#in this case it's one of my favorite books and while i will not respond directly i do think i'm going to make an analysis post

[ihavedonenothingright]

You know those moments where you see someone else review a piece of media and just. Miss the point?

[readsaboutreid]

Cast Your Bets | S.R.

summary: (Y/N) has been at the BAU for two months now and the tension between her and Spencer has been noticeable to everyone but them. The team takes bets on when they'll finally snap but (Y/N) and Spencer over hear them and some smutty shenanigans ensue.

This is smut so it's 18+, minors please dni.

spencer x bau!reader

contains: unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), fingering (f receiving), non-established relationship

this has been sitting in my drafts for few months so i figured i'd finally let it see the light of day

The team were all sat on the jet after a long case, everyone off in their own little worlds. Morgan had his headphones on and had nodded off, JJ and Prentiss were playing cards, and Hotchner and Rossi were talking about the case they had just finished in hushed tones. Spencer had run out of reading material so he was just kind of sitting and staring off into space. His eyes fell to (Y/N), her brows furrowed in concentration as she read what looked to be a well-worn book, and he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered in his chest.

Ever since she had started at the BAU, Spencer had been hopelessly infatuated with her. She was intelligent, sweet, and most surprisingly she seemed to enjoy when Spencer would go off rambling about something that would usually leave Morgan rolling his eyes or Prentiss poking him and asking, "how did they make you so lifelike?" But when he was talking with (Y/N) and he would start off on a subject, she would just tilt her head and listen with a soft smile, occasionally chiming in with a question or comment, making it more than clear she was listening to every word.

She locked eyes with him and flashed him the sweetest smile and he felt his cheeks burn with a sudden heat. "Something interesting, Reid?" She chuckled, closing the book she had been reading and setting it on her lap as she turned to face him.

"I—I was just trying to see what you're reading," he lied, unconvincingly. He swallowed nervously and a small smile twitched at his lips at seeing her smile grow even wider before he looked down at his hands resting in his lap.

She held the book up for him to see the cover. Dune.

"Dune? That's one of my favorites!" He exclaimed with a wide smile.

"When I was a little girl this was one of my favorites. My dad would read it to me before bedtime," she explained before opening it back up to begin reading again. "I read it once a year the month of his birthday."

Spencer felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of confidence and decided to take advantage of it. "Hey, uh, I finished the only book I had brought with me earlier, do you mind if I read along with you, maybe? I could just read over your shoulder or something." He bit his lip as he waited for her to shoot him down, the confidence he felt already fading away rapidly.

"Oh! I, uh, o-okay," she responded while her eyes widened a little bit in response to the request. She moved closer to him on the bench they were both seated on. He adjusted the way he was sitting so that she could lean up against him and he found himself silently hoping she couldn't hear how fast and hard his heart was beating against his chest. She opened the book, holding it up high enough for Spencer to be able to read as well and they began reading. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her, the butterflies in his stomach flying around more frantically each time he did so.

His body was in overdrive and he did everything in his power to maintain his composure. He could smell the scent of eucalyptus and lavender on her hair as she leaned up against him and he started thinking about how nice it would be to be able to run his fingers through it while her lips were wrapped around his—

Spencer shook his head, dispelling the thoughts before they had a chance to take root. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs to cover up the fact that he was becoming rather noticeably hard. (Y/N) shifted a bit, leaning further into Spencer's chest and resting her head there gently. His breath hitched in his throat before he relaxed into her, resting his arm around her shoulders and his cheek against the top of her head.

They continued reading until Spencer noticed that she hadn't turned the page in quite a while. When he looked down at her he noticed that she was sleeping quite soundly against him. He tried his best to maneuver without waking her, placing her bookmark in between the pages and closing the book. There was no way Spencer himself would be able to get any sleep right now, but Spencer tried to relax enough to at least be a comfortable human pillow. Wrapping his other arm around her, he eventually found himself getting lost in the scent of her shampoo yet again as his eyes grew heavy.

Next thing he knew, he was waking up to Morgan lightly shaking his shoulder. "Come on lover boy! It's time to wake up. We're about to land," he said in a voice loud enough to also rouse the still-sleeping (Y/N).

She shot up suddenly, her face turning a deep shade of crimson as she stammered out a flustered apology and swiftly rushed off to the bathroom, leaving Spencer to glare daggers at Derek from his seat on the now otherwise empty bench.

Later that night, Spencer found himself at home, sprawled on the couch with the familiar blue glow of the television screen illuminating the room. The soft hum of the TARDIS filled the air as he half-heartedly tried to focus on the episode of Doctor Who playing before him. But try as he might, his mind kept drifting back to (Y/N).

Her scent still lingered on his clothes, a sweet and intoxicating blend that teased his senses. Images of her leaning against him, of her hair brushing against his skin, invaded his thoughts. His body reacted to these memories, stirring with a desire that he couldn't ignore.

As the scene on the TV faded into the background, Spencer's hand began to stray lower, fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal through his pants. He closed his eyes, letting himself fully indulge in the fantasy of (Y/N) that had taken hold of his mind.

Her soft lips against his skin, his hands exploring her body with a gentle curiosity...

Spencer reached his hand into his pajama pants, pulling out his throbbing member and wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly beginning to stroke up and down. His breathing grew shallow as his hand moved more purposefully, seeking release from the building tension within him. Lost in a haze of desire and yearning, Spencer's thoughts were consumed by the memory of her touch, her scent, her warmth as she leaned up against him. With a quiet gasp, he abandoned himself to the fantasy, his movements growing urgent as he chased the climax that beckoned to him.

The fantasies of (Y/N) moaning and writhing beneath him in pleasure became more vivid, more alluring, fueling the fire that consumed him. Every fleeting touch, every whispered word in his mind pushed him closer to the edge until finally, with a shuddering breath and a silent cry of her name on his lips, Spencer found release in the solitude of his living room. The waves of pleasure washed over him, leaving him spent and breathless, his heart pounding in his chest.

As reality slowly seeped back in, Spencer lay there in the dim glow of the TV screen, a flush of both satisfaction and guilt coloring his cheeks. He wondered how he would ever be able to look (Y/N) in the eye again, but at the same time he couldn't help but long to see her still.

With a deep sigh, Spencer finally shut off the TV, cleaned himself up, and headed to bed, his mind filled with a mixture of longing and remorse.

The atmosphere in the bullpen was buzzing with it's usual energy. Spencer and (Y/N) were hunched over their desks, papers scattered everywhere as they focused intently on their work.

Meanwhile, across the room, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and JJ were observing the pair with playful banter and knowing looks. Their whispers floated through the air like mischievous spirits.

"Hey, JJ, how long do you think it'll be until these two finally give in to their sexual tension?" Derek asked with a cocky smirk.

JJ shrugged. "I'll give it two weeks."

Derek scoffed in response and said, "I say a week tops."

Penelope interjected, "oh please! I give it three days."

"You're all ridiculous" Emily shook her head and laughed, "I bet it'll take 24 hours, tops."

Spencer could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he overheard the playful bets being made about him and (Y/N). His heart raced at the mere thought of what could transpire between them, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within him like a storm.

As they both reached for the same file folder, their fingers brushed against each other's in a fleeting moment that sent a jolt of electricity through Spencer. His hand trembled slightly at the contact, his skin tingling with a sensation he couldn't quite describe. But he couldn't deny the rush of warmth that flooded his veins at the simple touch.

(Y/N) quickly withdrew her hand, her eyes widening in surprise as she glanced up at Spencer. Her cheeks were painted with a delicate pink blush that mirrored Spencer's own, a silent acknowledgment passing between them in that moment.

Emily raised an eyebrow as they all observed the exchange between Spencer and (Y/N). "I told you all—24 hours, no more, no less.”

Agent Hotchner's lowered voice came from behind the group, startling everyone at the table. "Less than 12 hours," he stated calmly, his eyes piercing as they turned towards Spencer and (Y/N). The sudden silence that followed his words was almost palpable, the tension thick in the air as his prediction hung over them like a heavy cloud.

As the others in the room exchanged surprised glances, Derek let out a low whistle. "Hotch, you sure about that?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned away and walked out of the bullpen, leaving the rest of the table floored as they looked back at Spencer and (Y/N).

The gentle hum of the bullpen around them seemed to fade away as Spencer found himself lost in a daydream, imagining a world where he and (Y/N) were more than just colleagues. His heart quickened at the thought of what could be, but just as quickly, the shadow of doubt crept in.

What if she didn't feel the same way? What if their friendship was forever altered by a moment of vulnerability and desire? Spencer's mind swirled with conflicting emotions—longing mingled with fear, desire intertwined with doubt.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice (Y/N) shooting him a quick smile before returning to her work. The warmth of that smile lingered in the air around Spencer, filling him with a sense of hope and a tinge of uncertainty. Was it just a friendly gesture, or did it hold a deeper meaning that he desperately wanted to believe in?

As the day drew to a close and everyone began packing up, Spencer finally spoke up. "Hey, (Y/N)," Spencer nervously fiddled with the strap of his bag, "would, uh, w-would you want to come over and watch Star Trek tonight? We could get some takeout, you know, like we always do the weekend after a case?" She looked up at him with a warm smile that made the butterflies in his stomach flare up and nodded happily.

As they walked out of the office together, Spencer couldn't help the sweat that began coating his palms in a thin layer. He gripped the leather strap of his bag and fiddled with it to give his hands something to do. The elevator took them down to the parking garage and they approached her car. Spencer rushed to open the driver's side door for her, drawing a soft, melodious giggle from her lips that made him go weak at the knees.

He made his way to the passenger side and slipped into the seat, buckling the seatbelt and swallowing the lump in his throat. She pulled out of the parking space and they began the short journey to his apartment. On her car radio a CD started playing, and a man with a soft and pleasant voice was singing to them about a woman with a green plastic watering can and a fake Chinese rubber plant. (Y/N) hummed along to the song and Spencer looked at her from the passenger seat, and as he did so his mind ventured back to the conversation he over heard between their colleagues earlier today.

"Spencer? Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a small smile, snapping him out of his thoughts and back into reality. His cheeks burned as he silently berated himself, not realizing how long he had been looking over at her. A whole new song was playing on the radio now, the same man now singing about how he used to fly like Peter Pan.

"S-sorry, I, uh, I just, uh—hey, wh-what did you wanna order tonight?" He clumsily attempted to change the subject, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together in his lap.

"Oooh!" (Y/N) exclaimed, always excited to talk about food. "There's a new pizza place across the street from your building that I noticed the last time I came over, what if we ordered from them?"

Spencer closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, relief washing over him. "That sounds like a fantastic idea," he smiled and shot another glance her way, this time immediately looking back at his hands.

(Y/N) parked the car on the curb in front of Spencer's building and turned off the engine. They stepped out into the cool evening air and walked across the street, entering the pizza shop. The inside of the shop was small, just a handful of tables. The walls were painted a pale shade of yellow and plastered with vintage Italian film posters. The air smelled of tomato sauce and pesto, and as they approached the counter a middle aged woman with a red apron over her blue dress pushed through the door in the wall behind it, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Welcome! Table for two?" She asked, looking between (Y/N) and Spencer.

"Can we actually just order something for takeout?" Spencer asked, looking at the menu above her head.

"Of course! What can I get for the handsome couple?" She smiled, her brown eyes crinkling on the side.

Spencer blinked. "Oh, uh, w-we, uh, we're not—," Spencer stammered, his eyes widening as his cheeks flushed. "Um, can we get a, uh, a large pepperoni pizza?" He shifted gears, remembering her once mentioning to Garcia that pepperoni was her favorite pizza topping.

"Did you want a two liter bottle of cola? It would only be an extra $1.25," the lady chuckled, entering everything into the register.

"S-sure," he responded, pulling out his wallet.

"Alrighty! That will be $9.25," Spencer handed over a $20 and the lady opened the register drawer and handed him his change. "Please, feel free to have a seat while the two of you wait." She gestured over at the tables, which were all empty save for one, which was occupied by a single woman with a large slice of pizza on her table doing a crossword puzzle, before walking back through the door behind her.

"After you," he turned to (Y/N), following her to a table by the window. He pulled the chair out for her, earning another one of her beautiful giggles that made his legs go wobbly.

"Always such a gentleman," she smiled up at him as he made his way to the other side of the table and sat down. They waited for around 10 minutes and chatted about random topics, flowing from one to the next. The same lady from before approached the table with a white pizza box and plastic bag with the large bottle of soda and little packets of crushed red peppers and parmesan.

"Here you go, one large pepperoni pizza!" She placed the box and the bag on the table and wished them a good evening before heading back through the same door behind the counter.

The pair headed out of the shop and crossed the street, entering the door to Spencer's apartment building. Spencer carried the pizza box and soda while trailing behind (Y/N), struggling to keep his gaze off of her behind as he followed her up the stairs. As they approached his door, he fumbled trying to get his keys out of his pocket and ended up dropping them on the ground.

(Y/N) immediately reacted, bending down to grab the keys as soon as they hit the ground with a good natured laugh. "Need some help, Spencer?" She teased while grinning up at him.

"Yes, please," he laughed in return, shooting her a sheepish grin of his own. She unlocked the door to his apartment and opened the door, allowing him to slip in first and place the pizza and soda down on his small table. She followed and closed the door behind her.

"So I know I had agreed to come over to watch Star Trek, but what would you say to watching a little Doctor who?" She turned to him, a hopeful glint in her eyes. "It's been a while since I've sat down and watched that and I kind of miss it."

"We can watch anything you'd like!" Spencer responded while heading to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and glasses. He brought them back out and offered one of each to (Y/N). They each helped themselves to a slice of pizza and poured their drinks before heading over to his couch. He grabbed the remote and put on Doctor Who.

They ate their pizza and watched Doctor Who on his couch, each of them getting up for another slice at least once. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her as they ate and watched, and once they both finished he took their plates to the sink and washed them off before quickly returning. As he sat back down, (Y/N) scooted closer to him slowly before gently leaning up against him and softly asking, "i-is this okay?"

Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he managed to croak out a quiet, "y-yeah, it's okay." He lifted his arm and tentatively placed it around her shoulders while she moved in closer, leaning into his chest and resting her head against it like she had on the plane as they read together. This time he was sure she had to hear the way his heart was racing, but fortunately she said nothing. They continued to watch in silence as the tension between the two of them grew nearly palpable.

Eventually, once Spencer found himself wondering if she had yet again fallen asleep, (Y/N) broke the silence with a question. "So did you hear the team talking about us earlier today?"

"No, uh, wh-what were they, um, talking about?" He lied, doing his best to maintain his composure.

"You are a very bad liar, Spencer," she chuckled, making his cheeks flush bright red as she sat up.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes before looking up at her. "Y-yeah, I overheard them. I'm sorry about them, I can try to talk to them about it and ask them to stop—"

"No, it's not that! It was actually fairly funny," she chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "But to be honest I'm kind of offended that they thought it would take me that long to seduce you." She joked, nudging Spencer in the ribs. "I mean, Emily said 'no more or less than 24 hours' but I'm fairly certain that if I really tried, and I mean really put my heart into it, I could get you into bed with me tonight." She laughed again but there was a hint of nervousness in it this time, shooting a look at him from where she sat as a faint pink blush began to spread over her cheeks. Apparently she hadn't heard Hotch's bet, but Spencer wasn't focusing on that. He was too busy focusing on the fact that he was sitting here listening to her speculate how long it would take for her to seduce him as if she hadn't been plaguing his dreams and fantasies since they met.

"Good point," he breathed to himself, hoping it was quiet enough that she wouldn't be able to hear over the TV. Unfortunately for him, he thought wrong. He yelped in surprise as she lunged over his lap, grabbed the remote, and hit the mute button, making the TV go silent.

"Oh, really?" She shot him a smile that was an equal mix of surprised and some other emotion Spencer hadn't seen on her face before. "So tell me, Spencer, what might I need to do to convince you to sleep with me?" Her voice was sultry and soft as she bit her lip and looked up at him, her face closer to his than it had been before.

"I-I, uh," Spencer cleared his throat and swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He had two options: try to lie his way out of this or just tell her how badly he'd like nothing more than to lay her down and take her right there on the couch. His palms grew slick again but he took a deep breath. He had already been called out for his poor lying skills once this evening, so there was no point in attempting the first option. Instead he simply opted to tell her the truth.

"Y-you wouldn't have to do anything more than just ask and I'd say yes." His voice was barely above a whisper and he finally looked up to meet her eyes before he added, "in a heartbeat."

Before he could fully register what was happening she had leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly. His eyes slowly closed as he kissed her back, shifting to turn so he was facing towards her with more of his body. His hands slid to her waist, wrapping around her and pulling her into him.

When they pulled away from each other he reached his hand up to cup her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him before she softly said, "Spencer, would you like to—"

"Yes," he exhaled with a fervent nod, grabbing her face with his other hand and crashing his lips back against hers, her lips parting to allow his tongue into her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and laid back, pulling Spencer down with her. They shifted their legs until Spencer's hips rested between her thighs, his cock stiffening rapidly in his pants.

Her hands tangled into his hair and he began gently grinding his hips against her. They both moaned into each other's mouths at the sensation and Spencer's movements became more insistent and needy. When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, her cheeks were flushed and her pupils were dilated. Spencer brushed some of her hair out of her face before he pressed his lips to her cheek, then began trailing kisses from her cheek to her chin, then to her neck. She moved her hands to the collar of her shirt and began undoing the buttons while Spencer rose up to remove his own layers.

Once he had removed his shirt he looked back down at her and the sight awaiting him stole the breath right from his lungs. She had removed her shirt and her bra in the time it took him to get his jacket, vest, and shirt off and her entire torso was on display to him. He brought a hand up to one of her breasts and cupped it in his hand, brushing his thumb over the nipple. He leaned back over her and began kissing her neck again, teasing and tormenting her nipple before moving his mouth to take over, his fingers going to the other one to tease while he suckled and ran his tongue over the first one.

Everything else faded into the background when he heard her moan at sensations, including the throbbing and aching need in his pants. All that he could focus on was drawing more of those sounds form her mouth. He let his teeth graze against her nipple and she gasped, tangling her fingers back into his hair. He let his teeth press gently onto the hardened nub again and the moan she released in response was beautiful enough for him to think that maybe he had died and gone to heaven.

He eventually moved his hand from her other nipple, switching it out for his mouth and giving the first one a break. He let his hand trail down her abdomen, stopping as he reached the waistline of her skirt. He looked up at her from her chest as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to gently tug. She lifted her hips and used her hands to push her skirt and panties down before Spencer slowly pushed her thighs back open.

His fingers slid up her inner thigh until he reached her dripping center. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt just how ready she was for him. She whimpered beneath him and he felt his cock twitch at the sound as he moaned against her nipple. He gently ran a fingertip from her entrance to her clit, circling around it slowly before running his finger back down the other way. He repeated the action a few times. As he continued he started slipping the tip of his finger into the entrance of her pussy before swiping up to the clit, and with each repetition his finger slipped deeper and deeper into her.

His head became hazy with lust as he kept going until his finger was fully embedded into her. When he slipped it out this time instead of swiping it up to her clit he instead added a second finger, slowly pushing them both into her and pulling them back out. She arched her back up into his mouth, still tormenting her nipple. He switched back to the neglected one, feeling her chest heave against his mouth. Her fingers were back in his hair and tugging gently, and his cock twitched again at the feeling. He moaned loudly against her chest, and she pulled his hair again in response. He tugged at her nipple with his teeth lightly and she gasped, clenching around his fingers.

He sped up his pace, chuckling against her as the way she stifled a scream. "S-Spencer I'm gonna—oh fuck yes I'm coming!" She cried. Spencer pulled back to see her eyes flutter back into her head and her face twist in pleasure. Her face, neck, and chest were flushed scarlet and he felt as her pussy pulsed around his fingers. The sounds that fell from her lips were more beautiful than anything he'd ever heard. He slowed his fingers down, gently coaxing her through her orgasm.

(Y/N) tugged his hair, pulling him up to crash her lips against his. She then moved those hands to his belt, deftly undoing his belt buckle and fly. Spencer removed his belt and then pushed his pants and briefs to his ankles before kicking them off. (Y/N) reached a hand out and ran her fingers over his cock, her thumb swiping across the tip as it throbbed.

He was aching and leaking into her hand, his hips bucking into her touch while she stroked once, twice, a third time, before guiding the tip between her thighs and pressing him against her entrance. He pushed in immediately, moaning at the heat that enveloped him, and stilled once he was fully sheathed inside of her. He panted heavily as he remained still inside of her, listening to the way she whimpered beneath him.

"S-so good," he whispered, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to keep himself from finishing immediately.

"Yeah? It feels good?" She asked breathlessly.

"Yes!" He moaned. "You feel s-so good." His entire body tensed and his arms trembled under his weight when he felt her begin to writhe beneath him, trying to get some sort of friction between her legs. He took deep breaths before he pulled his hips back and pushed them back forward, earning enthusiastic moans from (Y/N)'s lips as her back arched up off of the bed, her chest pressing into his. He dragged himself back out, then back in, and kept this up until their hips had fallen into rhythm together. Every sound that fell from her lips was more beautiful than the last as Spencer rammed into her and the slap of skin on skin was mixed in with their moans.

"Sp-Spencer—" a moan cut her off, followed by his lips finding hers and swallowing the moan. His hips sped up and he felt her nails dig into his shoulders.

"I—oh my god—(Y/N), I think I'm about to come!" He cried out. He tipped his head back and a desperate whine ripped it's way from his throat as he felt himself growing closer and closer with each disjointed thrust into her and each moan from her lips. "Wh-where do you want—oh god—where should I—"

"Give it to me, please!" She mewled underneath him. "Please, please fill me up Spencer, please I need—" he finished before she could even finish her pleas, moaning loudly as he tensed and spilled every drop into her. He could feel her clench down onto him, could hear her cry out in pleasure and felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough that he suspected she may have drawn blood, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that through the pleasure coursing through every cell in his body.

By the time he came back down, he could barely hold himself up on his arms with how hard they were trembling. He opened his eyes and was blown away by the sight beneath him. Her hair was tousled and her face and chest were flushed, the latter heaving with her own gasps for air. Spencer leaned in to give her lips a soft kiss before pulling himself out of her. When he looked down in between their legs and saw his seed dripping out of her, his head spun with lust. He was snapped out of it by the sound of a cell phone ringing, and he reached for the source of the sound to determine which of them needed to answer.

When he located the phone beneath his own pants he answered figuring it to be his own phone ringing. "Hello?" He was still breathlessly panting as he looked at (Y/N), her eyes dancing with humor at his tone.

"Reid, is that you?" Garcia's voice came through the phone.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" He asked, gaining back a bit of control over his breathing.

"Well, given that I dialed (Y/N)'s number, perhaps her?" She laughed a little bit. "What are you doing answering (Y/N)'s phone sounding like you just finished a marathon?" She asked, her voice growing more and more excited with each word.

