#'(squints at page) okay but are you doing it RIGHT'

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*takes upside-down book from Fellow, flips in right-side-up, and hands it back to him* :)

In this interaction, I make a reference to the reading scene between Belle and the Beast. While those two characters are romantically involved, it’s not meant to be the case between Fellow and the reader here.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“I-I knew that!l Fellow insisted, swiveling away to shield his (now right-side up) book from you. “I was just testing you to see if you knew!”

You nodded patiently—understandingly. “Uh-uh.” You paused, an idea forming at the tips of your lips. “Hey, why don’t you read the story to me? I kinda want to know what it’s about since you’re so into it.”

The bravado in Fellow’s face instantly drained. Too late to back down, too humiliating if he confessed. He released a stuttering reply.

“Uh… alright.”

Fellow flipped open to the first page of the book. He squinted desperately at the unfamiliar lines of twisting words, as if trying to manifest an answer with his eyeballs.

“Hmmmm…” He grunted, straining with effort. “Mmmm…”

A few awkward minutes passed like this, with Fellow attempting—and failing—to decipher the story. At last, he clapped the book shut and slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. His ears flattened, reminding you of a misbehaving dog prepared for a scolding.

“I… I can’t,” he admitted bashfully. “I can’t do it.”

Before you could say anything, Fellow quickly added, “I learned! … A little.” He ran a finger down the thick body of pages. “It’s just that it’s so… long.”

“Oh, is that it?” You chuckled, leaning over and tapping the cover. “Well, here. I’ll help you.”

With one hand, you eased the book back open. Back to the beginning. You indicated the first line and offered an encouraging smile.

“Let’s start at this spot, okay?”

Fellow hesitated, but his mouth ran anyway, betraying him. “Okay.”

He glimpsed the opening line. T, followed by a W and an O. A strange combination, so rarely spotted in the wild. Fellow tried to connect them in his mind, cramming sounds beside one another and on his tongue.

“T-Tuoh…”

“Two,” you gently corrected him. “Like the number.”

“Two…” The next word, he recognized—so long as he broke it up into smaller pieces. Confidence slowly returned to his voice. “House… holds. Two households…”

“That’s right. Very good! You’re a very fast learner.”

“R-Really?!”

Fellow leapt at the praise. Warmth sang in his chest. It was a feeling foreign to him—the hand on his back, the smile and the support fed to him.

“Hmph, of course I am! Fellow Honest-sama is a man of many talents,” he gloated, puffing up like a peacock. “Watch this, I’ll clear this entire story today!!”

“Ahahah, I look forward to it.”

[anjee0]

My Brother's best friend

Chapter 2 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

B Rabbit x Female!reader. (Feel free to put an oc insert if you wish as well)

Description - In which Y/n starts to become friends and possibly more with her brother's best friend, BRabbit.

Y/n stood in front of the milk fridge at the supermarket as she pondered which milk she should get. It didn't matter which one she did buy, Jordan would tell her that she got the milk either way. It wasn't even her turn to do the groceries, it was Jordan's, but he made his sister do it. She was already tired from her shift and now she had to do the shopping.

Y/n felt a small tap on her leg and looked down to be met with a little girl. She had short, blonde hair and big brown eyes. Her cheeks were stained rosy pink and she had a small frown on her face.

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?” Y/n asked.

“No, I lost my brother. I can't find him.” The girl responded.

“Oh, what's your name?” 

“Lily.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows when she heard the girl speak her name. She'd heard that name somewhere before but she wasn't sure when. It took a few seconds for everything to click when she remembered that Jimmy had a younger sister named Lily.

“All right, Lily. I'm Y/n. Does your brother happen to be Jimmy?”

“Yeah! How did you know?”

“I know him. Come on, I have an idea.”

Lily took Y/n's hand as they walked to the checkout area and approached a cashier.

“What are we doing?” Lily asked.

“You'll see,” Y/n responded with a small smile.

Y/n turned to face the cashier at the register and gave a smile. “Uh hey there…” She said, squinting her eyes to try to read the cashier’s name tag. “Rachel. This little girl, Lily, lost her brother, Jimmy. Is it okay if you can use your little intercom thing to call him over?”

Rachel groaned slightly and nodded. “What's the brother's full name?”

“Jimmy Smith Jr,” Lily responded shyly.

Rachel sighed and spoke it to the intercom. “Could Jimmy Smith Jr come to check out number 3? Your sister Lily is here waiting for you.” She said in a monotonous tone.

It was only a matter of time before Jimmy came jogging to the checkout to get Lily. He slowed down and raised his eyebrow when he saw Y/n standing with his sister.

Lily immediately ran over to Jimmy and hugged him tightly, with Y/n walking behind her.

“Hey, Lily.” Jimmy greeted with a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around his sister.

“Hey, Rabbit,” Y/n said with a smirk on her face.

“Y/n… thank you. Honestly. I got so fucking scared.” 

“Hey, language!” Lily called out.

Y/n and Jimmy laughed at Lily's response to her brother swearing.

“Lily, what do you say to Y/n?” Jimmy asked.

“Thank you, Y/n,” Lily responded timidly as her cheeks quickly became red again.

“No problem Lily.” 

“Uh, are you doing anything tomorrow?” Jimmy asked.

“No, I'm free. Why?” Y/n replied, smiling softly.

“Uh, do you maybe wanna do something with me tomorrow? You know, we can get to know each other more.”

“Sounds cool. Where are we going?”

“I'll figure it out. I'll give you my number, hold on.”

Jimmy took a small notebook (about the size of his palm) and pen out of his pocket. He ripped out a page of it and scribbled his number down.

“Do you always just carry a little notebook around with you?” Y/n asked in a teasing manner.

“If I ever get an idea for a lyric randomly, it comes in handy.”

Y/n took the paper from Jimmy before putting it in her pocket.

“Wait, so you saw Rabbit at the grocery store and he asked you out on a date?” Carly asked through the phone.

“Yeah, but it's not a date. He just wants to get to know me.” Y/n replied as she twisted the curly telephone cord.

“That's a date, babe.” 

“No, it's not. We established that over the phone.”

“You got his number?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Well, where are you guys going?”

“He's got the whole day planned out. We're gonna have breakfast at Chin Tiki-”

“Chin Tiki?”

“I know but he said that they have a really good breakfast menu.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I know; I was surprised, too. Anyway, after that we might just take a stroll and then have lunch. Then we might have a little ride around town and I have a feeling we might have dinner as well.”

“Girl, that is a date!”

“He's just being a nice guy.”

“Yeah, a nice guy who desperately wants you to be his girlfriend,” Carly responded sarcastically.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, whatever. Okay, enough about me, what about you? What happened with Wink last night, I didn't get to ask you.”

“Meh, not much. He's cute but not my type. I mean, there's this one guy I'm talking to but-”

“But what?”

“He's really sweet and cute and caring but I have a feeling it might not work out.”

Y/n could practically feel Carly frowning on the other side. “Hey, don't say that. Everything will be fine. Who is this guy anyway?”

“I think it's best if I keep this one secret. I just wanna make sure everything will turn out fine before I say anything.”

“That's fine Carly. I understand.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

“Uh, listen, is it okay if you could do a favour for me please?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“So Jordan is gonna flip if I tell him I'm going out with Rabbit. Is it okay if you can cover and just pretend I'm with you?”

“Of course, girl. I got your back.”

“Okay thank you.”

They talked for another hour or so, catching up with each other and talking about their work before they decided to hang up the call. 

The morning rolled in as the sun's light rays shone down onto Y/n's face. Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and tried to adjust the brightness. She suddenly remembered that she was going out with Rabbit today so she immediately got out of bed and started getting ready.

She threw on a simple skirt and a crop top, did her hair and makeup and went downstairs. Jordan was sitting at the table, eating his breakfast quickly so he wouldn't be late for work.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“To Carly's. We're just gonna hang out for the day.” 

Y/n tried to remain casual and calm so her brother wouldn't pick up on her lie.

“Okay, don't do anything dumb. I have to go to work.” Jordan replied.

He quickly got up and left the house. Y/n let out a breath of relief she didn't realise she was holding in. 

A few minutes later, Y/n heard a knock on the door as she ran a little bit too happily to open it. She saw Rabbit leaning his arm against the doorpost, smirking.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yup.” Y/n replied, grabbing her handbag from the table.

As soon as Y/n stepped out the house, she could feel the cold breeze of the Michigan air hit her face and body. She started to regret wearing a skirt and a crop top but she was sure she would eventually adjust to the cold.

They wasted no time getting into the car and buckling up to leave. 

“By the way, I should tell you something.” Y/n said.

“Sure, what's up?” Rabbit asked.

“I kinda lied to Jordan and told him I'm hanging out with my friend Carly.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Jordan would get mad if he found out I was hanging out with one of his friends.”

“Well then why did you say yes to hang out with me?”

“Because you seem like a nice guy and I'd like to get to know you better.” 

Rabbit chuckled. “I'm not the nicest guy, but I guess it's nice you thought that.”

“So are you okay with me lying to my brother?”

“You can do what you want but it kinda feels wrong.”

“That's understandable. We can cancel if you don't wanna do this.”

“No, no. I wanna do this, it'll be cool. I guess we just gotta be… cautious?”

“Yeah. Cautious. We'll be cautious.”

Y/n immediately noticed how different Chin Tiki looked during the day. It looked like a completely different bar. The atmosphere felt more relaxed and calm compared to the lively and noisy atmosphere during the night. There was no one inside except the people working there and Y/n and Rabbit. 

“It doesn't even feel like I'm in Chin Tiki.” Y/n said as she tried to start a conversation.

“I know. It's strange, right?” Rabbit responded.

“How'd you even find out about this?”

“I was just walking around one morning and saw Chin Tiki open so I decided to go in. The best part is that the food is cheap and tastes amazing.”

A second or two later, a waiter came over to their table and gave them their menus. Y/n could feel her mouth water at the food displayed in the menus. There was a wide range of breakfast items from pancakes and waffles to toast and even cereal.

“Wow, I don't even know what to choose.” Y/n chuckled.

“I normally go for the regular waffles. It's simple but it tastes great.” Rabbit replied.

“Hmm, I think I'll go for that then too.”

A few minutes after they ordered, their food came to the tables. The waffles were warm with a crispy edge and a soft inside and middle. The golden, shiny syrup was dripping off the edges and to top it off a small square of soft butter. The waffles tasted sweet and phenomenal and the syrup just made it all the better.

“Damn Rabbit, this is really good. I should come here often.” Y/n praised.

Rabbit smiled softly, knowing that Y/n was enjoying herself so far. “You work at a diner right?” He asked.

“Yeah. Karl's diner. The one around the diner.” 

“I've never been there before. Is it good?”

“The food looks good. I've never eaten there though. I just wait and make the milkshakes. I don't cook any of the food.”

“Maybe I should visit you sometime.”

For the rest of the day, they spent their time driving around and taking strolls. Rabbit showed Y/n some parts of 8 mile he'd always gone when he was younger. Y/n enjoyed watching him talk about his childhood memories of him hanging out with his friends and writing lyrics with them.

The sun started to set and they found a rooftop to sit on to watch the sunset. The sky was like a canvas of yellow, pink and purple watercolours blending into each other as the sun disappeared into the horizon.

Y/n looked down and saw that Chin Tiki was open. The loud music from the inside sounded muffled from where they sat. Bright lights could be seen from shining through the windows and onto the pavement outside.

“Should we go to Chin Tiki?” Y/n asked, nodding her head over to the building.

“Why not.” Rabbit replied.

When they got in, it was more packed and busy than usual. People were in nearly every corner of the bar dancing, talking or drinking. Off to one side of the bar, there were a lot of people dancing together, laughing and having the time of their life— and it easily caught Y/n's attention.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” She asked.

“I can't dance.” Rabbit replied.

“That makes the two of us.” 

Y/n chuckled and grabbed Rabbit's hand and dragged him over. She put her hands at the side of his neck while he rested his hands on the waistband of the skirt. They swayed to the music and held each other closer as the second went by. 

What they didn't notice was Jordan and the other guys walking into Chin Tiki and taking a seat at a table. Whilst all the guys were having a conversation, Cheddar spotted two familiar faces on the dance floor holding each other close and swaying. Y/n and Rabbit.

“Hey Jordan, isn't that your sister with Rabbit?” Cheddar asked.

Jordan and all the guys immediately looked up and spotted Rabbit and Y/n putting their hands on each other and dancing.

Rabbit's hand went down Y/n thigh and slowly trailed down it. He picked her leg up and gently brought her knee to his hip. Y/n moved her head back as Rabbit moved his nose along her neck. For a moment, it felt like they were the only ones in the room. When Y/n brought her head back, their noses slightly brushed.

“You're not too bad.” She whispered.

“You too.” Rabbit responded.

Jordan had enough and came storming over feeling engulfed in anger. He pulled Rabbit off his sister and pushed him on a table. Everyone in the club fell silent and turned to watch what was happening.

“What the fuck are you doing with my sister man?!” Jordan shouted angrily.

Rabbit quickly got up and brushed himself off. “I'm just dancing with her, man.”

“Dancing with her, yeah? You're putting your fucking hands all over her!” Jordan quickly turned to his sister and that's when she could really see the anger through his eyes. “And you! You said you were with Carly!”

Before Y/n could say anything, Jordan grabbed her hand and dragged her outside to the parking lot. Rabbit and the guys followed behind.

“What do you think you were doing?! Getting all close with him like that!” Jordan exclaimed.

“We were just dancing! Hanging out!” Y/n replied, even louder than her brother.

“You lied to me! You said you were with Carly!”

“Fine! Yes! I lied! Me and Rabbit bumped into each other at the store yesterday and decided to hang out.”

“Why?”

“We just wanted to talk and get to know each other better after we met the night before. Plus, we had nothing else to do.”

“So you lied to me.”

“You wouldn't let me go. And don't lie to me saying that you would've said yes.”

Jordan stayed silent and kissed his teeth. “Fine. I wouldn't have you let go but that's because Rabbit's my friend! You know how fucking weird it would be if my sister doing shit with my best friend?!”

“We weren't doing anything!”

“That little dance that you had sure proved something.”

“Why are you so overprotective over me?! I'm twenty fucking two, I'm an adult! I can make my own decisions, I don't need you dictating me! Gosh, you are such a bad brother!” Y/n shouted. She could her voice crack as tears slipped out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I'm going home.” 

Y/n wasted no time leaving the car park and walking past the guys. “Show’s over.” She muttered to them.

As she left the car park and started walking on the pavement back home, Rabbit quickly caught up with her.

“Y/n.” He breathed out when reached her.

“Leave me alone Rabbit. I'll just make it worse for you.”

“Don't worry about me.” 

“I just ruined your friendship with your best friend. I'm such a dick. I should've just told the truth.”

“Y/n, don't worry about that. I'll deal with myself. Are you okay?”

“Not really. I feel like a slut.”

“You're not.”

“Really? Because the way I was dancing with you sure said something.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“Me too.”

They both stopped walking and faced each other as they looked into each other's eyes. 

“Look, I had a nice night,” Rabbit began. “And I know it ended really badly but I think I've never enjoyed hanging out with a girl this much until tonight.”

“Really?” Y/n asked.

Rabbit nodded.

“I haven't hung out with a guy like this in ages. I guess I enjoyed tonight too.”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Sure.”

The walk back home was quiet and brought a comfortable silence with it. When they got home, Rabbit gave Y/n a small hug and whispered in her ear:

“Call me if you need anything, you have my number.”

Y/n nodded and shut the door gently. She changed out of her clothes and jumped into bed whilst wrapping the covers around her tightly. Tears of regret and sadness spilled out her eyes and fell onto her pillow. She tried to sleep as soon as she could as she had work tomorrow.

Eventually, Y/n fell into a slumber, her last thought being Rabbit.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Saint of the Smallest Sun

The first time Ambriel came to earth, it was new, and fresh, and innocent. The lesser angels were taken on a tour in proto-humanoid-vessels, before the real humans were awoken. Ambriel had stepped into a pile of rotting fruit with her vessel's bare foot, and decided not to come again if she could help it.

The second time she came to earth, it had had an extra 4.5 billion years in which to rot, and she was forced there. One moment, she was processing information through the incorporeal fibers of her wings, and the next she was bound to a 5 foot circle of space in a human form wearing a pantsuit. She looked from the ring of holy fire surrounding her to the room it was set in; a crumpled bed with a stretched out photograph as  the duvet pattern, a series of posters depicting scenes from the Winchester Gospels, a chunky computer monitor showing a forum comment page, and a young woman kneeling amongst a flurry of papers with a mortar and pestle beside her, the crackle of after-magic still hovering over it. The woman was staring at her, eyes and mouth agape, like one of the fish that the archangel Gabriel kept brandishing at anyone close to him on that first day on earth. Ambriel had only seen it from a distance, but the image had remained in her mind, as everything she learned remained.

