#ALSO GOOD GOD HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY

[mak1lol]

A late birthday gift for @bruhstation

Happy belated birthday indo bestie :)

[nereidprinc3ss]

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him. 

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened? 

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a  little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough. 

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop. 

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes. 

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him. 

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was. 

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again. 

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again. 

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table. 

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world. 

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms. 

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now. 

[hellisharchive]

・﹒・ what's for dessert?

Summary: Lucifer had treated you to an amazing home cooked dinner for your first ever Valentine's day. You asked him what he had planned for dessert, and he said it was a surprise.

Warnings: 18+,

Pairing: Lucifer x GN!AFAB!reader

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day guys! <3 Sorry this is 2 days late! Also 200 FOLLOWERS?? UNHOLY GOD WHERE DID YOU ALL COME FROM???? TYSM I LOVE YOU GUYS 😭💕💕💕

The meal was amazing, Lucifer's cooking was always amazing. You both have only been together for an entire year, him actually asking you out on this same day too, to be special. You loved each other so much that you two were basically soulmates, destined to be togther. The both of you decided to take it slow though, as he still wasn't quite ready to be thrown into a relationship and all it comes with right away. That being said, you two never went beyond making out, and you didn't mind it. You wanted Lucifer to feel uncomfortable or rushed in any way. So you didn't expect anything besides some cuddling after this most likely.

"That was good as always, what's for dessert?" You knew he always made his desserts extra special for you, so you were curious as to what he prepared this time. Instead of receiving a proper answer, he just chucked and stood up out of his chair with a smirk. Ok- what was he planning? The fallen angel walked around the table as he gently slid your chair away, and he dropped down on his knees in front of your legs. He looked up at you with a mischievous face as he gripped the top of your pants. Gulping, your nerves were skyrocketing as you knew where this was going.

"You, if you'll let me" He smiled as you wordlessly grabbed onto his hand and started to lower your pants. Smiling back, you gently grabbed onto his hair and moved his head back slightly.

"Of course Luci" Helping him ease off your undergarments, you tried to remain calm as you felt the cold air hit your bare legs. Completely naked from the waist down, you scooted to the edge of the seat and watched as he licked his lips, spreading your legs open wide, he leaned close. You felt his breath hit your pussy lips and you shuddered. Giving an experimental lick, you shivered and closed your eyes, gently grabbing his hair. Pleased with your response, he dove in, his tongue entering you as he sucked on your clit. Moaning, you gripped his hair tighter as your legs shivered and his ministrations increased, he was eating you out like he hasn't eaten out in days.

"L-Lucifer" You whined as he devored your juices, slopping you up with passion. Then, you felt his tongue, lengthen, growing larger as it started to fill you more and more. It swirled inside, making sure to reach all of you. Pushing his head deeper in, you swear as you felt the coil tighten, needing to be unraveled.

"Lucifer I'm gonna-" You bit your lip and leaned your head back, arching your back as you orgasmed, your cum getting all in Lucifer's mouth as he gave you gentle licks. Pulling away, he smiled as he licked and cleaned his mouth with his tongue, causing you to shiver. Standing up, he caged you in with a smirk.

"I'm no done yet" In a blink, he picked you up and you yelped. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you knew exactly were he was going as he navigated through the sprawling halls. Kicking open the bedroom door, he gently threw you on the bed and you watched as he had hungry eyes, stalking towards you on the end of the bed.

"Take off your clothes" Without a second of hesitation, you hurriedly but carefully took off your nice dress clothes and tossed them on the floor. Left in only your underwear, he pulled you to the edge as you laid flat on your back, legs dangling off the side. Yelping, you leaned up on your elbows as his mouth connected with your lips again, and you moaned. Biting your lip, your hands found their way back to his hair again as he continued to eat you out with such ferocity. The familiar coil tightened again in your stomach as you tugged on his hair, wanting to go deeper, his tongue reaching places no other person could.

"Luci...hng fuck!" You cletched your thighs, tightening them around his head as he didn't stop, in fact- he only got rougher. Overestimatulation was becoming too much so you started to squirm away, but he just gripped your thighs and pulled you back.

"Fuck Lucifer!" You yelled as your body shook violently, twitching as your second orgasm washed over you and your boyfriend lapped up your juices. He slowed his pace as you calmed down, fully stopping when you were finally breathing normally. Laying on the bed with your arms spread wide, you fell into post-orgasmic bliss as you thought he was done. But he was far from it. You felt as he climbed on top of the bed and hovered over you with that devilish smirk of his. He rolled up his sleeves as he leaned down, smoothering you with a kiss as he prodded and poked his fingers at your entrance before proceeding to finger fuck you. Your moans were muffled from his kiss as he roughly thrusted his fingers in and out of you, you grabbed onto his back and would have scratched it if he still wasn't fully clothed.