"I—uh, um—(Y-Y/N)'s phone?" He stammered, sitting up quickly at the words as he turned his gaze to (Y/N), who was cleaning herself up next to him with some tissues she had grabbed from his side table. Her eyes widened as she heard those two words come from his mouth and her hand shot to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I. uh, I guess I must have grabbed hers by mistake after we ate lunch together at her desk."

"Spencer Reid you really are the world's worst liar!" Garcia laughed from the other end as Spencer felt his entire face burn with embarrassment at being called out on his poor lying skills twice in one evening.

"I-it's for you," he mumbled while he handed her the phone. After he had cleaned himself up, he put his pants and shirt back on while he let (Y/N) focus on her conversation with Garcia, which she managed to continue while getting dressed. Once she had hung up the phone she pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed slowly while laughing.

"Well, now that Penelope knows so will everyone on the team," she let out a sigh but then smiled at Spencer so sweetly he couldn't help but scoot closer and wrap his arms around her again. They sat like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's presence in front of the still muted television.

"Hey, Spencer?" She spoke up eventually.

"Yeah?" He muttered back sleepily while he absent-mindedly played with her hair.

"I'm going to go grab another slice of pizza, want me to bring you one, too?"

[rcvcgers]

Hiiii!!!.I hope you're doing well🖤

I just wanted to make a little request for injury/surgery comfort since I had a little procedure done on my foot, and I can't do anything for the next three weeks. It hurts a little, especially with it being winter where I'm from. So.... lads x nonmc post-surgery comfort? (If that's okay, of course)

hi! i hope you are doing good as well! thank you for sending in the request! i hope your foot feels better omg! wishing you a speedy recovery!

Foot Surgery (And The Three Weeks After)

pairings (in this order) ; zayne x reader , caleb x reader , rafayel x reader , sylus x reader , xavier x reader

word count ; 3.5 as a whole, ~690-710 words per character!

warnings ; none!

author's note ; i went a bit sillier with this and wanted to make something more upbeat! i hope it helps you feel better and gives you a distraction from some of the pain!

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What stemmed from a silly little injury while walking home from the grocery store in the middle of a blizzard ended up with you on bed rest for three weeks while your broken foot heals. Your foot was stuck in a splint before being moved to a boot and it’s painful to stand on. Your partner brought you home, well, to their home under the excuse that they needed to be close to you just in case something were to happen or if you wanted something. So, you have settled yourself into your new routine — one that will last all of three weeks until you���re able to walk without their help — and honestly? It brings you so much more comfort than you realize.

You knew that Zayne was going to be a stickler for your post-op routine. He had made his home as comfortable as possible for you, even going as far as to have a plethora of blankets and pillows in the living room on the instance that you wanted to binge watch television while he worked on reports and papers at night. What caught him by surprise, though, was your request to join him at Akso Hospital.

He was never going to deny the pleasure of your company, though, and simply brought all of the blankets and pillows into his office for you to sit on the office couch while he did his job the hospital. You settled into the room, forever thankful that your work gave you the time off for recovery, with a book and laptop in hand, ready to read and watch movies throughout the day until it was time for Zayne to carry you back to his car.

Throughout the day, Zayne would pop back into his office with a small smile on his face, his glasses about to fall off the edge of his nose as he dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your forehead. He sat beside you on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder with his eyes closed, the tip of his nose nuzzled into your neck. You were watching some random movie, one that had you giggling and squirming around in his grasp as you tried to get him to engage with the movie.

“Behave,” Zayne murmurs into your ear, pressing a sweet and gentle kiss to the corner of your jaw, “I could hear your giggles from the hallway. It’s like your foot isn’t hurting anymore.”

“Being in the company of my favorite doctor has helped me feel better,” you smile at him, eyes meeting his.

“Oh? Is that so?” Zayne returns your smile, bringing you closer in to his chest.

You’re about to respond when you foot slips off of the couch, the back of your boot colliding with the floor. A gasp flies from your mouth, pain shooting through your foot and up your leg. Zayne immediately removes himself from below you and moves into action, placing your leg back on the couch. He kneels beside the couch. He takes his hand in yours and presses a kiss to your knuckles, eyes filled with nothing but worry and remorse.

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay, my love?” he asks.

The pain slowly leaves your foot, feeling more numb than anything else, and you smile at the man. A laugh leaves your mouth. He really did just spring into action like that, did he? It was cute and admirable! Your laughter takes Zayne by surprise, his eyes slightly widening before returning to their regular size. Your snorts and giggles make him roll his eyes as he stands back up, posture straightening.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Zayne says with a huff of air, shaking his head while he fixes his tie.

“I promise I won’t…if you find a way to leave work early?” you ask him with puppy dog eyes, leaning over the edge of the couch as he takes his leave towards the door.

“I…” Zayne is about to deny this, but the look on your face, the way there’s a slight gloss to your eyes from the pain in your foot mixed in with the joy from his valiant efforts to save you. He lets out a sigh and nods his head, fixing his glasses, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You are the best boyfriend ever, have I told you that?”

“I’m just a doctor who wants to make for sure his girlfriend’s foot is okay,” he steps out of the doorway but pops back in for a brief moment, a slightly chaotic smile on his face, “let’s get dessert on the way home. I heard that sweets can help speed up the recovery process.”

It didn’t help that you had to call Caleb from the hospital after a stranger helped you to Akso, and he showed up with a frown on his face, still in his Colonel uniform since he decided to take the rest of the day off, coming straight to Linkon. He was annoyed that you couldn’t have waited to get groceries, citing that he would have gone with you if you just asked or he would have had them delivered, and he was in a sour mood for the rest of the day while he helped you pack your bags and brought you back to Skyhaven.

Caleb is mean whenever you’re injured. He always makes for sure that you follow every guideline so strictly, always carrying you from room to room in his Skyhaven apartment because the doctor said to keep pressure off of your foot, and even held the cup of water to your mouth whenever you took one of the pills that was prescribed to you. At least he lets you enjoy a tub of ice cream in bed after your surgery while your foot went through indescribable pain once the local anesthesia wore off, while he builds his airplane model at his desk, yapping away about the metrics of the plane.

“Hey, Caleb,” you begin from his bedroom, still in bed while he cooks breakfast. He enters in the bedroom, shirtless and looking just delectable under the morning light. He raises his eyebrows at you, a small smile spreading across his face. “I would like to go outside today. Maybe we can go to the market that—”

“No,” he shakes his head, “absolutely not. You can’t walk and it’s still snowing outside. You’ll hurt yourself again.”

“Nuh-uh,” you retort in a childish way, crossing your arms over your chest, “I won’t!”

“You will,” Caleb confirms this with a nod, making his way over to the bed, “it’s happened before—”

“Oh my god!” you smack his arm, “that was one time!”

“You had just broken your wrist,” Caleb laughs, leaning forward to brush some hair out of your face, “and then as soon as you got the cast off: you broke it all over again!”

Not wanting to have him gloat in your face or bring up another one of your clumsy incidents, you let out a loud gasp, hands moving towards your injured foot. Caleb immediately jumps up, eyes widening as he looks down at your bandaged foot.

“Did I sit on it!? Did I hurt you!? I am so sorry!” he gushes, rushing out of the room.

“Ow!” you play along, watching as he runs back inside the room with ice packs and a towel. He attaches himself to your foot, placing the ice packs on top of the bandages.

You frown, even faking a tear or two as Caleb inspects your skin, guilt coursing throughout his body as you fake your cries, calling him an ass for being oh so careless. You even go as far as to throw yourself back into bed, covering your face with a pillow to try and cover up your laughs. Caleb catches on, though, and lets out a very, very disappointed sigh. He rests his hand on your ankle, slowly dragging his fingers up your leg and to your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey babe,” Caleb leans in, using his free hand to remove the pillow from your face, “you didn’t just lie to me right now, did you?”

“…No,” you whisper, opening your eyes. As soon as your eyes meet, you try your best to hold back a smile. Your face runs through a mix of emotions, earning a head shake and laugh from your boyfriend.

“You are trouble! I guess I’ll have to keep you inside for another three weeks!” Caleb laughs, pulling you into his arms, peppering your face with kisses as you laugh, trying to push him away and off of you.

Rafayel was distraught when he heard the news. Thomas had dragged him away from Linkon and Whitesand Bay for an art retreat, something that his agent thought would help him with completing some paintings since he was behind an ungodly amount compared to the other artists he is in competition with. You could hear his worry over the phone, the way he was yelling at Thomas to get him a plane ticket back to Linkon so he can be with his wife (his words, not yours!).

It was not even an hour after your friend helped you home from the hospital that Rafayel showed up with various balloons, a bouquet of purple wisteria and white flowers, with his suitcase right behind him. He gasped when he saw you at the door, the splint on your foot sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You stay right there!” Rafayel pushes past you, placing his gifts and suitcase in the open space of your kitchen. He reattaches himself to your side, picking you up with ease as he carries you back over to your spot on the couch. You try to protest but Rafayel does not listen, sitting beside you, eyes moving to the television screen. “Are you watching a documentary about Lemuria?”

He turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him, slightly shaking your head to play it off cool instead of desperate.

“What?” you awkwardly chuckle, “nooooo…I’m not!”

“Yeah keep telling yourself that, cutie,” Rafayel rolls his eyes, sassiness prominent in his voice. He stands up and looks down at you, hands on his hips. He stares at the bandages around your foot and smirks, proudly tilting his chin up as he announces to the room, “for the next three weeks, I will be teaching you everything there is to know about Lemuria!”

And he did. For the entirety of your recovery, Rafayel had successfully numbed you of all of the pain you felt in your foot, always staying up to date on the times when you were supposed to be given your pain medication, and he even helped you cover your foot while you showered, continuing to tell you about all of the tales from his old life in Lemuria, all of the traditions and food he can’t wait to show you once you’re free from the cast.

The two of you moved throughout his Whitesand Bay home and studio, which he may or may not have ‘kidnapped’ you from your apartment, and took in all of the winter views from the tall windows. He placed empty canvases in front of you and painted you the lively Lemurian scenes, keeping your mind distracted from the pain as he filled your ears and mind of Lemurian myths and legends.

When you upgraded from a splint to a walkable boot, it was Rafayel who helped decorate the black casing with paint and stickers, even the slightest bit of flitter after you begged him to add some flair to it!

You sit outside, bundled up in a fuzzy blanket, the fabric pulled over your head with your foot in Rafayel’s lap. He wears a hoodie while slowly adding glitter onto your boot, the gentle snowflakes falling from the sky and onto his brush.

“In Lemuria,” Rafayel smiles at you, still not having dropped the fact that you wanted learn about his home, the place he wishes for you to so desperately see if it was still alive and thriving, “we would have had to kill you for a broken foot.”

“What?” your eyes widen, leaning forward. Rafayel nods and sets the paintbrush down, his hands sliding along your leg, pulling you closer to him. You wrap him in the blanket, his arms moving around you as the two of you share warmth with one another. “That’s…wow.”

“I would have made it quick and painless for you,” Rafayel leans in and presses a quick peck to your lips, “that is, if we actually did it.”

“Raf!” you smack his arm, “I can’t believe you tricked me!”

“I can’t believe you believed me!” Rafayel’s laughter mixes in with yours, echoing into the wintery day, snowflakes landing on the glitter of your boot.

Sylus was less than pleased when you asked him if he had any type of maid outfit, one that a butler would wear. It actually pained him, though, that he had a red suit that was perfect for the occasion.

You’ve made yourself at home in his bedroom, taking him up on his offer to take care of you while you recovered from your surgery. He placed a fluffy pillow behind your back and left to change as per your request, the man having to fight back a small smile on his face once he spots a small, golden bell in his closet. He closes his hand around it and enters back inside of the bedroom, his red eyes trained on you.

“Wow, Sylus,” you hold back a laugh, your foot slightly aching as he nears the bed, “you look…”

“Devastatingly handsome?” he finishes the sentence for you, leaning over the side of the bed to press a kiss to your forehead. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” you smile at him, clapping your hands together. Sylus nods, gently taking your hand in his, slipping the bell from his possession to yours. You feel the weight in your hand, opening it up to see the golden bell in your palm. “Oh my…Sylus,” you giggle, looking up at him, “you have no idea what you just started.”

Oh, how Sylus loved handing you that little bell. Every single time you rang it, he stopped whatever it was he was doing — and yes, he even stopped business deals while he was on the phone for this, offering them a smug excuse that he has better things to attend to — and completed the task you gave to him.

Sylus helped you with your foot pain, adjusting the pillow it sat on or helping you with your mediation. He also had his chef create many meals for you, placing it on a tray to place on top of your lap in his bedroom. It was worth it, though, because every time he completed his task, you gave him a sweet and gentle kiss, one that rid your foot of all of the pain you felt in it.

It was the end of the day and Sylus had shed himself of the butler costume he wore throughout the weeks. Every time, he made a variation of the original suit, wearing an array of colors and fashions so it felt as if you were truly being waited on. You deserved to be spoiled, after all, and Sylus isn’t one to complain about spending all of his time and money and energy on you.

He crosses the room and takes his place in bed next to you. He kisses the top of your head and notices that you have taken the boot off of your foot. You were flexing your toes, slight strain flickering across your face. Sylus slightly shakes his head, a slight chuckle vibrating in the back of his throat. He adjusts your leg on top of his lap, taking your foot into his hands.

“How does it feel today?” he asks, his voice as husky as ever.

“Still sore, it feels a little tight—ah!” you gasp, feeling his fingers push into your aching foot, slowly massaging out the kinks and tension that remained in your muscles.

You immediately lean back into the pillows, closing your eyes. It just feels so good, the way he easily feels the tightness in your foot, helping you escape the leftover pain that just didn’t seem to go away. Every so often, a quiet and content sigh would leave your mouth, making Sylus’ smile grow more and more.

“Feel good?” he asks, that hint of smugness remaining in his tone. You open your eyes and look at him, matching his smile, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“You always make me feel good, Sylus,” you chuckle.

“Don’t you know it,” he laughs with you, leaning forward to close the distance, pressing a kiss to your lips.

When Xavier found out that you had hurt your foot, all he could think of was one thing: I am going to use up all of my vacation days and there is nothing that Jenna can do about it.

Xavier helped you home from the hospital, carrying you in his arms and up to his apartment, unlocking the door with one hand while the other held you and your bag of pain medication in it. Your foot was numb and trapped beneath layers of bandages and a splint, keeping it as still as possible.

Xavier placed you on the couch, the area filled with blankets and pillows and snacks that he had set up the night before. You spotted all your favorite sweet and savory treats, bags of your favorite chips mixed in with a pile of coupons that he’s been hoarding from the hot pot place down the road. Yellow star lights hang from above, gently twinkling as you settle into the comfiness of his couch.

You realized that this was his plan for the next three weeks. To lounge around with you and do absolutely nothing, not a single ounce of work, just to spend the time in each other’s company while you recovered from your surgery.

The pale headed man comes back in his pajamas, ones that match yours that he gifted to you before your surgery so that you’d be comfortable when you came home, and does a little spin when you clapped your hands together. 

“Look at you, Xavie! You look so cute!” you exclaim, feeling the couch dip down beside you. Your foot remains propped up on a star shaped pillow.

“Thank you, bun,” Xavier whispers, pulling himself closer to you, placing his head in your lap. He closes his eyes and lets out a quiet yawn. You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes as the man makes himself comfortable on top of you.

“Jeez. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were the one who had surgery and not me,” you quietly chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. Xavier opens up one eye, a small and lazy smile spreading across his face.

“I went through a lot of emotions,” Xavier reasons with you, “I’m tired.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one taking care of me?” you follow up, leaning down. Xavier tilts his head to the side, hands reaching up cup your cheeks. You pout, ready to turn the tables on him. “My foot hurts.”

“A nap can help with the pain,” Xavier adds on, his smile remaining bright yet lazy, “or we can watch a movie. I can get you one of your pills…although the doctor did say that you should wait until the anesthesia wears off…”

“A movie sounds good,” you nod your head, just grateful that you are going to be spending your next three weeks with Xavier like this. “Maybe we can order hot pot later? Maybe play a video game or two? I’ve been dying to kick your ass in that one fighting game.”

Amusement flickers across his face. He sits up, wrapping one arm around your waist, drawing you into his lap while keeping your foot propped up just how the doctor ordered. He kisses your neck as your laughter fills up his apartment, trying to push him away from you despite being completely helpless against him. It’s not like you can run away! You don’t really want to, though, simply wishing to remain attached to his side while you recover.

“We can order hot pot right now,” Xavier nuzzles into you, “but you will never beat me in Dawn of Justice: Justice Prevails Yet Again.”

You pause. You stare at him. Blinking. He blinks back. Processing what kind of name that video game is. You shake your head, turning your attention to the screen as Xavier swipes the controllers from the coffee table, turning on the console and television.

“That is the stupidest name I have ever heard, Xavie,” you speak in a deadpan tone, taking the controller from him.

“Yeah? Well, justice waits for no one, my star,” Xavier says with a smile right as the cheesy theme song plays through the speakers.

as always : likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! always remember to show support for your favorite writers!

[zephyrchama]

Leviathan's wheezing echoed up the attic staircase.

According to him, 666 was the minimum number of Sucre Frenzy CDs he absolutely had to buy in order to secure a front row seat (and its accompanying perks) at their anniversary concert. Each CD came with a lottery ticket, and each of those tickets had a 0.15% chance of scoring him the best seat in the house.

Only problem was, there was still a month until the lottery drawing. Leviathan had no more space in his room and Lucifer got on his case when Akuzon boxes started piling up in the hallway. There was no way in hell the CDs were getting thrown out, and so you agreed to help by clearing a spot for them in the attic until the drawing was over.

One disc was set aside to listen to. One disc was set aside for display. The other 664 got packed into neat little containers and hauled across the house.

"This is... the last... box..." Leviathan panted, gasping down lungfuls of stale attic air in between each huff. He came around the doorway, made sure to set the CDs down gently, then inelegantly threw himself onto the dirty carpet.

You coughed and swiped away the dust motes he kicked up. "I've cleared a nice spot here for them, but it's still too small for everything. I put away what I could."

There was plenty of space in the attic if you just tetris-ed things around a bit. Most of the CDs Leviathan already carried up were neatly tucked into the gap you carved out for them.

You could usually tell what was being stored at a glance, and who it belonged to. Satan kept some of his least favorite books up here. Asmodeus had a suitcase of clothes that he looked great in yet believed wouldn't be back in fashion for another few decades. There was a box of chains that Lucifer probably used to confine people, and next to that was a box of ingots. You had a hunch who owned it, but couldn't quite figure out what it was for.

"Whose is this?" you asked, pulling out one of the bars of metal. It was heavy. "If you can help me push this against the window, all of your CDs will fit here."

Leviathan rolled himself around with great effort to get a look at the box in question. "That's... Mammon's..."

"Mammon's? What, does he have a box for every kind of metal?" You peeked at the containers beside it. "Is one of these full of gold bars?"

"No..." Leviathan took a big breath and stabilized his breathing before launching into the lore. You curiously scratched at the ingot while waiting.

"A while back Mammon got big into copper trading, but he sucked at it. He cut the quality with worse metals to save costs, it's more like an awful bronze than real copper. Plus, he kept forgetting to deliver orders. Like, really? He didn't listen when people complained and of course wound up losing all his customers. Then he came home and stashed the remaining copper up here, thinking it'd go up in value."

After a few beats of silence, Leviathan followed up with, "can you let me lay here a while longer? Then I'll help you move it, I just... don't think I can feel my arms right now."

The story sounded familiar. Leviathan could have all the time he needed to recover while you had a baffling realization. You asked, "Did Mammon use his real name?"

"When he played merchant?" Leviathan responded. "No, he called himself Ea... Ea-something. I didn't really care so I don't remember."

[blondykebarbie]

I’m just thinking about how if James Potter was your boyfriend, he’d be your own personal human purse/bag/etc.

Like one day when you’re with him you’re carrying a tote bag or backpack or something and you ask him to hold it while you go to the bathroom. When he takes it he is shocked by how heavy it is (though of course to Jamie, our strong boy, it weighs nothing) and when you come back from the bathroom he has this big frown on his face and is like, “sweetheart, your bag is so heavy. I can’t have my angel carrying this around.”

You tell him that of course it is, how else would you carry all the things you need, and he immediately responds that that’s what he is there for. To carry things for you. Despite your repeated protests, he insists from then on out, when it is in his power, you will never carry stuff when you are together. Whether it’s your school books for class, shopping bags, etc. you won’t carry a damned thing.

In particular though, Jamie would have all the little necessities on him at all times. If your hair is long enough, he will always have at least one to two hairbands on his wrist in case you want to pull your hair back. Your favorite lip balm/chapstick will always be in one of his pockets (and if he’s especially missing you he might even put some on himself).

If you have a period, boyfriend James will always have tampons/pads on him in a little pouch in his pocket.

Need a quill or a pen? He has it?

A tissue? Has that too.

He, magically, somehow has it all. And also this is Mr. Moneybags we’re talking about. So in the off chance he doesn’t have something you need, best believe he will buy it for you so fast.

When you profess to James that you feel really bad that he is always carrying your stuff, he reminds you that a) he loves you and b) he’ll be damned if his partner ever has to lift their pretty little finger ever again.

God I love him.

[wafflefries13]

Rose With(out) Thorns (Riddle x Reader)

Summary: Riddle needs help putting off his mother's plans to set him up for an engagement, so what better way than to fake date NRC's favorite magicless prefect? Things can only go well. (No, they can't.)

AN: Fake dating, yay! Had the idea for this a long while back, finally got around to writing it. And, like most of my fics I'm finding out, it kind of got away from me. I hope at some point, probably some time in book 7 here, we finally get a confrontation with Riddle's mom. I hate Riddle's mom, all the cool bitches I know hate Riddle's mom.

Warnings: Depictions of a toxic family environment, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

When Riddle had pulled (Y/N) aside after classes, she didn’t expect to be sitting in one of Heartstabuyl’s tea rooms, a cooling cup of herbal tea placed in front of her. (Y/N) sipped the tea, observing Riddle. His mouth was pulled into a small frown, eyebrows furrowed in determined concentration. His hands were clasped behind him and he was pacing so much (Y/N) was worried about him wearing a hole in the rug. It had almost seemed like he had forgotten she was there. 

“Riddle?” She prompted gently. 

Riddle jumped, startled. (Y/N) really did think he had forgotten about her. His face turned pink, blushing up to his ears. He cleared his throat, promptly sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” He said, swirling a spoonful of honey into his tea. She tried to not take it personally that he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Something going on with Ace and Deuce?” She asked, jumping to the most logical conclusion. “I don’t mind meditating.” 

“No, thankfully, both of them have actually been rather pleasant as of late. This is of a more… personal nature.” 

“Oh? Are you doing okay?” She set her cup down, leaning forward. 

His blush went from gentle pink to strawberry red. “I - ahem, yes, no, I’m fine, it’s not that I don’t - what I mean to say is, ah, well…” Deciding there was no elegant way to put it, Riddle’s shoulders slumped as he stared dejectedly into his tea. “It’s my mother.” 