Ambriel touched her own cheek gently, and then pinched it hard between her fingers. She winced. This wasn't a vessel. This temporary form must have been crafted by the spell, which suggested that the person who brought her here was either a powerful spellcaster or had an abnormally strong sense of will. She glanced skeptically back at the kneeling woman, who had brought up both hands to cover her mouth and was still just staring at her. Maybe there was a third option.

"Can you let me go?" She tried, careful to speak with her new vocal chords instead of her true voice. It scratched a little, but seemed serviceable. "I have like, a lot to do."

"Mmnnhn," the human said, muffled by her own hands, and then she started and dropped them: "I mean. Michael. Wow! I was expecting - I mean, just based on all the other characters, I thought you'd be, you know, a guy. Not that there's anything wrong with girls - I - I was such a big fan of Jo! You know, after it was clear she wasn't going to be a threat to the brother's relationship. I just think it gets in the way, sometimes, like, the story is about men, why do girls even need to be involved, you know? But I am a feminist! So, yeah, I- I love that you're a woman that's - that's great."

Ambriel squinted at her, deeply confused. What is she talking about? This seemed to fluster the woman, who finally blinked, and rapidly.

"Oh, god. Don't ramble Becky. Be normal. Be normal, Becky. Okay! So..."

The woman - Becky, presumably - lowers her forehead to the floor and links her fingers in front of her in a prayer pose. Her voice trembles when she speaks again:

"Dear...you. I know I'm not important to the story. And I know it's not fated or plotted or anything. But I thought...I have to try, right? That's what Sam would do. Trying against impossible odds is what Supernatural is all about. So, I'm here on behalf of humanity to beg for our lives. Please. Don't do the Apocalypse. It'd be really bad if you did the Apocalypse. Chuck's not the most descriptive writer, but from what I've seen of his notes...yikes. And it's already pretty bad now, just with Lucifer walking the Earth. Just, grab him and duke it out on Mars, or something, if you really have to fight. Please, please, just leave the Earth alone."

"You want me to...cancel the Apocalypse?" Ambriel asked, and Becky desperately nodded. "Oh, I can't do that. So, can you let me out now, or...?"

Read my Becky/Ambriel fic, Saint of the Smallest Sun, on ao3 for more!

[dullgecko]

Fabian’s gonna freak the F out when Sklonda shows them Riz baby pics “What do you mean the ball was ever an actual infant!”

He then explains about how he thought goblins were born fully formed or grown like plants or something (sorry I can’t remember what u said exactly in the ask) and Sklonda seriously and with actual concern ask Fabian if he knows where babies come from and if his parents ever gave him ‘the talk’.

Also I was thinking about baby goblins being irresistibly cute and how not a lot of people having seen them; while as their instincts told them to sklonda and pok did keep Riz mostly safely hidden away as a baby but there were times they had to for whatever reason take him out and Riz even then was a curious little guy constantly poking his head out to see the world out of whatever bundle he was in unlike most shy goblin kits.

Goblins are normally notwell liked by other species so sklonda and pok were pretty sure a baby goblin would receive the same treatment.

To their surprise it was the opposite problem, everyone found baby Riz adorable and often overstepped boundaries and personal space, treating him more like an exotic pet than an actual baby.

This all accumulates one day day when a complete stranger goes to grab and hold Riz but before they can either/both sklonda and pok are hissing and growling calling the person a number goblin swear words as they’ve backed up a safe distance away while shielding an overwhelmed stressed out Riz.

Honestly it’s lucky the stranger was noticed before they could actually touch Riz, otherwise they would have learnt from personal experience how much damage a goblins teeth and claws can actually do.

Xx

"What the fuck, he was an actual infant at some point? I thought they were grown like plants." Fabian muttered, squinting his eye at the array of pictures Sklonda had pulled from the photo album. The statement earning an amused snort from Fig who was also sitting at the table perusing the stack, occasionally snapping photos of the cuter ones to add to her personal collection. The rest of their party had left to go procure some lunch, given that they seemed to be staying there for the whole day while Riz tried to sleep off his fever.

He'd picked one of the photos up to look at it closer, flipping it over to see the date on the back since Riz was clearly eating birthday cake in the photo and making a mental note of it for later. Riz tended to be very cagey with personal details about himself so all they'd managed to work out so far was the month of his birthday, now they could actually nail down a specific day.

He jumped slightly when Sklonda put a concerned hand on his arm after the comment, lowering her voice and patting it in a way that was entirely too sincere for his likeing.

"Aw honey, did.... has no one told you were babies come from? I mean, I know your mom is a bit uhhhh-" She waved a hand near her head to indicate the general vagueness that Halarial tended to exist in "-but i thought you would have found out by now. If you have any questions just let me know okay?"

Fabian sputtered, face going red as he sat up straighter in his chair. "What? No of course I know where babies come from. Evidently not goblin babies but you know... the rest."

He waved his hand towards the window before pushing his chair back and standing, heading over to his schoolbag to dig out a book he'd clearly borrowed from the library. "I asked Riz and he said he was never an infant, and i mean the book corroborated his story so i believed him."

Fabian flipped through a few pages, finding one titled GOBLIN in all capital letters and placing it down on the table. "See, there. It says so right there."

Fig leaned across the table to read what Fabian was pointing at, wincing and lifting up the book so she could read the title on the front page. "Dude this is a monster encyclopedia.... from like, fifty years ago."

"Well, i mean, i couldnt find anything else talking about goblin children. This is the only thing that even mentioned them." Fabian floundered, going even redder when Sklonda laughed as she read through the wildly incorrect information before shutting the book and handing it back.

"Oh honey no. They're made like any other baby, more or less, our anatomy is a little different than humanoids but its still the same process. If you're that curious i'm sure i have a pamphlet around here somewhere." Sklonda had to wipe a tear from her eye from laughing so hard "Though I can understand the confusion. You've probably never even seen a kit before. They're so small we try to keep them indoors or hidden out of sight in public because a random seagull could snatch them up. Or people. Gods Riz was so cute as a toddler people were constantly trying to pick him up."

"I mean we still pick him up all the time." Fig snickered, Fabian having sat back down in his chair with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest to pout.

"Yes I'm aware. It was worse when he was little though. Despite my efforts to keep him hidden he just wanted to run around and look at everything." She dug through the album, finding a picture of Riz perched on top of one of the wooden horses on a spring down at the local park. Pok hovering nervously behind him with his hands outstretched just in case he fell.

"We also used to take him to the library a lot but got banned when one of the other parents in the reading room tried to pick Riz up. Pok made a bit of a mess of the floor when he grabbed their wrist to stop them and we got banned."

[angelfic]

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

© angelfic 2023.

[luveline]

hi honey!! i have a request of sad spencer comforted by bombshell reader. maybe hes the one on the brink of tears and really shes just there for him please

thanks for your request!!! fem, 1k

Spencer Reid can't stop frowning. 

“You know what I've been reading lately?” you ask him. 

“Cosmopolitan?” 

“That's just sexist.” 

Spencer points at the copy of Cosmopolitan hidden between papers and an open book where it lies on the desk in front of you, a smile interrupting his frown momentarily. “Sorry,��� he says. 

“Oh, don't be sorry.” You squint at him ever so slightly as you cross one leg over the other and sink back into your borrowed seat. “That's on me. But, you know… this isn't my desk. That could be anybody's magazine.” 

He laughs politely and turns back to his work. 

“You don't wanna know what I'm actually reading?” you ask. 

He stares at his keyboard. “Mm.” 

He's not listening. That's alright. You don't really want to tell him about what you've been reading; it's just a book. 

You slide your chair closer to his and peek at the computer. He's on a page for American Airlines, flights to Las Vegas, but he hasn't clicked anything. Spencer grew up in Las Vegas, and his mom still lives there alone in a sanitorium for the mentally ill. She can get really sick at a moment's notice. You know he’s been thinking about that more lately. 

“Is everything okay, Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

You incline your head to his. He looks up, at first surprised by your attention, and then abashed. “Yeah.” 

“You don't seem yourself,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. You feel up to the crook of his elbow, waiting for him to shrug you off. He doesn't move. You stroke his skin with your thumb. “You can talk to me, you know? I hope you know that, anyways.” 

“Yeah, I know, it's…” His voice wobbles. You lean in closer. “It's nothing.” 

The first time you saw Spencer cry, he was in a hospital room being weaned off of a terrible thing, and it was sudden but expected all the same. He was suffering, recovering but in pain, and you would've cried if the roles were reversed. That was a long time ago. Seeing him upset doesn't get easier. 

“Spencer,” you murmur, “What's wrong? You look like you could burst into tears. Do you need me to get you a glass of water?” 

He shakes his head. You stay right there by his side waiting for the inevitable, the tears gathering in his eyes that he blinks away, and his painful swallowing. You have two hands —the one that isn't squeezing his arm jumps to his back to hold his stiff shoulder. 

“Do you want me to get Morgan?” you ask, unsure. 

It's a busy office, and you and Spencer sit on the outskirts closest to the offices upstairs and furthest from the hubbub. Nobody notices your closeness. You speak too quietly to be overheard. 

“Spencer,” you implore. 

He ducks his head, putting his hand to his brow. 

“I'm okay,” he says, his voice stronger now, “it's just my mom doesn't sound right in her letters lately, and I'm tired, and I wasn't expecting you to ask me.” 

“No?” you ask, giving his arm another tender rub. “Sorry if I'm upsetting you, Spencer. I was worried. You don't have to talk about it.” He winces. “But if you do want to, I'm right here.” 

He needs a hug, you decide (unsurely). You stand and he immediately lifts his head with worry in his eyes, but you're not going anywhere, the opposite. You cover up his head and shoulders as your chin rests gently atop his soft hair, a gravel to your tone as you say, “It's okay.” 

Spencer is silent. Slowly, tentatively, he wraps his arms around you in turn, and then he's squeezing you tight enough to feel it in your spine. 

“It's okay, Spencer. We can talk about it, huh? We can work something out. It wouldn't be terrible for you to take a vacation every once in a while, maybe that's what you need.”  

He breathes out against your sleeve. “Sorry,” he says. 

“It's okay.” You kiss his head. He likely doesn't feel it. “I promise, it's fine.” 

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask.” 

“I know, you said that already.” You don’t tell him with any malice, just reaffirmation. “But I’ll always ask. I care about you, I need you to be okay, Dr. Reid. You’re my pillar of strength.” He laughs with self-deprecation, but you mean it. “You are. You’re always there for me. You’re always looking after me.”

“Since when do you need looking after?” 

“That’s one of the best and worst things about you. You don’t realise what you are to people.” 

Spencer screws his hands into your blouse and grows still in your arms. You consider scolding him about wrinkles to lighten the mood, but he’ll take you too seriously, and stop hugging you, and that’s not what you want. You try to be subtle about the comfort you’re giving him as you wrap your arms behind his head to close him in, hiding him from any prying eyes, but the longer you stay holding him the more attention you recieve, until even your stoic unit chief can't pretend this is appropriate for the workplace. 

“L/N,” Hotch says in concern. “Reid. Is everything okay?” 

Spencer seizes up and tries to push you away.

You lift your chin above his head and give Hotch your stickiest smile, arms moving to a more amicable position behind his shoulders. “No, everything is not okay, Hotch. You realise I only joined the unit to be with Spencer, right? And you punish me by sitting me halfway across the office!” 

Everyone watching either laughs or rolls their eyes, used to your dramatic favouritism. Even Hotch seems tired of it. 

“I’d be sorry if I thought that were true. Can you go back to suffocating Reid on your own time? We have some consults to look over.” 

You widen the gap between you and Spencer, allowing him the space to collect himself. “If you insist,” you say, grinning brightly. 

You stand in front of Spencer, heart aching as he sniffs quietly. He stands, and for a moment you think he won’t be alright after all, that your comfort was useless and he’ll need to excuse himself, but he draws a ghost of a line into your side with his knuckle and squares his expression. “Let’s get back to work,” he says to you with a small smile. You’ll talk more later. 

“Wanna hold hands?” you ask. 

“Maybe when everyone’s stopped looking at me?” he says under his breath, starting toward the steps to the conference room. 

“Wait, really?”

He hurries up the stairs. You follow.

[cloverfarm]

— read you like a book

sdv!harvey x f!reader

rated e - 5k

Tags: gentledom/service!dom harvey, mutual pining/ yearning, mention of alcohol, flirting, kissing, begging, teasing, body worship, oral sex, vaginal fingering, implied squirting, multiple orgasms

A/N: had the thought that Harvey would know just how to take care of you, and wanted to explore that idea (and still deep in my Harvey-is-a-dirty-talker era)

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” Harvey rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

“I was thinking-,” A finger slips beneath the band, testing the elastic. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

(Or - Harvey overhears about your past lackluster experiences, and can’t help wanting to lend a hand)

There’s the clack of pool balls colliding in your corner of the Stardrop Saloon. The jaunty piano music muted, your fingers wrapping around a sweat-dewed glass.

A late-night Friday evening, the conversation already turning debauched as your off-handed remark of feeling frustrated was quickly misinterpreted and took another turn. Spiraling away from you, with their overlapping ideas.

Your nose crinkling with a suggestion to use the community board, one that has them bent-over with laughter - you could only imagine the shock at seeing such a message.

Help Wanted: Farmer looking to get ploughed. Used to getting a little dirty. If interested, please call…

“Could use an app. Been a while, but I used to do that.” Shane’s wiggles his phone at you, keying in the website for FerngillFlings. Flashing the front page at you, all while you try to ignore the clench of jealousy that flares to life in your stomach.

Sam leans over you, squinting at the screen, “You can’t tell me that works. Your matches come all the way out here?”

“Sure do.” Shane’s shoulder lifts in a shrug, from where his arm rests on the couch behind you. “Haven’t heard any complaints.”

The double-innuendo isn’t missed, your tongue poking into your cheek as your head shakes in exasperation.

“Haven’t heard, or haven’t listened?” Abigail shoots back with a smirk, and he rolls his eyes at her in response.

“Any matches from here?” You can’t help but ask, glancing sideways at him in curiosity.

He slumps a little further in his seat, knee knocking against yours, “Wouldn’t you like to know, farm girl?”

Thick fingers curl around the can before it lifts it to his lips, hiding his own smirk as you stiffen beside him.

Shane infuriated you. Always teasing, never answering a question directly. Deflecting a sly comment with a dry one of his own, until you weren’t sure where you stood with him.

You’d given up a while ago.

Your heart now quite taken with another.

“I think we’d all like to know.” Abigail chimes in, and you send a grin her way.

“I thought we were still talking about Miss Grange Queen?”

Your look turns apologetic - you know Pierre has been prepping all week as well - but she brushes it off, “I don’t care. Honestly, I hope you win this year. But he is right…”

A chipped polished nail taps her lip, before she fixes you with a look of concern, “When was the last time you got laid?”

The gulping swallow of your drink goes down wrong, making you splutter. A solid hand thumps you on the back, as your palm swipes across your mouth.

“What?” You manage, through watery eyes.

“Okay, we definitely gotta know.” The hand still rests against you, pinned against the plush cushion of the couch. Fingers tapping expectantly between your shoulders.

Yoba almighty.

You know they won’t back down. Even Sam lingers, eyebrows raised as his hip rests against the edge of the pool table.

“It’s been… a while.” You hedge, glancing around the room before you can answer. Voice lowering - not worried about the bar, it’s too far away.

More concerned about the booth that sits just across the room. Occupied when you arrived - your gaze flicking to Elliot often as he had sat alone, waiting.

Knowing who would be coming - a little flip in your stomach with Harvey arrived late, red-cheeked from the run, the novel pinched between his fingers.

You thought it was cute. Their little weekly book club. On another night you would have hoped to eavesdrop - figure out what the choice was for this month.

“You talking weeks? Months?” Sam asks, ignoring the glare from Sebastian, the hip check that follows - indicating his turn.

“Pre-farm,” Your head shakes, “Two years, maybe?”

“Years?” Abigail screeches, as your eyes widen - a hand coming to press unconsciously against a burning cheek.

Unable to help the sidelong look at the table across the way. The heat in your cheek rising to your ears when your eyes meet hazel ones, before you’re dropping your gaze.

“It’s not worth it,” You try to rein them in, all but pleading, “It’s not like it’s all that satisfying either, you know?”

“You mean you don’t…?” Abigail suggests - looking at you dubiously, and even Sebastian is turning to give you a pitying look.

“I mean… sometimes, I guess?” Your shoulder lifts, and then drops, “It’s not a big deal.”

You could get there yourself just fine. Have certainly managed, with your current dry spell. Before, you sometimes would afterwards - alone - easing the unresolved pleasure that licks in your belly.

But you’re sure it wasn’t the same as having someone there with you. Having their focus so solely on you.

It’s not something you’re about to explain. This has gotten too deep. You’re used to the tales of Shane’s old one night stands. The occasional complexities that come from Sam and Abigail both dating the same person, but these talks rarely focus on you.

“What kind of guys are you fucking?” Shane asks bluntly, making you gasp.

“Normal guys.” You hiss, “Besides, it’s probably just me.”

Taking a sip of your drink then to deflect, the sharp flavor making you cough.

