me and i didn't get the cards out on time the last two years... maybe the last three hah but i TRIED and i still sent cards to everyone who asked one, even if they didn't get there until well into the new year haha

this year though you're all getting them on time as long as the postal services do what they're supposed to do haha!

as for paying for them, yes i pay for them all myself. since i purchase everything (except for the stickers i use, which are actually kind of stupidly difficult to find outside of Christmastime) only when they're on sale (usually buy one get one free or something) and use coupons on top of it, things don't really cost as much as they could. especially when you consider that i make over 100 cards using what i purchase, and then still have supplies left over so i can use them towards the cards i make next year too. basically, i spread out the purchasing of the items i use through the year as best as i can to make it more cost effective and less of a burden on our finances at christmas/birthday season in my house. i went a bit more simple with the cards this year compared to previous years because finances have been a lot tighter for us the last six months than what they have been even previously, and i couldn't really fill in the holes of what was missing after everything i made last year. but it was fine, i just figured out a design that would work using just what i already had in my supplies and voila! hehe

so yeah. long story short, i do it because it makes me happy during a difficult time of year for myself and as long as people are interested in cards from a stranger, i'll keep doing it. literally the only thing that could ever stop me is if i didn't have the money to buy the stamps to send them out or something. hehe

hope that helps, and happy holidays!

[dinjoyer]

How long does it take to make your animations? Do you have a pile of ideas waiting to be done, or do you just make them as you hear/see something that inspires?

Like a

Stupidly short amount of time cuz I bullshit them 😭😭

My last one took me a little under an hour and a half, compared to my actual pieces which take me 4-8 hours

I have a bunch of audios saved on tiktok for videos, but usually I’ll just be scrolling and find smth that randomly inspires me. And then I’ll make the most quick and lazy drawings of my life bc I know I won’t complete the vid unless I can do it all in one sitting 💀💀

Thank you for the ask!!

[amorcie]

Vent-ish thing. If you read it, sorry. Just don’t judge me for it.

Or do, I guess. I can’t stop you.

Dear E,

I’m going to regret writing this soon but it’s okay because you’ll never see it. You don’t want to talk to us anymore and I’ve blocked you on all our new accounts because I’m not sure if I want to talk to you either. Maybe we weren’t a good friend to you in the end but neither were you. You would’ve been there otherwise. It took you so long to even acknowledge how we were doing. Even though you knew. Even though we’ve stated multiple times that we were doing bad.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I lost my main support system and there’s no one I can rely on to the extent I relied on you and everyone else. Our bad, probably. We should’ve gotten close to other people instead of stupidly assuming we would all be friends forever and ever. It never last. We knew that, and yet we were still naive enough to think it would, this time.

I guess I resent you a lot, E. You still have all your friends and all those people you can count on but we don’t and that’s it, I guess. I don’t have any friends IRL. I’m back to being the loser with no one and who stays alone all the time.

Maybe we resent you too much.

Maybe any amount of resentment is too much resentment?

But I do. And I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon. I’m miserable, E. I’m miserable and you’re probably not. And I hate you for that. Fuck you for saying “I won’t give up on you” when you did that so easily. “You need help I can’t provide” — you couldn’t even give me the help you could provide. You put words in my mouth and I can’t believe I needed to call you out for it for you to realize that you did it. You would hate it if I did that to you.

I hate how patronizing you sounded in that last ask you sent us. I hate how you made me feel as if I was some pathetic thing so beneath you that you felt pity for. Some “pet project” that needed fixing, but that you couldn’t fix. Not that great, now are you?

Sorry that breakdown-me and stable-ish-me thought differently from each other. It’s almost as if I was under extreme duress and unable to think clearly because I was mentally ill and relieving some of the worst trauma of my life—newly discovered new trauma, at that. How dare I?

I haven’t talked about it in-depth to anyone else yet. I don’t know who to trust with such a vulnerable part of myself. I don’t even know how I feel about it.

But I was there when you struggled with yours. I helped you as best as I could. I told you that it was fine if you were suffering, that we wouldn’t blame you, that we hoped you’d feel better soon and that you deserved to be happy. That we’d be there. But I guess we don’t deserve the same treatment.