(Y/N) immediately tensed. “Oh.” 

The last time (Y/N) had thought about Riddle’s mother was when he was about to leave for winter break. She remembered how quiet he had been, not even bothering to reprimand the excited first years running around the mirror chamber like excited kids. (Y/N) had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch his phone from his dazed hands and entered her number. 

“In case you need anything,” She had said. “Or, you know, you just miss me too much and want to say hi.” 

He really did blush way too easily. 

Of course, any plans for talking on the phone were quickly eliminated by the events at Scarabia. When (Y/N) finally did get her phone back, she found a couple of missed calls and overly formal texts from Riddle’s number, buried in between the frantic messages from Ace and Deuce responding to her SOS. 

Back in the tea room, (Y/N) set her cup down, leaning forward to meet Riddle’s eyes. “Hey,” She said gently. “You know if I can do anything for you I will.” 

“It’s not that easy,” He said. “My mother asked me to come home for the long weekend coming up. And I highly suspect she wants me there to… try and arrange a match.” 

“A match? Wait, like getting engaged? Aren’t you kind of young for that?” 

Riddle shrugged. “It would definitely be a long engagement, but it’s not uncommon to have a match set up years in advance, especially between prominent families like mine.” 

“How very Jane Austen.” 

“Sorry?” 

“An author from my world, she wrote romances. Anyway, sorry, keep going.” 

“Well, I agree that it seems soon. To be fair, Mother was trying to set something up before I came to Night Raven College as well. Being accepted to such a prestigious magic school only elevated my prospects, as she put it. She wants to establish a solid match with another high ranking family, setting my future in stone. Especially after everything that happened at the beginning of the year.” They were both quiet for a moment, fighting off memories of Riddle’s Overblot. “I…” Riddle continued. “I don’t think anyone back home knows.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s like personal medical information, right? Even if it’s magical or whatever it’s still your mental health. You don’t owe anyone that.” 

“I don’t think that’s why she hasn’t told anyone. I know it might be hard for you to believe after everything that’s happened this year, but Overblots are still considered rare. Not many survive the process. And those that do, well, they aren’t looked upon as kindly as you’ve looked upon us.” 

(Y/N) set her cup down hard. “That’s not fair! It’s not some moral failing. You and everyone else were - are - dealing with really tough emotions! It’s not right to just ignore trauma and your feelings, that’s what led to everything happening in the first place!” 

“I’m glad you see it that way. And, if I’m being honest, public perception of the emotional stress that can lead to an Overblot and those who make it through the process are gradually being seen with more sympathy. Like you said, it’s a mental health issue at the core. But older communities like the one I grew up in are slower to accept new social views.”  

(Y/N) sat back. “I’m sorry, Riddle. That sounds really hard.” 

“Thank you,” Riddle breathed. He cleared his throat. “Well, that sort of awkwardly leads to what I was wanting to ask you in the first place.” He cleared his throat again, nervously looking around the room. Finally, steadying himself, he forced himself to meet (Y/N) eyes. “I would like you to come with me and act as my partner.” 

(Y/N) felt her head go light and heart jump. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” 

Riddle’s confidence cracked as he looked away again. “In so many words, yes.” 

“Wow. Forget Jane Austen, this is more Meg Ryan territory.” Riddle blinked. “Never mind, forget it. I mean, not what you’re talking about, just, it’s not what I was expecting you to say.” 

“It’s not the most conventional request, to be fair. But I’ve turned this over in my head for days and I can’t see any way out of it. My plan is to show I’m taken, dissuade the marriage market. It will be one less thing for Mother to hold over my head. I’ll probably have to deal with it eventually when I graduate but I don’t even want to consider getting engaged right now, for economic, political, or whatever other reason. I’ve never been overly fond of the prospects my mother has introduced anyway. Not that I want to pressure you or anything! I completely understand if you wouldn’t feel comfortable for any reason and I completely respect your decision-” 

“Well, hey, don’t answer for me, now.” (Y/N) reached forward and touched the back of Riddle’s hand, jolting him out of the spiral he was throwing himself in. He jumped at the contact. “It’s unorthodox, but since when has anything here been orthodox? Of course I’ll help, Riddle. I can’t guarantee I’ll be very good at it, but I’ll do my best.” 

Riddle blinked at her for a moment, registering her words, then the tension practically floated off his shoulders. “That’s - that’s great, thank you.” 

“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, this will make a great story to tell the guys later.” 

Riddle scowled, blushing again. “Don’t.” 

~~~

A few days later, (Y/N) and Riddle stood in the mirror chamber. They had come up with a cover to tell everyone while they were gone. Since (Y/N) technically didn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland, not having any government papers or even a birth certificate, Riddle suggested they visit Dinah, the capital city of the Queendom of Roses and his home city, to petition at an official government building for temporary citizenship.  It was really only a half truth. If they had time between the deception, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try. 

Grim was staying at Heartstabuyl with Ace and Deuce, although it would be more accurate to say with Trey, since he was clearly the one in charge while the House Warden was away. 

“And make sure to do that reading for History of Magic,” (Y/N) was saying, fiddling with Grim’s bow and magestone. “I marked the pages and put highlight tabs on the parts you need to take notes on. And don’t eat too many sweets, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache again. And don’t stay up too late or else you won’t have the energy to do anything during the day and you’ll throw off your whole sleep schedule. And-” 

“Mrow!” Grim cried, batting her hands away. “I get it, I get it! I’m not a little kid, you know!” 

(Y/N) smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. “Of course I know. You’re a big full grown dire beast who doesn't need anyone to take care of you. Why, I bet when I come back you won’t need me to cook for you anymore or make sure you wake up on time. You probably don’t even want a souvenir!” 

“No, no! I like your cooking! And you better bring me something back, henchhuman!” 

“Of course, Grim.” 

Like a parent sending their child to school for the first time, (Y/N) and Grim detangled themselves from each other. Grim floated back with Ace and Deuce, who also required promises of souvenirs, and gave a final wave. (Y/N) waved back before stepping through the mirror portal after Riddle, luggage in hand. 

There was always a strange feeling when going through the mirror, far spaces being squished together in a more convenient and transversable state. If (Y/N) hadn’t already been dragged underwater to swim through the depths unbothered, she would have compared it to being surrounded by water. Instead, she would more closely compare it the moments after a fall or jump, when totally suspended in the air with no tether. A slight jolt of the stomach at first, a feeling of weightlessness, a rush of cold along the spine, and then they were there. 

(Y/N) still wasn’t completely sure how the mirror portal worked, or how it chose where to deposit someone, considering there wasn’t always a mirror on the other end. She knew it had something to do with the magestones NRC students wore on their armband, and that it helped to leave and come back from the same place, but other than that it was just another magic mystery she didn’t want to think too hard about. 

(Y/N) shook her head as she stepped from the portal back on solid ground. Bright sunlight warmed her skin as she blinked and looked around. (Y/N)’s first impression of Dinah was a memory of a picturesque depiction of Victorian London. The street in front of them was wide, paved in even brick. There were store fronts painted in bright warm colors with big display windows, buildings stacked high with higher chimneys on top. Men and women strolled along the street, seemingly dressed to the nines for a perfectly ordinary outing, with top hats and long coats, bustled dresses in fanciful colors and feather hats. 

A pair of horses pulled a dark blue omnibus carriage down the street, hooves making a pleasant ‘clip-clop’ sound as they meandered. It made (Y/N) wonder about the technological advancements of Twisted Wonderland, not for the first time. She had remembered how surprised she had been to see that cars existed in Sunrise City, when previously the only methods of transportation she had seen had been brooms, ghostly carriages, boats, and mirror portals. She frowned at the memory of Leona teasing her about her surprise. 

“We have our own carriage,” Riddle told her, mistaking her expression as she watched the omnibus. “Mother sent it to collect us. It should be here - ah, there.” Riddle lifted his hand in greeting to the approaching carriage. 

A white horse pulled a ruby carriage with a stenciled rose against a six-pointed starburst emblazoned on the doors. There were two men in stately red velvet livery on the carriage, one at the front, flicking the reins and lazily holding a horse whip, and the other holding on the back above the wheels. As they pulled along the sidewalk, the driver nodded and the footman jumped down to formally bow. He lugged their luggage atop the carriage, a barely noticeable judgmental sneer pulling at his mouth as he handled (Y/N)’s. While Riddle’s bag was neat and new, as beautiful as it was practical, (Y/N) had foraged hers from somewhere deep in the depths of Ramshackle dorm, among the abandoned rooms and chests and closets with all manner of ragged treasures. The carriage rocked as they climbed in, sitting on soft overstuffed bench seats facing each other. Riddle knocked against the roof when they were settled and the carriage rumbled forward. 

(Y/N) stared out the window, marveling at everything they passed. “Hey, how far is Trey’s family bakery from here?” She asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, not far, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to go by. I’m not sure Mother would approve of it.” 

(Y/N) turned back to Riddle, noticing how he gazed out the window without really seeing anything. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knee jittering with nerves.  

She reached a hand forward and touched his jumping knee, causing him to startle. “Hey,” She said softly. “It’s going to be okay. You got me here with you, right? And-” She rummaged through the pocket on her NRC uniform, the most formal attire she had for making a good impression. She pulled out a small Moleskine notebook, proudly displaying it. “I’ve been taking notes! I have a bunch of the Queen of Heart’s rules here. I don’t have nearly as many memorized as you do but I figured a cheat sheet wouldn’t hurt.” 

Riddle looked at the notebook for a second before smiling in relief. “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good host so far, have I? Especially considering what you’re doing for me.” 

(Y/N) switched sides, landing heavily next to Riddle as the carriage went over a bump. She lightly knocked his arm with the back of her fist. “I told you it’s fine. I’m happy to help out. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uptight before, and that’s saying something.” 

Riddle frowned. “I’m not uptight.” 

“Sure you’re not, teapot tyrant.” Riddle huffed and turned away. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Seriously, though, are you doing okay?” 

Riddle fiddled with his fingers, choosing his words carefully. “The last time I came home, over winter break, my mother and I… well, it wasn’t a fight, exactly. An argument. That just so happened to lead to raised voices. And some harsh words. And maybe some things that are hard to take back.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t really sure what to say to that. She sat back, focusing on the rumbling of the carriage beneath her. She noticed Riddle fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails.  She slid her hand into his, holding it tight between them. She stared straight ahead, ignoring Riddle’s look of shock, no matter how cute his rising blush made him look. She squeezed his hand once, looking out her window. Riddle watched her face in profile, feeling the warmth of her hand in his, their shoulders occasionally bumping each other with the rocking of the carriage. He turned back to his own window, squeezing back.  

A short while later, the carriage pulled in front of an elaborate townhouse. It had a beautiful red brick facade with white trimming around the windows and door. Ivy climbed elegantly up one side of the building There was a waist high black wrought iron fence around the perimeter, and the small yard in front was studded with blooming red rose bushes with butterflies elegantly flitting from flower to flower. And, while it was undoubtedly beautiful and picture perfect, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a little put off by the whole image. It seemed too perfect, not a blade of grass out of place or a bruised petal. Even the butterflies felt like they were on a preapproved flight path. Despite the fresh air outside, it was stifling. 

As the footman on the carriage unloaded their bags, (Y/N) made a move to pick hers up, only for a valet to swoop in and effortlessly scoop up both bags. He turned and marched back through a door that seemed to shimmer out of nowhere, disappearing behind the ivy when he went through it. 

“A servant’s entrance,” Riddle told her. “There are several through the house. It helps keep everyone separated.” 

“I could have gotten my stuff,” She said. “It’s heavy.” 

“You’re a guest. It would be impolite to expect you to carry your own things.” 

A man in a crisp black suit with a gold pocket watch dangling from the front breast pocket opened the door, bowing low with a hand on his chest. “Welcome back, Master Riddle.” He said. The man looked up, sweeping a quick but appraising look over (Y/N). “And this is Miss (Y/N)?” 

“Yes, hello!” (Y/N) greeted, smiling brightly. She walked forward, taking hold of the man’s hand and with both of hers and shaking it. She missed the choking gasp Riddle let out behind her. “Just (Y/N) is fine. It’s so nice to meet you! This is a lovely home. I’ve never been to Dinah before, everything is so beautiful! I’ve only been to the Queendom of Roses once before, in this place called Clocktown for a festival, but it’s so much different here.” 

The butler nearly reared back at her greeting, going stiff as a board, but too polite to all together flinch and snatch his hand back. He merely retracted his hand, looked once at Riddle, then gazed straight ahead impassively. “Yes, well, welcome to the Rosehearts townhome. I hope you… enjoy your stay, Miss (Y/N).” 

(Y/N), determined to push through the awkwardness she could sense building, replied chipperly, “Thanks!” And strode inside without looking back. 

“Thank you, Edgar,” Riddle said as the butter closed the door behind them. “Do you know when Mother and Father will be home?” 

“Dr. Rosehearts was called in for a last minute surgery and I believe Mr. Rosehearts is at his club. They both planned to be home for dinner to meet you and your… guest.” 

The only way (Y/N) could think to describe the townhouse was grand. A grand sweeping staircase to the second floor, marble flooring of black and white checkered tile, two rooms on either side of the entrance hall stuffed with comfortable furniture with lace, one room farther to the back half-hidden behind the staircase, and decorative oil paintings. 

“Wow,” She said. “This is where you grew up?” 

“Partially, yes,” Riddle said. “We have a country estate as well, but the hospital is in town and Mother always wanted to be present for the social season.” 

“Ooh, a country estate and the social season. Look at you, sounding all fancy.” 

“Well, excuse me for being raised in polite society, unlike some people.” 

“Hey!” (Y/N) laughed, playfully shoving him as he grinned back. 

Riddle’s eyes cut back to Edgar the butler, watching the two of them with a critical eye and raised eyebrow. Riddle cleared his throat and schooled his face back to a serious expression. “I’ll show you your room, (Y/N). It’s upstairs.” 

“Was it too much?” (Y/N) asked as they ascended the staircase, out of ear shot from Edgar. “I was trying to make a good impression.” 

“People don’t tend to be as friendly with strangers here,” He said. “When you meet my parents it would be better to wait for them to act first.” 

“So no big hug?” She laughed at Riddle’s glare. “Don’t worry, I’ll be picture perfect polite tonight. I know it’s important to you.” 

“Thank you. To be honest I still feel awkward about all of this.” “I could say ‘what are friends for’ but I think we’re a little past that. It’s not like I’m getting nothing out of this. This place is like a fancy hotel!” She pushed open the door to her room, bright with the sunlight streaming in across a bed with a large fluffy white duvet across it. (Y/N) spun around, falling against the bed with a ‘poof’ of the down feather pillows. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft,” She sighed. Suddenly she sat straight up. “Oh, oh! Show me your room!” 

“What?” 

She jumped up, taking his hand and pulling him back down the hall. “Come on, let me see your room! I want to see what you’re like when you're not at school.” 

“Much the same, I promise.” 

His eyes cut to a door down the hall and (Y/N) grinned wickedly. Ignoring Riddle’s sound of protest, she threw open his door. 

She faltered a bit as she looked inside, stomach squeezing with that same unease she felt from outside. Spartan wouldn’t be the right way to describe Riddle’s childhood bedroom. Sure, there was plenty of stuff in it, a neatly made bed, an expensive looking desk with a glass hooded reading lamp, plenty of books filling shelves, and a polished wardrobe. But it felt so bare. It felt more like a catalog picture than someone’s own bedroom they had grown up in. (Y/N) looked back to Riddle, who was looking down as if ashamed, like his room was full of trash rather than uninspiringly neat. 

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face, closing the door. “Well, show me around. Back in my world, houses like these would have a bunch of secret passages, maybe a couple of ghosts. But I guess ghosts aren’t all that unusual here.” 

“I think your home has more ghosts than mine,” Riddle said. “As for secret passages…” 

(Y/N) clapped her hands together. “Yeah?” 

Riddle smiled slyly. “Sorry, none of those either. Unless you’re thinking of servant’s doors, but I don’t think they would appreciate us meddling.” 

“Aw, boo.” 

“No pun intended, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

“How about the garden? It’s out back. I’ll have someone bring us tea. It’ll give us a chance to strategize.” 

The garden was nestled in the backyard of the townhome, bordered by high fences separating it from the other townhomes. There were, unsurprisingly, rose bushes in raised wooden boxes. White gravel pathways cut through each of the boxes, strolling under a trellis wound with flowers. To the back of the garden was a small glass greenhouse, filled with different medical herbs and plants along with scientific equipment for study. There was a small table on the back porch underneath a pergola wrapped with ivy. After Riddle gave (Y/N) a tour of the gardens they sat down and a maid brought out a white China teapot, pouring tea into delicate blue and white tea cups. (Y/N) inhaled the steam, letting the warmth and sweet notes of the tea fill her lungs before taking a sip. 

“Thanks!” (Y/N) said to the maid who blinked before bobbing a nod and rushing off. (Y/N) made a note to herself that the servants here had a habit of avoiding eye contact. “Okay,” She said, taking a blueberry scone from a plate the maid brought with the tea. “What’s our game plan?” 

“Well, my mother is obviously the one to impress. I don’t believe Father will have much to say, he usually defers to her. That’s usually a good plan with anything, deferring to her, I mean. Safe topics of conversation include the weather, recent medical innovations, and the health and travel of neighbors. It’s best to avoid personal topics like parliament, gossip, or personal questions. It’s also best to avoid discussing novels, Mother says they fill one’s head with fanciful ideas and nonsense.” 

“Okay, so when would be the best time to brag about you?” 

Riddle’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?” 

“Well, you’re my fake boyfriend and I’m trying to look good in front of your mom, so it makes sense if I talk you up, right? Like how you’re a great dorm leader, that dressage stuff you’ve been doing in the equestrian club, how you’ve been helping other students study. Cater told me about how you set up a Magicam account just to help him study, that was super cute.” 

“I’m, ah, not actually supposed to have a Magicam account, educational or otherwise, so it’s probably best not to bring that up. Mother says social media rots your brain.” 

“I mean, sometimes, yeah, but it can be fun too. And I know you still post sometimes. I follow you.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do! Those study tips didn’t just help Cater. Plus I like to see what’s going on with you. Not that you post stuff very often or anything, but I did like that picture from the last Unbirthday Party with those cupcakes you made.” 

Riddle waved her praise off. “They weren’t anything special. Most of the frosting was smudged all together anyway.” 

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. You don’t have to be perfect at everything, especially the first time around. And I thought they were cute.” She fished her phone out of her pocket, quickly swiping to the picture they were talking about on Magicam. It was a close up of Riddle, smiling, face smeared with red frosting. Trey was caught mid-laugh, handing him a napkin. Ace’s hand was blurred with movement in the lower right edge, having snagged a cupcake from the tray Riddle was holding, covered with cartoon rose dotting liners. It was obvious that the red and white frosting on top was meant to replicate delicate rose petals, and while some of them looked presentable, most had been piped with a shaky hand, leaving too much or too little frosting for the petals. “See? Cute.” 

Riddle’s hand darted forward to push the phone down. “Yes, sure, fine, you made your point! I knew I should have taken that down.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Riddle sighed, accepting defeat. “Fine, yes, just don’t bring it up at dinner.” 

“If you don’t mind me saying, it doesn't seem like there’s a lot of wiggle room for conversation here. What do you usually talk about when you come home?” 

Riddle took another sip of tea. “My studies, mostly. Class rankings, the local social season, applying for medical colleges, that sort of thing.” 

“What about your friends at NRC? Or all the weird and exciting stuff that happens? Like when we all went to the ghost realm at Halloween, or Fluer City at Halloween? Wow, a lot of crazy stuff happens around Halloween, huh?” 

“That’s all superfluous. My grades and plans for the internship fourth year are more important.” 

“Riddle.” (Y/N) reached across the table, taking Riddle’s hand. “That stuff is still important, you know. We’ve gone through a lot of crazy stuff, a lot of it dangerous and scary. It’s okay to talk about that. There’s life outside of classrooms.” 

Riddle looked away but squeezed her hand. “I know. And I’m getting there, with priorities and understanding others. But this sort of thing is important to her. And I still want to impress her, to have her be proud of me. Despite everything.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips together. She wanted to say something supportive, something wise, something to make everything better. But nothing seemed right, nothing to encapsulate the pity and support (Y/N) felt all at once. In the movies or on TV, there was always some sort of all encompassing resolution, a final speech to make everything better. But she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t seem to express exactly how she felt. That Riddle didn’t need to constantly try so hard, to always make himself a perfect image for others to view. That he was allowed to like the things he liked, no matter how trivial or silly they seemed. Make bad frosted cupcakes, learn dressage, play games, be a teenager like everyone else for once. That she had such strong feelings for him, faults included. But nothing seems right. So she just squeezed his hand back. 

“Master Riddle,” A voice said, startling them both. Edgar stood at the door, casting a permanently judging look at the two of them. “Doctor and Mr. Rosehearts have returned. They have requested your presence in the dining room.” 

Riddle jumped up, smoothing his outfit even though it was spotless. “Right, well, (Y/N), I suppose it’s time you meet my parents.” 

Now that the time was actually here, (Y/N) didn’t expect to feel so nervous. Well, maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was anxious, hoping to make a good impression and help Riddle with their plot, but there was something else mixed with it. A kind of dread at coming face to face with a woman she had only ever heard bad things about. This woman, whether intentional or not, set the ground for Riddle’s Overblot. She was not an insignificant part of his emotional distress, his stress, the walls he put up around himself. How were you supposed to feel about a person like that? Especially when the object of that stress still so strongly wanted her approval? 

Edgar escorted them to the dining room where the table was already set and a maid and footman were starting to set out the first course. (Y/N) felt her heart jump unpleasantly in her chest as she came face to face with Dr. Rosehearts. The older woman’s steely gray eyes locked on to (Y/N)’s directly as she stepped in the room. She felt like her skin had been peeled back and every dark and unpleasant thought she had ever had had been thrown on the table for everyone to inspect. Dr. Rosehearts’ otherwise perfect cupid’s bow mouth was pulled into a tight frown. Her red hair, matching perfectly to her son’s, was pulled back in a tight bun clasped at her neck, a deadly looking sharp hairpin keeping it together. She looked elegant and flawless, more like an expensive bone China doll than an actual living breathing person in front of her. (Y/N) almost jumped in surprise when she finally noticed Riddle’s father. He was reading a newspaper, sharp cheekbones and tired, watery eyes under wavy mousy brown hair. Other than a brief flit of his eyes as the two of them entered, it was almost like he didn’t notice them at all. 

“Riddle,” His mother said, standing and turning to her son. (Y/N) felt like a stone had been removed from her chest as Dr. Rosehearts’ eyes finally left hers. “Welcome home. Take a seat.” 

Riddle marched over to his seat opposite his father, sitting with a ramrod straight back, looking straight ahead. (Y/N) faltered for a moment, wondering if she should sit next to Riddle or Mr. Rosehearts. The second of hesitation was noticed by Dr. Rosehearts, whose mouth ticked in annoyance. Riddle subtly nodded his head to the chair across from him, next to his father. (Y/N) scuttled over, pulling the chair out with an undignified squeak against the floor. Mr. Rosehearts looked up at her as she sat down, blinking like she had materialized out of thin air. 

“Mother, Father,” Riddle said, voice stiff. “Allow me to introduce my partner, (Y/N) (L/N), Ramshackle Dorm Prefect at Night Raven College. (Y/N), this is my mother, Dr. Victoria Rosehearts, and my father, Mr. Albert Rosehearts.”  

“Please to meet you,” (Y/N) said, giving what she hoped was a bright and welcoming smile. “Thank you for having me.” 

“Yes, well,” Dr. Rosehearts said. “I must admit it was a surprise when Riddle told me he was bringing a guest home for  the holiday.” 

“Well, Riddle always talks so fondly about Dinah and I haven’t traveled too much, so I couldn’t help but impose. You have a lovely home, by the way.” 

“I do wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, ignoring (Y/N)’s attempted start at conversation. “How a young girl such as yourself comes to attend an all boys school?” 

“To be totally honest I’m not really sure myself,” (Y/N) said, laughing through the awkwardness of Dr. Rosehearts intense direct gaze. “We’ve been trying to figure that out since I first got here. It’s been kind of a struggle getting a hang of everything, considering I can’t even use magic, but I-” 

(Y/N) was interrupted by the clatter of Dr. Rosehearts’ spoon clattering against her soup bowl. Even Mr. Rosehearts looked up, suddenly intrigued. “Did you say you can’t use magic?” Mr. Rosehearts said. 

(Y/N) gulped, looking quickly at Riddle who was going pale. “Well, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I’m not even from this world. Dimension? Anyway, magic doesn't exist in my world. Somehow one of the black carriages swept me up and brought me here. No one can figure out how or why yet, not even our Magic Mirror. Our headmage has been trying to research it but I guess there’s not a lot of studies on interdimensional travel.” She tried to laugh off the heavy atmosphere. “But no, no magic. Can’t even ride a broom, which is a shame because that’s the one thing I would really love to do.” 

Dr. Rosehearts cleared her throat, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. A maid hastily rushed in to clear her soup. “Well, I suppose Night Raven College’s admission requirements have become quite lacks as of late, having common folk mingling with upper crust society and nobles, not to mention allowing fae folk. I suppose anything is possible at this rate.” 

(Y/N) scowled, finding herself blurting out her next statement despite Riddle’s miniscule shake of the head. “Hey, everyone works really hard at NRC. Where they’re from or their family doesn't matter, they’re all great mages. Besies, it’s the Magic Mirror that chooses people. It’s able to see everyone’s potential. And with everything that’s been going on this year everyone’s only gotten better. It’s amazing some of the stuff I’ve seen them do.” 

“Oh?” Mr. Rosehearts said, folding his paper closed and leaning forward. “Has it been an interesting year?” 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know what a typical year at a magic school is like, but to me it’s been insane! There was one time where one of our dorm heads got kidnapped by a ghost bride to marry him, and everyone got together to try to woo her away. She ended up slapping half of them and freezing them in place. Oh, Riddle was here, he had this amazing red velvet suit. Or one of our magestones got stolen by a fairy queen and we had to stage a whole heist to get it back. Our coach, Coach Vargas, had these camps to test people’s abilities and survival instinct when they couldn’t use magic. But then he dressed up as a monster and ‘kidnapped’ a bunch of students so everyone else had to come rescue them. The next camping trip he got one of our other professors in on it too. And every once and a while we’ll have this Culinary Crucible that they had to change the judging for because everyone kept cheating, but-” 

“My!” Dr. Rosehearts suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t believe I remember the last time we had so much chatter at a mealtime.” 

(Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. 

Mr. Rosehearts, who had been nodding along to (Y/N) recollection of events with rapt attention, cleared his throat with a cough, leaning back in his chair and taking up his newspaper again. “Yes, well, youth these days,” He said, noncommittal. 

Despite the fact that a maid had just brought out the next course, Dr. Rosehearts stood. “I find I’ve lost my appetite,” She announced. “I will be retiring early tonight. Riddle, we have an appointment at the Lorina Hotel tomorrow for high tea. Make sure you and your guest wear something presentable.” With that, she swept from the room without another word. The silence that followed was brittle, like ice on a lake right before someone plummets through it. 

“Well,” (Y/N) said, breaking the quiet. She stood, walking over to Dr. Rosehearts abandoned plate and picking it up, dumping the roasted chicken and vegetable onto her own plate. “More for me then.” 