“You don’t starfish, do you?” Sam pipes up, helpfully.

It has you almost choking again.

Shane smirks, “Maybe it is you, Farm Girl. Should have someone here take a look-”

You miss the end of his comment with the sudden, loud scrape of wood. Heads turning to where Harvey half-stands, his chair pushed back. Staring your way, with lips parted and brow furrowed.

“You got something to say, Doc?” Shane scoffs, his voice a little too loud.

Harvey blinks, and reddens. Coming back to himself, a sharp click of teeth as they close - swiping his half-full glass from the table.

Mumbling something about needing a refill - before his head is dipping, and he makes towards the bar.

Your eyes follow him, before your hand is scrubbing over your face - the heels pressing into your eye sockets. And finally, mercifully, the subject is changed, a collective groan as Sam accidently knocks two stripes in the corner pockets.

But even as the evening fades - you can’t quite shake Harvey’s expression from your mind.

The air is cool, hinting at the coming frost. Your jacket shrugged on as you step outside, before plunking down on the cobblestone path outside of the Stardrop.

It’s dark, late. The scattered streetlights outside offering pockets of the town, the rest cast in hazy shadow.

There’s a flare of light to your side. Sebastian sneaking out for his smoke break, now that Robyn and Demetrius have called it a night. You sometimes go with him, keeping silent company.

Content to let your legs dangle, to listen to the croak and groan of the frogs near the river. To let your mind wander.

Tonight though, it’s still so singularly focused.

You don’t feel embarrassed about what you said, only that he overheard it. Harvey had so much of his life together - surely a man who was there to discuss books and drink wine would not want to spent his evening listening to the lewd gossip of folks younger than him.

What if he took your words to heart, and thought you were not interested? What if he thought you weren’t good? A sigh to yourself then, as you pull yourself together with a reminder. Not that he thinks anything of you.

But… you admit that you had hoped.

It’s only now that you hear voices just down the path, two friends bidding goodbye. That shade of green you’ve come to associate with Harvey has your ears pricking up - catching where they linger, near the park benches.

Bravery steeling itself, in your belly.

“I’m gonna head out,” You hear yourself saying, as you push to your feet, “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Sebastian asks, with a smoky exhale.

“Yeah.” It’s distracted. Giving him a wave, just as you skirt around the door that opens behind you.

Missing the pair of eyes that follow you as you leave.

Too far out of earshot to hear the murmured words, as he exhales another held drag from his cigarette, “You’re missing your chance, man.”

And then the answer, growled out as Shane’s hands shove deep into the pockets of his well-worn jacket.

“Never had one.”

“Harvey!” You call out, as he splits from his companion.

Missing how Elliot settles amongst the trio of benches, his book cracking open to finish the chapter under the streetlight.

Harvey lingers, in the middle of the cobblestone path. His expression almost wary, your explanation coming in a rush.

“I am sorry if we made you uncomfortable.” Your hands clasp together, fingers twisting, “We should’ve been more considerate. You and Elliot were there first.”

His expression clears at that, a slight mark between his eyebrows. He’s tall, you’re realizing. Not that you didn’t know, not that you haven’t stood next to him on occasion.

But your heart had never quite pounded like this, never so acutely aware of your proximity - too used to the barrier of the counter in his office.

“No, uh, not at all. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” Harvey clarifies, his voice soft, “I certainly didnt mean to try to interrupt. I’m afraid that was rude of me.”

His answer sends your mind careening into overdrive. Not quite taking his half-hearted excuse earlier, but too wrapped up in your embarrassment to truly process it.

That has you thinking - realizing that he had some sort of intention. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, unable to help but wonder.

“Can I ask you something?” Your eyes search his, voice quiet in the night, “You don’t have to answer.”

The slight curve of his lips fall, an almost uneasy look passing his features - though he does not deny you, “If you’d like.”

“What were you going to say?” You ask him “Back in the bar. You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your words hang, for a moment. And then silence, enveloped by the soft sounds of the night.

“Oh.” He hedges, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “It’s, ah… it’s just a shame.”

Your eyebrows lift, worry flooding through you as you wonder what he means.

“That you haven’t had a more… positive experience.” He finishes lamely.

The worry transforms, turning into a heated curiosity.

“Why would it be a shame?”

The shade of pink deepens across his cheeks, hidden in the shadows. A finger unconsciously hooking around his collar and tugging.

“Because there’s no reason satisfaction can’t be mutually inclusive,” He manages, “From uh, the point of view of a medical professional.”

Your lips press together to hide your laugh, charmed by his careful answer, “How I wish that were true.”

And that had him fixing on you, catching you in the brunt of his gaze, “It could be. Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

It makes your breath catch. That hope flaring to life again. Reading into his meaning, daring yourself to ask, “Is that right? You know anyone around here?”

Only to watch the way his face goes carefully blank - his words slow, “I’m sure… I’m sure you don’t need my help to find out.”

It’s hard not to feel disappointed. Hoping that there was an offer, woven into his words. The bit you had clung to leaves you, with the next exhale of your breath.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Your smile is small. Deflecting with a joke, because it’s all you know, “I don’t starfish, by the way. If you heard that part.”

He huffs a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I didn’t think you did.”

The look he gives you is at odds with his hesitance in answering. A soft, amused smile that makes your heart flip.

Yoba, you have it bad.

“Goodnight, Harvey.” You smile back - intent on ending the night before you make it worse, “And, thank you.”

His answer echos yours, his feet firmly rooted as you disappear into the night. Silence lingering under the soft glow of the street lamp, as his mind races.

“If you were looking for an invitation, old friend,” An amused voice comes from the benches - where Elliot still sits, his book long forgotten.

“That was it.”

The television blares as you stretch out on the couch - intent on unwinding a bit further, after a long day. Immediately stripping down to your loungewear as soon as you stepped in the door, cracking a window to let in the autumn air.

Your head rests on a pillow, an old quilt pulled haphazardly around your hips as you watch a rerun of The Queen of Sauce - something that fortunately required little attention.

Because your mind is occupied elsewhere, thinking back to the square with both chagrin and disappointment. Hoping that maybe Harvey had drank more wine than you thought - that maybe he wouldn’t remember how you all but threw yourself at him.

Gentleman that he is, he probably just wouldn’t bring it up in the first place. You don’t know if that’s more preferable, or less - perhaps you owe him yet another apology.

A timid knock at the door draws your attention, your feet silent as you slip from the couch. You really should move it - giving yourself a view of the small, narrow porch. Maybe installing another light outside.

But this was Pelican Town, you remind yourself - you’re not in the big city anymore. It was probably Abigail, not wanting to head home yet.

For now, you move to the door, pausing to shrug on the worn, plaid barn coat that hangs by the door, buttoning it in an last-minute attempt at modesty.

Your hand on the frame of the door as you crack the front door open, close enough to grab the old wooden bat you have tucked next to the rickety side table.

Eyes going wide when you realize who it is.

Harvey. His face half-turned away, looking like he’s second-guessing himself from your delay - half-way ready to book it down the steps that lead to the packed dirt road.

“Hi again,” You nudge the door open wider, leaning against the frame.

He turns back, surprise crossing his features again when he sees you. Eyes dipping down, snagging - slowly dragging back up over the bare skin of your legs, the low dip of the collar, as if he has forgotten himself for a moment.

“Hi.” He answers belatedly, blinking as he comes back into the present.

You wait a beat for him to explain, for any sort of sign as to why he’s here. Wondering why he travelled all the way in near-darkness, you knew more than anyone what a trek it could be.

And he must realize, because he blinks again, worry pulling down the edges of his brows, a small crease appearing in the middle.

“I-, well, Elliot-,” Harvey begins, throwing a thumb over his shoulder into the darkness, his other hand still clutching the book from the Saloon. Starting over when he realizes he’s making zero sense, “Back, in the square.”

His lips pressing together for a moment, an inhale of breath before the words rush out, “Am I misreading this?”

An emphasis on ‘this’, a small gesture with his fingers between the two of you. It makes you smile, relief flooding through you - enough to where you’re reaching out, tapping a fingernail against the solid cover of the book.

“I think you’re reading this just fine.” Your head tilts up to look him in the eye, seeing the relief on his own features as well, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” He breathes, and you’re stepping aside with a smile - taking his book from him to rest on the little side table.

Hanging his moss-green jacket on your one good hanger by the door, showing him where to put his shoes.

Steps that make the floorboards creak because he doesn’t know which ones to avoid - not yet - as he lets you guide him to the couch. Carefully sitting on the middle cushion, the sharp, white starch of his dress shirt standing out against the worn, rust-orange fabric.

Your own feet following until you’re standing in from of him. Not quite believing, as your face tilts down to meet the upturned angle of his own.

Harvey was here.

The man who got more than a little bossy with you when you came in to the clinic with a bad scrape, or a cold. Who always has a smile, who listened intently when you keep him up to date about the new crops you’re growing, even though he knows nothing about farming.

Who you never had let yourself daydream about too often, because he had always kept you at arms length. You had always thought it was part of his profession, or that perhaps he just didn’t see you like that.

Like he’s looking at you now - like you’ve hung the stars.

You really want to kiss him.

You hope he’ll let you.

Slowly, like when you’re approaching a new calf, you move toward him. The slight, automatic spread of his knees as you step between them, before your own knees are bending.

Hands resting on the wooden frame of couch as you lower yourself - until you’re straddling his thighs, bare knees pressing into the worn cushions on either side.

“This okay?” You ask, close enough to smell a hint of his aftershave, the solid weight of him beneath you.

Hands that slide from their place at his side, up the curve of your calves, until they’re resting on the bare expanse of your thighs.

“Yes.” The word comes out low, fingers pressing against your skin as your own drop to the thick buttons of your coat, slowly working each one open.

Until you’re shrugging the fabric off to pool on the wooden floor - all bare arms and legs beneath in your too-large t-shirt, a pair of cotton underwear.

About to apologize for your choice in clothing - never actually expecting to take someone home - but the hands rise, cradling your face as he tips it to meet his.

A low sound in your throat at his lips touch yours, your hands resting on his chest, fingers fisting in the fabric. A feather-soft brush until you shift, pressing yourself against him as you lean in.

His groan matches yours. Hands moving, skating down your arms, curving around your hips. Your hips roll on their own, seeking the friction of his trousers. Something warm pooling in your belly, when he deepens the kiss.

Encouraging you, as those hands guide the roll of your hips again. As his tongue brushes against lips that part without thought.

There’s the sharp punch of fruit on his tongue, paired with the taste of him. A heady mixture, making you feel like you could get drunk off just this.

You can feel him harden beneath you. Pressing against your cleft as your thighs inch further apart. It’s only when your hands leave his - reaching for the bottom of your shirt, that he breaks away.

His lips kiss-swollen and pretty. Disheveled, his tie crooked, shirt wrinkled from your fingers. Equally dazed, his eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then further again.

“Not here.” Harvey’s voice is a low rasp, unmoving despite his demand.

It has your pausing, until you catch the way his first two fingers slip under the hem, petting against skin.

“Bedroom?” You offer, and he’s smiling. Leaning forward to kiss you again. Easing you off him but it’s reluctant - his fingers twining with yours as you stumble into the next room.

It’s darker in there, the light from the television flickering against the floor. Dissolving as it reaches your bed, your knees parting this time as he stands between them.

Your eyes greedy, focused on his fingers as he loosens his tie, the first few buttons of his shirt. His own drifting over every inch and curve of you. A short intake of air as you tug the shirt from your shoulders, leaving it to drop on the floor.

It feels like you’re on display, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with the way he looks at you - his eyes snagging on the damp patch between your thighs, the pale fabric darkening with your arousal.

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” He rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

You’re near-mute. Left nodding, as the bed dips. As he urges you back into the pillows, folding himself onto the mattress with you.

“I was thinking-,” He tests the band, a finger slipping beneath. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

You feel yourself clench down around nothing. A low whine in your throat at the tone of his voice. So matter-of fact. Like he knows how to do just what he says.

“Can you?” It comes out strangled, your breath held as his eyes fix on yours, “Could you show me? What it’s like to be taken care of?”

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” He asks - his gaze searching. Slipping a second finger under, the blunt nails grazing sensitive skin.

“Yoba.” Your hips feel like they lift on their own, seeking him, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He smiles again, the moonlight catching on his glasses. A hand running through tousled curls, mussing them further. Fingers joining yours as your panties join the floor, baring yourself fully.

You expect him to touch you and he does - but not in the way you’re thinking. Lowering himself next to you, guiding your mouth to his again. His hand skimming the inside of your thigh. Fingers slipping along the crease where it meet your hip, inches away from where you ache for him.

“Harvey.” You sigh into his mouth. Chasing it when he pulls back, hearing the pleased hum in his throat. Carefully removing his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket.

Then his mouth is dropping to your neck, where your pulse flutters. To your shoulder. All while his fingers trace your skin, making you squirm in anticipation.

When his tongue peeks out to brush against tight, peaked nipple, you hear yourself cry out. Clinging to him again, as teeth graze against your breast - followed by a soothing kiss, his mustache tickling against the soft curve.

“I need you to touch me,” You pant.

Long forgetting what it was like to feel like this. The anticipation swirling in you like a dam about to burst. The desperation - knowing after all this time of wanting him, that tonight he is yours.

Your own hands grasping at him - tugging at the buttons. Pale skin and dark hair appearing with each one that loosens, trying to pull the hem from where it tucks into his trousers.

The hand against your thigh twitches, his gaze dark as he glances up at you. No longer hidden behind frames, you can see how his pupils are blown wide, inching out the hazel.

“I just want to make sure you’re ready, sweetheart.” He rasps, inching closer - fingers parting on either side of your mound.

“Want you nice and wet for me.”

It’s too much. You’re too wound up, needy. In your daydreams you’ve thought of him - in your bed, bent over the table in his office. Everything pales in comparison to this, turning you into a begging mess.

“I am,” You breathe, “Fuck, Harvey. You know I am, I’m-”

The words break off, turning into a ragged moan as he finally touches you. Parting your slick seam, where you’re dripping from the press of his mouth and the teasing glide of his fingers.

“There you are.” He hums, though you can feel the way his hips press against yours. Chasing his own urges, seeking friction where he strains.

Your eyes flutter half-shut as he teases as your entrance. Fingertips slick as he brings them up to circle your clit, sparks going up inside your belly.

Watching as he moves, the careful ease from where he lies next to you - now settling between your thighs.

“Yoba, you’re beautiful.”

He says it so simply, almost as if in awe. Your thighs start to clamp shut around his hand but he’s smiling - his left palm pressing your leg to the bed, opening you further.

Not used to his gaze like this. It flicks from your face, down to where his hands shift - his thumb rolling against your clit, as his middle finger sinks inside you.

He can feel how you clench around him already. Movements slow, drawing himself out just to sink further each time.

“So fucking pretty.” He says it again - you think, just to see you squirm. The way your eyes pull from his, the flex of your muscle under his palm.

Transfixed by the way his fingers move. The pressure against your clit, the way he presses deep. Your small room filled with the little sounds you make and the slick plunge of his finger.

Your panting breath catching, turning sharp as his finger crooks on the next pass. Carefully stroking against your inner walls, a throb of pleasure following.

He catches your sounds, a mark forming between his eyebrows. One you’ve seen before, in the way he focuses when you’re explaining something about your farm. A sweet stretch of pressure when he adds his ring finger, opening you further as he strokes again.

You haven’t felt anything quite like this. A ghost of it, with past lovers. Something that made your muscles tighten, but never so focused.

Like he’s intentionally searching for this spot that makes sparks arc up your spine. Making you ache for more - to be filled by him.

“Mm,” He hums with satisfaction, “Right there. Does that feel good?”

It’s hard to think, with the thrust of his fingers. The circling pressure against your clit. Your own fingers curling - one in the sheets, an anchor. The other drifting up to cup at your breast, unable to help leaning into his ministrations.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

There’s an edge to his voice. One that he uses in his place of authority, one that only stokes the roaring flame in your belly. Everything winding tight in anticipation, each steady pump of his fingers hurtling you towards your peak.

“Yes,” You moan, “Yes. Oh, Harvey-”

His head dips, mouth pressing a kiss against your abdomen.

“Good girl.” He husks, with your answer. The words shoot straight to your cunt, just as you begin to arch into his touch.

“Oh, please-” You whine, eyes sliding shut, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

The pinch of your fingers harsh against the tight bud of your nipple. The flicker of pain melding with the tight swirl of his thumb.

“Good.” He all but growls, the words low and rough in his throat, “Come on, honey. Show me.”

Your next moan turns high and long - as that tight string inside you finally snaps. A throbbing pleasure that begins at the apex of your thighs, radiating outwards as you bear down around him.

The hand in your sheets grasping and slipping on your way to him - his hand leaves your thigh to twine with it. Anchoring you as your hips buck into fingers that have gone still, giving you something to clench around.

“Just like that,” He coos, “Ride it out, I’ve got you.”

His breath warm against your skin, a kiss pressed to your stomach again, then hip.