I still think M deserved to vent. It wasn’t annoying, it was understandable, and I never wanted to stop them from doing so.

… I think I and A should’ve never agreed to go out with them, to be honest. They were bound to disappear eventually — everyone in our system does. If not now, then in a couple months; in a couple years. It would never have lasted as much as they wanted it to.

That’s why we’re so hesitant about dating now, even though we pretty much all want it more than anything else in the world.

Maybe we’re just hungry for love. Our father loves us — but it’s all twisted and sick, and it didn’t stop him from hurting us. Our mother likes the idea of us, the us we never were and never will be. We don’t know if anyone else loves us. Maybe not. Maybe we’re too broken and imperfect for it.

We’re nothing in the grand scheme of things. If we were gone, people would be sad for a bit, and then they would move on, just like you did, E. I’m pretty sure you don’t think about us anymore.

We were never that important, were we?

I can’t talk to a therapist now. I’d have to find my own and pay for it and I don’t have the means to do that, nor could I even go to my sessions all on my own, and I can’t let our mother figure out what I’m up to, or she’s going to question us again. I don’t want to be the person going to others just to vent and talk about how shitty our life is.

Hell, it’s not even that bad. We’re just pathetic.

That’s all I can think of right now.

…

Goodbye, from the untrustworthy monster.

[poemsforparker]

tongue tied - tasm!peter × reader (college!au)

marvel masterlist

pairing: peter parker × gn!reader

summary: Peter lets a drunk confession slide during an after party you took care of him. He didn't remember anything so he didn't understand your behaviour the next day.

tropes: best friends to lovers, drunk confessions ‹3

warnings: mentions of alcohol

a.n.: I missed writing for my ultimate boyfriend SO MUCHH. I missed writing in general for this profile, but I’m backk, I have about 6 drafts yet to finish including 2 requests that had been sitting here for ages (rlly sorry ab that whoever asked for  them I really was overwhelmed for the last 5 months lmao), anyways if you’re reading this still I love you already, enjoy this lil drabble <3.

You entered your apartment nearly falling by Peter's weight almost entirely supported on you, he'd crossed the line and the bastard was lucky to have a best friend like you.

"Can you sit by yourself?" you ask worried looking at him, who had the silliest smile since you entered the elevator. "What is it?"

"You look gorgeous."

Trying your hardest to remember this was drunk Peter talking, you shake out the embarrassment and slightly nudging his arm. "Stop. Sit down, I'm grabbing you a blanket for you to sleep here, and a bucket, just in case."

You make your way to the room grabbing a blanket Peter always used on sleepovers at your place. Taking a blue old bucket on your way, you get to the living room, showing up to the view of a drunk Peter mumbling songs on your couch.

"Here," you place the blanket on him, pointing at the bucket on the floor right after. "Please just don't puke on my carpet. I'll leave you some painkillers and water by the couch. Anything you need you know where to find me. G'night, Pete." You kiss his forehead before walking out and have your arm grabbed, forcing you to stop.

"Thank you, you're so sweet. Sometimes I really want to kiss you." He speaks lazily and with a boyish smile never leaving his stupidly handsome face.

You played that phrase on your head over and over again, your heart racing on your chest thinking if Peter would even remember what he said to you.

It killed you to know that meant so much to you mean while Peter could only be mouthing random words lead out by the large amount of alcohol in his blood system.

You're awaken from your thoughts when you hear his loud yawn from the living room, probably a moment before he feels a terrible headache. You get up and go face him as if nothing happened, hoping he'd get back to the subject himself if he remembered it.

He didn't.

Peter spent his day acting fully normal to you, something you're sure he'd never be able to pull up such an act if he had any idea what he said the night earlier. To your surprise, you were really disappointed by that.

You always had feelings towards Peter, never really stopping to think about how it'd really be if you were a couple. Not until yesterday, when it felt so near reality, and you did not feel scared at all, as you thought it would be. In fact, the way you liked that idea just opened your eyes to how badly you had fallen for Peter long earlier, and the thought was eating you alive.

He was so kind, so caregiving, respectful and absolutely breathtaking, who wouldn't fall for him? Silly of you to think you'd scape that.