~~~

Later that night, (Y/N) had apologized to Riddle no less than twelve times. She tried to defend herself, that she was taken by surprise that his parents didn’t know about her unique circumstances, that she was annoyed how dismissive Dr. Rosehearts had been, that she just started talking and couldn’t figure out how to stop. Not that any of it really excused her behavior, she knew. She felt like she had let Riddle down, ruining whatever chance, no matter how slim, of this being a peaceful visit home. And, while Riddle had repeated every time that it was fine, that she was okay, that he should have prepared her better, she still felt bad. 

(Y/N) had never been to a high tea before. She wasn’t 100% sure what to wear, especially with Dr. Rosehearts’ comment from the night before. And it wasn’t like she had an extensive wardrobe to choose from in the first place. Thankfully, their alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion design had somehow grown fond of her during the school year, providing her with a few outfits to help her fit in better outside of school.  The next morning, she pulled a dusty blue sundress with little white buttons out of her luggage. She had a pair of sandals more suited to the beach than a hotel, but they fit the theme better than her school loafers. She slipped them on and hoped no one would look down. 

Tea was scheduled for 11 so (Y/N) decided to find Riddle and try to get a better lay of the land before they headed out. He didn’t answer her knock, which she thought was strange as Riddle wasn’t the type to sleep in, even if he was home on break. She felt strange wandering through the house. Every once and a while she would see a maid or footman dart out of one of the hidden servant’s doors, but before she could start a conversation or ask where her hosts were they would duck their heads and disappear. 

She eventually found Mr. Rosehearts in the breakfast room, which was the same as the dinning room but with a changed name for some reason. The thick curtains had been thrown open letting light pour in across the spread on the table. Despite the fact that there was enough food to feed at least ten people, Mr. Rosehearts was the only one present, absentmindedly nibbling on some jam slathered toast. 

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face. She might have ruined her first impression with Dr. Rosehearts last night, but Mr. Rosehearts had at least seemed intrigued by what she had to say. “Good morning!” 

Mr. Rosehearts jumped, dropping his toast jam side down on the spotless table cloth. “Oh! Good morning.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The last thing she needed right now was to turn both of Riddle’s parents against her. 

Mr. Rosehearts waved her off, gingerly picking up the toast and plopping it on his plate. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just not used to company in the morning, is all. Not that I mind it. Please, sit.” 

“Is everyone else still asleep?” (Y/N) asked, scooping up some chive studded scrambled eggs on her plate. 

“Oh, no, Victoria doesn't believe in sleeping in. It disrupts the normal circadian rhythms, you know, especially for teenagers like you and Riddle. No, she and Riddle were speaking in her office.” 

“Oh.” (Y/N) suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “I think I need to apologize.” Mr. Rosehearts looked up, blinking owlishly. “I was rambling last night, at dinner. I shouldn’t have been so argumentative, especially since I’m a guest in your home. I’ll be putting a better foot forward from now on, promise.” 

“Oh. Oh! Oh, no, please, think nothing of it. Actually,” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was hoping you could expand on some of those stories you started last night. Just between you and me, I happen to have a penchant for gossip.” He patted the newspaper beside him. Now that (Y/N) got a closer look, she realized it was a society gossip column. She smiled, getting Bridgerton flashbacks. 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories. Do you want to start with Fleur City almost burning down or Magicam Monsters taking over NRC?” 

Meanwhile, Riddle sat in an uncomfortable straight backed chair in his mother’s office. Various papers floated around the room, magically organizing themselves in various case files. A free-standing pen signed Dr. Rosehearts’ signature across multiple forms. Despite the warm morning light filling the room, Riddle felt chilled. 

“I wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, sitting behind her large mahogany desk, hands clasped in front of her. “About the company you have chosen to keep while away at school.” 

“(Y/N) is a respectable person,” Riddle said. “She was just thrown off last night. She’s still not used to many of our customs. She’s a fast learner, however, she’s acclimated remarkably quickly to life here. Given that she has no base of knowledge for many of the classes at Night Raven College she has good grades and-” 

Dr. Rosehearts held up a hand, stopping Riddle with the words of praise in his throat. “The way the ones you associate with act reflects on you, Riddle. It also reflects upon me and the whole Rosehearts household. You should know better by now.” 

Riddle felt his face flush, looking down. “Yes, Mother.” 

“Really, Riddle, I didn’t think you’d be the type to fall for any pretty face. And how much do you actually know about her background, anyway? You said yourself she’s not from here. Who knows what kind of manipulation she might be playing at, using our good name against us?” Riddle bit his tongue, your defense springing into his mouth. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

“Yes, Mother, I know.” 

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosehearts stood, Riddle following. “We’ll continue to house Miss (Y/N) here during the break, it would be bad form to throw her out at this point, but as soon as you return to school I expect you to end this frivolous excursion.” 

Riddle felt his heart drop into his stomach. “But, Mother, I-” 

“No buts, Riddle,” She said sternly. Riddle immediately looked down, avoiding her cold iron gaze. “I know best for you. You’ll do as I say. We have a plan for you, remember? There’s no use upending your future over some fleeting fancy. And besides, there are many wonderful eligible ladies here in town. We’ll be meeting a few of my top choices for you at the hotel. And we’ll be attending a ball tomorrow night.  Your friend is not invited, by the way.” 

Riddle drew in a sharp breath, a million things he wanted to say racing through his mind. His mother had arranged a meeting with bachelorettes when he had told her he already had a girlfriend? He realized with a sinking sensation that no plan he and (Y/N) would have come up with would have been good enough for his mother. She had her plan and nothing would be able to change it. He suddenly had the sensation of floating, no, falling, with no anchor or safety net. His stomach flipped and a rush of cold descended over his body. 

“Yes, Mother,” He only said. 

Dr. Rosehearts nodded definitively. She swept from the office, Riddle following close behind with downcast eyes. They both paused on the stairway, startled by the sound of laughter floating out from the breakfast room. Riddle pushed past his mother into the room. (Y/N) and his father sat at the table across from each other. His father’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in a raucous laugh. Riddle couldn’t remember the last time he heard his father laugh like that, or even laugh at all. (Y/N) was in the middle of a story, hands animated. 

“So of course the referee asked who he is, because their team didn’t have anyone signed up for an alternate, and Leona goes and uses my name! Like no one would recognize the second prince of the Sunset Savannah. And you know what, no one did!” 

Mr. Rosehearts put his hand against his chest, trying to regain his composure. “And then? Did you at least win?” 

“Oh, of course, yeah! And then we all had to run away in this jeep Leona was driving right when it started to rain. I’ve heard Checka still calls him ‘Unca (Y/N)’ sometimes.” 

Mr. Rosehearts looked up, noticing Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts standing in the doorway. “Oh, Victoria! (Y/N) was just telling me the most wonderful story. Did you know she’s friends with Prince Leona of the Sunset Savannah? And the Asim heir, they donated at the last charity gala you attended, didn’t they? It’s amazing the adventures children can get up to now a days-” 

“You’re very chatty this morning, Albert,” Dr. Rosehearts cut him off. “This much noise in the morning is quite unusual, don’t you agree?” 

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped and he squirmed in his chair. He picked up his newspaper, flipping it so a person couldn’t see what he was reading. 

(Y/N) frowned at the sudden change of mood, but gave Riddle a warm smile when she saw him. It was amazing how he almost immediately felt lighter. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing again. “Hi!” She chirped, standing. Riddle felt a rush of mixed emotions. Part fluff at (Y/N) smiling at him, beautiful in her sundress, part embarrassment knowing it was exactly the wrong thing to wear, and no doubt his mother had clocked that immediately. 

Riddle reached for a cheese danish. His mother’s hand snapped out, swatting his hand away. “You’ll have sweets at the hotel,” She said, sniffing. “You don’t need the extra sugar, especially this early in the morning.” 

‘Then why have it on the table?’ (Y/N) thought uncharitably. She went over to Riddle, linking her arm through his, pulling him away from Dr. Rosehearts. “You’re sweet enough already, Riddle. When do we head out?” 

Later, as they were waiting for the carriages to head to the hotel, Riddle pulled out and quickly ate the danish (Y/N) had slipped in his pocket. 

~~~

The Lorina Hotel stretched high above their heads. (Y/N) leaned back to take in the full scope of it. The facade was clean white bricks with dozens of windows glinting in the sunlight. Each story was capped by marble carvings of lions with wings, jumping fish, and flowers. 

“No time for gawking,” Dr. Rosehearts said, straightening her gloves. “We have people waiting for us.” 

“We do?” (Y/N) asked, purposefully ignoring Dr. Rosehearts thorny glare. “Are they your friends, Riddle?” 

“Not in so many words,” He replied. 

A finely dressed doorman opened the door to a lavish lobby. Before (Y/N) had a chance to ‘gawk’ again, Dr. Rosehearts swept them off to a side room. She gave their name to a waiter at a podium. The man skimmed the list of reservations in front of him, looking down his nose at (Y/N) and her uncovered shoulders. While (Y/N) was too enamored observing her surroundings, Riddle noticed. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and brought it around her shoulders. The man sniffed. He led them through the tea room to two tables situated against a large window. They sat by a large window opening onto a courtyard in the middle of the hotel. Guests strolled across the green lawn, admiring flowers. Dr. and Mr. Rosehearts sat at their own small table while Riddle and (Y/N) were directed to one that had three other residents already. 

“Riddle!” One of them called, smiling up at him. “How lovely to see you again.” 

(Y/N) felt Riddle stiffen beside her. “Hello, Lily, Rose, Violet. It’s nice to see you all as well.” 

(Y/N) slipped her hand into Riddle’s, who jumped in surprise, before inserting herself in the girls’ line of sight. “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Riddle’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet some of his friends from home!” 

All three girls, in Victorian inspired puffed up dresses with more lace and tulle than (Y/N) had ever seen before and large elaborate sun hats to match, startled, blinking at her as if she had appeared out of thin air. 

Almost in sync, the three of them whipped out decorated fans. “Oh, hello,” Violet said. “We weren’t aware Riddle was bringing a guest.” 

“You’ll just have to put up with me then, I guess.” Riddle pulled out her chair and, with a surge of confidence and a sideways glance at the three girls, (Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek. (Y/N) smiled at the shocked gasp they let out as Riddle’s face turned red. She couldn’t help but reveal in Dr. Rosehearts’ glower as Mr. Rosehearts discreetly smiled into his tea. “So, how close is this to the unbirthday parties at school?” 

“An unbirthday party?” Lily said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” 

“If by juvenile you mean really fun and a great excuse to dress up then yes, I suppose it is.” Under the table, Riddle squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, in warning or thankfulness she wasn’t sure. The three girls looked at eachother, flicking and fluttering their fans with precise motions. 

A waiter brought a pot of tea to the table which he dutifully poured in everyone’s delicate tea cups. Another waiter brought a high stacked tower with tiny cakes and sandwiches. (Y/N) tried to cut down on her abrasiveness for the rest of the tea, not wanting to make Riddle uncomfortable. Although, to her it seemed the three other girls were doing a great job of that on their own. When they weren’t speaking to each other about him without his input, they chatted about things that had been happening in Dinah during the social season, then acted surprised when neither (Y/N) or Riddle could contribute to the conversation. 

After a while, and two pots of tea, Riddle excused himself. A tense silence dropped over the table like a heavy curtain. The three girls continued casting knowing glances at each other, snapping and waving their fans. 

(Y/N) spread her hands on the table. “Look, I know just enough about fan language to know you’re talking about me, but not enough to know what you’re saying. So if you have something you want to say you might as well come out and say it.” 

“You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?” Rose said with a sniff. 

“Among many other things.” 

“We were just wondering,” Violet said smoothly. “About your pedigree. It’s unusual enough to have a girl attending an all boys school, so we surmised you must have a particular magical talent.” 

“We all attend Lady Dormouse’s Finishing School, you see,��� Lily said with a saccharine smile. “It’s a far more… elegant education.” 

“Well, I don’t know about elegant,” (Y/N) said, pointedly ignoring Rose’s smirk when she said under her breath, “Clearly.” “But Night Raven College is a great place. Sure, it’s a minefield half the time and considering I can’t do any magic so half of the assignments are almost impossible, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve made amazing friends there, and, of course, I got to meet Riddle. That’s the best part.” (Y/N) smiled wistfully. 

The girls across from her all dropped their jaws at once. “You can’t use magic?” Violet gasped. 

“Surely you know a simple zephyr spell? Or can light a candle?” Lily asked. 

“Nope, not a thing. Don’t have one drop of magic in my whole body.” At this point it almost felt like a mark of pride. And she was beginning to relish the shocked expressions people made. 

Violet reached forward and gently touched the back of (Y/N)’s hand. “You poor thing,” She said, voice breaking. Rose had pushed herself as far back in her chair as she could, as if magiclessness was contagious. (Y/N) could practically see the gears turning in Lily’s head as she considered such a thing being possible. 

(Y/N) looked out the window to the courtyard, trying to avoid Violet’s overly sympathetic gaze. She perked up when she saw a few uniformed staff members setting up small white arches in the grass. A flock of pink flamingos waddled on tall, thin legs around the fountain. One of the staff members gently cradled a small wooden box where a hedgehog poked its nose out. 

“Hey, Riddle!” She called as Riddle walked back to their table. “Check it out, they’re setting up croquet! We should see if we can play.” 

Riddle’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked, craning his neck to look out the window as the first round of players took their marks. He quickly looked back at his mother and schooled his face to a more serious expression. “That is, I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“Oh, I’d love a good game of croquet!” Rose said, clapping her hands. She stood, going over to Riddle and touching his shoulder in a way that made (Y/N) grit her teeth in annoyance. “I was the undisputed champion at Dormouse. You will play with us, won’t you, Riddle?” 

The group exited to the courtyard, Mr. Rosehearts quickly arranging for a game with the attendants. The girls had huddled around the green, watching the previous game. Riddle was looking down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers, pulling at the skin around his nails. 

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slinging her arm around Riddle’s shoulders. “I am here to make sure you have fun, fake relationship or not. So come on, let’s have fun! Plus, I have no idea how to play this game.” 

“Well,” Riddle said. “The first thing is to choose your flamingo mallet.” He effortlessly snatched a flamingo by the neck, turning it so he held the legs. The flamingo immediately went ramrod straight. 

“That doesn't bother them or anything, right?” (Y/N) asked, looking dubiously at the remaining flamingos. 

“Not at all. They’re specifically trained for this. Go on, try one.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) tried to replicate the quick movements Riddle had made when grabbing his flamingo. The bird she was aiming for dodged her hand. She grabbed again. Another miss. She heard the girls tittering with laughter. (Y/N) huffed, trying to snatch at the flamingo with both hands this time. The large bird squealed, flapping its large wings as (Y/N) wrestled it. The flamingo squawked and (Y/N) squawked back in defiance. Riddle quickly came to her rescue, grabbing the flamingo and performing the same practiced motion. The flamingo immediately went rigged, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice the defiant glint in its eye. 

“Thanks,” (Y/N) mumbled, plucking stray feathers out of her hair. 

Riddle stifled a laugh behind his fist. “Not a problem. The rest of the game is pretty simple. You want to hit the hedgehog through the white pickets to the end of the lawn, then again on the way back. The fewest hits win.” 

“Right, sure. Sounds easy enough.” When Riddle went to take his first hit, (Y/N) whispered harshly to her flamingo mallet, “Don’t mess this up for me.” 

After the others had taken their turn, (Y/N) stepped up to the first hoop, her hedgehog rolled into a ball in front of her. She carefully angled her flamingo down, tapping the head against the small animal. ‘Just like mini-golf,’ She thought to herself and swung gently. She heard giggling from the spectators. She looked down, seeing her hedgehog in the exact same place. Only, no, it was about an inch to the left, away from where she had hit. She tapped her foot, swinging again, this time keeping her eye on the spiky ball. Yup, there, again, it rolled ever so slightly the other way. 

“My ball is cheating,” (Y/N) said, pointing at the innocent-looking hedgehog. 

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames their tools,” Dr. Rosehearts replied from the sidelines. 

“I don’t think that applies here, but sure,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

She squared her feet, tightening her grip on the flamingo’s legs. She tried a harder swing this time. It connected, sending the tiny hedgehog tumbling. Before (Y/N) could celebrate her victory, the animal swung out in a large arc away from the pickets, slowing to a stop right by Dr. Rosehearts’ feet. (Y/N) scowled, going over to stand by Riddle’s parents while the rest of the group took their turns for the second round. 

“You know,” Dr. Rosehearts said softly to (Y/N) when Mr. Rosehearts walked off to get some tea. “Lily’s father is a minister in parliament. She’s an especially accomplished pianist and frequently has requests from the royal theater company to play.” 

“MmHmm,” (Y/N) hummed. 

“Violet recently won first place in a national equestrian show jumping competition. Her father is a colleague of mine, an orthopedic surgeon, and her mother is a most accomplished florist.” 

“Neat.” 

“Rose is an absolute gem, of course. Extremely high marks with practical magic, and her embroidery has been displayed as far as the Sunshine Lands. She’s also wonderfully organized and an exemplary hostess. I can see her managing a fine house one day.” 

“Maybe, but Rose Rosehearts is kind of clunky, don’t you think? Or redundant? One of those.” 

Dr. Roshearts sniffed. “She also has a firm grasp on language and elegance.” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something she knew she would probably regret when the referee called for her turn. Dr. Rosehearts inclined her head and took a step back, giving (Y/N) room to swing. 

“Alright,” (Y/N) said softly to the ball and mallet. “The arch this time.” 

She aimed, taking in a deep breath as she swung. She looked around the green, not seeing her hedgehog rolling towards or away. It also wasn’t stuck in its place at her feet. Suddenly, the flamingo began to writhe in her hands, flapping its large wings to bat fiercely at her face. She coughed on feathers, trying to hold the distressed animal as far away as possible. Peaking out from one eye, she saw the hedgehog clinging to the flamingo’s neck, climbing up and down while the bird desperately tried to escape its tiny claws. (Y/N) shook the bird, reaching out to try and dislodge the hedgehog. That only seemed to make it worse as both animals began to panic. The flamingo kicked out causing (Y/N) to drop it. With an unholy squawk, it leapt out of her hands, flapping and dancing, colliding right into the gawking Dr. Rosehearts. The red-haired woman shrieked, several hotel attendants coming to her rescue, trying to grab the flamingo. (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Mr.  Rosehearts watching the whole spectacle with fascination from the tea cart. 

As the attendants apologized profusely to a fuming Dr. Rosehearts, (Y/N) made her way over to Riddle and the three gasping girls. “Well,” She said. “I don’t think I’m very good at this game.” 