“It’s not you,” Harvey tells you, each kiss moving lower, “You know that, right?”

Your breath catching - it feels like your cunt is still pulsing, when his mouth dips further. Not waiting for your answer this time - driving his point home with the talented tongue that suddenly presses against the bud of your clit, wet and warm.

Ensuring you won’t forget.

A moan is ripped from you, as he teases. Tight pointed licks, a flat lick following. A rough groan as he tastes your orgasm that coats his fingers, only just how beginning to move.

You’re too sensitive, squirming at his touch. Panting breaths and little jerks of your hips, the tight twist of overstimulation bleeding into something smooth and sweet as honey.

He’s ruining you for everyone else. The thought is a blurry one, something you can barely snatch. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’ve already come harder than you ever have.

And is already working you towards a second. A rough groan when you let your fingers leave his to twist in his dark curls. Grasping onto his shoulder with the other one, his shirt wrinkling further.

You want it off. You want all of it off, want him bare and on top of you. Want to taste him on your tongue. Taste yourself against his lips, after this.

Unsure how he’s able to do it. Bring you to the edge again so quickly, but maybe it’s because you’ve never desired someone like this.

Deeper than desire, though you’re not quite ready to admit it.

You’re brought back, as his palm presses beneath your thigh. Hiking it over a shoulder, opening you to be devoured. Those fingers more confident now, sure and slick as they pound into you. Louder now, with the way you coat them, your release smeared across your thighs.

This time when you come, it’s against his tongue.

Brought over with the way his lips close sound and suck. The way he groans at your taste, his clever fingers leaving you breathless.

Choking on your heartbeat as you shatter. His wide palm curled around your thigh, keeping your cunt pinned against his tongue.

This time he can feel your pulse. Each throb of pleasure as it resonates through you. Feel the way you gush for him - his fingers dampening further, across knuckles and the flesh of his palm.

“Fuck.” You moan, when you can breathe again.

You expect him to pull away, after this. He must know you’re more than ready. But instead all you can see is dark eyes, a tongue that slips between the fingers that are still buried in you.

“Harvey,” You gasp, as his tongue then lifts to curl over your clit again, “Don’t you want to-?”

Doesn’t he want to fuck you?

Isn’t he aching, like you are?

“Tonight is about you,” He answers firmly. Lips glossy with your release, and despite his words you don’t miss the way his hips press into the bed.

“Sounds like I got some time to make up for.”

Your head falls back onto the pillow as you huff a laugh, breath catching as you feel his fingers slip free just long enough to work in a third.

Already finding that spot again, as he begins to build towards a third.

If he can read you this easily already, you think dizzily…

You can’t wait to find out everything else he knows.

So here for the Harvey Renaissance 🙏💕 would love to know what you thought! Are you enjoying 1.6? (If so what are your mod recs???) | part ii is up here!

[arieslost]

talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[lavenderstobins]

Eddie’s in danger.

He knows he’s in danger because there is a four year old beelining for him, trying very hard to appear like she’s not rapidly advancing towards him.

When Josie finally stops, she’s right in front of him.

He has no idea what might’ve spurred this. Best to play it safe. “Hey, kiddo.”

Josie blinks innocently at him. “You broked Steve’s mug.”

Shit. The mug. It had been an accident—he’d balanced it too precariously when he’d been doing the dishes and it had slipped. They have plenty of mugs so it shouldn’t have been an issue, except… it was Steve’s lucky mug.

Steve loves that mug. He always drinks out of it if he needs the good luck that day and swears that it never fails him. If he sees it has broken, he’d take it as a sign of, like, the worst luck ever, and that would be the end of that.

The break had been clean, at least. The pieces are currently hidden away in a shoebox until he has time to get the glue to fix it. It’ll be an easy enough fix, so Steve should be none-the-wiser.

Except.

“The luck mug,” Josie continues, presumably trying to raise an eyebrow but instead raising both of her eyebrows high up her forehead. It takes everything inside him not to snort at the sight.

“I’m fixing it,” he replies. Maybe this can be a lesson about white lies, or doing good, or something. There’s probably a lesson here, right? “Steve won’t know it ever broke.”

Josie blinks up at him again. “Be shame if he did.”

Eddie’s smile fades. “What?”

“Be shame if Steve knew you broked his mug,” she repeats, fixing him with a stare that’s oddly reminiscent of Erica.

Is he… is he being blackmailed by a child?

“Josie,” he starts, leaning forward so that they’re eye-to-eye and taking on a desperate tone. “You can’t tell Steve, okay? Nobody can know about the broken mug.”

She sighs heavily. It would be comical if not for the way his heartbeat has increased.

“I know,” she says, shaking her head. “But maybe I not know.”

“Don’t know,” he corrects, then squints. “What do you mean?”

“I know you broked his mug, Deedee.” Her tone is serious. “For Baby Sapphire, I not know. Baby Sapphire make it go—” She mimes an explosion with her hands, puffing out her cheeks. “Bye-bye.”

“Baby— What?”

Josie pulls out a crumpled catalogue page out of her pocket and holds it out. On it, in the corner, is a small, bug-eyed, blue plastic horse labelled Baby Sapphire. It’s the ugliest thing he’s ever seen. The nose isn’t even long enough for the horse to breathe. It’s like the pug of ponies.

Eddie looks up, meeting Josie’s pointed stare. It’s a battle he knows he’s already lost.

“Not a word,” he instructs, tucking the paper into his pocket. Josie brightens, beaming up at him, then skips away, merry as ever.

This is his life now. Blackmailed by a preschooler.

—

“Did you know Josie’s resorted to blackmail now?” Eddie says offhandedly. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter as Steve chops carrots, watching Josie play with her new toy from his view of the living room doorway.

“Earlier than I expected, honestly,” Steve says, not looking up. “What did she have on you?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, not on me.” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “I watched her extort Mike earlier.”

Steve glances at him, frowning. “Mike’s been out of Hawkins for two days.”

Fuck.

“I think Robin’s calling for me, actually.” Eddie slides off the counter, backing away as Steve’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “I’d love to continue this conversation, but, duty calls.”

“Robin’s out with Max!” Steve calls as Eddie makes a hasty retreat to the living room. “You’re fooling nobody, babe!”

Josie looks up as Eddie closes the door behind him, ugly horse in hand. Moments later, Steve opens the door again, one hand on his hip.

“What did you do?” He swivels from Eddie to Josie. “Josie, sweetie, what did Deedee do?”

Eddie stares at Josie, practically feeling the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Josie shrugs, still playing. “I no know.”

He’s filled with relief. Steve doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?” he presses. “It’s important to tell the truth, Josie.”

She stops, then, squinting up at him. “Always?”

“Always,” Steve confirms.

“Like when you said Bel eated Mama’s food but it was you?”

Steve falters, mouth falling open. A huge grin spreads across Eddie’s face.

“You what?” Eddie asks delightedly. “Stevie, you didn’t blame our cat for eating Robin’s leftovers!”

“Okay, you know what?” Steve holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. “Keep your secrets. Let’s not ask questions anymore.”

Eddie’s already laughing, though. “Steve, Rob almost took Bel to the vet because she thought she’d eaten fried rice.”

“I know!”

“And you offered to drive her there!”

“I know!”

—

[now on ao3]

[wafflefries13]

Double Trouble (Floyd x Reader)

Summary: A certain pair of twins are found roaming around NRC campus. No, not those ones. (AKA, Floyd and your kids come visit from the future.)

AN: This was supposed to be a cute short fic. Now it's 20 pages and three weeks later.

Warnings: Maybe a little ooc near the end. Kids and mentions of how they're made. AFAB Reader with she/her pronouns.

It was a pretty quiet day at NRC, which meant (Y/N) was waiting with bated breath for something to go terribly wrong. 

“You worry too much!” Grim complained, hanging off her shoulder as they walked along the main thoroughfare past the Great Seven statues. “We finally have a day off! No work from Crowley, no problems with the dorms, no weird stuff popping out. And! Sam had that sale on canned tuna!” Grim pawed at the can he was holding, trying to rip open the pull tab on top. With a frustrated huff, he reluctantly handed it over.  

(Y/N) quickly popped open the can and handed it back to him. Grim gave a small cry of delight as he buried his face in the shredded tuna. “I know, I know,” She said, absentmindedly scratching him behind the ears. “I think I’m just not used to it anymore. It feels like something should happen, you know? Like, they say right before lightning strikes you can feel the static in the air. And be honest, when was the last time we had a real day off?” 

Grim looked up, licking his lips. “Well, last month we - no, wait, that’s when the fairies stole that magestone and had that fashion show. Oh, what about the weekend when we - no, that was Camp Vargas, huh? Uhh, Port Fest was really fun!” 

“We were working at the food stalls the whole time.” (Y/N) grinned at her feline-type companion. “Or at least I was.” 

Grim frowned. “Hey! Taste testing is an important part of selling food! You have to make sure your product is up to snuff!” 

(Y/N) giggled and took the empty can from Grim, putting it in the plastic bag that held the other odds and ends they had picked up from the Mystery Shop. “Of course, we couldn't have done it without you.” She shielded her eyes from the sun, squinting to look up at the sky as if to double check it wasn’t about to start falling. “I just think that-” 

“Mama!” 

Both (Y/N) and Grim jumped, the latter falling off the former’s shoulder with a yelp to float in the air. (Y/N) blinked the white sunspots out of her vision looking around for where the exclamation had come from. No sooner had she started her search than a tiny force threw itself against her legs nearly knocking her over. (Y/N) looked down, seeing a wailing child bury his head into her hip, arms clasped around her in an iron-clad grip. 

“Whoa, hey, hey!” (Y/N) said, trying to get her bearings. She pried the child’s grip away just enough for her to kneel down so they could be closer to eye level. The boy had a cherubic face, big eyes and big cheeks, with big tears rolling down them. He had teal-colored (your hair texture) hair. One of his teary eyes was a stormy gray while the other was (your eye color). A set of sharp almost shark-like teeth bit at his quivering bottom lip. 

‘Do Jade and Floyd have a younger brother or something?’ (Y/N) thought. 

She patted the boy's hair down and whipped the tears off his cheeks. He was taking big gulping breaths, trying to calm himself down. “Hey, it’s okay,” She said in what she hoped was a calming voice. “You’re okay. Did you get lost? This can be a big scary place, huh?” 

The boy took another shuddering breath and flung himself in (Y/N)’s arms. She fell back, sitting roughly, as the boy buried his face in her shoulder. 

“Geez, who the heck is this crybaby?” Grim muttered, floating nearby with his paws on his hips. 

“Grim, don’t be rude!” 

“He’s the one who ran into you! That’s rude!” Grim floated a little closer, cocking his head to look at the boy. “You know, he kinda looks like-” 

“Ah!” (Y/N) yelped, pain suddenly rushing through her hand. She had been patting the boy’s hair, trying to help him calm down, when he suddenly turned his head and bit down hard. Jerking her hand back, (Y/N) could see a fresh set of indents forming a perfect semi-circle around the joint of her thumb, two of the points already beading with blood. 

Grim immediately jumped to the defense. “Hey! What’s the big idea?” 

The boy let out another wail, picking himself up and dashing away before (Y/N) could take another breath. “Hey, wait!” She called after him. “It’s okay! Come back!” 

“Okay?!” Grim said as incredulously as he could manage. “He bit you! Look, you’re bleeding!” 

(Y/N) whipped away the blood from her hand on her skirt. “He’s clearly just scared, Grim. It was probably just an instinct. Come on, we better find him before he gets into any trouble.” 

Ignoring Grim’s grumblings, (Y/N) jogged off in the direction the boy had gone. She wondered why a kid so young would be alone in a place like this. He was, what, maybe seven or eight? Not to mention obviously terrified. And… Wait, had he called her mama? (Y/N) faltered a little when she remembered that. Maybe it was like when a kid called someone they were close to auntie or big sister? But why mama? 

“Say that again and I’ll bite your fingers off!” 

(Y/N) was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a child’s voice yelling some… pretty violent threats. She couldn’t imagine the small crying boy from before saying something like that. Was there another kid wandering campus? Was it a family visit day or something? 

(Y/N) turned the corner to see the boy facing off against a group of students. Or, no, it wasn’t the same boy. Sure, he had the same round face, teal hair, and mismatched eyes, but he held himself in a completely different way. Instead of curling in on himself with fear, his shoulders were back, chin up in defiance, his sharp teeth pulled into a scowl, tiny fists balled with rage instead of anxiety. 

(Y/N)  didn’t want to believe it, but the students looked like they were getting ready to square up with a kid. Channeling into her de facto role of campus peacekeeper, she put herself between the kid and the students, saying, “Hey! What’s going on here?” 

One of them jabbed his finger at the boy. “This kid came out of nowhere and started insulting us! Saying our magic was weak!” 

“It is!” The boy said, peering around (Y/N)’s legs. “My papa’s the strongest guy at Night Raven College ever! He could take you all on at once! Tell ‘em, Mama!” 

“Mama?” Another one of the students said. “Prefect, you know this kid?” 

“Uh, not exactly, it’s kind of complicated. Look, he’s just a kid, he didn’t mean any harm. Let’s just all cool down for a second okay?” 

Another student stepped forward, punching his fist into his open hand. “I think he needs to learn some manners. And if his ‘mama’ isn’t going to teach them to him, we will.” 

Instinct kicked in and (Y/N) scooped the boy up in her arms. “Now, just hang on a second, you’re not really going to fight a kid, are you?” 

“Yeah, I can take all you sea cucumbers on!” The boy shouted from her arms. “You look like a sea cucumber too, and their face is their butt!” 

“That’s it!” 

As the student advanced (Y/N) took a step back. Her arms full, her body reacted without thinking about it. Her leg flew up in a high kick, landing squarely in the approaching student’s face. His face bore a perfect shoe print as the young boy in her arms started cackling. (Y/N) took advantage of the momentary stunning and booked it out of there. 

“Grim! Cover!” She yelled. Grim blew a spray of blue flames at the pursuing students, giving the new trio an opportunity to escape relatively unscathed. 

(Y/N) sprinted through the halls, the boy clutched in her arms, Grim flying close behind them. Dodging into an empty classroom, (Y/N) took deep breaths as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. The boy leapt out of her arms, clapping his hands. 

“That was so cool!” He exclaimed. “Uncle Grim was all like ‘Foosh!’ And Mama kicked like ‘bam!’ He had a footprint on his face! Did you see that, Mama? Did you see?” 

(Y/N) held her hand up, trying to order her thoughts for a second before speaking to the overly excited boy. “I saw, I saw. Did you really just go up and start insulting those guys? They have to be twice your age, you could have gotten hurt!” 

The boy pouted, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away. “I know. I’m not supposed to start arguing with people. I’m sorry.” He recited the apology as if he had done it plenty of times before. 

(Y/N) knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I just don’t want you getting hurt, okay? I know you’re probably really tough but you can’t blame me for worrying, you know?” 

The boy grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. He threw himself into (Y/N)’s arms in a big hug. “I know. That’s why I have Papa and Mama! Nothing bad happens when you’re around! Oh!” He gasped as if suddenly remembering something. “Mama, have you seen Cas anywhere? We got split up! I need to be there to fight anyone who tries to mess with him!” 

(Y/N) rubbed his hair. “What did we just say about fighting?” 

Meanwhile, at the Monstro Lounge, Floyd was having one of his rough days. First, he had to break up a fight between a bunch of customers in the Lounge, which might have been fine normally, except they all cowered and begged forgiveness as soon as he got there, so we didn’t even get a chance to squeeze anyone. Then, Azul had started bothering him for his grades in his history of magic class. Like, yeah, it was easy and he could finish the homework no problem, but it was so boring! Why should he have to put effort into something like that, anyway? He was a great mage. Practical exams were a breeze. Why did the paper assignments even matter? Third, Jade kept talking his ear off about some rare new mushroom someone had sent him. Something about how it could let you see into the future, or bring stuff back from the past, or something. Floyd sort of zoned out in the middle of his brother’s explanation. 

And, worst of all, he hadn’t seen his dear Shrimpy all day! Usually, on days off, he’d go track her down, making himself home at Ramshackle dorm, looming over her while she tried to study in the library until she finally paid attention to him and they could go do something fun, or dragging her to his basketball practice so he could show off. But he’d been stuck inside all day. He was starting to get stir crazy. 

All he could think about was wrapping his arms around her soft, plush form and squeezing as hard as he could, until she gasped and made those cute sounds he liked. 

Floyd giggled, kicking his feet. Maybe he could sneak out? Yeah, he could be sneaky when he wanted to! It couldn’t be that hard, right? He was already out of the Monstro Lounge, past the main entrance of the dorm. All he needed to do was go down the tunnel to the mirror chamber and-

“Well, hello there, Floyd.” Busted. Floyd grimaced, turning around to see Jade smiling at him, holding a huge stack of paperwork. “I was looking for you. Professor Trien gave me the assignments you’ve missed. He asked me to make sure you got these done before your next class. You don’t have anything else to do today, right?” 