Lucifer pulled away and continued to finger you, you cumming almost immediately and you didn't think you could take another round. Looking up at your beautiful boyfriend, you weakly smiled and placed your arm on his forearm. He was looking at you like you were his everything, and you loved it, just like you loved him.

"I love you, my sweet, I wanted to show you just how much you mean to me. Now, let's get you cleaned up"

[farfromstrange]

Mismatched Bridesmaid | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 2 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Deciding to go to your old college roommate's wedding turns into a bad idea when you suddenly have to function as a bridesmaid until you're paired with a very handsome groomsman.

Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "good girl", One-Night Stand, shameless flirting, kind of "horny at first sight", so cheesy it might make you hate cheese

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I was wondering why this didn't post until I saw that I hit "save draft" instead of schedule, so this may come on time for some and too late for others, but I'm still awake, so it counts as the 15th. Also, when I wrote this it was after hinting at it on here, and I was excited at first, but I'm not too happy with it now because it's just silly and falls a little flat, in my opinion. This is why I went back in and edited a hell of a lot, adding some things, etc. Nevertheless, I promised to clear out the vault for this event, so this is it. I got inspired by seeing the She-Hulk clips when the episode with Matty came out. It may or may not be noticeable. We're also working with the Nelson, Murdock & Page narrative. Enjoy!

You are not made for white-veil occasions. 

While weddings, in their essence, symbolize unity while covering different facets of romantic beauty, they are also inherently stressful for nearly everyone involved in the proceedings. Over the years of adulthood, you’ve found that weddings tend to end in disaster when you attend—and you are not particularly fond of engaging in drama.

When your old college roommate sent you an invitation to her wedding in June, you considered responding with no. You’ve been close for a few years, but then you graduated, found separate careers, and then never talked again. You weren’t sure why she would send you an invitation until you called the number on the back of the card and you began catching up. She told you that she wanted to invite you because you were a vital part of her early twenties, and it reminded you that you are both adults and you have both grown beyond what you thought possible, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her that you couldn’t make it to her wedding. Instead, you told her that you wouldn’t miss it for the world. That answer though seemed to have turned destiny against you. 

You were excited when you arrived at the chapel this morning, but as soon as your foot touched the holy ground, everything went wrong. Maybe it is because you’re an atheist and God hates you, or maybe Karma just really fucking loves toying with you. Either way, when your friend’s maid of honor—also one of the few people you hung out with during your wild college days—came up to you, looking pale and panicked, you knew that the curse you always bring to weddings was only continuing to wreak havoc. 

She said to you, “One of the girls got into a car accident on her way here. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, just a broken wrist, but that means we are one bridesmaid short. I need someone to step in before Janet finds out and cuts off my head for ruining her wedding day,” and she was deadly serious about it, too.

You knew that it was a mistake to come to this wedding, especially without a date or a plus-one to fall back on. 

You were so focused on marveling at the beautiful white and golden decorations living the aisle, fantasizing about the day you might be walking down one of those that you didn’t think anything could go wrong since everything had been going so right. You should have known better than to trust that treacherous feeling of excitement that you made sure to nurture before breakfast so you could enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward without making it dependent on the open bar—although that fact did help.

Instead of dreaming about free drinks though, you’re being squeezed into a satin green dress with a low cut in the front, and someone you don’t know is slathering burgundy lipstick onto your lips. They are purposely trying to turn you into a copy of all the other bridesmaids, and you hate it. You hate it so much you get the sudden urge to scratch your eyes out and tear the skin off your lips. 

Janet, the maid of honor, comes back up to you. She’s aged at least ten years since you last saw her when she pulled you away from the aisle. You feel for her. The entire weight of this wedding rests on her shoulders. 

She eyes you, checking your outfit, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank God, you’re hot,” she mutters. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it. 

“Thank you?” you answer awkwardly. 

“Alright.” She fixes the corners of your lipstick. “We need to pair you with a different guy than Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Drive was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Your looks don’t match. You’ll get Kathy’s partner,” she says. “And we need to line up, like, now because shit is happening in five minutes, not a second later. We can’t give Bridezilla the time to kill us all.”

With a frown, you ask, “Is she aware at all of what’s happening?” 

Janet shakes her head. “No, and it’s better this way. Trust me.”

You stop questioning her. She knows what she’s doing. 

When she guides you outside to line up, you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know the groom, and you don’t know his friends. You’re here on your own, and now you’re part of a bridal party that you are also barely familiar with, wearing a dress that you were forced into for the sake of aesthetics. You hate when something is reduced to aesthetics because beauty has many facets, and you would have walked down that aisle with anyone as long as you could get it over with. 