~~~

When they got back to the townhouse, (Y/N) had another round of apologizing to Riddle. 

“I really didn’t mean for that to happen,” She said. She didn’t say she felt somewhat satisfied to see Dr. Rosehearts in distress, plucking stray feathers out of her hair and clothes the whole ride home. “I don’t know what I was doing wrong. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.” 

“I know it’s not your fault,” Riddle said, pulling off his tie. (Y/N) was sitting on the bed in his room as he watched her in the mirror on his bureau. “The hotel should have vetted their animals better.” 

(Y/N) bit her lip. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Our plan isn't going very well, is it?” Riddle faltered, dropping his tie. He turned around to look at (Y/N). Her mouth was screwed up in a tight frown, her eyes misty, and she clutched the duvet tightly. “Sorry. I really wanted to make you look good. I wanted to try and seem like the perfect girlfriend, but I just kind of made everything worse. I wanted to show you that I-” She suddenly cut herself off, looking up and meeting Riddle’s eyes. Her face grew hot and she looked away. “Sorry, don’t listen to me, I’m rambling.” 

More than anything, Riddle wanted to ask her what she was going to say. More than anything, he wanted to say something back, something that had been stuck in his mind well before he asked for her help in their plot. Something that made his heart speed up with her every kind word and action, that made him feel pleasantly light-headed whenever they were close, that caused his chest to fill with pride as she worked tirelessly to defend him during the trip. But his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He could still feel the iron-hot glare from his mother on the carriage ride back from the hotel. And, beneath it all, a simmering fear that their ploy was really just a ploy, that (Y/N) was just an exceptionally good actor, that there was no way she could feel the same way about him that he was realizing he felt about her. 

He tapped his foot, coming over to sit next to (Y/N) on his bed. “There’s a ball tomorrow night,” He said, not looking at her. “Mother, Father, and I are invited. Mother… asked if you would be alright remaining at home.” 

“Oh,” She said, and Riddle tried not to flinch back at her tone of voice. “No, yeah, I get it. Hey, I don’t even have anything to wear. So, yeah, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not,” Riddle said, his harshness even startling himself. He cleared his throat, starting again. “It’s unfair to you. I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way out here. This whole thing was a bad idea to begin with.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said again, another fractured syllable. She stood. “Well, yeah, fine. I guess the idea of us being together is a bad idea.” 

Riddle felt a jolt in his chest. “No, wait, (Y/N), that’s not what I-” 

“No, I get it. Why would someone like you want to be with someone like me in the first place? You’ve got a plan all figured out, right? NRC then internships then becoming a world famous doctor. And what do I have to offer you? I can’t do magic, I don’t have any family, I definitely don’t have any money, I have no idea what I’m even going to do over the summer break. And it’s not like I fit in with your world, anyway. Not just Twisted Wonderland, but the whole life you want for yourself. It’s fine, I get it.” She stood, pacing, hot and angry tears pricking her eyes. She took a deep, rattling breath to steady herself before turning to Riddle face to face. “I won’t get in your way anymore. But I do want to say that you deserve better than how you’ve been treated. You’re not your mother. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are by yourself, not some mold other people try to put you in. You’ve worked so hard these past few months to be a better person and I- I just hope you find someone who recognizes that.” Without another word, (Y/N) rushed out of the room. She nearly collided with Dr. Rosehearts in the hall before muttering an “excuse me” before throwing herself in her room, locking the door. 

Dr. Rosehearts lifted her chin, walking the few steps forward to Riddle’s room. She didn’t bother knocking and just stepped inside. Riddle was sitting on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands. 

“I’m glad you’ve come to see reason, Riddle,” She vaguely praised. Riddle looked up at her with red rimmed eyes, checks flushed. “We’ll leave for your suit fitting in the morning. Don’t be late.” 

“Yes, Mother,” Riddle mumbled. The sound of his door clicking shut ricocheted around his ears. 

~~~

“I messed up,” (Y/N) said. “I really messed this whole thing up.” 

It was the next day. She’d barely slept the night before, not bothering to go down to dinner last night or breakfast this morning. Eventually, she heard the front door open and close, watching Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts board a carriage to go out. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and called Cater. 

“I mean,” He said. “It’s not the best, that’s for sure.” 

(Y/N) had called Cater after a moment of desperation, eager for someone to talk to and express her frustrations. She trusted Cater enough to know he wouldn’t immediately run off and tell everyone about the plan and would be patient enough to listen to her vent. He had also lent a sympathetic ear in the past when she had gotten overwhelmed by the strangeness of her new world and missing her old one. She could practically see him twist a lock of hair around his finger as he talked to her. “But it’s not all your fault. Riddle could have stepped in to help, you know.” 

“He’s just… under a lot of pressure here,” She said. “I guess I had this idea in my head of what it would be like. But, man, do I hate his mom.” 

“We all do, sweetheart.” 

“I feel like I kind of abandoned him, though. But he basically disinvited me from my last night here so how am I supposed to feel?” 

“Hmm. Do you know where the party is supposed to be tonight?” 

“At Rose’s place, bleh.” 

“Well, you could always crash it.” 

(Y/N) sat up. “Crash? I can’t do that, I’ve embarrassed him enough already.” 

Cater huffed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re both so blind I don’t know how you stand it.” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you said the reason you went there in the first place was to help Riddle.” 

“I did - I am - but-” 

“And what? You’re just going to let one bad game of croquet take that from you?” 

“It wasn’t just that game, I-” 

“And we both know Riddle’s blind spots. Sure, he’s been better about all that rule stuff and chilling out here at school, but being back in the middle of all his trauma is different, you know?” 

“I - You know what? You’re right.” 

“Of course I’m right, I usually am.” 

“Riddle acts like he’s in charge all the time, I forget that we’re practically the same age. And everyone needs help, even when they’re too stubborn to admit it.” 

“Yes, exactly! Stubborn is practically Riddle’s middle name!” 

“Which means,” (Y/N) stood. “I’ve got to be stubborn back! If Riddle can’t ask for help then I need to be a good girlfriend and recognize he needs it and do my part!” 

(Y/N) could feel Cater’s smirk in his next words. “Ooh, his girlfriend, huh? I thought you were just pretending?” 

“Oh, you know what I mean. Thanks, Cater. I’ve got to go get ready. I have a party to crash!” 

“I’m going to need every detail when you get back!” 

(Y/N) quickly hung up, dialing another number. “Hi, Vil? It’s (Y/N). I have a really big favor to ask.” 

~~~

Riddle stared into his flute of sparkling wine, watching the few remaining bubbles rise and pop. It was flat by now and he hadn’t taken a single sip. The last rays of sunlight glowed gently against the surrounding townhouses that Riddle could see out the large bay windows of the ballroom. Couples twirled together along the floor to the elegant music from a string band. A long table was precisely set with way too much food, even given the substantial size of the party. His father mingled across the room with several other gentlemen from his club, doing his best to blend into the curtains. Riddle stood dutifully next to his mother who was speaking to Rose’s mother. Rose herself hovered next to him. He floated in and out of their conversation, only picking up about every fourth word. He wore a dark red velvet coat with a tight white starched collar that he kept tugging at to keep from strangling him. 

“And then,” Rose was saying. “Betty walks in with a yellow checkered parasol! Can you imagine? For an autumn leaf viewing picnic? Honestly, I’m surprised she had the nerve to stay around for as long as she did with that sort of faux pa.” 

“MmHm,” Riddle replied, swirling his glass causing a few errant bubbles to meander to the surface. 

“Really, the only thing that might have been more embarrassing is if she brought a chestnut tart! Oh, are you alright, Riddle?” 

Riddle coughed, clearing his throat as his face turned red. “Yes, fine, just remembering something unpleasant.” 

“Well, I’m not sure how you could think of anything unpleasant with me around,” She said, clutching his arm to pull him closer to her, batting her eyes. Her eyelashes were so long Riddle had a single terrifying impression of spider legs. 

Riddle cleared his throat again, more uncomfortable this time. “Yes, I can’t imagine.” 

Rose pouted and opened her mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the round of gasps and murmurs that swelled from around the room. At the top of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, a footman was taking a dark traveling cloak from a newcomer. The cloak fell away to reveal the elaborate dress underneath it. The bodice was a rich crimson red with puffed sleeves at the shoulders, leading down to illusion sheer sleeves with tiny intricate beading twinkling down to the tight clasps at the wrists. The skirt bloomed out from the waist, layers upon layers of fabric resembling a large upside down rose. The red from the top continued down the skirt in an almost dripping effect, the rose petals turning white at the bottom as if they were being painted. The rose parted just at the knees to allow the wearer more freedom of movement, revealing sheer stockings with the same bead work. 

Riddle shoved his glass into Rose’s hands, ignoring her shocked look. He strode forward, cutting through the crowd. As the new figure descended the stairs, he met her, extending his hand to take hers. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said, smiling gently at him. “I’m not too late, am I?” 

“No,” Riddle breathed. “You’re here just in time.” 

“Excuse me!” They both turned to see Rose and her mother coming over, frustration on Rose’s face and confusion on her mother’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Rose’s mother said, eyes darting to (Y/N)’s and Riddle’s held hand. “This is a closed party.” 

“She’s with me,” Riddle quickly said. He saw his mother furrow her brow and press her lips together. He continued, meeting her gaze. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. She’s my guest.” 

There was another small round of exclamations around the room. Rose crossed her arms while her mother blinked in confusion. “Oh, well, then please, by all means, welcome.” 

(Y/N) bobbed a curtsy, “Thank you.” 

“Would you like to dance?” Riddle asked. 

(Y/N) smiled and Riddle felt like his heart would explode. “I’d love to.” He led her to the dance floor. The band, which had paused at her entrance, started up again with a waltz.“I should warn you,” (Y/N) whispered to him as they took their place. “I have no idea how to do any of this.” 

“That’s alright. Just follow my lead.” 

“Riddle, I’d follow you through the Land of Ghosts and back if you asked me to.” Riddle tripped over his own feet, (Y/N) catching him in a spin and laughing. 

“I like your dress,” Riddle said, trying to regain his composure. “I didn’t see it before.” 

“Thanks, it’s a loner. I have friends in high places. Vil, I mean Vil.” 

Spectators watched the couple in a not at all elegant dance across the floor. “Oh, Victoria,” Another socialite's mother said, coming up to her. “You must be so proud. She seems like such a lovely girl. And Riddle looks so happy!” 

“Indeed,” Dr. Rosehearts replied with a steely stare at the couple. She noticed the flush on Riddle’s cheeks, his eyes closed as he laughed at something (Y/N) had said. (Y/N) took a wrong step back, bumping into another couple dancing behind them. She watched them apologize, (Y/N) saying something to the other couple that made them laugh and wave a pleasant goodbye. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth, nose screwing up in frustration. 

The song ended and Riddle and (Y/N) exited the dance floor. They’re faces were both flushed, glowing underneath the chandelier lights. (Y/N) felt her heart flutter pleasantly as she watched Riddle, a rare genuine smile across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. She could always tell when it was a sincere smile whenever a tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows leaning to his left eye. She wondered what it meant that she had studied his face so intently to notice that. 

Dr. Rosehearts interrupted the conversations happening around her by walking away, striding with her head held high to Riddle and (Y/N). (Y/N) noticed her first, taking a side step closer to Riddle and meeting the older woman’s stare with unabashed defiance. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth again. 

“Riddle,” Dr. Rosehearts said. Riddle jumped, just now noticing his mother’s presence. His body immediately stiffened, shoulders going back to make a conscious effort to stand straighter. “Lewis and Carol were looking for you.” She waved her hand over to the other side of the ballroom. “I thought I might have a chat with (Y/N).” 

Riddle started to stutter a response before (Y/N) laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” She said. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.” Riddle looked between the two women, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, before nodding hesitantly and going over to see his old middle school classmates. 

(Y/N) plucked a glass of cider from a passing waiter. She wondered briefly what the drinking laws were here. 

“Well,” Dr. Rosehearts said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You certainly know how to make an entrance to an event you weren’t invited to.” 

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” (Y/N) said, swirling her glass. “I’m Riddle’s plus one. He wanted me here.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is very kind of him to humor you.” 

“Well, someone in your family needs to have a sense of humor, right?” 

“Hmph. Riddle has a plan, you know. He can’t be distracted by frivolities.” 

“You have a plan, you mean. Riddle can do whatever he wants. He’s exceedingly capable, smart, and an amazing mage.” 

“Thanks to my careful tutelage.” 

“Despite your ‘careful tutelage’ I’d say.” 

Dr. Rosehearts eyes flared. “You know nothing about my relationship with my son. My son.” 

“Oh, I know plenty.” 

“And I know my son. Believe me, your relationship, or whatever you want to call this, is just some passing fancy. He’ll get over it soon and come back to me with his senses intact.” 

“At least my relationship with him didn’t lead to his Overblot.” 

There was a snapping sound, a shatter of glass, and a gasp from across the ballroom. Riddle whirled around. His mother stood over (Y/N), her hand raised. (Y/N) clutched her cheek, already turning red from Dr. Rosehearts’ slap. 

“How dare you?” She shouted, now drawing every eye around the room. “My Riddle was perfectly fine until the moment you showed up at that school. He was obedient until you started influencing him!” 

“And that’s all that matters, right? That he is obedient to you. That he does whatever you say. He’s not your doll for you to play with, he’s a living breathing amazing person you just refuse to recognize has his own thoughts and life outside of you!” 

“I won’t take criticism from some magicless interloper who cavorts with fae and meddles with every aspect of a world she doesn't understand!” 

“Well, that’s just the beginning of your issues, isn’t it? You’re so stuck in your own head you refuse to recognize when you’re in the wrong and actively hurting the people around you!” 

Dr. Rosehearts took in a sharp inhale, raising her hand again. 

“Mother!” Both women turned to see Riddle rushing over to them. 

(Y/N) immediately blanched. “Riddle, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Riddle!” Dr. Rosehearts cut her off, jabbing a finger at (Y/N). “Control this wretched girl!” 

“I will do no such thing,” Riddle said defiantly, putting himself between his mother and (Y/N). He turned to her, lowering his voice. “Are you alright?” 

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” 

He gave a decisive nod and turned back to Dr. Rosehearts. “Mother, you need to apologize.” 

Dr. Rosehearts gaped at him. “Me? Apologize to her?” 

“You’ve been nothing but hateful since (Y/N)’s arrived. She’s our guest and someone extremely important to me. You could at least have the common courtesy to be polite.” 

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was cherry red. “How dare you speak to me like this! I’m your mother!” 

“And nothing she said was untrue!” Dr. Rosehearts flinched back. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to please you, to make you proud of me. I worked so, so hard. It crushed me, it destroyed me, that I couldn’t meet your impossible expectations! And I just thought that was how the world was, set in rigid rules, and anyone who couldn’t follow every last one was a bad person. I ruined friendships, I ruined myself, I almost ruined everything when I Overblot!” Another round of gasps rang from around the room. (Y/N) slipped her hand into his, squeezing in reassurance. He squeezed back, soldiering on. “I’m not a son to you, I’m a project! I’m some doll you parade around and pose however you want without any actual care for the damage you might do! (Y/N) has shown me I can be a better person, that I can be who I actually want to be! Except I have no idea who that person is because you’ve broken me into your specific mold for so long. She’s stayed by me, my friends have stayed by me, no matter what. For the first time in my life I feel content with myself, like I can actually breathe. And you act like that’s a bad thing.” Riddle was breathing hard, hot tears starting to spill from eyes. “Well, I’m done. I’m done trying to please you. I’ll never be good enough for you. And that’s fine. I don’t want to be. Now I just want to be good enough for myself. Let’s go, (Y/N).” Still holding hands, the two swept from the ballroom, the party goers parting for them like the Red Sea. 

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was red with rage, eyes darting around the room from each pitying, concerned, and judging face of the attendants to her son’s retreating back. She was breathing hard, head fuzzy, vision going blurry around the edges. Stepping forward, she slid her hairpin from her perfectly maintained bun, a magestone embedded at one end. She took a solid step forward, pointing it at Riddle. “Riddle-!” 

“Victoria!” She froze at the sudden exclamation. She turned, seeing Mr. Rosehearts staring steadfastly at her. “That’s enough.” 

She stopped, looking down at her hand, at her wand, at what she was about to do. She gasped, dropping the wand so it clattered against the marble flooring. The sound echoed in her ears. 

~~~

It was starting to rain outside. Riddle shrugged off his jacket, holding it above the two of them to huddle beneath it. 

“I don’t think we would be able to take the carriage back,” He said. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to go back to the townhouse anyway.” 

“No problem,” (Y/N) said, pulling her phone out of an invisible pocket. “Give me a second. Hi, Hornton? It’s (Y/N).” Minutes later, a private carriage from the Lorina Hotel was pulled alongside the cafe’s outside seating where Riddle and (Y/N) had taken up temporary shelter. “Friends in high places,” She said as they climbed inside. 

The two were quiet as the carriage rumbled on. They sat next to each other on the bench seats. Riddle leaned his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as she rubbed circles in the back of his hand. They exited soon after at the hotel, a doorman holding an umbrella over their heads as they rushed inside. 

At the front desk, the concierge and manager were talking in animated whispers, jolting up to paste on bright smiles as the two approached the desk. “Hello!” The manager said, a little too enthusiastically. “Checking in under Draconia?” 

“Yup, that’s us,” (Y/N) said, holding Riddle close. “Two rooms, please.” 

“Ah, well, of course, you see,” The manager stuttered. (Y/N) suspected they didn’t often get calls from foreign royalty as it was throwing the poor man off this game. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned to his majesty on the phone, we only have one room left available.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s a double that will work fine, too.”

The manager cringed. “It’s a single bed, Miss.” 

“Ah.” (Y/N) said, head starting to spin. She tried to quickly problem solve in her head. Could she call Horton back and ask him to make reservations somewhere else? Or would that be rude? Just the thought of going back to the Rosehearts townhome made her skin crawl. 

“It’s fine,” Riddle said. “We’ll take it.” The manager looked relieved as he handed over the keys. “I’ll need to make a phone call as well, to have our things brought here in the morning. Do you have anything we could use for the night?” 

“Of course, sir! Please, take it with our compliments.” 

They handed over two sets of monogrammed gray pajamas. A bellhop led them to the elevator, pushing the button to their floor. 

“I guess you’re right,” Riddle said. “It does pay to have friends in high places.” 

For some reason, that comment, along with the building stress of the night, broke the tight bundle of nerves (Y/N) had lodged in her chest. She started giggling, not being able to stop or catch her breath. Riddle soon followed, both of them almost doubled over with impractical laughter. They continued to their room, a patron from next door sticking his head out at the noise. Their laughter died down when they came into the room, both setting eyes on the single bed at the center. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” (Y/N) said, pointing to the adjoining bathroom. Riddle just nodded, tearing is eyes from the bed and trying very hard to look anywhere else. 

In the bathroom, (Y/N) peeled off her dress, feeling kind of bad about haphazardly throwing it over the towel rack to hang. She turned the water on to almost scalding, letting it rush over her in an attempt to beat the chill that had settled in her bones, only partially from the rain. After her shower, she changed into the provided pajamas. They were warm and soft against her skin. She hesitated before exiting the bathroom. 

Riddle jumped when she came out, and she wondered if she should have knocked first. She saw he had pulled the duvet and one of the massive pillows off the bed, laying them out on the floor. “You can take the bed tonight,” He said. “I’ll sleep here.” Without waiting for her protest, Riddle went into the bathroom locking it behind him. She soon heard the sound of rushing water from the shower. 

‘Well, that’s not very fair,’ She thought. She drug off the remaining blanket from the bed and the other pillow, creating her own spot on the opposite side on the floor. Riddle was the one who just had his whole world tossed around. It was only fair if he got the bed for the night. A few minutes later, Riddle left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was rubbing his hair with a towel. He looked confused at (Y/N) on the floor on her side of the bed. 

“I’d say you can take the bed,” (Y/N) said. “But I know you’re too stubborn and chivalrous for that. So I’ll stay down here too. That way we’re even.” 

“You don’t need to do that for me,” Riddle said. 

“I want to.” 

Riddle stared at her. (Y/N) could almost see the thoughts turning in his head. He nodded once, going over to his side of the bed and laying down on the improv sleeping mat. (Y/N) reached up and switched off the light. A soft glow from the street lamps came in through the window, the rain softly padding against the glass. (Y/N) could see Riddle through the space under the bed. He was staring straight up, hands clasped tightly against his stomach. 

“Riddle-,” She started. 

“I’m glad I said it. I think I’ve been wanting to say all of that for a long time now. And I don’t think I would have been able to if you weren’t there, if I didn’t know I had your support. So thank you.” 

(Y/N) thought hard, turning his words over in her head. ‘Screw it,’ She thought. She got up, dragging her blanket and pillow with her. She went over to Riddle’s side of the floor/bed, dropping her stuff next to him and laying back down. She turned on her side to look at him, meeting his wide confused eyes. 

“Riddle, I think I’m in love with you.” Riddle sputtered, choking on air, but now that she had started, (Y/N) knew she had to power through. “I mean, I’ve never really been in love with someone before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. My feelings for you, I mean. It started off with just really admiring you. I know the beginning of the year was really tough and I can’t imagine what it was like to go through all of that. But ever since you’ve been working so hard, and I can see that, everyone can see that. You’re smart and brave and stubborn as hell, which I got to admit I kind of like. I love how I can tell when you get genuinely excited about something or that smug grin you get when you’re right about something. You’re a great house warden and a good friend. Not to mention you’re really cute. So, yeah. I just needed to say that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. Or you don’t want to give me an answer right now. I don’t mind waiting, if it’s for you.” She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in her chest. The silence of the room was only broken by the soft pitter patter of the rain.  

“(Y/N)?” Riddle said softly. (Y/N) turned on her side so the two of them were facing each other again.  “You know I’m not good with talking about my feelings. I still have a hard time deciphering them myself, to be honest. But one thing I’m absolutely certain about is how I feel about you. I love you. I have to admit, I had ulterior motives when I asked you to come with me for this. I thought maybe it would be some sort of test run for an actual relationship, which now, saying it out loud, I realize how awful that sounds, and I’m sorry. I love how I feel around you, like I can be the greatest person in the world. I love how kind you are, how ready to jump into action, how ready you are to help no matter what. I love how steadfast and brave you are in what must be a terrifying situation, not knowing anything about your surroundings or having the same tools as all of us to combat it. And you’ve basically taken on raising Grim by yourself which I know can’t be easy with having that extra responsibility all of a sudden on top of everything else. I know I might not be the easiest person to be around. I’m stubborn, like you said, and I can get angry easily. Obviously my family is a complete mess. But, I hope, despite everything, you can still accept me for who I am and for who I want to be.” 

“Riddle, I already said I love you. Of course I accept you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Despite how flustered it made him, Riddle wouldn’t want to be pried out of each other’s arms as they fell asleep for anything in the world. 