Floyd groaned, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Jade, I don’t want to do that! What’s even the point, huh? What’s some paper going to prove about casting spells?” 

Jade gave a faux sympathetic look that Floyd could spot from 10 miles away. “Oh? So you did have plans today? Such a shame that you’ll have to cancel them, then.” 

Floyd grit his teeth as Jade shoved the stack of papers into his arms. He briefly considered dropping them all and throwing a punch, if he didn’t know for a fact that Jade was one of the only people who could actually match him blow for blow. Floyd could count on one hand the amount of times they had physically fought with each other, but man, did no one ever suspect that the more calm and collected twin could be just as brutal. 

Jade took Floyd by the elbow, not so gently leading him back into the main dorm, when Floyd froze, ears perking up at a sound. 

Jade frowned. “Floyd, I said-” 

“Shh!” He interrupted, putting a finger to his lips. Floyd cocked his head to the side, trying to hear that sound again. Suddenly, he shoved the papers back at Jade, bounding down the hall and taking the stairs two at a time down to the lobby. 

The main lobby of the Octavinelle dorm took the same decor ques as the Monstro Lounge, or maybe it was the other way around. The lobby was seemingly empty, but Floyd was able to narrow in to the sound he had made out earlier, the hiccuping sound of a kid trying very hard not to cry. 

Floyd stalked over to one of the couches, peering over. A small boy was huddled against the back of the couch, trying his hardest to make himself disappear. 

“Hey, there, Guppy,” Floyd said, leaning over the back of the couch. “What’s with the sad eyes?”

Most children might have been frightened by the sight of a shark-toothed, manic eyed mer looming over them, the moody lighting on the lobby casting haunting shadows over his face. But the boy looked relieved, jumping on and over the couch to latch himself onto Floyd. 

“Papa!” He wailed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I got lost and I couldn’t find Argo, and then I found Mama, but I had big feelings and I bit her! I know I’m not supposed to bite when I have big feelings, but I forgot and it was an accident! And then I ran away from Mama, and I know I shouldn’t have, and I still can’t find Argo, and-and-and-!” 

Before he could say anything else, and before he had the chance to start crying again, Floyd scooped him up under the arms and brought him high in the air. “Wow, you have strong looking teeth!” He praised. “I bet you  can bite real hard! Show me, show me!” Floyd flashed his own sharp-toothed grin, exaggerating gnashing down. The boy sniffled weekly before giving a half-smile. “Hey, come on, you know what I mean. We want a full smile, right, Guppy?” Floyd tossed the boy into the air, catching him and swinging him around so his legs flew out behind him. Despite himself, the boy started giggling. Floyd smiled, booping him on the nose. “There’s those teeth. Look how strong you are!” 

The boy covered his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle his giggling. He made claws with his hands, baring his teeth. “Grr!” 

Floyd gasped dramatically. “Oh no! This isn’t a guppy at all! It’s a shark! Jade, help me!” Floyd theatrically collapsed to the floor, making sure to keep the boy at arms length above him so he didn’t get hurt. The boy’s mood had fully switched now, laughing and holding his arms out so he could pretend to fly. 

Jade stood in the doorway, smiling softly at his brother’s antics. But, more pressingly, wondering how a small child had found his way into Octavinelle in the first place. And, possibly, why he happened to have a certain family resemblance? 

“Pardon me,” Jade said, stepping forward. “I couldn’t help hear you say ‘Papa?’” 

“And then, I swung on this rope over the river, and it was probably, like a hundred feet high! And I let go and did a huge cannonball and it made the biggest splash ever!” The boy, (Y/N) had found out was named Argonaut, was regaling her and Grim with some pretty fantastical exploits from the last camping  trip he and his brother Caspian had taken with their Uncle Jade. The name drops were getting much too specific, and (Y/N) still needed to find out what happened to Argo’s twin, so she decided a visit to Octavinelle was the best next thing to do. 

“Wow, you did all that?” She asked. Argo walked beside her, holding her hand and swinging it back and forth in a large arc. “A hundred feet is pretty high. You must be brave.” 

“The bravest!” He said with a big sharp-toothed smile. “Papa said I have to look out for Cas because he gets scared real easy. But he knows tons of stuff and he’s really smart, so that’s okay.” He frowned a little. “I can’t read really good, so Cas helps me out. That’s why we’re a team!” 

“You sound like a very good team. We’ll find him soon, okay?” (Y/N) could tell Argo was worried about his brother. Even if he kept putting on a brave face, being lost in a big, strange place like NRC would put any kid on edge, not to mention that Argo had no idea how he or Cas got there in the first place. 

“My tummy felt bubbly like when I had too much soda that one time and there was a big light and then I was here,” He had said when she asked. 

‘More magic nonsense,’ (Y/N) thought to herself. She decided she was never getting used to it. 

Stepping through the mirror to Octavinelle, the air temperature noticeably dropped at least ten degrees. The light took on the cool blue hue of the water surrounding the glass tunnels around the dorm. Its own little pocket dimension, or however the dorms actually worked, was like living inside an intricate aquarium full of coral reefs, darting fish, and cool temperatures to remind the largely mer-based population of home. 

Stepping into the Mostro Lounge’s lobby, (Y/N) turned to Grim and said, “Okay, you stay here with him. I’m going to try and find-” 

“Argo!” 

“Cas!” 

Argo sprinted away, colliding with his double in the middle of the Lounge floor, almost knocking a poor waiter off his feet. The two boys hugged as if they hadn’t seen each other for years instead of the better part of an hour. (Y/N) felt a pull on her heartstrings at their reunion. 

“Cute,” She muttered. She took a step forward. “I-”

“Shrimpy!” 

Before she could get another word out, (Y/N) was tackled in a bear hug. Floyd pinned her arms to her sides, picking her up and swinging her around. Behind the daze of dizziness and the feeling of her ribs creaking under pressure, she couldn’t help but compare her normal greeting from Floyd to the smaller twin’s reuniting. 

“Urk, hello, Floyd. Good to see you too.” 

“Aww, that’s all you got to say? With our kids here and everything?” 

“With our- what?!” (Y/N) squirmed out of Floyd’s hold and stumbled back. 

Floyd pulled the two careening boys close, beaming like a proud father. “Come on, Shrimpy, you met our little leptocephalus, right? I’m Papa and you’re Mama, right, boys?” 

“Yeah, Mama,” Argo said, “Don’t be silly!” 

“Argo,” Cas muttered, tugging his brother’s sleeve. “Something kinda weird happened, you know? Mama and Papa look different. I think this is where they met.” 

“Yeah, Night Raven College, the best school in the world!” Argo threw his arms up in celebration. He turned back to Floyd and (Y/N). “Cas and I are gonna come here too when we get big. We’re going to be great mages just like Papa and Uncle Jade and Uncle Azul and Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce and Uncle Grim and everyone!” 

“Everyone, huh?” (Y/N) said, starting to feel dizzy. 

Cas pouted at his brother. “That’s not what I mean, Argo.” 

“He’s right!” Grim cut in, paws on his hips with a smug look on his face. “Since I am going to be the world’s greatest mage!” 

Floyd poked Grim’s exposed tummy. “You were last on that list, seal.” 

“Mrow!” Grim started flailing his paws at Floyd, who easily kept him at bay with one long arm pushing his head back. 

“Ah, here’s where you all went.” Jade came up to the group. He was gently cradling one of his terrariums that had a strange-looking purple and silver mushroom with a dripping cap nestled inside. 

“Hi, Uncle Jade!” Argo waved. 

“Hello, nephew.” 

“Is that one of your fancy mushrooms, Uncle Jade?” Cas asked, standing on his tiptoes to try and get a better look. Jade held it down so the twins could see. Cas’s eyes sparkled in fascination while Argo screwed up his face in displeasure. 

“It is,” He said. “And I believe this is why you two came to visit us.” 

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) asked, picking Grim up to rescue him from Floyd’s teasing. 

Jade turned to his brother. “Floyd, do you recognize this?” 

Floyd stuck his tongue out. “Bleh, yeah. You made that nasty tea from that mushroom the other day and tricked me into drinking it.” 

“Tea?” (Y/N) asked. “Oh, was that the tea in the thermos you had the other day?” She frowned. “You tricked me into drinking it too, Floyd. You said it was tasty and so excited to share it with me, then laughed when I started choking on it because it was so bitter.” 

Floyd had picked the boys up, holding one in each arm. “That’s because it’s funny when it’s you, Shrimpy.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Mmhmm, sure.” 

“I apologize that you were roped into my experiment, (Y/N),” Jade said, not looking or sounding apologetic at all. “But I believe it led to an even more fascinating result than I could have hoped for. This,” He held up the terrarium. “Is an oracleum mycoculous, the fortune-telling mushroom. A very rare specimen a fellow mycologist friend of mine sent me from the Shaftlands. He knew I attended NRC and he asked me to study the effects of magic on this particular species.”

“A fortune-telling mushroom?” (Y/N) asked. “Like, if you cut an apple in half the shape of the seeds can tell your future?” 

“It’s a bit more extreme than that. It’s rumored that when prepared in a certain way, eating an oracleum mycoculous can give one insight into future challenges, typically giving a person a strong intuition into choices they should make in the near future. My colleague had heard rumors that making a tea with the mushroom infused with magic could give the person who drinks it clearer visions of the future. I only intended for Floyd to drink it and record any dreams or premonitions he had, but if you drank it as well, Prefect,” he booped Cas on the nose, who giggled while intently studying the mushroom. “It would seem we were able to bring your future children from your future to our present.” 

(Y/N) gulped hard, finally starting to accept what she had been suspecting this whole time. “Our children?” She squeaked. 

Floyd nuzzled the two boys. “Aww, Shrimpy and I had little guppies!” He smiled wickedly. “How many tries do you think it took before we ended up with these fry?” 

(Y/N) felt her face explode with heat. “Floyd! That - I mean - We’re not even together!” 

“If I may,” Jade said. “The visions associated with the oracleum mycoculous are said to only be possibilities. It shows you options for possible futures depending on certain choices made. So perhaps your boys were drawn from one of these possible futures.” 

(Y/N) felt dizzy at ‘your boys.’ “Okay, wait, hang on-” 

“Mama, are you okay?” Cas asked. He reached out to her. (Y/N) felt a thud in her chest and took him from Floyd. 

“I’m okay, Cas,” She said, trying to hide her anxiety from showing on her face. “Just a little confused, is all. I bet your actual parents are really worried about you.” She turned to Jade. “So, how do we fix this?” 

He smiled slyly. “I have no idea. But wouldn’t it be fascinating to find out?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

The Leech family, plus (Y/N) and Grim, although, if the current children were to be believed, (Y/N) would be part of the Leech family in the future, stood in front of an annoyed-looking Professor Crewel in the alchemy classroom. 

“Sorry?” (Y/N) asked. 

“I absolutely do not approve of any relationship of this sort. Any pup of mine could do much better.” 

“Aww, Beakfish,” Floyd pouted. “That’s no way to talk to your future son-in-law, is it?” 

Crewel frowned deeper, his grip tightening on his teaching pointer that often doubled as a whip. He obviously didn’t approve of Floyd commenting on his pseudo-adoption of (Y/N). Although he had been in somewhat of a custody battle with Headmage Crowley in that regard. (Y/N) anticipated a negative reaction from her one father figure, but at least there was a higher chance Professor Crewel would be able to get something done in a timely manner, rather than the crow-coded Headmage dramatically lamenting without much work actually being done. 

(Y/N) frowned, feeling her face heat up again. “Sir, we’re not actually together or anything…” 

Floyd draped himself over her shoulders, trapping her in a backward hug. “Aww, my wifey Shrimpy is so mean to me. Why’s your Mama so mean, guppies?” 

“Mama’s not mean!” Argo defended, taking one of her hands. “Mama’s the nicest! She lets me stay up past bedtime and eat tons of ice cream and watch PG-13 stuff on TV!” 

(Y/N) looked down skeptically. “Do I really do that?” 

He smiled slyly. “If I say it’s in the future then would you?” 

“Nice try.” 

“Grandpa,” Cas said, looking up at Crewel with big puppy eyes. “You’re going to help us get back to Mama and Papa, right?” 

Crewel faltered. Not even he was totally immune to the child’s charms. He crossed his arms, huffing in feigned annoyance. “Well, of course we’ll get them home. But after we’re having a serious conversation about your future prospects, pup.” 

“Like I said, we’re not even together,” (Y/N) protested weakly. 

“Jade,” Crewel said, holding out his hand. “The oracleum mycoculous.” 

Jade clutched the terrarium close to his chest. “But it’s my only sample. I made the other one into the tea that Floyd and (Y/N) drank.” 

Crewel raised an eyebrow. “And we are in this situation because of that. I’ll have to use the mushroom to reverse-engineer an antidote to send these two back.” Jade reluctantly handed the mushroom over. “I’ll start research right away. Hopefully, we’ll get some answers soon. In the meantime, I’ll have to entrust these two in your care.” 

“Not a problem,” (Y/N) said. “You guys can stay at Ramshackle with me and Uncle Grim.” (Y/N) caught herself, wondering when it had become so easy to refer to her friends as ‘Uncle’ as her theoretical future children did. 

“Papa’s gonna come to, right?” Argo said. 

“Absolutely not!” Crewel said, griping the terrarium so tightly (Y/N) was afraid it might break. 

Floyd sniffed. “You’re going to tell me I can’t be with my children? You’re going to separate us?” 

“You’re already on thin ice, don’t push your luck.” 

“I’ll take care of it, Professor,” (Y/N) said before tempers could rise any further. “Thanks for helping us with this.” 

“Of course, dear,” Crewel said, his tone softening. He cast a suspicious eye at Floyd, who was getting a bit too close to the alchemy ingredients along the walls, lifting the boys up high so they could get a better look. “Just let me know if you need any help.” 

In the end, Floyd did end up staying at Ramshackle for the night. (Y/N) could hear the three Leech boys loudly playing in the living room while she tried to make something quick for dinner. Macaroni and cheese would probably work. Kids liked mac and cheese, right? Even if they were mer kids from the future. Or, half mer? (Y/N) wondered how that worked, specifically biologically speaking. Did the boys have mer forms like Floyd and Jade did? Did they look more human in some parts and more eel-like in others? It occurred to her that there was still so much basic mer and beast-man biology she had no idea about. But how do you ask that sort of thing without it being awkward about it?

“Mama!” Cas called, poking his head in the kitchen. “Can Argo and I go pick out our rooms?” 

“I call the big one!” Argo yelled, sprinting past his brother up the stairs. 

“Hey, don’t run inside!” (Y/N) warned. 

“Yeah, and you can’t have the big one,” Cas scolded. “That’s Mama and Papa’s room.” 

(Y/N) gulped. A sly smile stretched over Floyd’s face. “Yeah, where is our room? I should go unpack right?” 

(Y/N) shook her head, trying to get rid of certain thoughts while organizing others. She clapped her hands together. “I know. Why don’t we build a pillow fort in the living room? It’ll be like a big sleepover.” She weakly kicked at Floyd’s shin, more out of show than real malice. “Because that’s all this is.” 

“Like when there was that big storm!” Argo said, racing back down the stairs. “And the lights all went out and we had to stay away from the windows so we made that big tent in the middle of the kitchen!” 

(Y/N) smiled fondly at a memory she hadn’t made yet. “Sure, like that.” 

“I know where the biggest pillows are!” Grim called, racing up the stairs. The boys eagerly followed, making plans for their blanket fort that would stretch all across NRC campus. 

Floyd sighed dramatically, draping his full body weight over (Y/N)’s back as she tried to stir the macaroni and cheese. “How’d we get so lucky, huh?” (Y/N) purposefully ignored him, something that didn’t slip Floyd’s attention. “They’ve got my looks, of course, handsome devils. Hey, do you think we live on land or in the sea? Ooh, or we could do both! Like a summer house! I bet I make a ton of money, I got to take care of you and the guppies, right? Aww, you’d be a cute little house wife. I’ll come home after work and you’ll say ‘Welcome home!’, I can’t do your voice too good, it’s higher than mine, you know? But you’ll say ‘Welcome home!’ and I’ll give you a big hug and say ‘I’m home!’ And I’ll bring you and the kids gifts and we’ll play games after dinner, and when they’re all tuckered out and in bed I’ll pick you up and go to our room and I’ll squeeze you real tight and say-” 

“Floyd!” Floyd jumped at (Y/N)’s sudden exclamation. He felt her body tense and then sag in exhaustion. “Just… You shouldn’t say that kind of stuff, you know?”

Floyd blinked. “Huh? Why not, Shrimpy?” 

“You know why.” She didn’t say anything after that. Floyd let the remark sit. After a minute of silence between them, listening to the cheering and shouting from the boys upstairs, (Y/N) finally sighed and said, “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl. Not when you don’t mean it.” 

Floyd chuckled feebly, his heart not in it. He felt torn between squeezing tighter and getting as far away from here as possible. “How do you know if I mean it or not?” 

“Because you’re always like this. You’ve been like this since we’ve met, you’re like this with everyone. And you know-” She cut herself off. She seemed to be deliberating something serious and finally continued. “And you know how I feel about you.” 