"What do you think?" Peter says excited about something you had no idea what since you'd been zoning out, taken by intrusive thoughts of kissing him right then and there.

"What?"

"C'mon, it must be like the third time you're not paying attention to what I'm saying today. What's up with you, bug?"

"Have you ever thought of us as a couple?" You let out not really aware of the words, just letting out what was in your head. Damn you for getting used to be fully honest to him.

"I, uh- um... What?"

"No- never mind I just- was thinking too loud... I guess." In embarrassment, you stare at the ceiling, which seemed suddenly more interesting that this conversation right now.

"I know this didn't came out of nowhere." You can hear he's smiling. He puts his hand slightly pulling your chin down to look at him. "What did I do?"

“You did nothing, Pete.”

“Oh, c’mon, I know you and I know my drunk self better than this, I must’ve  done something to lead to this.” He slides his thumb mindlessly on your cheeks while waiting for a response. “C’mon, say it.”

"Last night" you heavily sigh, in disbelief you were actually talking about this with Peter "you said sometimes you felt like kissing me." closing your eyes shut you think how you ended up here having this conversation with your best friend. "It just... Stayed in my head I guess." you shrug as if it wasn't much and see Peter's cheeks gain a heated tone of red, a sudden worried look showing up to his beautiful hazel eyes.

"Did I say that? God, I'm sorry, bug. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable around me." he leans closer, holding your hands and kissing them. "I'm really sorry, that won't happen again." you smile at his reaction, the first thought that came to his mind being nothing but your well being.

"I didn't say I got uncomfortable." you grin taking your hands out of his.

"You're not?"

“No.” you shake your head, still not helping your smile and now feeling your cheeks heat up "I just wanted to know if that's a genuine thought of yours or just drunk Peter spilling random stuff as always.” you chuckle. “I kinda of have an idea myself but I want to hear it from you."

“Oh... I see.” he shrinks his eyes as if studying your expression before saying a word more. “And what are your thoughts on this? Honestly.”

“Honestly?” you pull the last drop of braveness inside of you before the next sentence. “I sort of wanted it to be true.” you try to act like you said nothing much by not looking him in the eye and trying to shrug. Truth was, if he was still holding them, he’d feel your hands dripping sweat.

Peter gasps. “rEallY?” his voice fails like a twelve year old and he clears his throat to ask again, in embarassment “Really?”

You laugh a bit at him while nodding “Yeah.”

“Well, the we can make it happen.” he gives you a one sided smile while his eyebrows went up and down in a rhythm, making  you giggle at his childish acts.

“You’re such a dork.” while saying that, you lean closer to him now being mere inches away.

“A dork that you love.” and without giving you any time for an answer, that Peter could prevent being something along the lined of ‘don’t be so convinced’, he closes the space between you, joining his soft lips on yours. “You have no idea how long I waited for this.”

“Then just shut up and kiss me more.”

tags: @rudy-the-winged-wolf

[masonmtxo]

Starting Something New

Mason Mount x OC

Summary: first night at Mason’s house

Words: 3.1k

Notes: sexual content heavily implied. Sorry this took so long lovelies but its my longest fic so far so enjoy! Any feedback is welcome ❤️

Turning your engine off, you sat in your car for a few moments, taking a deep breath as you looked up at Mason’s house. It was beautiful, if not slightly intimidating, a clear reflection of his footballer pay package, leaving you a tad self conscious about your own house that he had picked you up from for several dates. You had been seeing each other for about a month, meeting through mutual friends on a night out, ending the night with a kiss and going your separate ways. You’d never been to his house prior to tonight, only having a vague idea of its appearance from the endless facetime calls you shared while apart- but as you sat in his driveway, looking up at its grandeur you began to feel out of place.

When Mason had first text you the day before asking if you would want to come over for dinner and a movie night you initially felt the excited feeling bubble in your stomach, the same one you felt every time you saw him over the past month. But as the evening approached and you made the short journey to his house, the nerves had begun to settle. It wasn’t like you weren't looking forward to spending time with him, but it felt like such a big step to be in his personal space, worried you wouldn't know how to behave once you were inside and ruin your delicate ‘situationship’. It felt different to your previous dates, most of which had been at cafes or restaurants around Cobham, where being in public had sort of become a shield to avoid letting yourself go fully. One on one, in his house, with no distractions, felt stupidly terrifying and unfamiliar. 