~~~

It was sunny the next morning, the rain from the night before lending a pleasant coolness to the air. Staff from the Rosehearts’ townhouse had dropped off Riddle and (Y/N)’s packed bags that morning and the newly formed couple was getting ready to head back to their starting point for the Magic Mirror to bring them back to school. (Y/N) tried to buy some fancy chocolates from the hotel for the boys back at NRC, but the manager and staff had shoved the boxes into her hands at no charge. 

“Compliments to friends of the Draconia family!” He had said. 

As they got ready to head out, they heard someone call from behind them, “Riddle!” 

They turned around, seeing the Rosehearts’ carriage come down the street, Mr. Rosehearts leaning out of the window, waving. He jumped out as the carriage rolled to a stop, jogging over. 

(Y/N) took a step in front of Riddle. “Do you want me to deal with it?” She asked. 

“No, it’s fine,” He said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Riddle left his bags with (Y/N), who watched Mr. Rosehearts’ approach with a critical eye, and walked over to meet his father. “Father. I’ll be heading back to school soon. I don’t want to be late.” 

“Right, of course, I won’t take up too much of your time.” He seemed nervous, not meeting his son’s eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize, Riddle.” 

Riddle blinked. “Apologize?” 

“Yes, and it’s a long time coming. I’m afraid I haven’t been a good father to you. I saw the kind of stress your mother put you under, how controlling it could be. And I ignored it. I should have been better for you, stood up for you more. You’re my son, Riddle, and I love you. But I haven’t acted like it for a long time. I hope, one day, we can start again and you can forgive me.” 

“I-” Riddle was at a loss for words. “I can’t say it will be soon, but I appreciate you saying that. I hope you can understand.” 

Mr. Rosehearts smiled wide and nodded. “Yes, of course. We’ll go on your time.” 

Riddle looked back at the carriage. “Is Mother here?” 

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “No, she’s still at home. We’re actually going to… spend some time apart for the foreseeable future.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s for the best. I’ll be out at the country estate if you need anything.” He winked and whispered conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to get into ornithology. I hear there’s a rare variant of the jubjub bird in the area I’ve been dying to get a look at.” 

The two separated, Mr. Rosehearts to his carriage and Riddle to (Y/N). “You okay?” She asked. 

“Fine. I think things might be looking up, actually.” 

She bumped him with her hip. “Well, you’ve got a super cool new girlfriend now, so I sure hope so.” 

Riddle chuckled, linking their arms together. They stepped back through the portal to school, confident that no matter what trials and tribulations would come next, they would face them together. 

[magic-shop-stories]

I just found your blog and I love the way you set up your headcanons!!

Could I request your take on soulmate aus for all the boys? Like, what kind of soulmate system would each of them have, how would they meet their fated person? Does it go smoothly, or is it a bumpy ride?

💌 Reply:

Ahhh, thank you so much for the love and this adorable request! 💜 I’ was so thrilled to dive into BTS Soulmate AUs and i really hope it's what you imagined and that it is to your liking 💜 ... Have fun - C -

NAMJOON

Intellectual Slow Burn

HOW YOU MEET

tiny indie bookstore in Mapo-gu

shelves crammed with philosophy and poetry

Namjoon frequents it weekly

always in the same corner - floor cushion #3

green tea cooling beside him

you’re the part-time clerk who restocks the “Existentialism” section every Thursday

you both annotate books with sticky notes

leaving thoughts for strangers

one day, you pick up Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra

you find his note: “Is the Übermensch just a coping mechanism for capitalism? (asking for a friend) – RM”

your reply: “No, but your sticky notes are. – Y/N”

DETAILS

His Notes

philosophical musings in tiny

precise handwriting, dotted with coffee stains

he underlines quotes about self-love and the universe’s indifference

Your Notes

sarcastic quips in purple gel pen

doodles of crying clouds next to Camus passages

The Book That Changes Everything

a battered copy of The Little Prince

he writes: “Do you think the rose ever apologized for being high maintenance?”

you respond: “The fox did all the emotional labor. Discuss.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

booshop

8 PM

rain taps the windows

he’s clutching The Myth of Sisyphus like a lifeline

What He Says

“So. You’re the one who called Kant a ‘coward in a wig.’” (Rubs his neck, glasses fogging.)

“I... I brought banana milk. As a… peace offering? For the capitalism thing.”

His Thoughts

“She’s prettier than her handwriting. Way prettier. Abort mission... wait, is that a Demian reference on her tote bag?”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves longer notes with his phone number scribbled in Morse code

you decode it while he pretends to browse

Phase 2

“accidentally” drops his favorite fountain pen near your counter

note inside: 

“Dinner? I’ll let you rant about Heidegger.”

Phase 3

you hesitate

he blurts: 

“I’m not good at this. But I’m really good at… listening. And losing umbrellas. Mainly listening.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Week 1-4

notes escalate to essay-length debates in the margins of Rilke poetry

Week 5

first “date” at a 24-hour diner

he brings a 3-page bullet-point list 

titled “Reasons I Might Be Annoying (Please Critique)”

Week 8

takes you to Seoul Forest

kneels to fix your shoelace

muttering: 

“I think… I’m yours. If you’ll have me. And my overthinking.”

DETAILS pt. 2

Glasses Move

adjusts them three times when nervous

you count them during his confession

Banana Milk

always keeps a carton in his bag 

“in case of existential emergencies"

Secret Playlist

makes you a lo-fi mix titled “Margin Notes”

samples of bookstore ambient noise

track 7: “Pause for Highlighters.”

Bookmark Gift

carves you a wooden bookmark with “NamKimdiary” on the back (his old Tumblr username)

KEY DIALOGUE

After Your First Kiss

“I’ve written a thousand metaphors about love. None of them… this.”

When You Fight

“I’d rather lose every debate than lose you. Even if you’re wrong about Sartre.”

Proposal (Years Later)

slips a note into your shared copy of The Little Prince: 

“Tame me?”

JIN

Culinary Chaos to Comfort

HOW YOU MEET

a Michelin-starred restaurant in Gangnam

Jin is the elusive "Chef Kim"

known for emotional tasting menus

you’re a food critic

anonymously reviewing his dishes

every course he creates makes you feel his hidden emotions

loneliness in a bitter chocolate soufflé

joy in honey-drizzled tteokbokki

you taste the true emotion behind his dishes

he receives anonymous letters about his food = your critiques

they inexplicably quote his inner thoughts

DETAILS

His Dishes

Jjajangmyeon that tastes like nostalgia

= his childhood memories of cooking with his mom

Bingsu that bursts with loneliness

= his early trainee days

Your Reviews

“The sea urchin risotto screamed, ‘I miss my brothers.’ Hire a therapist, Chef.”

“The kimchi stew is perfection, but why does it taste like you’re afraid of being forgotten?”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

his restaurant’s kitchen

2 AM

corners you after you sneak in to confront him

What He Says

“You. You’re the one who called my soufflé ‘a cry for help in dessert form.’” 

arms crossed, apron splattered with gochujang

“Do you have any idea how many chefs cried because of your ‘constructive feedback’?” 

pauses, then smirks

“…It was kinda hot.”

His Thoughts

“She’s got a resting critic face, but her eyes… they see me. Wait... did she just steal a dumpling?

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves a mystery dish at your doorstep daily

each meal paired with a dad joke: “Why did the tomato blush? Because it saw the salad dressing… and also you.”

Phase 2

invites you to a “private tasting”

just him cooking army stew in sweatpants

“No Michelin rules. Just… us.”

Phase 3

call him out for hiding behind jokes

he admits: 

“I’m scared you’ll taste the mess I really am.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1

exchange angry sticky notes on his fridge

he doodles himself as a crying onion

Month 2

crashes your live mukbang stream

shouting: 

“That’s my japchae! And my future wife!” 

trends for a week

Month 3

cooks you a five-course meal where every dish tastes like unconditional love

no words

just a ring hidden in a bubble tea pearl

DETAILS pt.2

Dad Joke Diary:

keeps a notebook of jokes to make you laugh

#1: Why don’t eggs tell jokes? They’d crack up… like you do at 3 AM.

Secret Ingredient

adds a pinch of sugar to every savory dish he makes you

“To match your smile.”

Mukbang Cameos

sneaks into your streams wearing a Gucci apron

shouting “EAT THIS, NOT THAT!” 

feeding you strawberries

Birthday Surprise

recreates an "I Purple You” live setup in your kitchen

“This time, it’s our color.”

KEY DIALOGUE

During a Fight

“You think I’m just ‘Worldwide Handsome’? I’m terrified you’ll realize I’m just… Jin.”

First “I Love You”

“I don’t need a Michelin star. I just need you to taste this.” 

feeds you a strawberry that bursts with devotion

Proposal

“Marry me. I’ll annoy you with dad jokes for eternity… and make sure you never eat alone again.”

YOONGI

Silent Understanding & Creative Synchronicity

HOW YOU MEET

late-night music production studio in Hongdae

Yoongi works under the pseudonym "Agust D"

you’re a lyricist for indie artists

known only by your pen name "Shadow"

your words and his beats have been paired anonymously by a streaming algorithm

= creating viral hits

you’ve never met

your lyrics and his instrumentals align too perfectly

every time he uploads a track labeled “Unfinished” 

you fill in the gaps with verses that mirror his unspoken emotions

fans call it “fate’s playlist”

DETAILS

His Tracks

haunting piano melodies with gaps in the rhythm

as if waiting for words

song titled “Interlude: Ghost” 

muffled voice memo: 

“Someone out there… knows.”

Your Lyrics

raw, introspective verses about isolation and quiet hope 

they trend every time he drops a beat

bridge for his track “The Last” 

reads: 

“I built these walls, but you’re the echo in the hall.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

24-hour coffee shop near his studio

he recognizes your voice from a podcast where you dissected his “Daechwita” instrumental

What He Says

“You’re Shadow.” 

no greeting, just a tired smirk

slides you a USB drive

labeled “Track 08 – Fix It.”

“The last line you wrote… ‘the static in my veins.’ Why?” 

stirs his black coffee

avoiding eye contact

His Thoughts

“She’s younger than I imagined. But her eyes... they’ve seen the same nights as me. Damn, she’s good.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves cryptic notes in the metadata of his tracks

“Meet me at 3 AM. – D” 

show up at the studio with a thermos of honey citron tea

Phase 2

collaborates with you anonymously

a song called “Burn It pt.2”

changes the final chorus to “Stay.”

Phase 3

after a year of demos, he sends a track titled “First Love” 

no melody

just his voice: 

“I’m bad at this. But… let’s try.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Year 1

anonymous collabs

notices you quote his live rants in your lyrics

Year 2

confront him after recognizing his piano riff from an old Bangtan Bomb

“You’re Agust D. Why hide?”

Year 3

he produces a fully instrumental track for your poetry book

liner notes read: 

“Your words were my first language.”

DETAILS pt.2

Studio Ritual

leaves the window open when he wants you to visit

playing “Seesaw” on loop

Secret Track

hidden file on his SoundCloud named “Glossary_Of_Us” 

has snippets of your voice

Lyric Easter Egg

quotes your first-ever verse in his SUGA mixtape sequel:

“The static’s gone. Now it’s just us.”

Coffee Cup Codes

draws tiny piano keys on your takeout cups

he’s too shy to say “I miss you.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Confront Him

“I don’t believe in soulmates. But you… you’re a glitch I can’t fix.”

First Duet Session

“Your voice isn’t perfect. Good. Neither am I.”

Proposal

samples your laugh into a song titled “Forever Interlude.”

credits list: “Feat. My Forever First LOVE.”

J-HOPE

Collaborative Growth & Digital to Real-Life Connection

HOW YOU MEET

on a global dance challenge app called SyncSteps

users upload videos and are algorithmically paired with "rhythm partners."

Hobi joins anonymously under the handle SunshineDance

you’re a shy dance enthusiast

using the app to overcome stage fright

posting under ShadowSteps

the app’s AI matches you based on complementary styles

your fluid, expressive movements sync perfectly with his sharp, energetic choreography

your collaborations go viral

you don’t know each other’s identities

DETAILS

His Videos

crisp, powerful routines tagged with motivational captions: 

“You’re one step closer to shining!”

a freestyle titled “Midnight Groove”

= he leaves a frame empty

urging you to fill it: 

“Your turn, Shadow.”

Your Videos

intimate, emotion-driven dances in dimly lit rooms

your first upload caption: 

“For the girl in the mirror who’s still learning.”

a response to Midnight Groove where you dance in a sunlit studio,

caption: “Found the light.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

app’s chat feature

he messages after your first collab goes viral

What He Says

“Your flow is 🔥! But why hide your face? The world needs to see you.” 

adds a sunflower emoji

“I’ll teach you a confidence combo. Step 1: Pretend the mirror is your best friend. Step 2: Steal their swag.”

His Thoughts

“She’s got raw talent, but she’s holding back. Let’s change that… gently.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

creates personalized warm-ups for you

tagging you in posts: 

“@ShadowSteps – this one’s for your left side hesitation.”

Phase 2

sends voice notes with pep talks 

disguised as "dance tips": 

“Remember, mistakes are just freestyle opportunities!”

Phase 3

after months of collaboration, he slips his number into a private video description: 

“Text me. Let’s choreograph IRL.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1-6

viral collabs

late-night app chats

he nicknames you “Shadow Warrior.”

Month 7 - 8

you join a live workshop he hosts

masked, like your videos

he recognizes your signature wrist flick mid-session

Month 9

invites you to co-choreograph a piece for his dance crew

at rehearsal, he pulls off his cap: 

“Surprise. It’s your Sunshine.”

DETAILS pt.2

Playlist Clues

his practice mixes include BTS’s “Butter” remixes

track #7 is always “Chicken Noodle Soup”

= your first collab choreo song

Signature Move

adds a tiny hop to routines when he’s happy

you mimic it in your videos

Secret Code

uses yellow post-it notes during IRL performances

“YOU GOT THIS” 

= the same phrase from his app comments

Meme King

sends you edits of your dances with dancing carrot GIFs 

captioned: “When you finally nail the combo.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Reveal Your Face

“I knew you’d be beautiful. But damn, you’re a supernova.”

During a Setback

“We don’t ‘fail.’ We freestyle. Now grab my hand and trust the beat.”

Confession

“I fell for you in 8-counts. But I’ll love you in infinite ones.”

JIMIN

Emotional Mirrors, Artistic Synchronicity

HOW YOU MEET

global photography platform called Frame & Soul

users submit photos

paired algorithmically with "emotional complements."

Jimin posts under JM_Eyes

you’re a introspective travel photographer

posting as Silhouette_Shots

app pairs your photos based on unspoken emotions

his shot of a rainy Seoul alley at 3 AM syncs with your sunrise over a deserted beach

both tagged “loneliness and hope.” 

your galleries become a silent dialogue

DETAILS

His Photos

moody, intimate shots:

half-empty wine glass backstage

his shadow stretching across a rehearsal floor

crumpled lyric sheets.

self-portrait of his reflection in a broken mirror captioned: 

“Pieces of me I can’t name.”

Your Photos

stark, vivid contrasts:

a lone flower in a cracked sidewalk

storm clouds parting over a cityscape

a response to his mirror photo: 

“Even broken glass reflects light.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where:

Frame & Soul exhibition in Busa

your paired photos are displayed side-by-side

recognizes your style instantly

What He Says

“You’re Silhouette_Shots.” 

voice soft

eyes tracing your photo

“How did you… see that?”

“Your picture of the ocean... it felt like my choreography. Heavy, but… free.”

His Thoughts

“She’s quieter than I imagined. But her hands, they’ve held cameras and courage. God, she’s beautiful.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves cryptic comments on your photos: 

“Your shadows have better rhythm than me.” 

attaches a video of him dancing to your sunset photo’s timestamp

Phase 2

sends you a disposable camera with a note: 

“Capture something I’ve never seen. I’ll do the same.”

return it with a shot of dandelions surviving concrete

sends back a photo of his bare feet on a studio floor

matching your caption: 

“Roots in unexpected places.”

Phase 3

invites you to a silent photo walk through Seoul

communicates only through his camera lens

guiding you to his favorite hidden spots

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1-3

viral photo pairs

late-night app DMs dissecting light and shadow

Month 4

sneaks you into his dance studio

choreographing a piece inspired by your storm cloud series

“You’re my muse. But I’m… scared to be yours.”

Month 6

you collaborate on a photo book titled “Unspoken.”

final page is his shot of two coffee cups with steam forming a heart

your caption: “Developed.”

DETAILS pt.2

Polaroid Habit

leaves Polaroids in your bag

doodled arrows pointing to his favorite parts of your face

Dance Codes

humming “Serendipity” when he’s nervous

then denying it

“It’s… a vocal exercise.”

Exhibition Easter Egg

hides a tiny JM logo in the corner of his photos

matching your SS watermark

Secret Project

films a dance video

his movements trace the shapes of your photographs

credits list: “Choreography by Us.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Doubt Your Art

“You think your photos are just ‘pretty’? They’re alive. Like you.”

First Kiss

“I’ve danced for millions. But this… this is the first time I’ve felt the audience.”

Confession

“I used to chase perfection. Now I just chase your light.”

TAEHYUNG

Tangible Connections & Nostalgic Serendipity

HOW YOU MEET

a cozy vintage shop in Daegu named Timeless Treasures

known for its eclectic mix of retro cameras, vinyl records, and handwritten letters tucked inside secondhand books

Taehyung frequents the shop

leaving behind curated items with cryptic notes

you’re a freelance writer

you discover his first note inside a 1970s film camera: 

“Capture the moments everyone else forgets. – V”

you both leave meaningful objects for each other in the shop

accompanied by handwritten stories or questions

the shop owner, a wise elderly woman, acts as a silent guardian

she's placing your items in a dedicated corner

labeled: “Soul Exchange.”

DETAILS

His Items

a saxophone pin with a note: 

“For the jazz in your soul. Play it loud.”

pressed maple leaf from his childhood home: 

“Autumn remembers what summer forgets.”

Gucci scarf (fake) with: 

“Even fakes can feel real if you believe.”

Your Responses

a typewriter key (the letter “V”) and a poem: 

“Words fail, but keys don’t lie.”

mismatched teacup with a story about your grandmother: 

“Broken things brew the best stories.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

shop’s dusty record aisle

catches you inspecting his latest gift

= a vinyl of “Fly Me to the Moon” 

a note: “Dance like no one’s watching… but me.”

What He Says

“You’re the one who took my camera.”

grins, holding up your poem

“Your words taste like hobakjuk; sweet, but… lonely.”

“Why a typewriter key? I’ve been staring at it for weeks.” 

tilts his head, curiosity sparking

His Thoughts

“She writes like she’s lived a thousand lives. And her smile... god, it’s brighter than my flashbulbs.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves a blank journal titled “Our Untold Stories” 

a challenge: “Fill this. I’ll do the rest.” 

you respond with a tale about a boy who speaks in riddles

Phase 2

gifts you a polaroid camera and a map of Daegu with circled locations: 

“Show me your city.” 

your photos of abandoned theaters and sunlit alleys become his muse

Phase 3

sends a vinyl record with a hidden track

his hummed rendition of “Winter Bear”

label reads: “For the girl who hears my silence.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1-5:

exchanging objects and stories

nicknames you “Time Traveler” in his notes

Month 6

you find a script titled “The Boy in the Beret”

a play about a man who falls for a stranger’s words

final page: “Auditions: Tomorrow. 7 PM. Bring the teacup.”

Month 7

the shop’s annual “Nostalgia Night”

he wears the saxophone pin you gifted him

you arrive with his Gucci scarf

owner smiles: “Took you two long enough.”

DETAILS pt.2

Beret Code

wears a red beret on days he plans to leave you something

nod to his fashion

Secret Stash

hides cocoa in the shop’s fridge for you

labeled “For the Writer’s Block.”

Vinyl Clue

his “Winter Bear” vinyl has a scratched groove that plays “I purple you” when spun backward

ARMY Nod

leaves a BT21 Tata keychain with a note: 

“Found this alien. Think it’s yours.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Confront Him

“You think this is a game? I’ve been writing us into existence since day one.”

First Date

takes you to a silent film screening 

whispers: “Dialogue is overrated. Just feel it.”

Confession

“I collect vintage souls. But you… you’re timeless.”

JUNGKOOK

Competitive Synergy, Digital to Real-Life Bond

HOW YOU MEET

online multiplayer game called Arena Legends

players worldwide compete in team-based strategy battles

Jungkook, a top-ranked player, goes by the alias GoldenJK

you’re a rising star known as Valkyrie

notorious for your unorthodox tactics

the game’s algorithm pairs you as rivals in ranked matches

your playstyles clash yet complement perfectly

aggression meets precision

game’s AI assigns you as Nemesis Partners

= rare status where rivals share exclusive challenges

each victory unlocks a personalized clue about the other player

Jungkook’s clues hint at his art

“A rabbit doodle in the killfeed”

yours tease your love for indie music

“A lyric snippet in the chat log”

DETAILS

His Gaming Traits

Aggressive yet strategic

dominates matches with bold moves

always protects teammates

leaves golden bunny emojis in the chat after wins

Your Gaming Traits

creative sabotage

use map glitches and unexpected combos

posts montages titled “How to Outsmart a Golden Bunny.”

secretly drop song lyrics as taunts: 

“You’re my favorite mistake.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

Nemesis Partner chat room

unlocked after your 10th match

What He Says

“ValkyrieV. Your playstyle… it’s like watching abstract art. Chaotic. Beautiful.” 

sends a bunny emoji

“Why the lyric spam? You a BTS fan or just trying to distract me?” 

winks via emoji

His Thoughts

“She’s ruthless. But when she revives teammates? Soft. I need to know her IRL.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

creates a custom map titled “Rabbit Hole”

hidden ARMY references

final clue: “Find me where the sky is purple.”

= his favorite Seoul rooftop

Phase 2

sends you a mystery USB drive containing a game mod.

transforms his avatar into a golden knight

guarding a pixel-art version of your hometown

Phase 3

challenges you to an IRL match at a PC bang

shows up wearing a bunny hoodie

controller in hand: “No avatars. Just us.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Week 1-4

toxic rivalry turns into respectful banter

screenshares his art mid-match

you play “Euphoria” over voice chat

Month 2

you team up for a charity tournament

his avatar sacrifices itself to save yours

“Why’d you do that?!” 

“Couldn’t let my nemesis die.”

Month 3

invites you to his studio

you find a painting of your ValkyrieV avatar

caption: “My Greatest Opponent. My Only Equal.”

DETAILS pt.2

Gamer Tag Easter Egg

username GoldenJK rearranges to “Jungkook Loves ARMY.” later

IRL Clues

wears a BT21 Cooky keychain during streams

you gift him a golden bunny sticker for his laptop

Secret Mod

codes a private server

your avatars dance to “Still With You” under pixelated stars

Post-Win Ritual

sends you banana milk deliveries with notes:

“For the victor. Next time, though…”

KEY DIALOGUE

During a Match

“You fight like you’ve got everything to lose. Why?” 