Floyd felt his mouth go dry, his heart started thumping a million miles an hour, and his stomach turned into knots. He had to say something. This was one of those moments where you had to say something, right? Of course he knew how she felt, it was pretty obvious to everyone how she felt, Floyd included. And the garden, especially what had happened at the garden. Or, rather, what hadn’t happened.  

Now, had he taken advantage of that little fact over the school year to wring out some more entertainment out of the magicless Prefect? Well, yes, of course he had. Had he meant to have his own feelings grow into something he couldn’t manage over that time? No, but it had happened anyway, sneaking up on him and socking him in the heart like a mantis shrimp when he least expected it. 

He tried to say it without saying it. He tried to show it without saying it. But why couldn’t he just say it? 

“(Y/N),” Floyd started. “I-” 

There was a crash from the living room, accompanied by a shriek and laughter. 

“Papa!” Cas called. “We need help!” 

Whatever seriousness had come over Floyd’s countenance disappeared in the blink of an eye. His signature wide grin cut across his face. If anyone was paying attention, they would notice his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He quickly reached over (Y/N)’s shoulder and stole a spoon, scooping a chunk of the mac and cheese from the pot to shove into his mouth before dashing out into the living room. 

(Y/N) stuck her tongue out at his retreating form before turning back to the stove. As she slid the dish of mac and cheese into the oven to finish cooking, she paused. Had Floyd used her real name? 

“Argo!” Cas whispered in the darkness. 

A large quilt hung over their heads, precariously draped between several chairs. Pillows were stacked on all sides making soft walls and they had layered several duvets and couch cushions below to create an improvised mattress. Mama was on the couch, which served as the left-most barrier of their fort, the quilt draping down close to her head with Uncle Grim curled up on her lap. Papa lay sprawled between Cas and Argo, arms and legs out like a starfish. 

“Argo, are you awake?” Cas asked again. 

He heard his brother mumble something before his head popped up from the other side of their dad, hair flattened against one side of his head and sticking out in every direction on the other. “Wassup?” Argo said sleepily. 

“Did you hear what Mama said with Grandpa Crewel?” Argo rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “She said she wasn’t dating Papa!” 

Argo squinted at his brother in the darkness. “But they are. Mama and Papa said they started dating at Night Raven College.” 

“But they’re not yet. Remember what Uncle Jade said? We’re only from one future. What if Mama and Papa don’t start dating in this future?” 

It took Argo a second to register what Cas was suggesting. His eyes went wide and he gasped loudly. Cas shushed him and Papa mumbled in his sleep, finally turning over on his stomach without waking up. 

“You mean we won’t exist?” Argo whispered, panicked. Cas nodded. “What do we do?” 

Cas smiled. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.” 

The next day, amid a bright blue sky painted with thin wispy clouds, Floyd had insisted on visiting Heartslabyul to “Show off his guppies to his best friend, Goldfishy!” (Y/N) sarcastically predicted that this could only end well. 

The group of five had, as anticipated, balked at the two visitors and their explanation for being there.  But the boys had taken to seeing their pseudo-uncles like, well, like merboys to water. They were outside, near the rose garden maze. Argo was practicing some kind of gymnastics, holding Deuce’s hands tightly, walking up his stomach and chest to flip in a practice summersault. Cas munched happily on a cinnamon roll almost as big as his head while watching in fascination as Ace showed off some card tricks. 

“Have you heard anything from Professor Crewel?” Trey asked, setting down a new plate of danishes on the table.  

“Nothing yet,” (Y/N) said, taking a napkin and wiping off some smeared frosting from Cas’s face. “But I assume something like this will take some time to get right.” 

“And you’re…” Trey waved his hand in a circle. “Doing alright?” 

“I’m… Okay.” (Y/N) looked over at the boys now playing tag. “This isn’t the worst magic thing that’s happened since I’ve been here.” 

“That doesn't mean it makes everything easy,” Riddle commented, gazing over the rim of his tea cup. “Especially given your… choice of partner.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware. Floyd’s not too bad, though. He’s pretty good with kids.”

Riddle huffed. “Considering he basically is one himself I’m not entirely surprised.” 

“Hmm? Are you talking about me, Goldfish?” Floyd said, appearing out of nowhere. He grasped the back of Riddle’s chair, pulling back so Riddle was thrown off balance, throwing his arms out to try and reestablish equilibrium. Riddle scowled, face turning red. He looked like he was going to say something, but bit his tongue as Cas and Argo ran up and started digging into the pastries. “It’s not nice to gossip about people.” 

“Yeah,” Argo said, a mouth full of cherry danish. “It’s impolite. You’re the one telling us about manners all the time.” 

“All the time?” Riddle asked.

“When you come over for dinner!” Cas chimed in. “You come over with Papa cause you work together and we all eat and you help me and Argo study!” Argo stuck out his tongue at the last part. 

Riddle went from red to white. “We work together?” 

“Yeah! You and Papa are best friends!” 

(Y/N) was momentarily worried that Riddle was going to faint. 

“And Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce come over all the time! Uncle Deuce is going to teach me how to ride a blast cycle!” Argo said. 

“We’ll revisit that later,” (Y/N) said, ruffling his hair. 

“Can Uncle Trey still teach me how to bake?” Cas asked. “Uncle Cater was going to help me make a Magicam account to show off the stuff we make! Before Argo eats all of it.” 

“Don’t be so good at baking and I won’t be so good at eating,” Argo replied, stuffing another danish in his mouth before darting off, Cas close behind him. 

“I feel dizzy,” Riddle mumbled. 

“Sounds like you’re keeping busy,” Ace said, watching Floyd duck around the hedges with the twins. 

“When am I not?” (Y/N) said. “But at least it sounds like we’re all still close in the future. I like that.” 

“It sounds like you don’t go home, though,” Cater said, mostly to himself. “Back to your world, I mean.” 

(Y/N) hummed. “Maybe home is what you make of it.” 

“Hey, Goldfishy?” 

Riddle growned, shrugging off Floyd’s arm for leaning on him. “What is it, Floyd?” 

Floyd was quiet for a moment, such a rare occurrence that Riddle looked up at him to make sure he had been heard. Floyd was looking out at the rose garden, watching the two children darting around bushes, chasing and being chased by Ace, Deuce, and Grim. (Y/N) stood nearby, watching with a serine look on her face, chiming in every once and a while to make sure the younger boys (and the older ones, too, let’s be honest) were being careful of their surroundings. 

“You know about all that formal romantic stuff right?” Floyd finally asked. 

“I don’t know about ‘romantic.’ What are you getting at?” 

Floyd has a lazy smile on his face. “Do you know how to write a love letter?” 

Riddle felt himself blush. “I’m not getting in the middle of whatever exploits you’re up to, romantic or otherwise.” 

“Aw, come on,” Floyd said, poking Riddle’s check, causing Riddle to swat at him like a fly. “(Y/N)’s real nice, you know? She deserves something fancy. And I want-” It was rare that Floyd was at  a loss for words. Riddle looked up at him, seeing determination and focus scrunch his brow as Floyd tried to choose his next words. “I guess I want to prove it to her. That I like her. That I really like her. That I-” Floyd groaned, letting his body go limp and dragging Riddle with him to crash to the lawn. “See? I’m not good at this kind of stuff! Help your best friend out!” 

Riddle yelled, “If you weren’t so cavalier all the time, you’d be able to focus when you had to be serious!” 

Ace stalked through the high hedges of the rose maze, having been called It in the boys’ game of hide-and-seek. “Better watch out,” He called in a sing-song voice. “Uncle Ace is going to find you!” 

“Psst!” Ace whipped around, seeing Cas peeking out from behind a hedge, waving him over. He went over, seeing Cas, Argo, Deuce, and Jade sitting together, huddled under the shade of the maze. Argo had smuggled a few more pastries from breakfast and was tearing them apart to share with the group. 

“Jade?” Ace asked. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dear nephews called me,” He said. 

“Papa let me borrow his phone!” Argo said, holding up the cell, smears of frosting covering the screen. “He doesn't know he let me borrow it, but I’ll give it back before he misses it.” 

Cas put his hands on his hips. Ace had never seen a more serious looking eight-year-old. “That’s still stealing, Argo!” He huffed. “Whatever. We have something super important to talk about!” 

“Yeah!” Argo chimed in. “We need to make sure Mama and Papa kiss!” 

Deuce choked on his cinnamon roll. Jade tilted his head and smiled. 

“Oya?” Jade said. “That’s quite the goal.” 

“We want to get Mama and Papa together!” Cas clarified. “Because they’re in love and stuff! And we want to exist in the future!” 

“I don’t know how much we should be messing with (Y/N)’s love life,” Deuce said. “It feels kind of invasive, you know?” 

“Anyway,” Ace said, crossing his arms. “It’s Floyd’s fault anyway.” 

“Is it?” Jade asked. 

Ace gulped and scooted away a little before continuing. “Well, yeah. Come on, we all know (Y/N) likes Floyd, for some reason, whatever, that’s on her. If Floyd can’t string together 2+2 then that’s on him.” 

“Floyd isn’t exactly subtle with his emotions, either,” Jade said. “He might have issues directing them to a specific conclusion, however.” 

“So, you think he likes (Y/N), too?” Deuce asked. 

“Undeniably.” 

Ace rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, liking is one thing, but we are sort of talking about future marriage and kids here.” He nodded his head at the twins. 

“But Mama and Papa are in love!” Cas insisted. “And the stories Mama tells us says true love conquers all!” 

“That does sound like the sort of sappy thing (Y/N) would say,” Ace relented. 

“I mean,” Deuce said. “We can’t really force anything, right? If they decide they want to get together that’s up to them. But,” He winked at Cas and Argo. “A little push couldn't hurt, right?” 

“Great!” Cas said. “Phase one is complete! Now, we need recruits for phase two!”

It was Day 3 of having Argo and Cas at NRC. (Y/N) was fretting about what to do with the boys while she and Grimm went to class. 

“I can skip class and stay here!” Grim volunteered. 

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N). “Your grades need all the help they can get.” Floyd had offered to spend the day with the boys as well, when he had tried to worm his way into spending another night at Ramshackle. But (Y/N) had insisted he go sleep in his own bed at his own dorm. And it totally had nothing to do with the fact about how her heart had fluttered the morning after his first night there, when he’d woken up with a big yawn, hair a mess, and smiled lazily at her while wishing her a good morning. Nope. Absolutely not. 

“We’ll be okay, Mama!” Cas promised. She had set him and Argo up at the kitchen table with a box of crayons and coloring books she had snagged from the Mystery Shop (Sam really did have everything in stock). “Argo and I will stay right here and not do anything sneaky!” Argo punched his brother’s shoulder. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow, even more nervous about leaving the boys in the large dilapidated dorm for an entire school day. 

“Don’t worry about it, Prefect!” Phineas, Ezra, and Gus, the Ramshackle ghosts, said, materializing in the kitchen. “We’ll take care of them.” 

(Y/N) sighed in relief. “Thank you, guys. Boys, you be good for the ghosts while Uncle Grim and I are away, okay?” 

“Yes, Mama,” They both said dutifully. They listened intently for the sound of the front door closing before jumping up and smiling at the ghosts. 

“Okay!” Argo said, clapping his hands. “Phase three of Operation Angelfish is a go!” 

For once, everything seemed to be going as normal. (Y/N) and Grim went to classes, got an update on the return potion from Professor Crewel (Just waiting for it to reduce to a concentrated form), had lunch, went to gym, nothing out of the ordinary. Which, as previously established, put (Y/N) on edge. 

Everything seemed to be normal. Too normal, as far as (Y/N) was concerned. If she didn’t know better (and she did) it would seem like her friends were going out of their way to make it seem like nothing important was going on. There had been at least three times already where (Y/N) had walked up to a group, only for them to immediately stop talking, or very obviously switch topics, all while casting side-eyes at each other. She also couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t seen Floyd all day. Well, maybe out of the corner of her eye, or hearing his voice, but it was always cut off, he was pulled away by his brother, or one of her friends suddenly desperately needed her over there right this second. 

She tried not to take this as some kind of commentary on the possible future relationship the two out of place children suggested. It wasn’t really that bad, was it? Her having feelings for Floyd? She knew Ace, Deuce, and Grim were pretty shocked when she had first confided in them. (“I think I like Floyd. Thought?” “And prayers.”) And while no one had ever said anything explicitly negative, besides the occasional teasing or complaining about her crush, there wasn’t anything actually encouraging either. (Y/N) knew she let Floyd get away with way too much most of the time, and only after interacting realized how moon-eyed she’d been acting. Half the time she thought Floyd might return her feelings, and the other half felt like he was taking advantage of her swayed good graces. It made her head spin and chest ache. 

And now, with Cas and Argo appearing out of nowhere? Saying that they were married in some possible future? Happily married with children? The picture the boys painted was idyllic. The kind of thing (Y/N) had only seen in magazines or at the end of some Jane Austen novel. (Y/N) felt herself blush every time she thought about it, whether it was out of embarrassment or longing, she wasn’t sure. Dinners together, people from NRC coming to visit all the time, (Y/N) bringing traditional holidays from her world to celebrate, a beautiful house by the Coral Sea where the boys would learn to swim in their human and mer forms. 

Was there a lingering darkness in the back of her mind that told her this meant she would never go back to her own world again? Sure, of course. Was there a nagging that this was only a possibility, and her own future still had a chance of being completely different? Yes, definitely. 

Did that stop her from planning how exactly she would formally confess to Floyd once she made sure Cas and Argo got home safely? Not a chance. 

Finally, it was the end of the day. (Y/N) was already planning in her head what to make for dinner when she heard someone call her name. Well, sort of her name. 

“Child of man,” Malleus called, raising a hand in greeting from the quad. 

“Oh, Horton,” She said, jogging over to him. “Hi, I don’t usually see you around now. How are you?” 

Malleus puffed up with pride, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “I’ve been recruited.” 

“Recruited?” 

“By my future nephews. I’m meant to distract you.” 

“Future-? Ah, I see.” (Y/N) had an adorable image flash in her mind of the twins and their doting Uncle Horton. “Any particular reason I’m being distracted?” 

“I’m not meant to say.” 

If they had managed to wrap Malleus into whatever they were doing, (Y/N) thought it couldn’t do that much harm. Why not let the boys have fun while they were still in the past? But just to be sure…

“Grim, you’ll make sure the house doesn't burn down while I’m gone, right?” 

Grim saluted, giving a conspiratorial nod at Malleus before flying away. 

Malleus offered his arm which (Y/N) took while they strolled away. “Should I be worried about what you’re all planning?” She asked. 

He hummed. “Not at all. Now, have I ever told you about the controversy surrounding bat-styled gargoyles versus griffin-styled gargoyles in 15th century cathedral architecture?” 

Floyd was mad. Actually mad. Sure he got annoyed or frustrated every once and awhile, but actually angry? That was a rarity that no one wanted to witness. 

Not only had Shrimpy not let him stay the night at her dorm again, which, fine, it was her house, but he’d been trying to see her all day to no avail. Either someone would pull her away, Jade would appear out of nowhere and stall him until she was gone, or they’d just keep missing each other. It would have been one thing if circumstances kept them apart, coincidences were coincidental after all, and it’s not like they had never gone a day without seeing each other. But this was intentional, pointed and deliberate. He was in a Shrimpy drought and the people around him were building a dam. 

And he couldn’t find his phone anywhere. 

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. His skin felt too tight and all the lights were too bright and he wanted to scream. He cut his last few classes and returned to Octavinelle. He had already started tearing off his jacket and shirt as he walked through the mirror portal, leaving clothing in a scattered trail as he marched his way to the decompression chambers that let out into the surrounding water around the dorm. He jumped into the water, the icy chill shocking his human system. He felt his muscles stretch and a comforting pressure encase his body as he shifted back to his mer-eel form, legs melding together as one as he whipped through the water. He shot through the water, scattering fish as he went. He didn’t have the patience to play with any of them today. He was finding he didn’t have the patience for a lot of things. 

She’d try to tell him, once, that she liked him. That maybe she loved him, or that could have been him projecting. (Oh, dear Seven, did he love her?) She’d asked him to meet him in the gardens after school. She said she’d been thinking a lot and there was something extremely important she needed to tell him. He’d poked her, saying she should just tell him now, in the passing period between classes surrounded by curious and eavesdropping classmates. She’d said no, that she still needed to get her thoughts in order. She’d written a letter, she said, that she was holding firmly in her hands, but she thought he would appreciate a more direct approach. So. Garden. After school. She’d be waiting. And then the bell had rung and she’d run off. 

And he’d left her waiting. 

He hadn’t shown up. He’d heard later that she’d been there so long the grounds keepers had to ask her to leave so they could lock up the bio-dome at night. He’d seen her the next morning, eyes red and puffy, huddled with her first year friends who were speaking in low, comforting tones, trying to be affectionate and reassuring in that awkward way teenage boys did. And he had waltzed right over, picking her up and spinning her around. And she hadn’t mentioned the garden. She hadn’t mentioned the letter. She never mentioned any of it again. They fell back into their old rhythm, the one Floyd knew, the one he was comfortable with, the one he could predict. 