Until you see him. Strikingly dark hair in a perfectly cut tuxedo that underlines the muscles hiding underneath the fabric. His eyes are hidden behind round, red glasses that reflect the sunlight coming in through the already stained glass of the chapel’s windows. In his hands, he’s holding a white cane, leaning his entire weight on it as he waits. And he waits for none other than you. 

Janet paired you with the most beautiful man on this planet, you can’t deny that. The way he stands there, his sharp jawline on full display—he looks ethereal. Just looking at him makes you sweat, and you’re starting to panic. What if she made a mistake? You can’t do this. You can’t—

“Matt,” she says and shoves you beside him into the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen. 

Janet introduces you, and then she’s gone. She pushes you into the cold water, forcing you to learn how to swim. 

He tilts his head in your direction. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his voice resembles the purr of a black cat as it reverberates, but his grin reminds you of the Devil himself. 

Fuck. Me. 

You either did something very wrong to land here, or you did everything right. 

“Hi,” you stammer. One look at him, and the blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face is burning. 

He offers you his hand. “I’m Matt,” he says as if Janet didn’t already expose that to you.

Still, you take his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. “And I’m not supposed to be here.” Mentally, you curse yourself for being so stupid.

Matt chuckles. Even his laugh sounds bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. “I, uh, gathered as much.”

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m not—this is really weird. I don’t even know what to say.” You pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, maybe that will make it less embarrassing.

His features soften. There is no judgment. You can’t see his eyes, but there is a certain softness about him that throws you off guard, but you no longer feel like you’re drowning. “If it helps, I’m only here because I helped the groom graduate law school by writing his essays, and he feels like he owes me, so…I also don’t want to be here,” he says, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses. You get a small glimpse of his eyes. They’re hazel. Beautiful. He has an aura that draws you in; it’s not just his physical beauty that strikes you.

This man—this magnetic force of a man called Matt—is a stranger. He’s a man you were paired with to walk down the aisle even though you were never meant to be a bridesmaid in this wedding in the first place. So many things are happening to and around you at once, and you can feel the flames starting to burn and sizzle away at your skin. 

You should pull yourself together. You shouldn’t stare at him. You shouldn’t listen to your heart which is hammering against your ribcage. But the emotions are already running high and you can’t possibly focus on anything else. He’s like a lifeline to you.

And God, you want him to put those calloused hands on your skin and take you to bed. But that’s not something to think about in a place of God. On the day of someone else’s wedding. Except that you can’t think of anyone else, and his proximity isn’t making the situation any better for you.

Another blush threatens to take over your features. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a firm. Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

“Here in New York?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, yeah. Me and my associates just reopened our doors to the public after a rough year.”

“Oh, that’s...cool. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. And what do you do, if I may ask?”

His interest takes you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer his question. You tell him your profession, and how you met the bride, and he listens without another word. No man has ever paid you this much attention before.

Though Janet meant it when she said that you will have to start walking in exactly five minutes, not a second longer. She passed by everyone, handing out bouquets. Green with hints of red and gold. It fits the theme. They’re beautiful, but the flowers within the bouquet become a problem when she hands you your own set. 

“Janet,” you stop her from leaving. “I can’t take these.”

“The fuck you can’t,” she retorts. 

“Seriously, I can’t. I’m allergic to Jasmines. I’ll sneeze.”

She glares at you. “Then fucking hold it.”

There is no arguing with her, and she passes by you to continue putting everyone in their places. You stare down at the bouquet, your nose already starting to itch. The smell alone is enough to make you nauseous.

To your surprise, Matt reaches for the flowers. “May I?” he asks, but he has already grabbed a hold of them.

“Sure,” you answer, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Hold this.” He guides the top of his cane into your hand.

His fingers feel along the red ribbon. He takes a whiff. There are so many scents that would be overwhelming even to someone without heightened senses due to a lacking fifth one, so you’re even more surprised when he finds the Jasmines without a struggle. He traces the petals just to make sure, and he quickly pulls the flowers out of the bouquet, tightening the ribbon around the now smaller girth in the process.

Tossing them behind one of the pillars in the corridor, he hands them back to you. “Here,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Words elude you. 

“Are you allergic to anything else?” The question is valid, considering you’re still not making a move to take the bouquet from him. 

You exhale a shaky breath, reaching for the flowers, and answer without missing another beat, “Weddings.”

That elicits a giggle from him. The sound is enough to make your heart melt. Does he know what he’s doing to you?

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors stops you both dead in your tracks.

Your entire body recoils when the bride’s voice rings out, echoing, “Who the fuck mismatched my bridesmaids?”