“Because I hate losing to rabbits.”

First IRL Meet

“You’re… shorter than your avatar.” 

“And you’re exactly as cocky as yours.”

Confession

“I used to play to win. Now I play to hear you laugh.”

[bts-preference]

17. When he has a crush on you

Namjoon: 'I've fucked up,' he thinks to himself. What started as trying to get to know to you more; turned into him accidentally saying he also knew who your favorite author is (because he's a well-read man after all); turned into a coffee date for tomorrow to dissect your favorite author's latest release. He turns the thick novel over in his hands, having already tried looking up cliff notes on the book (which don't exist this time). Finally accepting his fate, he gets settled on his couch, prepared to read a 600-page novel in one night, all because of his crush on you.

Jin: While this is certainly not a case of "he's mean to you because he likes you," Jin does consider teasing you (once he realizes you are OK with it, and willing to give it back to him) a form of affection. Jokes, sarcasm, and roasts become your way of flirting with one another. Despite knowing Jin's sense of humor, the members are still confused by your interactions in the beginning. "Are you and (Y/N) still fighting?" one of the members ask him after spending time with the both of you a few days ago. Confused by the question, Jin responds, "We've never argued before."

Yoongi: 'Will he ever see me as more than a friend?' you often wonder after parting ways with him. While at the same time, he is beating himself up, thinking, 'Why was I so obvious?' after every interaction with you. Apparently, you are supposed to pick up on his hardly there, subtle signs - eye contact for a second longer than what he typically is used to; a smile just a millimeter larger compared to how he normally smiles; a quick pat on your arm or shoulder that almost goes unnoticed. In his opinion, his crush on you is the most apparent thing in the world. He's just not sure why you haven't noticed.

Hoseok: With how much he talks about you ("guess what (Y/N) told me today;" "look at this selfie we took together"), the members feel like they are already best friends with you, and they haven't even met you yet. "Hobi, do you know what a swear jar is?" one of the members asks him one day, cutting him off mid-monologue about you. Hoseok nods his head. "Well, I'm going to set one up, but it's going to be a (Y/N) jar," they explain, jokingly, "You have to start paying to talk about them." Hoseok pulls out his wallet and takes out several bills, "That should cover me for a little bit."

Jimin: Getting ready to start rehearsal, Namjoon notices someone is missing. "Where's Jimin?" he asks the other members after taking a mental roll call. "With (Y/N)," the other members reply in unison, unfazed. As if on cue, Jimin bursts into the practice room, "Sorry, I was-" "With (Y/N)," they say in unison again, still unfazed. Half-impressed by their talking in unison, half-shocked that they picked up on how much time he has spent with you, Jimin opens his mouth to argue, but he is swiftly interrupted. "We're not mad," one of the members insists, "But don't even bother denying it."

Taehyung: Without mentioning the word "crush," he still gives you glimpses into how feels about you. He thinks you look pretty today? "Why are you so cute?" he asks you. You stop and have a deep conversation with him? "Your mind is so beautiful," he tells you. You hit a major milestone at work? "That's my girl," he smiles, pulling you into his arms. His compliments and words of encouragement alone sometimes leaves your head spinning. However, you have to steady yourself because he still hasn't told you that he likes you as more than a friend, and maybe this is just how treats his friends?

Jungkook: When he's around you, he's a mess - heart racing; nervous hands; tripping over words; eyes locked on you, and only you; laughing too hard at a joke you said (maybe not all of these things at once, but at least one of them). He also second guesses everything. "(Y/N), I got a last minute invite to a listening party, do you want to be my plus one?" he asks you. But without waiting for a reply, he continues, "Don't feel pressured to say 'yes,' by the way. If you don't want to go, it's not big deal. You know what? Never mind, it was a stupid idea." You giggle, unperturbed by him, "I would love to go."

Author's Note: Would anyone want a part two for this? I know I wrote this, but I went into this one expecting there to be a little more fluff than what I ended up writing.

[brynnewithane]

[Dating Hoshina Headcanons]

Absolutely no one asked but this is how I imagine dating Hoshina would look like:

This post is based on my personal research and officially published information about Hoshina up to Chapter 110. Please read this with a giant grain of salt.

If he has a half day off:

Casual coffee dates, talk about anything and everything.

Walk in the park while he’s still wearing his tracksuit so he can respond quickly to Kaiju’s attacks.

Takes you to all the bookstores or libraries, buy books for each other then go home and read each other’s book.

Late night Izakaya date when his shift is finished. Both grab a beer and you’ll listen to him telling you about how his day went, including all the drama at work of course lol.

Spend a lot of quality time together reading, discussing a book he has recommended (probably non-fiction or classics).

I also love the idea that he likes to take you to every Japanese Festival like the Kyoto Gion Matsuri (Kyoto is in the Kansai region; he’s from a traditional old-money clan in the Kansai region, so this festival is a must), but he’d probably be on duty those days for extra vigilance in case there’s an attack. Despite so, he’s gonna make it up to you later on bc this man does have a sense of loyalty and he cares a whole lot once you make it to his heart and earn his trust.

Another headcanon of mine is that he‘s lowkey romantic. Like c’mon, he reads poetry lmao. I’ve never seen someone who reads poetry that doesn’t have a romantic side. If he’s off duty, he’d plan a proper date, such as:

Watches the Blossom Forecast to plan for a Hanami picnic (花見, hanami, "flower viewing") when Spring comes. He’ll bring sweets like Dango, Daifuku, and his favorite Mont Blanc.

Takes you to those kimono retailers, makes you try on different types of kimono, and buy the one you like most.

He’d take you to the beach, or onsen on some mountains. He’d ask you to go on a hike with him in the early morning bc that’s his routine and he wants you to join him as well.

He’ll prepare a yukata for both to attend summer festivals, buy sparklers (線香花火, senkou hanabi), play goldfish scooping (金魚すくい, kingyo sukui), eat candied apples and watch fireworks together.

Chilling in his house, drinking ramune and eating watermelon. You watch your favorite show, he reads his newly bought novel. Either you both cook and prepare dinner, or head out to a rather fancy traditional restaurant.

English is not my first language so my grammar isn’t grammaring sometimes. If there are any parts that feel weird or unnatural, please let me know🤧

[cevansbrat0007]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMr8fYuj5/

I can see so clear Bird putting Ari in the dog house again and later in the day he arrives at her home with a bag full of her favorites snacks, heat pads, painkillers and a note for his sweet wild woman

Summary: Somehow, Ari always seems to know all the right ways to take care of you...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Fluff, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Brat!Reader, References to Menstrual Cycles & PMS, Cuddles, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You automatically perk up from your place on the couch when you hear the slam of your front door. Ari had left the house hours ago, muttering something under his breath that you hadn’t quite been able to make out. 

“Beast?” You call when he doesn’t immediately appear. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Is that my Bird in there?” He quickly fires back. “Is that who I’m talkin’ to?”

His unexpected dramatics immediately set your teeth on edge. Just what the hell did he mean by all that?

“Who the hell else would it be?” Your question comes out sounding more like a growl. 

Instead of answering you’re treated to the sound of footsteps as Ari finally makes his way to you. But instead of coming all the way into the room, you’re confused when he chooses to poke his head around the corner. 

“Just checking.” His wary blue eyes are sparkling with a hint of mirth. 

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Nah, baby. Just bein’ careful.” Ari steps out hiding then, his brawny arms laden with several brown grocery bags.

“Why the hell would you have to be careful?”

“Because when I walked out the house earlier I did so under the impression that my woman had been replaced by one of those she-demons you only read about in books.” He offers you an unrepentant shrug before setting his purchases on the opposite sofa. “Aww, c’mon now. Don’t make that face."

“I’m not makin’ any kinda face, you Beast.” You huff, doing your damndest not to pout. “I just don’t know what the hell you’re goin’ on about.”

“Then how come you’re over there looking like you’ve been suckin’ on a lemon?” The handsome bastard has the nerve to smile at you as begins digging items out of one of the bags. 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not, you –” Your petty retort is interrupted when your bounty hunter suddenly chucks an orange bag at your head. Thankfully, you manage to catch it before it makes contact with your face. “Jalapeño cheetos?”

“Yep.” He grunts, giving you a knowing look. “I also got you the regular ones too in case you decide those are suddenly too spicy for you.”

“Oh.” Is all you can muster, turning the bag over in your hands. These were your favorites whenever you allowed yourself to indulge. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah. Not done yet, baby.” 

You watch as he systematically begins pulling items out of the bags. He also makes a point of showing you each one, much to your overall chagrin. 

“Let’s see…” Ari moves the bags to the floor, which allows you to get a good, long look at all of the treats and treasures he procured while he was out. “We’ve got us another bag of Cheetos, plus a bag of white cheddar cheese popcorn. Next up, we’ve got two hefty slices of strawberry cheesecake. I got my own, so you don’t have to share,”

Smart man.

“I mean…” You quietly hedge, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip. “I don’t know why you felt compelled to buy all this stuff.” 

“Oh you don’t, huh?” His eyes go wide as he cocks his head to the side.

“Nope.” The word tumbles out of your mouth with a soft pop.

Instead of responding he chooses to simply ignore you. “Here we have a variety of chocolate bars – milk chocolate, milk chocolate with fuckin’ caramel, milk chocolate with some kinda weird nougaty shit, you get the idea.” He spares a glance in your direction long enough to study your face. “We’ve also got dark chocolate with both sea salt and some kind of intense orange peel somethin’. Do any of these work for you?”

“Why, yes, all of them but–”

“Moving on, I’ve got a box of cocoa, peppermint tea, and oh! Nearly forgot the fuckin’ heating pad.” Ari holds up the box so that you can see it. “If this isn’t the right one I will go back out and buy another.” 

The seriousness of his features makes it plain that he’s not kidding. He gingerly hands the box to you, giving you a moment to peruse the information included on the box.

How the hell could he have known that yours had only just gone out? Oh. Because you’d mentioned it the night before last. It always seemed to surprise you just how much this man seemed to listen to you. 

“This is...this is good.” You tell him, hugging the box to your chest. “It’s great, actually.”

“Thank Christ.” He breathes, relief evident in his tone. 

“Ari, did you do all this because I was feeling a little snippy this morning?” While his intentions were sweet, they also felt like a little over the top 

“Snippy? Is that what we’re calling it?” His tawny brows shoot up high enough to reach his hairline. “Because this morning you threatened to beat me with a sack of oranges for snoring too loud.”

Oh. Right. Oops.

“And when I made the mistake of walking on the carpet in my work boots, you literally threatened to unman me.”

“I was worried about the mud.” You mumble with a wince. 

“And the fact that you just so happened to be aggressively chopping vegetables at the time? Pure coincidence?”

“Yep.” Your voice comes out so small you almost surprise yourself.

“And then, when I tried to apologize and take ‘em off, you told me you were gonna throw me and them into the nearest lake. And then fly in a pack of gators to make sure that we were never seen or heard from again.” 

“A joke.” You try once more. “That’s all.”

“Yeah well, I’m not the type of man to make jokes about a woman’s monthly bein’ on the horizon.” Ari picks up a small box of what looks to be medication. “But even so, I also know how to count.” He adds with a shrug before taking a step towards you. “My sisters swear up and down that this Midol shit works wonders with demon feelings.”

“Thank you.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble when your man reaches out to gently cup your chin.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No.” You reassure him, your hand going to gently grip his wrist so you can stroke your thumb over his pulse “I’m sorry.”

Ari stares you at you for a beat, before finally leaning down to tenderly brush his mouth over yours. “S’alright, sweet Bird.” He repeats the action, smiling into the kiss when he feels you relax against him. “I reckon it ain’t all your fault.” 

“You’re too good to me, baby.” You try to pull him down on the couch with you, only to pout when he resists.  “C’mere…” You whine. “I wanna make it up to you.”

“Let me go put this stuff away first.” He rises to his full height before politely taking the box from your hands. “Unless you want some of it now.”

You take a minute to think. “Just some chocolate please.”

“Any preference?”

“Dealer’s choice.” 

Ari tosses you a random bar, which you eagerly accept without so much as a second look. You tear into it, barely removing the foil before taking a bite. It goes down so good you can’t help but have another.

“Now, I won’t be gone but a minute.” Just in case, he decides to leave you with the box of Midol as well. 

Meanwhile, you decide that it’s in your best interest to remain quiet. Because unbeknownst to this man, you had actually gotten your period today sometime after he’d left the house.

“And if those demon feelings start to come back, you just pop a couple of those, alright?” He’s still so incredibly serious about this that all you can do is nod.. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you.” You’re rewarded with a flash of teeth posing as a grin. “And when I get back, do you, uh…” He rolls his broad shoulders. “You think you got any room for me on that couch?”

Instead of responding, you choose to offer him a bite of your chocolate. You’re secretly more than a little giddy when he accepts. It was a sign that all was forgiven. 

“Why don’t you hurry back and find out?”

Still grinning, you watch as Ari hastily gathers up all of your goodies before taking off in the direction of the kitchen. “Go on and turn on one of those horror movies you like, little Bird. I’m gonna need you to snuggle close to make up for how you treated me today.” 

With that he’s gone, leaving you with just enough time to retrieve extra blankets and pillows from a nearby closet. Forget a heating pad. Having you man this close was practically like having a human furnace at your beck and call. 

Jesus Christ, how did you get so lucky?

“Beast?” You let your voice ring out as soon as you’ve found yourself a good movie. It’s been ages since you’ve watched Paranormal Activity, and you had it on good authority that Ari had never seen it.

“Yeah?” He bellows from the next room.

“Bring us a slice of cheesecake to share. I wanna enjoy it with you before we get too scared.”

“Whatever you want, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he's laughing at you in the sweetest way possible.

And quite honestly, in this moment, you wouldn't have it any other way. 

END

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[pascaloverx]

DANDELIONS

Summary: You are the new guest of the Bridgertons. Your mother, an old friend of Lady Violet Bridgerton, has requested that you spend a season at the Bridgerton house in hopes that you will change your perspective on true love and marriage. You are convinced that love is a fictional construct and that a marriage without love will be your downfall; but some time with the Bridgerton siblings might change your mind.

Author's Note: The characters belong to the Bridgerton universe and Julia Quinn. However, the story will have some changes from what happens in the Bridgerton series (2020-). Dear readers, this story may contain strong language and steamy romance scenes. It may even feature a love triangle. Be warned and enjoy the reading.

ONE THREE

TWO

The next few days at the Bridgerton house are chaotic yet incredibly fun. Between walks and conversations with Eloise, helping Francesca with embroidery during silent but very focused hours, and spending time reading with Colin, who introduced you to his favorite books and recommended others, you are quite busy. Every day you have tea with Lady Violet Bridgerton, who is enthusiastic about the idea of finding a suitor for you during the ball season. You try to share her enthusiasm, but the truth is that spending time with her family seems more adventurous than getting married. Today, for instance, you are taking Hyacinth and Gregory to pick some apples in the garden. In reality, Gregory wants to practice archery, and you think it would be a good exercise for the younger ones. Regarding the two older brothers, you have been avoiding them. It's not an easy task, but with Lydia's help, you have managed to escape any moments alone with them. You feel embarrassed for pretending to be hurt in front of one and for covering for the other. Daphne is the only one you have yet to meet, but according to the Bridgerton family, you will soon. Recently, Eloise introduced you to a close friend named Penelope. You found her to be very perceptive and kind, which is good since she seems to be part of the family, and you want to make a good impression.

"Lady Violet Bridgerton, I assure you that the three of us will be very careful while picking apples. When I was Hyacinth's age, it was my favorite pastime," you say as you finish adjusting your shoe. Lady Bridgerton still looks a bit concerned as she watches Hyacinth and Gregory run off with their bows and arrows. You smile, imagining how it will be to spend time with them.

"Believe me, dear, you will need someone to help you with those two," Lady Violet says, somewhat nervously. You look at her, feeling uncertain, and then you hear someone approaching the room where you are.

"I believe I can be of use as the older brother at this moment. I was just finishing up some financial matters, and it seems that fresh air will do us all some good," Viscount Anthony Bridgerton says, surprising you and Lady Violet. You know that Lydia will be joining you, but staying with him and the younger siblings seems like a risk.

"That won't be necessary, Viscount. There's no need to disrupt your busy schedule when I am more than capable of handling this task with my companion," you respond instantly, as if the answer were at the tip of your tongue. Anthony gives you a mischievous smile, indicating that he plans to accompany you anyway, which makes you feel a bit uneasy. Lady Violet, however, seems more relieved.

"Miss Y/L/N, forgive my frankness, but it seems that you do not desire my company. If that is the case, I would like to clear up any misunderstanding by reaffirming that I will be accompanying you and my siblings on this apple-picking outing," Viscount Bridgerton says assertively, taking a step closer to you. You stare at him, almost forgetting that there are others around you.

"Viscount, I can assure you that such an impression is a misunderstanding. I would never have any problem with your company. I simply would not want to disrupt the busy life of a Viscount, especially as a guest in his house." A lie on your part, as you really want to avoid spending time with Anthony. The Viscount Bridgerton is one of the most sought-after men in society. One wrong rumor about the two of you, and your mother would be demanding a wedding at Queen Charlotte's doorstep in a matter of minutes.

"Y/N, I can assure you that my son, busy as he may be, always finds time to spend with his siblings. You will essentially be helping him look after the younger ones. And certainly, my son will be honored by your company," Lady Violet says, lightly tapping her eldest son's arm as if expecting him to support her statement. Anthony nods slightly, as if in agreement.

"In that case, please join us, Viscount. Goodbye for now, Lady Bridgerton," you say, looking kindly at Violet and heading towards the exit of the house. Gregory and Hyacinth follow you while Anthony says something to his mother and then approaches you. Your companion, Mrs. Lydia, comes behind you silently. She seems to want to give you or Anthony space to talk. The two teenagers seem to be having fun walking among the trees.

"Miss Y/L/N, how long exactly do you intend to avoid me?" Viscount Bridgerton speaks near you, pretending to pay attention to something else so that Lydia doesn't suspect he's trying to talk to you.

"You don't need to pretend to be looking for bees among the flowers, Viscount Bridgerton. Lydia won't suspect you. As for your question, I think it's fair to say that given the nature of our last encounter, some distance seems plausible." You try to answer his question without really answering it. He smiles slightly, but it's a nervous smile. He watches the siblings ahead of us, while Lydia takes the opportunity to chat with the young Bridgertons.

"I wasn't pretending. A bee around here is too dangerous. But getting back to our main topic, I would like to apologize for the first impression I gave you," he says as if it were an obligation for him to say so, without truly wanting to apologize. You look at him, finding his pretense amusing.

"Apologies accepted, Viscount. Was that why you wanted to come with us? To apologize for your mistake?" You ask as you and Anthony walk side by side. Hyacinth and Gregory shout, calling for their brother and you as they find an apple tree.

"Not only to apologize for my mistake," Viscount Bridgerton clears his throat loudly, "but also to give you the chance to apologize to me." As soon as Anthony says this, you shoot an arrow accurately at one of the apples at the top of the apple tree that Gregory and Hyacinth are looking at. The two are pleasantly surprised and shout that your aim is great. However, Viscount Bridgerton seems to have become nervous, perhaps even a little irritated.

"Apologize to the Viscount for what reason?" You ask as you both stop walking and face each other. He seems indignant for some reason.

"For not behaving as a lady of your stature should. Surely you know you should have forced me to marry the young lady because of what happened. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to get married, and certainly not to you. I just think that in your place, I would be more concerned about this issue," Anthony says presumptuously, leaving you offended. You look him up and down and smile. He seems not to understand.

"Viscount, I must say that you seem to have misunderstood what happened. You intruded into a room designated for me, a lady. Yet somehow, you think I owe you something. Very well. I give you a warning: if a situation like this happens again, I will be your wife faster than you can pronounce Bridgerton." Your threatening tone seems to intrigue the Viscount.

"Is that a threat, Miss?" Viscount Anthony Bridgerton speaks as if surprised by the way you speak to him.

"The trick to hitting a target like that is to always have concentration and patience. A bit of determination is also appropriate." As you approach Gregory, who can't take his eyes off the arrow, you notice Anthony looking at you with a hint of mockery.

"I believe the young lady is mistaken. Hitting the target is about strength and often talent." You hear this and feel as if he is belittling your technique. So, you raise your bow and arrow in his direction, holding it out to the Viscount in front of you.

"Try to hit the target with your method then, Viscount. Let's see which one of us knows more about what we're talking about." You say, challenging him. He doesn’t hesitate to try to hit an apple almost in the same place you did. He is so sure he will surpass you that it's almost comical when his arrow hits an apple below yours. Gregory and Hyacinth are shocked while he shows no expression.

"Dear brother, I think Miss Y/L/N's method seems to be more effective," Hyacinth says with a humorous tone. Anthony looks annoyed.

"I want to try hitting the target using your tactic, brother," Gregory says as he grabs his own bow and arrow. Hyacinth laughs at him while he struggles to place the arrow on the bow.

"I actually prefer using Miss Y/L/N's tactic," Hyacinth says, showing you how quickly she can place the arrow on the bow. You guide her to focus on the target and tell her to think of something that makes her angry to make her more determined. You can hear Anthony assisting Gregory. Anthony and you exchange glances while helping the younger ones practice archery. Later, you all gather some apples together.

[chuchiotaku]

[ANNOUNCEMENT] There and Back Again Book 2

(You didn't really think I'd leave you guys hanging now, did you?)

Ron Weasley returns to Hogwarts for his second year with danger hot in his heels. Our favorite nineteen-turned-twelve year old time traveler will need more than his knowledge of the previous life to survive. Because, as Ron is about to find out, the consequences of messing with time won't always result in his favor, and that one ripple is enough to change the tides in ways he could not even anticipate.

But the real question is, whose body is doomed to lie in the Chamber forever this time? And can Ron find a way to save them and the year before it is too late?

An Archive of Our Own exclusive release.

May 2025

Other Notes:

So it turns out I'm still alive. Yay!

In case you were wondering why it took this long, it's because planning for this took longer than I thought, and harder too. Since the feedback for Year 1 was generally positive and you lot seemed to have really liked how it went, the pressure was on to at least sustain that quality of work moving forward.

AO3 Exclusive Release?

Starting book 2, all of TBA's future chapters will be posted exclusively on AO3. While I do have fond memories and much respect for FF.net for being one of the earliest and most accessible fanfiction archives out there, the amount of spam/bot reviewers and messages, the clunky, outdated user interface and the difficulty of maintaining two versions of all my fanfics has made me decide to continue updating my works in one site only.

That said, I will still be posting at least one more chapter in FF.net before moving on, also as a way for me to announce TBA's continuation at AO3 for my FF.net readers.

So how is Book 2 now?