You looked over to the overnight bag sitting on the passenger seat beside you, questioning if you had been overly presumptuous even packing it in the first place, Mason making no mention of you staying the night in his message. You decided to leave it on the passenger seat, choosing to avoid embarrassment if it was never his intention to ask you to stay, grabbing your phone and keys and making your way up to the large front door. It swung open only moments after you rang the bell, making you wonder if Mason had seen you hesitating in the car before coming in. 

Unlike you, he seemed completely at ease, reaching a hand round your waist and pressing a soft peck to your lips after mumbling a little “Hi babe,” as you stepped in. 

“Hi, missed you,” you whispered against him, your hand automatically drifting to the back of his head to play with the wisps of hair at his hairline as he pulled you in for a hug. 

With his head tucked in your neck, he muttered that he missed you too before taking your hand in his and guiding you through the wide doorway that led into his kitchen. You’d seen this room many times over facetime calls, he would often ring you to keep him entertained while he cooked dinner in the evening, his skills in the kitchen something you found endlessly attractive. 

“What are you cooking for me tonight then Mr Mount?” You inquired, taking a seat at the island as he moved to the other side to stir the contents of the pan that was bubbling away on the hob.

“Just pasta, figured it was a safe choice after our last date” he smirked, recalling how he had taken you to a small Italian restaurant , remembering the amount of times he had made you blush as he tangled his legs with yours under the table and flirted with you relentlessly. Not that he needed to, you were infatuated after the first date, hell even after the first night you met. He was beyond magnetic, knowing how to get under your skin and make you melt with his gentle smile and endless charm. 

“Wine?” His voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked up to see him gesturing with an open bottle of red towards a glass on the counter, noticing how there was another sat beside it, already half empty. You smiled slightly, enjoying knowing that he had needed some liquid courage before you arrived, feeling more relaxed as you considered that maybe he wasn't as unbothered about this more intimate setting as he was coming across.

“Just one glass, I’ve got my car,” you thanked him as he passed it across the counter to you. 

He glanced up at you, for the first time since you had met him looking slightly flustered. “Oh, um… I was kinda hoping you would stay… the night” He blushed, before quickly blurting, “only if you want.” 

A tight expression took over his face as he waited for you to reply, it was clearly uncommon for him to be so out of his comfort zone around a girl and you were enjoying every second of it. 

“I have an overnight bag in the car, I didn't want to presume anything,” you finally relieved him from the embarrassment, sending him a grin as you reached across the island to squeeze his clenched first. He automatically relaxed, letting out a laugh in reply as he realised you were both on the same page and he hadn't just made a fool of himself. 

Neither of you acknowledged it any further, breaking out into easy conversation as you caught up about what you had been up to since you last saw each other 5 days ago. He looked at home in the kitchen, grey jumper rolled up to his elbows as he piled ingredients into the pan, the contents smelling divine. You swirled your wine round your glass as you flirted back and forth, finally feeling more comfortable as you realised Mason at home was the exact same as your Mason that swept you off your feet on your previous dates. 

You admired him from across the counter as he cooked, the way his thick eyebrows wrinkled in concentration, his tongue slightly poking out from between his lips as he focused on stirring the sauce. He glanced up at you, as if sensing your gaze, sending you a boyish grin. Your stomach fluttered at the way his dimples popped and little wrinkles emerged beside his eyes. He was devastatingly gorgeous, leaving you to shuffle on your seat at the feeling of butterflies erupting in your stomach, silently thanking whoever was looking over you for bringing such a beautiful human into your life. 

The more you watched him and your attraction grew, the more the nerves began to settle in as you considered what could take place later on that evening. It was the longest you had ever gone seeing someone without having sex, the furthest you had gone with Mason was an intense make out session at the club the first night you met. Since then, it had been pretty PG, most of your time spent together just enjoying the other's company with kisses being shared every now and then. You were nearly drooling over him at this point, the month long wait now finally coming to a head as you admired the way his hands looked as he busied himself preparing the food. A knowing smirk took over his face he noticed the way your eyes had glazed over, the look in your eyes no longer shining with desire for the food, but for him. 