He should have gone to the garden. 

Why the hell hadn’t he gone to the garden? 

Floyd burrowed into a reef section of a shallow, tearing at floating kelp with his claws and snapping jaws. He was trashing and writhing, kicking up the loose sand so it created a hazy cloud around him. The sand started getting in his mouth and eyes but he didn’t care. He welcomed the sting of it. 

Argo and Cas being here meant everything was okay, right? If they had kids in the future, it meant everything worked out, right? 

Floyd was mad. He was angry. 

And he didn’t understand why. 

“Floyd!” Floyd looked up, seeing Jade swimming towards him. 

He scowled, turning away to focus on wreaking havoc on the underwater flora. “Not now,” He said through gritted teeth. 

“Floyd, this isn’t the time-” Jade tried to reach out and touch his brother. Before he could make contact, Floyd whipped around with a snarl, swiping at Jade with his sharp claws.Jade quickly jerked out of the way, his surprise quickly melting to aggravation. Jade surged forward, catching Floyd around the stomach and tackling him to the sea floor. Floyd gnashed his teeth, clawing at Jade’s back. “What exactly do you think you’re going to accomplish here?” 

“Get off!” Floyd writhed, wrapping his tail around Jade and spinning to loosen his brother’s grip. Momentarily free, Floyd took the opportunity to lunge at Jade again. 

A fight, good. This is exactly what he needed. He needed to do something physical, something violent, something to get his mind out of whatever stoop he was stuck in, something so he didn’t have to focus on how bad he felt, something where the outcome could be predictable and certain, even if the certainty was pain. That was better than not knowing. That was better than letting feelings he couldn’t control take over his mind. 

He and Jade wrestled, throwing each other into the sand, striking with teeth and claws, whipping with their tails. They didn’t cast any spells, which is the only way each twin was able to understand the severity of their fight, even if it was a subconscious understanding. Fighting was one thing, using magic against each other was another. 

Finally, the two faced off, gills heaving with underwater breaths, scratches and gouges bleeding, eyes locked. Jade pushed back a little, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

“Do you really think this is the best use of your time right now?” He asked.

Floyd snapped his teeth. “Who asked you? What do you know about anything, anyway?” 

“I know (Y/N) tried to confess to you.” 

Floyd froze, then felt another surge of anger bubble under his skin. Why did Jade know? What right did he have to know (Y/N)’s inner thoughts when Floyd himself couldn’t even have them? 

“She told me,” Jade continued. “Or, I gathered from context clues. She asked if you had ever dated anyone back home, what sort of person you liked. She wanted to know if you prefer meeting in person to discuss important things or if she should leave a letter. Not that she really needed to discuss much. I would say it’s been rather obvious to anyone paying attention for the last few months. The real issue, I find, is why you haven’t confessed yourself.” 

Floyd yelled, grappling Jade and sinking his teeth into his shoulder. Jade bit his lip to keep from crying out. He took advantage of the grapple to twist and pull Floyd into a headlock. 

“I went there,” Jade continued through gritted teeth. “I went to the garden. I was planning on spying, I thought it’d be fun. But you never showed up. I kept waiting, and so did she, and you never appeared. Why in all of the deep blue sea didn’t you come?” 

“I don’t know!” Floyd confessed. He went limp in Jade’s grasp, all the fight going out of him. He let out a choked cry, something Jade hadn’t heard from his brother in who knows how long. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” 

Floyd sank to the rocky coral outcropping, collapsing. Jade observed him for a moment. He swam down, curling up next to Floyd. 

“She still has feelings for you, you know.” 

Floyd groaned deep in his chest. “I can’t.” 

“Can’t what?” 

“Can’t tell her. I can’t hear her say it. What happens after that, huh? What happens after we both say it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“That’s the problem! How do I know what to do? Do I change, does she? And what if neither of us do? I can’t risk it, I can’t lose her!” 

“You’re losing her anyway.” 

Floyd felt his anger flash again and lashed out with a claw which Jade easily dodged. The fight drained out of him again and he flopped back down. 

Jade regarded Floyd. When he determined that Floyd wasn’t about to fly off the handle again, he came closer. “Don’t you think it’s selfish, keeping your feelings all to yourself?” 

“Eels are cowards,” Floyd mumbled.

“But humans are brave.” Floyd peaked up at Jade. “They can’t survive long in water, they don’t have the heightened senses of beastmean, nor the longevity of fairies. They don’t have claws or teeth or endless magic supplies. But they’re brave and stubborn. That’s how they’ve lasted so long, become such a force in the world. And there’s a certain human we know that is exemplary in that regard.” 

Floyd hummed. “She’s amazing. She’s pretty and smart and clever and strong and… What if I mess up, Jade?” 

Jade patted Floyd’s back. “Then I’m sure she’ll let you know and you’ll figure it out together. Relationships require two people, after all.” 

“You think she’ll forgive me? From before?” 

“If you apologize, I’m sure she will. And, brother dear, I have the perfect setting for such an apology. Come on, we need to get you fitted with your suit. And maybe some stitches there above your eye.” 

“Ow!” (Y/N) cried as she banged her shin for the third time. 

“Sorry, Mama!” Argo said, pulling her hand to maneuver her around the low table. 

“It’s fine. Are you sure I have to keep this blindfold on?” She reached up for it. 

“No!” Cas gasped. “It’s a surprise!” 

(Y/N) sighed and let herself be pulled along, gritting her teeth when she stubbed her toe on the side of a chair. 

After Malleus had brought her back to Ramshackle after their walk and gargoyle lecture, she had immediately been set upon by the boys who kept insisting that she absolutely not look anywhere near the backyard. Almost immediately after walking in the door, Vil appeared seemingly out of nowhere and shoved a garment bag in her hands. The dress was beautiful, of course, and probably worth more than she could ever afford, in her old world or this one. It seemed like almost everyone she knew was bustling around the dorm, being extremely secretive. Finally, her boys had come to get her, giving her a blindfold to wear and gingerly escorting her down stairs. 

‘Her boys.’ When exactly had she started thinking of them like that? 

(Y/N) felt a cool breeze as she stepped outside. She could feel the boys walking her up the hill in the backyard, stopping suddenly. 

“Okay, Mama,” Cas said, his voice bubbling with excitement. “You can look now!” 

(Y/N) removed the blindfold and gasped at what she saw. The large oak tree in the back dripped with tiny string lights and paper lanterns. Fireflies gently bobbed around in the oncoming twilight. A small table, (Y/N) recognized it from the Heartslabyul rose garden, had been set up underneath the glowing bows, decorated with a candelabra. 

“Oh, boys,” (Y/N) said, taking each of their hands. “This is beautiful. Is this what you’ve been up to all day?” 

“Mostly!” Argo said. 

“Yup, now it’s phase 4!” Cas said. 

“Phase 4?” (Y/N) asked. The boys just dragged her over to the table and pulled out the chair for her. They made to rush away before Argo hastily corrected himself and pulled out a wireless speaker from behind the tree trunk. He took out what suspiciously looked like Floyd’s phone, sinking it up to the speaker. Soon, it began to play a string quartet. Argo smiled triumphantly, he and Cas taking hands and rushing back to the dorm. 

(Y/N) smoothed her dress and sat down, watching the fireflies and sunset with the calming music in the background. There was a tea set on the table and she poured a cup. She paused for a moment before filling up the cup across from her as well. As she sipped the tea, she saw the silhouettes of Cas and Argo dragged someone around the side of the dorm. In the low light, she couldn’t exactly tell who it was, but based on the lanky form and fond body language, she guessed it was Floyd. She sighed inwardly, half excited to see him and half dreading it, especially in such a romantic location. So this way the boys’ real plan. She wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that. 

She stood up as Floyd came closer, stepping into the circle of light around the tree, ready to disperse whatever plot the boys had set up, before gasping. “Floyd! What happened?” Although Floyd was wearing a nice suit and tie, he had a black eye, a split lip, and a cut above one of his eyebrows that looked like it had been hastily patched with stitches. She rushed to him, her hands hovering around him. “Are you okay? Should we go to the infirmary? Who did those stitches - why do you have stitches!” She frowned. “Honestly, I keep telling you to stop getting into fights! One day you’re going to fight someone stronger than you and then where will we be? Look at you, you’re still bleeding!” 

Floyd only grinned, leaning down so his forehead touched hers. “Shrimpy’s worried about me.” 

She weakly pushed him off. “Of course I’m worried. Gosh, did the boys see you like this?” 

Before she could take a step away, he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her in a tight hug. “I like when you’re worried about me.” 

“Is that why you keep doing stupid stuff?” 

Floyd hummed. “Maybe. If it makes you pay attention to me, then it’s worth it, right?” 

(Y/N) didn’t know how to reply. She felt heat building up in her checks, a mixture of embarrassment and longing and something else she couldn’t quite place. 

“Floyd, I-” “I like you, (Y/N).” She froze at his words. “I couldn’t say it before. I mean, I could, but I didn’t. And that’s my fault. It was bad, I was bad, I still am bad. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I just - You’re so much of everything. And I want that everything. I want us to share it, forever. I want to see you all the time because you make me so happy and I want to make you just as happy. I think we can be, together. I promise I’ll try, really hard. And I-” Floyd sniffed as (Y/N) pulled back. His face was flushed, tears dotting his lashes. He was trying to keep up his usual confidant grin, but it crumpled at the edges. “I’m sorry, Shrimpy. I’m so sorry I hurt you, that I acted like nothing was wrong, that nothing happened. I love you, you know that right? You know it now. I love you.” 

“Oh, Floyd,” She muttered, brushing his hair away from his face. “If I kiss you now, is your lip going to start bleeding again?” 

Floyd broke out into a real smile, letting out a choked laugh. He crushed (Y/N) to him, picking her up and spinning her around. He peppered kisses on her face while she giggled too. She took his face in her hands, gently lowering him closer and kissing him. 

Back at the dorm, spying out the windows, Cas and Argo high fived. 

The next morning was bright and sunny and (Y/N) couldn’t help but think it was all for her. 

Cas and Argo were making their rounds in the quad, saying goodbye to their uncles, many of whom grew misty eyed and the imminent departure. Floyd was squeezing her hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. 

“Alright, pups, everyone settle down,” Professor Crewel called, waving everyone over. He took out a paper bag and shook out two dark purple oval candies, handing one to each boy. “Here, this will get you back to your time in the blink of an eye.” He patted each of their heads. “Be good, pups.” 

The two took the candies and rushed over to Floyd and (Y/N). Floyd crouched down and picked each boy one at a time, throwing them in the air and catching them before repeating with the other. (Y/N) pulled them both into a tight hug, kissing the tops of their heads. 

“I can’t wait to meet you boys for the first time,” She said. 

“We’ll see you soon, Mama!” Argo said. 

“Mama,” Cas said. “You’re going to take care of Papa, right?” 

(Y/N) laughed as Floyd frowned. “Hey, shouldn't I be the one taking care of Mama?” 

Cas frowned, a perfect mirror of his father. “Only kinda. Mama’s the one who does all the taking care of.” 

“Well, when you get home, tell your Papa and he promised you ice cream.” 

(Y/N) quickly whipped away the tears that were forming in her eyes. She cleared her throat to try and speak without faltering. “Speaking of, I’m sure your Mama and Papa are worried about you. I think it’s time to head off. But one more hug.” They crashed back into her open arms. Floyd threw his arms around all of them, squeezing tight. 

Finally, the Cas and Argo each took the others hand, popping the candy in their mouth. Cas screwed up his face and Argo stuck out his tongue at the bitter taste of it. (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, comparing their reaction to hers when Floyd had first gotten her to drink the oracleum mycoculous tea. It seemed there was no good way to mask that taste. 

Before their eyes, the twins started to fade out, as if they had been projections. They stared in fascination at their disappearing bodies. They looked up and waved and everyone waved back. Eventually, they slipped out of view. The group waited another moment, giving some sort of solemn respect to the family they would meet again in the future before dispersing. 

“So,” Floyd, leaning down to speak quietly to (Y/N). “You never did answer me, Shrimpy.” 

“Answer what?” 

He grinned deviously and (Y/N) immediately regretted asking. “How many times you think it took before we got them.”

[bambiesfics]

⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹

warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.

author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.

“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”

You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.

“Is that where we’re going next?”

Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.

“Is that what it says on the map?”

You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,

“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”

Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”

“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.

“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”

You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.

“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”

“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”

She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”

And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.

Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.

She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.

In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’

A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.

A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.

You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.

A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.

“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.

“…What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”

“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”

“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.

“Why’d you get water?”

Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.

Vain. You teased in your head.

….But so pretty.

The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”

She side-eyed you suspiciously.

“Thanks?…”

And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.

Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.

She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?”

“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”

“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”

“Ah.” she responded.

“…that’s actually real as fuck.”

“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.

Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.

“Where are we going?”

Ellie turned right into a smaller street.

“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”

“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”

“—no. When will you stop asking?”

“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”

She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”

“You’re not funny Ellie.”

“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”

You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.

You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.

“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”

She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.

“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.

Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.

“Mmm…”

“You like?”

“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”

Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.

But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.

You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.

You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.

Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.

Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.

Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”

“Yes you really do.”

Ellie’s cheek dimpled.

“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”

“Like what? That you look pretty?”

You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.

“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”

“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”

She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.

Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.

Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.

Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.

Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”

Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.

“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”

You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.

Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.

She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.

The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.

“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.

Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.

Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.

Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.

“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.

“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”

Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”

All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.

“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”

Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.

“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”

You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.

Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.

Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.

You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.

It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.

The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.

She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.

Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.

She needed off.

“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.

“What was that?” Ellie sighed.

“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.

You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”

“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.

She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.

Oh.

“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.

Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.

Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.

“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”

“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”

Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.

You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.

Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.

Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.

But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.

If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.

She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”

You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.

Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.

“nuh-uh I—.”

“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”

Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.

You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.

“You still need to pee s’more?”

“No.”

“Babe…”

“Maybe.”

Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.

You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.

You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.

“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.

“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”

You frowned.

Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.

She reassured you.

“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”

[prxncezz]

Can I rec something similar as "Good Girl For You," whereas reader is giving ethan a bj while chad tries to talk to ethan through the locked door?

Only if u want ofc, ty

study buddy

Pairing: Sub!Ethan, Dom!Reader

Summary: Y/N gives Ethan his first blowjob, but of course, Chad interrupts.

Contains: smut [mdni], oral [m receiving], no actual p in v, praising, corruption kink if you squint, fem specific terms. Lmk if I missed any!

An: I wasn't sure if you wanted Ethan as the sub or dom in this, but if you wanted Ethan to be a dom, then lmk, and I'll gladly remake it! Also, lmk if you wanna be in the taglist.

Ethan was absolutely obsessed with you.

He had been since the first day you met, and it never crossed his mind that he had a chance with you. He automatically assumed he didn't, considering he was a nerd who kept his nose shoved in books and his homework, but unbeknownst to him, you were actually fond of that very type.

You enjoyed teasing him, giving him signals, and flirting with him without making it too obvious.

It was so fun to toy with him. You couldn't help it. You were addicted to the look on his face when he got all flustered and shy.

But finally, finally, you were in his dorm room to "study."

Little did he know that you weren't planning on studying the entire time. You tried to give him subtle hints like caressing his shoulder or scooting a little closer to him, but he didn't catch onto any of them.

"Ethan," you sighed impatiently, pulling Ethan from the page he was explaining to you.

"Yeah?" His head perked up, his innocent doe eyes looking into yours.

"I was thinking about taking a break. Maybe we could... I don't know... relax?"

"Relax?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. God, he was so oblivious to your hints.

He never picked up on them. Ever. For a moment, you doubted his interest in you, but you skimmed past that possibility quickly since you always had such a great effect on him when you used your charms.

So what could it be? What was holding him back from making a move?

You grew impatient, and you finally realized that you might have to make the first move on your own.

"Yeah, relax." You traced your finger from his collar down to the center of his chest before your eyes flickered to his, his cheeks and nose bright pink.

"And how would we do that?" He adjusted his hips, making you want to grab his face and kiss him right then.

He was so unbelievably cute, it was ridiculous.

"I think I might have an idea," you whispered, flashing him a smirk before shuffling down and kneeling between his legs.

His breath hitched, and his face turned pinker, obviously liking the attention you were giving him.

“Y/N…?” he squeaked, his breath quickening as your hands slowly slid up his thighs.

“Is this okay, Ethan? Do you want me to stop?” You asked softly, your hands stopped about two inches away from his zipper.

"N-No, it’s not that," he said, swallowing thickly. “I just…. i’ve never….” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He was a college student and he still hadn’t had sex yet.

“That’s okay, sweetie, i’ll go easy on you,” You purr, your right hand inching upward before palming his very obvious bulge.

He let out a strangled whimper, his eyes screwing shut at your touch through his jeans.