Based on my draft outline, we're looking at 20 chapters minimum, and while some events from JK's original Chamber of Secrets work will come up in this fanfic (I expect most of you will want Ron and co. to face the big bad snake at some point), there are a few surprises here and there in store for you. As for who has opened the Chamber and who will be the Basilisk's victims this time around, our guess is as good as Ron's.

I hope to release the first chapter roll and the preview of the first chapter by April 2025 before the official release, barring any unforeseen circumstances. Life, you know I'm looking at you.

Thank you again for your support for There and Back Again book 1, and hoping for your continued patronage for book 2!

Also,

Happy Birthday, Ron!

PS: I am so behind answering DMs, Asks and all other things. To all who have sent me messages, I'm sorry for the delays in responding but I have received them and I will get back to you soon. I just have to remember that Tumblr has an inbox for messages and asks. Four years on this bloody thing and I still can't remember that. 😅

[bambihrt]

Christmas in Hell

a very hazbin christmas, full of joy, cheer and a party for the ages

Alastor x reader

Reader needs the perfect gift for Angel Dust but has to ask a certain someone for help. Just a little fluffy holiday special.

You would think after death the holidays wouldn't be very important. In hell, especially you would think since they're not big fans of the big guy in charge that they wouldn't celebrate a certain someone's birth. Well Charlie Morningstar was not going to let those facts ruin her super-duper fantastical holiday party.

Christmas Eve

Despite the lack of Christmas spirit Angel Dust was booked and busy letting Santa come down the chimney in a few special videos to be released the next day. Even though his stocking was being filled early you, as his best friend, were stressing over the perfect gift to get him.

Earlier in the week, Charlie has gathered everyone in the hotel to the main space where she had set up a giant tree that reached the ceiling. Charlie and her partner Vaggie, covered in pine needles and wearing lumberjack clothing, held Husk's hat full of folded slips of paper open for the circle.

"Hiiiii everyone! Hope you're all merry and ready for a fun group bonding exercise!" Charlie began.

She was met with loud groans and signs. "Shut up and listen to Charlie she put a lot of work into this," Vaggie huffed with rage.

"Thanks Vaggie. Anyways, I've set up a secret Santa for everyone to- HEAR ME OUT OKAY yes so you'll choose a name and then on Christmas we'll swap gifts and it will be so fun!" Charlie explained while passing the hat along and giggling and staring you down when she picked a piece of paper.

Since you had died quite young, your family hadn't make it to Hell yet or they made are in the place above, so you haven't celebrated since making your way to the after life, so this sounded like fun. But you couldn't resist a playful eye roll as you chose your paper reading Angel Dust to yourself.

Husk groaned while picking from his hat and then placing it on his head, "I thought through death I escaped obligatory in-law get togethers but now I have this shit."

Fast forward back to present day you were still stuck on what you could get him. Adult toys? No give him a break from work. Drugs? Not that you want to encourage that habit. Nifty had been no help when you asked. Muttering on about bad boys and cleaning. You didn't bother with asking Husk. Sir Pentious was still being coached on the whole secret Santa concept. Vaggie and Charlie had too many good ideas but none felt right for Angel Dust. This left you with only one option.

Knocking twice on the radio demon's door, your face twisted with instant regret and immediately started back down the hallway. "Leaving so soon? Now here I was thinking you saved the best for last." The gaze of his knowing smile burned the back of your head as you swiveled around.

"Sorry Alastor it was stupid idea I'll leave you to do... whatever you were doing."

"Nonsense my dear! Why I'd be happy to help my favorite guest with a gift for a certain effeminate fellow!"

"How did you-"

Alastor let out his practiced laugh, "Discretion is not one of your strengths (y/n)."

Your cheeks set alight hearing Alastor call you by your first name, no pet name or teasing nicknames. He held the door open and you avoided his gaze while leading inside. The great radio demon sauntered over to his large cherry wood desk inside his room and sat in a leather cushion maroon chair. Due to the lack of seating options, you hovered near the edge of his bed while le smiled and motioned for you to take a seat with a teasing glint in his eye.

Mustering up the courage to break the silence you asked, "I thought you didn't allow visitors inside your room."

Twiddling with his microphone cane Alastor responded, "I can make exceptions."

"I don't have any VoxTek on me by the way. Just in case you wondered."

A sound came from him, almost like a real giggle but you must of been mistaken. "I know (y/n)."

"Well since you seem to know everything what would be the perfect gift for Angel Dust that will show I'm a wonderful friend?"

"I can only give you hints, would spoil the game if I told you."

You groaned and fell back against the bed. Of course coming to Alastor was a mistake. As if an overlord would want to help silly you buy a silly gift for a silly holiday.

"Cheer up dearie! You're closer to the answer then you might think."

Eyebrows furrowed and dread he might make a fool of you, you asked him for the first hint.

"Something to do with your weekly film Friday events perhaps?"

"It's actually called freaky Friday because of our shared love of movies from the noughties." You said with a cheeky grin. "Angel also loves a dirty joke whenever it's possible to have one."

"Ah yes you, the spider ,and the swine all cuddled together in your matching pajamas on the settee watching princess makeovers and assistant makeovers and-"

"Hey it's more than just makeovers!" However, the comment gave you an idea, "Oh my god what if I get him a Fat Nuggets blanket?"

A round of applause played while Alastor called out "Ding ding! We have a winner!"

Letting out a sheepish smile and thank you, you rose from the bed ready to search for a way to get this made by the end of the day. Then a perfectly wrapped gift appeared in front of your face and dropped into your hands. Your head whipped in the direction of the smiling demon across the room.

"Is this what I think it is? How did you have it already?"

"I know you."

With a flushed face and full arms you made your way out of the room and through the doorway. Only halfway through the walk to your bedroom did you realize Alastor knew of your movie nights and took note of the matching pajamas. The radio demon noticed you.

Christmas Day

A giant fire roared in the hearth as bells rung and music played around the hotel. Excitement filled the air as the originally dismissive group exchanged gifts to each other. You and Angel Dust hung together watching the others until you announced you had something for him.

"Aw (y/n) you're my secret Santa?"

You snatched the Santa hat off Angel Dust's head in embarassment and placed it on your own as you laughed, "Had to get something for my ho ho hoe."

After a fit of giggles said spider unwrapped his gift and his eyes lit up, "If you had a dick I'd suck it so hard right now thank you doll."

Christmas was a success and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief and a laugh at your best friend's words as he snuggled himself within the blanket along with its muse in his lap.

Charlie rose up to give her gift as you prepared yourself with being thankful and happy no matter what she gave you. Until she turned to Nifty with a gift that turned out to be a new dress for her. Filled with confusion you swore to Angel that you thought Charlie got you due to her obviousness. Then the young Morningstar turned again to look above you and smiled so brightly.

Both yours and Angel Dust moved to see what she was smiling at behind you only to be face to face, or well chest, of the radio demon. Grinning down at you with his hands behind his back he laughed and said, "Happy Christmas from your secret Santa."

"What? I thought for sure it was Charlie."

"We struck a sort of deal," Alastor explained while behind your back Charlie gave a thumbs up as the rest of the crew stopped to watch.

The gift was handed to you as you carefully unwrapped it, conscious of all the eyes currently on you or rather what a scary overlord has given you as a gift. Inside was a beautifully crafted music box with carvings of your favorite flowers and sculptures of little deer in a meadow. You opened the box and your ears are met with an instrumental version of your favorite song.

"How did you-"

"Like I said I know you (y/n)."

Suddenly Charlie's voice bellowed, "Look who's under the mistletoe!" As if you couldn't be any more red from this interaction you now looked up to see that very mistletoe above you and Alastor. Your facial expression fell realizing this was going to be so awkward, being rejected in front of everyone despite it not being caused by you. Full of thoughts on how to escape or come up with a nonchalant response to not even being wanted for one measly peck and planning when you'll disappear to nurse your ego, you were distracted from the real world. That was until a pair of lips met your own in a soft yet hungry kiss. The moment felt like eternity yet also a millisecond at the same time. Before you could return the kiss, the deer demon pulled back and with a wink, walked away.

Shocked faces and silence filled the room as no one expected Alastor's actions. Lightly touching your lips, you thought maybe Christmas in Hell isn't so bad.

[agaypanic]

Hello! I'd love to request Charlie Swan with a teacher girlfriend. Perhaps he comes to visit on his lunch or something and sees how attached the kids are to her and it makes him happy to see how caring she is. Please and thank you!(I work with pre k but my former class was todds and they are still clingy 💖💖)

Lunch Break (Charlie Swan X Teacher!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan visits his girlfriend on his lunch break, and can’t help but adore the way she is with her students.

A/N: i know nothing about taking care of or teaching little kids lol

***

Charlie wasn’t used to being around a toddler, let alone twenty of them. Even when his daughter Bella was at that age, he didn’t see her much. 

Yet here he was, sitting in his girlfriend’s classroom, having lunch with her while a group of toddlers napped on the floor.

“So, how’s your day been?” You asked in a whisper, picking at the burger and fries that Charlie had brought you from the Carver Cafe.

“Oh, not much.” He responded in an equally low voice, but more gruff. His fingers smoothed over his mustache before speaking again. “Still looking into those missing persons cases, but we’ve been coming up with nothing.”

“You’ll find something, bear.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch. “You always do.”

“Yeah, maybe… But enough about me, how’s your day?”

You let out a tiny laugh, not surprised that Charlie would bounce the attention onto you as soon as he could.

“Well, today we had an art day.” You gestured to one of your tables on the opposite side of the room, covered in different drying papers. “Watercolor, crayon, markers, that kind of thing. That was really fun. I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but I really like Delilah’s. You know her mom, right? Samantha?” Charlie nodded after a quick moment of thought, and so you continued. “Well, she wanted to make a meadow, so she covered her paper in green, and then she stamped little fingerprints all over as flowers. I mean, you kinda have to ask her what it is to figure out what it is, but I don’t know, it was really cute and- oh my god, I’m rambling, huh?” You covered your mouth to stop more word vomit from spilling, a little giggle slipping past your fingers.

Charlie pulled your hand away, laying a kiss on your knuckles. He nudged your knee with his own, a coy smile on his lips.

“No, I like hearing you talk.” Your cheeks reddened, and you scrunched your nose at him. He squeezed your hand. “Come on, keep going. What happened after painting?”

“Read the kids a story.” You answered, trying to remember the title. “They really like that Llama Llama book. But some of the kids really wanted ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!’ so I told them I’d read that after nap time. Then they all had food, fell asleep, and then you came with lunch.” You ate a fry before stealing a sip of Charlie’s coffee. You liked how he didn’t mind, instead watching you with a fond expression. “Which is delicious, by the way, thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

“Ms. Y/n?” A tiny voice sounded from one of the sleeping mats. You gave Charlie’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and standing up from your chair.

“Jayden?” You asked quietly, even though you knew it was him from his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Bad dream.” The little boy answered, rolling off his cot and looking at you with bleary eyes and a frown.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey.” You said softly, crouching down close to him. “Do you want a hug?”

He nodded a few times, carefully walking through his sleeping classmates to reach you. He latched his arms around your neck, and you patted his back, waiting until he felt better.

Charlie saw the interaction from the corner of his eye, not wanting little Jayden to feel watched. He couldn’t help but smile at how quickly you were able to comfort him. It was clear that you were made for this kind of work, being so caring and nurturing without even thinking about it.

“Feeling better?” You asked Jayden as he let go of you, and he nodded. You smiled at him. “I’m glad. Now, you have a couple more minutes before we gotta start waking up. Do you wanna lay back down?” Jayden nodded again, and with a little wave of his hand, he tiptoed back over to his mat. 

When he was settled, you stood up from your crouched position and went back to Charlie, who was looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“What?” You asked, finishing off the rest of your food.

“Nothing.” He said, shaking his head a bit. Charlie looked at his watch and sighed, realizing his break was almost over. “I should probably leave. The boys’ll need me back at the station soon.”

“Okay.” You said with a slight pout, wishing you had more time with him. The two of you cleaned up, Charlie insisting that he could throw the trash away on his way out. “I’ll see you later, bear.”

“See you soon, sweetheart.” Charlie kissed your cheek and went to the door, giving you a wave before exiting the room.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm a Malleus yume, and I'm in total agreement with you. I don't understand why people are so desperately trying to twist the situation in Malleus favor with such bizarre reasons??? like I love my man, but like all the overblotters, he's in the wrong.

Vil was wrong when he tried to poison Neige, Riddle was wrong when he enforced his rules to the point of tyranny, etc. and Malleus is wrong for trapping everyone in dreams against their wishes.

Yes, there are a lot of things going on in the background, like the war and Lilia's departure and how it affected Malleus, but like.... this is happening now. Malleus is doing these things now, and it is hurting people.

Also, as for the "enemy of mankind" and "ruler of evil“ thing. These are characters with opinions, they are doing A Narrative with Conflicts, so of course they are going to be Conflicting and have Opinions. god. liking a character ≠ endorsement of their actions. people don't need to jump through the moral hoop to justify so and so's actions. just say "man that's messed up" and move on!!!!

[Referencing this post!]

I’m not going to rehash the points or the counters brought up here. You can refer to the original discussion linked above, which goes into much more detail, if you’re interested or haven’t already seen it yet. In this post, I'm going to be speculating as to why some individuals may be "desperately trying to twist the situation in Malleus's favor with such bizarre reasons," as the asker puts it.

TO BE CLEAR: I do not mean to disparage Malleus fans, and nor am I claiming that ALL Malleus fans engage in this behavior; this post is meant to be a critical look at why we see some of the fandom behaviors that we do.

As stated in the original post, I believe that many of these defenses are coming from some (not ALL) English-speaking Malleus fans. Why might that be? Well, firstly, some important things to keep in mind:

Malleus is EXTREMELY popular in the EN fandom, especially as a character to yume/ship with oneself. (He's been decently popular in the JP server as of late too, but there is still a noticeable positive bias for Malleus on the EN side.) Several fan polls consistently indicate that at least 50% of responders list Malleus as their favorite character/one of their favorite characters or indicate that they yume with him. This means there will always be considerable positive bias for Malleus among the English-speaking fanbase. Statistically speaking, this also means that extreme Malleus defenses are more likely to occur because there is already such a high volume of Malleus fans to begin with.

The average age for an EN player skews younger (like, teenager to young adult) than the JP playerbase (which, on average, seems to be women in their mid to late-20s). While it's not always true that younger = more immature/less knowledgeable, it IS the case that younger fans will generally have less life experience and thus less of a nuanced understanding of the world compared to older individuals. It is also (again, generally) the case that younger fans tend to have a more black/white view of morality and are more likely to demand that content cater to their own worldviews.

I was very shocked to read many of the recent Malleus defenses that I did. Some of them went so extreme with their wording that it almost felt as though they believed Malleus was the victim in the events of book 7 rather than the several thousands of people under his spell. While I understand being protective of a character one enjoys, I felt that some arguments took it much too far and seemed to entirely push the blame onto other characters instead of holding Malleus accountable for his actions. Similar radical defenses of Malleus have a tendency to crop up with every subsequent book 7 update. For example, there were (and still are) debates about who exactly is "responsible" for the nature of the dreams, Malleus or the dreamers themselves. So what's up here? Why the hubbub about Malleus specifically?

Well, in addition to the two points I brought up earlier (EN fans being younger on average + Malleus being a popular character), I believe a lot of it comes down to some fans being extremely attached to him. This is a phenomenon I often observe with Malleus in particular (and not as prominently with other Twst characters) due to how he is presented:

The main story narrative introduces him as Yuu's special friend, and Yuu is considered special to him in return (as he is usually feared or forgotten by others). Due to this, he is already set up as being "different" and "important" to many players.

We, as outsiders, are allowed to glimpse the positive sides of Malleus that most of the cast do not get to see. We may make the mistake of assuming that our understanding of him is what others see or believe that this is what they should see, in spite of this knowledge gap. This can lead to frustrations when other characters misunderstand him or don't see him the same way the player does.

He is a mysterious entity that we don't know much about, and it has been that way for a few years. This makes it very easy to project onto Malleus and make him whatever type of guy you want. This can heighten one's attachment to him, as you have now put in all this effort to flesh him out yourself.

Many people relate to and empathize with Malleus being lonely and awkward. This can contribute to a parasocial bond with him, and lead to the feeling that if someone dislikes or condemns Malleus, it is also a personal attack on those similar to Malleus.

His book being the last one, Malleus fans were starved for content and thus had to "fill in the void" by coming up with their own creations and headcanons. This means that by the time Malleus did become relevant, fans had already formed a preconceived notion of what he would or should be like (ie the "fanon"), which is, oftentimes, a much "softer" interpretation of him. This may then be superimposed over his actual character and the actions he takes in canon. To resolve the resulting cognitive dissonance, those fans might become defensive in his name.

The narrative of Twst hardly ever holds Malleus responsible for the things he says and does; it is therefore possible that some Malleus fans got used to that and assume this will be the norm for him. Now that others are calling for him to take some accountability, it goes against that norm and this may cause discomfort in those fans.

No one wants to see their favorite character hurt and/or die, and that has become a very real fear considering what book 7 is building up to. When people experience intense emotions like distress, they fail to think rationally and are more likely to talk off the cuff and make wild assumptions. This is a psychological truth; you can find many research papers about this if you don't believe me.

Not sure how strong of a point this one is, but I feel that sunk cost fallacy also plays a role. This refers to a reluctance to abandon something because you have already heavily invested so much in it. In this case, fans don't want to leave Malleus because they have already sunk so much time and emotional effort into him.

Considering all of that, I shouldn't be surprised that some fans became very upset at even the mere suggestion that Malleus has done bad things or should be "punished" for that. A lot of the arguments try to point out his good traits to balance it out, when that's not really the issue at hand. There are hardly any people out there denying that Malleus has good traits. There are hardly any people out there claiming that Malleus is purely wicked. There are hardly any people out there saying that Malleus doesn't have a sympathetic backstory or relatable motivations. What people actually want is for someone with both good and bad traits (ie Malleus) who is objectively harming people or threatening to harm them, to receive repercussions, given the enormity of his actions and how little he has been called out before relative to his peers.

[samwinchesterswifu]

Waiting For The End (Dean Winchester x Reader Angst)

Based off the ending of Season Five

Song Inspo: "Waiting For The End" by Linkin Park

Warnings: so much fucking angst. heartbreak.

MINORS DNI

A/N: of course my first story of 2025 has to be a dean shit show. enjoy the pain lol

Word Count: 1,042

Summary: Not only does she lose her best friend, but also her lover.

The days that followed Sam’s magnificent sacrifice felt draining and incredibly lonely. She also lost someone that felt like a little brother to her. After all these years of growing up with the boys. Her best friend was gone, and her lover was absent. She had driven home with Bobby that evening after Sam jumped, understanding that Dean needed some time to cool off. She had tried to call him more than a few times to check if he was alive only for it to go to voicemail. Each night was restless just like her father. These times were spent with her reading up demonology books and helping hunters on their cases. She desperately wanted to take a few days off herself to let loose. But, she knew she had other important work to do. That’s how the Singer’s worked. 

On this particular day, she was in the family shop working on her two-door ‘67 Cherry Red Chevy Chevelle Convertible. She remembers the day that Bobby had gifted it to her. For her first Vamp kill at 16. He was so damn proud of her for taking that thing down like a champ. She smiles fondly peeking into the back seat, remembering her and Dean’s first kiss that summer when the boys had come to stay while John went on a hunt. 

It was a brisk summer evening in late July. They had just finished a picnic and were laying down in the backseat to stargaze. One of Dean’s favorite pastimes despite what Sam knew of his brother. His head laid in her lap while she was propped up against the door. Her fingers playing with his semi-grown out hair. Earning soft hums of approval from Dean in the process. Dean in the meantime softly caressed her thighs. These moments, while small, felt large in their tiny world. 

“Do you ever wish you could, just, escape it all?” Dean whispered from his spot. Glazing up at the belt of Orion. 

“You know I always do De, why do you ask?” 

“I wonder what it would be like for us to have an apple pie life,” he replies, taking a quick peek at her before shifting his gaze back to the stars. 

“You want to settle down with me?” She asked in a hush tone. Honestly shocked that a young boy had such big thoughts. 

“Yeah.” Dean says with a cheeky smile. Finally meeting her eyes. 

Before she could respond, Dean had flipped from his position and was now sitting on his knees. He leans in timidly. His eyes shifted between her own, and her lips. 

“Dean,” she breathed out heavily. Caught by surprise. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers. 

As she nods he quickly leans in with her permission. His lips tasted sweet like the butterscotch candy they had just shared. Her hand comes to cup his neck, keeping him in the kiss for a few seconds longer before he pulls away. 

“Yeah, I think I would really like to settle down with you,” he whispers with a glint of hope in his eyes. 

A sharp knock at the metal door pulls her from her memory. Dean stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asks in a deep voice. Something hanging on the edge of his tongue she couldn't quite catch. 

“You know you always can,” she replies with a nervous smile. 

Dean moves to lean against the front of her Chevelle. His hands help him steady. She copies his movement. After a few moments of silence, a sharp fire starts to form in her chest. He was never this quiet unless something truly bothered him. 

“Dea-” 

“I’m leaving,” he states coldly. 

She looks at him baffled. Not once did she ever imagine he could say those words. 

“What?”

“I’ve already talked to Bobby. He’ll take care of you, he always does. But this-” Dean pauses for a moment and looks at her. 

Her heart sank in her chest. She knew that look. Hollow and empty.

“Whatever we had, between us, it’s over.” 

A short laugh leaves her lips. There was no way this man was serious. 

“You’re joking right? After everything we’ve-”

“I’m going back to Lisa.” 

Nope, he was serious. 

“Fine.” She replies coldly. She knew what Lisa meant to Dean, and if it was that easy for him to forget their history. Then, fine. 

“What?” Dean asks. A shift in emotion flashed across his face before returning to stark emptiness. 

“If that’s how you want to do things, then fine. I was willing to wait for you Dean. Whatever time you needed after Sam I understood better than anyone,” she pauses and takes a deep breath. “But if you wanna throw that into my face, then fine. You’re free to go.” She waves her hand dismissively. 

A small scoff leaves Dean as he begins to walk away from her car. He takes a moment to pause and looks back at her.

“Just like that?” He asks. Completely aware of what he was doing to her. 

“Yep. Just like that.” She responds coldly. 

“This was never meant to last,” she spits in spite. 

Dean looks at her wide eyed and hesitant. But yet again returns to being robotic. 

“Yeah, this was never meant to last.” He replies and fully walks away. 

She watches him climb into his Impala. The same car they shared their first intimate moments in. She watches as he adjusts the rear view mirror to be able to see her full figure. He sits like that for a moment. Almost hoping that he would run back to her, but that's not how the Winchesters did things. Her heart cracks as she hears the engine roar to life and as he speeds off onto the highway. 

As she was certain he was far from view she slid down against the hood. Once sitting on the shop floor, she brings her knees up to her chest with her head resting against her front bumper. Deep sobs leave her chest as she starts to process what just transpired. The man she loved was gone. That she was certain. And this hurt more than any pain any monster can inflict.