“Can you grab those plates?” His low voice broke you from your trace, eyes darting up to meet his as you noticed his grin. You blushed lighting, knowing you had been caught out, quickly slipping off the stool and hiding your face as you hurried across the kitchen to fetch the plates he had gestured towards.

You felt his hands slip around your waist as he snuck up behind you, light kisses being pressed to your shoulder and neck. You groaned at the soft touches, senses heightened from the slow buildup of tension. Rolling your head back onto his shoulder to give him more access you leaned further into him, finally relaxing in his hold. He smiled against you, enjoying the way you reacted to his touch instantly as he began testing the waters, gently nibbling behind your ear to gauge your reaction. You let out a moan, allowing your eyes to fall shut until the unmistakable sound of a pan boiling over caused the two of you to pull apart. 

Mason released you, grabbing the plates and jogging back to the hob, swiftly turning it off to avoid any further mess. “Hungry?” He smirked at you, still standing in a haze where he had left you.

…

The food was to die for, Mason blushing lightly at your praise as you both set your plates aside on the coffee table. You sat beside each other, close, but not touching, both of you too anxious to make a move, despite the moment you had shared in the kitchen only half an hour earlier. 

“Wanna put a film on?”

You nodded, “you pick?” 

The film was only 5 minutes in when you felt Mason finally begin to make a move, his pinky finger sneaking over to loop around yours. You gave it a gentle squeeze, indicating you were comfortable with his slow advances; him acknowledging the gesture by wrapping your hand fully in his. You stayed like that for a while, his thumb brushing back and forth affectionately causing goosebumps to erupt on your arms and the fleeting touches. You fidgeted, slowly relaxing back against the sofa cushions, your previous tense position causing an ache in your neck as you kept your eyes focused on the tv. 

“C'mere babe,” he patted his chest with a soft smile. You turned to look at him as you leaned into him as requested, noticing how he was lounging back on the sofa, looking as calm as ever as if he hadn't just initiated the most intimate situation you pair of you had been in so far. With your back pressed against his chest he wrapped his arms around your middle.

Weirdly, you’d never felt more safe in your life than you did in that moment, belly full, happy and relaxed as he cuddled you into his chest, gentle kisses being pressed to your hair every now and then. You could see yourself in this position more often, already knowing that as soon as you left his house you would be dying to be back in his embrace. 

The pair of you watched the rest of the film in silence. At some point, his hand had drifted up the back of your jumper, tracing light patterns across your bare back, deep sighs of contentment coming from you, letting him know he was okay to continue. He smiled affectionately at the way you unconsciously nestled further into him every so often, hands clutching at his jumper in an attempt to draw yourself even closer to him as you were finally able to hold each other in the way you had been craving. 

Turning away from the film he noticed how your eyes had fallen shut, your breathing deepened as you began to drift off. Switching the TV off as the film drew to a close, he traced a tender finger down your cheek, deciding to wake you from your slumber. “C’mon pretty girl you’ve got to wake up.”

You grumbled, bleary, half asleep eyes tilting in his direction as you roused from your slumber. “Can we go to bed yet?”

He chuckled, continuing to lovingly stroke your cheek as you rested your chin on his chest, both of you admiring the other's features for a while. “Course we can sleepyhead, go upstairs to my room and i'll run out and grab your overnight bag, yeah?” 

You nodded, slowly rolling off his chest and onto your feet before clamming up slightly as it dawned on you again that you would be spending your first night in Mason’s house, in his bed, wrapped up in his arms. “Where is it?” You asked, “your room,” you clarified when he tilted his head in confusion. 

He let out a small laugh as he released his mistake, “Up the stairs, first door on the right. gimme a kiss first?” He sat up, head tilted back as his lips pouted, pulling you between his spread legs. You pressed a number of pecks to him, attempting to pull away but his face chased yours, the kisses becoming longer and more heated by the second. He reached for your waist, pulling you back down to straddle his waist as he licked his tongue into your mouth, both of you letting out small groans and grabbing at any part of the other you could get your hands on. Without releasing what you were doing, you slowly began to roll your hips into his, causing Mason to groan, hands sliding down to grip your hips, bringing your movements to a halt. 