“Can i take these off, Eth?” You whisper, continuing to palm him through his jeans. He nodded mindlessly. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

You unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before wrapping your fingers around the band of his boxers. You pulled them down aswell, his pretty cock springing up and leaking an embarrassing amount of precum.

“Is it okay if i touch you?” You ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes. The last thing you wanted to do was make an innocent boy uncomfortable.

He nodded, giving you a small ‘uhuh’ as he looked down at you. His cock twitched. He had the biggest crush on you for the longest time, he was surprised you hadn’t confronted him about it before.

You wrapped a hand around his base, kissing his pink, leaking tip. He whimpered, his cock giving a small, cute twitch.

Your tongue flattened on the underside of his tip, the most sensitive part of his cock. He let out a small, strangled moan. He pressed his lips together, embarrassed by the sounds leaving him.

You swirled your tongue around his tip before taking his cock in your throat.

"F-fuck, Y/N, p-please.." He gasped. "S-slow down.."

*You did, bringing your lips up a little to about two-thirds down his cock. He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. He gave you a small nod and you inch ethan down your throat a little slower than before.

He lets out muffled moans as your hands rest on his thighs, your manicured nails soothingly trialing up and down his skin.

You bob your head up and down a little faster, watching his face contort in pleasure. His hips involuntarily rutted into your throat. You hummed around his cock, causing him to shiver and moan.

“H-holy shit, i’m s-sorry, couldn’t help it,” He babbles. He’s cut off by a moan as you take him a little faster. His doe eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth falling open with pleasure.

Your tongue swirled around his tip which made him whimper loudly.

His mouth hung open as broken moans escaped his lips, followed with fuck fuck fuck fuck's and oh shit, pleass!

"Y/N... fuck!" He whimpered and whined as his breaths became shallow. It had only been a couple of minutes and you child tell He was close.

“Are you close, baby?" You smirk and swirl your tongue around his reddened tip. All he could do was moan and nod, his hips bucking off the mattress, desperately searching for relief.

You came to a halt, removing your mouth from his cock as Chad called Ethan’s name, the sound of keys being tossed on the counter following soon after.

“Ethan?” Chad called again, footsteps approaching Ethan’s room. He knocked on the door and ethan’s head fell toward, a frustrated groan leaving his lips.

“Yeah?” He called back, trying to remember if one of you locked the door beforehand.

“I asked if you wanted some pizza, i was planning on ordering some,” He calls from outside the door.

You had a small idea, leaning forward and licking ethan’s tip.

“Uh y- oh fuck…” Ethan moaned. “Yeah that’s f-fine,” Chad paused for a moment, probably hearing ethan’s noises.

“What’s going on in there, dude…?” He asked, obviously a little suspicious. Your hand stroked Ethan’s cock quickly, mouth on his tip and your free hand on his thigh. You swirled your tongue around his tip, his moans growing breathier and higher pitched as he gets closer to his orgasm.

Ethan whimpered, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Y-yea everything’s fine,” Ethan breathed out, his head falling back.

You took him all the way down your throat and that’s all it took, Ethan moaning your name as he cums violently down your throat, whining softly.

“Umm… okay…?” He says, walking away. You smirk up at Ethan, who bites his lip.

“We almost got caught,” He whispers.

“So?” You chuckled, furrowing your brows. “I don’t think chad will get mad, he has girls over all the time.”

“No, i know, but… i didn’t think you’d want anybody to know that…” He trails off. you smile softly.

“You’re too cute. You don’t think i want people to know about whatever this turns into?” You tilted your head. He shrugged shyly. He was suddenly very aware that he had his cock out and blood rushed to his cheeks. “You’re smart, Ethan, but sometimes you can be a little stupid.”

should i make a part 2???

Taglist:

@l0s3r-natilye @nowitsmissing

[sexlapis]

i know requests are closed and im sorry but i need this so i dont forget 💖 actor!toji looking at edits on live and hes like “so yall see me like this” and the fans go wild

actor!toji on live!

okay i’ll make an exception once.

𝜗𝜚 actor!toji (x implied gn!reader)

sfw, crack, tiktok (bc that’s it’s own warning), suggestive, horny toji fans, toji has reading glasses, petnames (‘kid’) he’s a little rude but when is he not :), old man toji <3

〆(・∀・) : me after not writing abt actor toji for like a month 😊🤗

masterlists

actor toji masterlist

*

“hey, everybody,” toji said, waving to camera as if he didn’t fumble and struggle in front of his fans for the past ten minutes trying to get his phone to stand up securely. he looks cute, dressed in a navy blue hoodie with nothing underneath and his dark hair was a messy mop atop his head.

now he just sits in his chair at his dining room table, watching the viewer count rise and rise to absolutely ridiculous numbers.

“fourty thousan-fifty thou-sixty thousand?! didn’t know i had so many fans..jesus christ…”

honestly, toji had no idea what he was doing and he was a tiny bit nervous. this was his first ever “live” (something that he did not know even existed until you told him) and he had no idea how to entertain his fans or what they really wanted. but they seem pleased with him just staring at the camera in confusion and admiring his handsome face.

toji proceeds to read some of the comments in the rapid moving chat of chaos. here, starts the beginning of his own demise.

many comments are sweet, kind, praising him for his talent and acting skills, some were just spamming their country flags and names, a rare male fan is asking to see his guns collection, others asking about his upcoming projects but the majority of them are…not exactly PG in the slightest.

toji’s eyes could bulge out of damn skull at some of the explicitly and complete shamelessness of his fans. he knew they found him attractive, but this was a whole other level of depravity.

“what the fuck…” toji whispers in awe, mouth agape as his eyes scan through the chat, his eyes being fed with the most desperate and thirsty comments he has even read, “you guys are sumthin’ else…”

his one sentence just pours fuel on the, already blazing and large, fire, the chat moving so fast that is starts to lag.

“why’d i even speak..”

he actually takes time to read each comment that he can see (and stomach) and one of them catches his eye.

“watch your edits on tiktok? i have edits? what’s an edit?”

the chat blows up even more, commenters begging and begging him to watch these…edits.

“alright, alright, i��ll watch these “edits”,” toji says to the camera, before pulling out another phone, one that is clearly quite old, jagged edges and a cracked camera, a raggedy phone case and just overall not in the best condition it could be in.

“‘what is that ancient ass device’ eh? this is my main phone,” he replies to a comment, showing his phone to the camera to his fans can see, “‘s fine, works perfectly. and it’s not “ancient”. it’s actually a nokia. pft, dumbass kids.”

toji can feel himself being flamed in the chat. even more so when he pulls out his reading glasses.

“yeah, ‘m fuckin’ old. jesus.”

he squints, scrolling on his beaten up phone with his index finger, “y’know, ion even really use tiktok, i only got it so _____ can send me videos of whatever the fuck. i swear, that kid sends me a million videos per day..” toji sighs, smiling at the thought of you, “ahh, they’re just so dumb.”

toji, after a long time of searching through trial and error and directions from his fans, eventually finds the search page of tiktok.

“alright, what’d i type in then? just ‘toji’? ‘toji fushiguro’?” he looks for answers in the chat, but find himself getting frustrated at the lack of actual responses to his question. he tuts, “i’m just gonna search ‘toji fushiguro edits’ and see what happens.”

he does just that and the results are…very interesting.

right in front of his very eyes are miles and miles of edits of himself, created by his fans, their depravity exposed for him to see, some of who were probably watching him at this very moment.

“jeeeeesus christ. ‘dunno what i even expected, honestly,” he scrolls through them, audios changing constantly as he does so, his eyes wide and wondering, “i’m actually impressed…”

toji pressed on one, and he watches it, the edit flashing in the reflection of his glasses as he watches. his open mouth slowly turns into a smirk of amusement and all out disbelief, the audio of the video being something about… ‘needing someone older’?

“so you guys see me like this?” he asked, expression incredulous and he breathes out a small chuckle, “buncha little fuckin’ freaks.”

the chat seems to like that. a lot.

his chat is once again flooded with comments from hell…hell for people driven purely by lust, that is.

toji huffs, “how old is this person anyway?”

he seemingly clicks on the account and reads their username. well, almost.

“‘tojis little cu-woah!” he almost drops his phone out of his hand, jaw on the floor, “how old are you! sixteen?! toji looks to the camera, eyebrows furrowed before slamming his phone on the table and pointing at his fans through the screen, “go do your homework! and be in bed by nine. actually, no scratch that, eight! christ…sixteen years old, oh my god…”

he continues to mutter to himself, completely baffled at how some of his fans are so young and just so…out of their minds. his skin crawls at the thought of a sixteen year old liking him in such a way.

toji shivers, “god, where are your parents?” he questions and continues to search through the edits, before finding one that looks safe, innocent and PG.

he was proven wrong however, when the audio was a woman rapping about being put in full nelsons-

“okay, that’s enough!” he slams his phone down again on the table, “i’ve seen enough,” and then he reaches for the camera, not even caring about his viewers. he mutters a, “crazy fuckin’ kids” before abruptly ending his “live” and going to take a nap.

*

the next day, you have sent him over ten videos on tiktok, all of them being edits of him from the day of the live, most of them containing the clip of when he called his fans, quote, a “buncha little fuckin’ freaks” unquote.

toji sighs at them, secretly entertained that you must be watching these deviant edits of him too.

*

〆(・∀・) : no i have not forgotten abt actor toji

taglist: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000 | @morgyyyyyyy | @studiecoherence | @earth2fae | ce-namonreads | @ib4ryuguji | @hisjaegerist | @basiloverthyme | @sweet-kiwi | @sayitowshi | @iovemytoru | @thecompletechaosmaster | @sugutoad | @inumakiiz | @uzxotic | @1meshugge1 | @kunikuzushisbeloved (sorry some could not be tagged for some reason </3)

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : “if a girl walks up to you …”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannon/blurb based on the tiktok trend “if a girl walks up to you and flirts what are you doing?”

mickey speaks : randomly had this thought tdy & hamzah has been on my mind lately soooo this one’s for my slushy girls 💐 PRETTY FLUFFY (but i hope it’s not like … cringy instead of cute)

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

you’re both fully in pajamas, tucked and wrapped in each other’s arms when you come across the tiktok trend that has flooded your for you page as of late

hamzah’s naturally aloof (due to a long day spent with you and it currently being almost 1 AM) and unfocused as he fights sleep while watching his tenth episode of teen titans.

so when you quickly unravel yourself from him and move across the room, adjusting your low hanging sweatpants accordingly, he’s dumbfounded and asking you what you’re doing and why you’re leaving him.

“you’re so dramatic, can you come here? i wanna do something”

“insulting me and asking a favor in the same sentence…” he sighs then pauses with a hand closed over his mouth, muffling “wow.”

literally and metaphorically tugging his arm to get him to participate but he’s adamant on knowing what exactly he’s getting up for

when he’s almost out of bed you tell him it’s “this tiktok thing” and he exaggerates a “NOOOO” and releases all of his weight so that he falls back on the bed and you practically fall with him due to your connected hands

of course he’s eventually convinced with a few kisses

hamzah fiddles with your hand while listening to you explain: “okay, pretend im not here and some girl comes up to you at target.”

he just stands in the center of the frame looking around the room as you walk away then return in character

you approach obnoxiously and begin some surface level flirting “hey good looking”

“you can back up a little bit,” he looks you up and down

“pause- did you just check her out???”

“no? you know there was definitely some judgement there.”

“sure ok, resume… now.” you play with your hair, “what’s someone as cute as you doing in a place like this?”

“bruh, we’re at a target” hamzah laughs through his words

you stop your role again, “and why are you taking time to respond to her?!”

“oh kill me for being distracted! you couldn’t have hired an ugly actress?”

you look up at him with squinted eyes, “you need to learn to resist the hot girls too!”

“i’m tryingggg!!!!” he rubs his eye harshly, “restart, restart.”

it cuts to a clip of you two acting once more

“yeah, we both loooveee target we’re, like, so alike,” you go to grab his arm and he turns completely away from you

“ok, and i have a girlfriend” he pretends to grab something off of a shelf

“that doesn’t matter if i don’t see her…”

you continue pestering so he resorts to plugging his ears with his fingers and talking over you, repeating that he has a girlfriend

eventually he turns back to face you and yells “OH MY GOD GIRL, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!!” right into your smiley face.

he then fully manhandles you over his shoulder and spins you around before dropping you onto the plushness of your shared bed

he doesn’t even look to check on you (you’re outrageously laughing and yelling “it hurts!” in regards to your poor stomach cramping)

he runs to grab your phone from the desk while recording himself in faux panic, “guys, you can’t tell y/n i just beat up a woman please, please, pl- AHHH”

he and the video are cut off by you jumping on his back and attacking his cheek with kisses through your loud giggles.

you cuddle in bed again after turning off the lights and hamzah rewatches it for a third time since you’ve posted it to your spam account (everytime it’s over he says, “no, that was actually pretty funny.”)

by the morning it has thousands of likes and plenty of comments either full of love for the two of you together or calling hamzah the funniest man in the world (they’re just like u fr!)

[luveline]

bombshell finds tickets to a russian movie thing sitting in spencer’s desk at work and they’re about to like run out (?) so she presents them to spencer and asks him on a date and pretends that she didn’t just pull them out of spencers desk in that bombshell way

You’re looking for gum. If Spencer were at his desk, you’d politely beg for a stick and he’d give it to you, but he’s not here, so you must search. 

You sit in his seat, slinking down as he does with poor posture, your kitten heels hitting the spine of a book kept under the desk. Your dress’ skirt rises up your thighs, the fabric at your neck pulls, but you have bigger problems. You’re feeling the weird franticness of unspent energy and only a stick of gum is gonna fix you. 

He has a drawer full of things, neatness traded for space. Blue and pink paper clips in an arrowhead shaped box. Push pins of all colours, their box more ordinary. He has a travel book on indigenous North American birds with stamps held between the pages, a plastic bottle cap, train stubs from Quantico to the station outside of his apartment and a bottle of ibuprofen missing half of its contents. 

Your fingers dig around for the familiar shape of a packet of gum, hesitating thoughtfully against the thread of a thicker cardstock. 

You pull a cream envelope from the desk and, perhaps wrongfully, unveil the contents: two tickets to see any Russian flick at the foreign language theatre free of charge (if you buy a large drink). They expire tonight. 

You press them to your chest and spin in Spencer’s chair without any regard for whoever might see you slouching. Across the office with his hair out of his face and a smile bordering lackadaisical stands your favourite. He even has a pencil in hand. He likes to underline things in the books he reads for your benefit. It’s the pencil that decides your next move. 

You stand up, brushing down your nice dress that he seems to like, a black cotton with thin pinstripes settling nicely just above your knees. You check your lipstick in the black reflection of his sleeping monitor, buzzing. 

He’s watching you when you turn back. You hide the tickets behind your hip and begin a light walk to his side, the chug of the printer a constant hum you can feel in your shoes. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder ever so slightly. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” He squints. “You’re acting strange.” 

“Suspicious,” you correct. 

“That, too.” 

“How come you let me hold your hand?” 

Spencer doesn’t hide his surprise at your question very well. His eyes turn deer in the headlights, then down to the printer. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“When we first met, you wouldn’t shake my hand. And that’s okay,” —your smile is loving in the hope that he finds your question as the curiosity it is and not an interrogation— “I’m just wondering what changed.” 

“I was distracted.” He’s talking about the first time you took his hand, the two of you on the way to the office. “You stopped me from being late.” 

“Right, but I should’ve asked and I didn’t. And now we hold hands all the time.” You take a half step back. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m just wondering.”

“Nobody’s held my hand in a really long time. And you’re mostly clean.” 

“Mostly!” you laugh, giving him a guilty smile. “I’m super clean, I just forget how gross door handles are sometimes.”

You have embarrassed him, in a way. It’s really not what you meant to do, not when you’re about to ask him on a date. 

Ever since you started your official position at the BAU, you and Spencer have grown closer, but there’s a difference between flirting because he’s lovely and flirting because you want him to be your boyfriend. (Not that he knows what you want.) You shouldn’t have started with the hand holding thing. 

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you go on a date with me?” You present him with the movie tickets. “Got these, they expire tonight…”

“Are those from my desk?” he asks, taking the tickets from you to look over closely. 

“I’d love to go with you, unless you’re gonna take someone else, which is fine.” You embarrass yourself a little, even though you’re not, hoping it makes up for the hand-holding investigation. “Yeah, they’re from your desk. Sorry. I really wanted a stick of gum, my– my nervous energy is through the roof today.” 

Spencer frowns at you again. “How come?” he asks softly. 

“I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.” 

And that’s nothing you’ve ever admitted to him. Your perfect mask is broken, and Spencer doesn’t look at you any differently. “Do you actually wanna go to the movies?” he asks. 

“Only if I’m not stealing you away from somebody else.” 

“There’s no one else.”

Spencer abruptly turns his attention to the printer, where he collects his copies and shuffles them into a straight, neat pile. 

You recover quickly, though inside your heart is a stuttering mess. “I should hope not,” you say. “Okay. Awesome. I’ll bring hand sanitiser and you can hold my hand through the previews.”