“Fucking hell baby i’ll cum in my boxers if you keep doing that,” he smirked, a blush instantly springing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you muttered, attempting to climb off him only to be pushed back down on his lap.

“Don’t be sorry you idiot, I just dont plan on fucking you for the first time on my sofa when there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs,” he teased, rubbing his nose against yours as you finally giggled. He finally lifted you off his lap, standing to his own feet as he grabbed your hand to lead you to the staircase you noticed earlier by the front door. “Wait here,” he instructed as he took your car keys from the slide and slipped out the door, pulling it too behind him to stop the cold night air from chilling you as you waited. Seconds later he emerged from behind the door, duffle bag in hand. You reached out to take it from him which was met with a shake of his head with no words being said. Holding your bag in one hand, the other claimed your hand again to guide you up the stairs and into his room. 

He released his hold on you as you entered the dark room, flicking on the light and closing the door before throwing your bag onto the bed as he ventured further into the room, leaving you by the door. You looked around apprehensively; the room was immaculate, a huge bed against one wall with two doors on either side of a large tv on the opposite. It was simple, but still felt overwhelmingly homely as you continued to take it in. You hadn't noticed Mason staring at you from beside the bed, a smirk on his face as you analysed every inch of his room. 

“Is it up to standard?” He teased, breaking you from your thoughts. You blushed again, releasing he had seen you looking around awkwardly. You had never been so nervous to spend a night with a boy both, this fear of doing something wrong and embarrassing yourself completely new to you. 

You tilted your head mockingly, “Hmm… it will do,” you teased back, shaking off the nerves and making your way over to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out for you as you neared, pulling you between his legs and resting his hands on your hips, this time much lower than before. 

Mason stared up at you with a soft look in his eye before reaching up to cup the back of your head and pulling you into him, once again the two of you getting lost in a heated kiss. Heat began to pool in your lower belly, your skin on fire as his hands travelled up and down your body, yours tangling in his hair. He let out a moan as you tugged, stomach fluttering as you responded by climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap for the second time tonight. Mason’s hands slid down to cup your bum, pressing your crotch into his as he shuffled backwards until he was laying down, head against the pillow, pulling you down with him. You moaned into each others mouths, desperately grabbing at each others clothing until you were both down to just your underwear. 

Without breaking the kiss, Mason gently pushed you onto your back, his body now hovering over yours. 

“You want to carry on baby?” He pulled away slightly, eyes checking yours for any sign of discomfort. 

“Please Mase,” you whimpered, hands back to tugging at his hair, unimpressed with the loss of contact. Your words and the desperate look in your eye was all he needed, lips plumenting back to yours as he reached behind you to unclip your bra. 

…

He rolled off of your body having taken a few minutes to regain his breath, the both of you unable to move for a while as you came down from your highs. 

“You okay?” He whispered, nuzzling into the side of your face, his beard scratching lightly against your cheek, causing you to tingle at the memories of his beard scratching against your thighs not long before. You nodded, still laying on your back, completely fucked out and not yet ready to move, only able to turn your head to press a reassuring peck to his lips. 

He smiled against you, before flopping back onto his side to face you, the way his face squished slightly from the pillow and his post sex hair stuck up in different directions made you giggle softly as you rolled onto your side to face him. 

“I really like you. Like, really really really like you,” he mumbled, somehow a little shy as he hid his face in the pillow, the confident man who put on an impressive performance only moments prior nowhere to be seen. 

You smiled, the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated allowing you to instantly relax into the sheets. “Good. Because I really really really like you too.”

“Yeah?” He turned his head, a huge grin spreading across his pretty face. 

You grinned back, both of you wrapped up in the feeling of each other as you laid in his bed, overwhelmed at what had just happened after waiting for a month of subtle touches and teasing. The moment was broken abruptly, eyes widening as the feeling of Mason’s release trickling from you caused you to shoot up from the bed, grabbing a blanket to wrap round you as you darted into the bathroom, the sound of his laughter cut off as you slammed the bathroom door shut.