A hand rests on your bicep, and you don’t even have to look down to know that it is Matt’s. He’s the only one standing to your right, anyway. He squeezes as though to let you know that you won’t lose your head, but you’re not so sure now that your college roommate is glaring at you in a white dress that reminds you of a pastry, and her eyes are full of fury. He can’t see it, but he would cower in fear if he did.

Thankfully, Janet pulls her aside, explaining the situation to her. 

“She what?!” she screeches. “On my wedding day? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, because car accidents respect timing when it comes to special occasions,” Janet counters.

You snort. Matt beside you digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but even he can’t hide his amusement.

“Oh, snap,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Shots have been fired,” he says.

“I think we’re witnessing a double homicide.”

“I’m not a very credible witness. I can only describe how it sounded, unfortunately.”

Your snort turns into a laugh. The bride’s head snaps around, and you go quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“If she decides to throw a punch at your pretty face,” Matt’s breath tickles your ear, “I can be your attorney and sue her ass.”

This time, you’re conscious enough to slap a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your reaction. “How do you know I’m pretty?” you whisper back between little giggles.

He shrugs with a smirk of his own. “I just know.”

He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you have no choice but to submit.

Janet manages to bring some calm back to her friend eventually, and then it’s showtime. Right on the second, it’s time for you to walk down the aisle, and you have never been happier about a strict schedule and someone adamant about keeping that schedule for the sake of all of your lives.

Your roommate has always been a very dominant personality, so you’re aware of the things she can do when she doesn’t get what she wants. 

An 80s pop ballad begins to play. You make sure to match your pace to everyone else but also make sure that you’re not running away from your partner.

You may have been a mismatched bridesmaid, but you can’t complain about the company. 

Against all odds, the service is beyond beautiful. It’s not often you get to stand so close when two people who seem to truly love each other make a vow to be there for each other for the rest of their lives. You can’t help but shed a tear. They complement each other perfectly. Is that ever in the cards for you? Will you ever be able to have what they have? Or will you always feel like you’re not worthy of this kind of unconditional love and endless devotion—of someone wanting to spend the rest of their life with you?

You look over at Matt. The hint of a cross necklace is starting to peek out underneath his dress shirt. Of course, he’s Catholic. 

He carries himself with such a grace that puts everyone else in this room to shame. Does he know that you’re staring at him? You hope not.

After the ceremony, you lose sight of Matt in the masses. He doesn’t owe you a goodbye, but you still feel a little disappointed when you return to the dressing room and finally peel the satin dress off of your very sweaty skin. 

At the party afterward, he’s still nowhere to be found. You give up. Not that you want to spend the evening with him anyway, but you kind of do. You drown your sorrows in a glass of vodka cranberry and a bowl of olives. They taste like rotten meat, but there are too many people by the buffet for your liking. The last thing you want to do is mingle and get asked stupid questions by people you don’t even know. So, you stay back, and you watch from afar as everyone is having the time of their lives not so far away from you, but far enough for you to breathe.

“And here I thought weddings were supposed to be a joyous occasion,” Matt pipes up beside you, and you twirl around in your chair to face him with wide eyes.

You didn’t expect to see him back here. “Hi!” you exclaim. “What’re you—I thought you left.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just had to take care of some things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.”

Folding his cane, Matt lowers himself down on one of the chairs beside you and orders himself a beer with the bartender. “Let’s just say that I have an important court case coming up and I had to make a call.”

You take another sip from your drink. “That sounds a lot more exciting than my life, to be honest.”

“You are sulking at a wedding. Thinking about an ex?”

“More like life in general.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal fear of dying alone.” He raises his bottle to yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

A laugh escapes you. “That was cynical,” you say.

“And you’re not?”

He beats you at your own damn game, and he finally gets that smile he has been vying for. 

“Are you smiling?” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Maybe.” But the smile is audible in your voice, giving you away.

Matt smirks, nodding his head. “Good girl.” 

The sharp vodka runs down the wrong pipe. You cough. Did he just—

He did.

He pats your back, and his hand lingers a lot longer than it should. He looks so smug. Pleased with himself. That part of him is stupidly attractive to you, even though you would usually hate such cockiness in any other man. But Matt isn’t like any other man.

You apologize for your reaction, but he should be the one apologizing to you for throwing you off your game. What is he doing? You can’t read him. You wish you could because that would make this so much easier, but that’s probably the point. He wants to tease you. He wants to mess with your head. He’s a dick. A fucking attractive dick that could tell you to do just about anything and you in your flustered state would go along with it without hesitations. That’s the kind of control he has over you, and you just met. It feels like a twisted form of destiny, but you can’t quite believe it. Yet.

“Do you always do that?” you dare to ask.

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests?”

A playful smirk plays on his lips.  

“It’s been known to happen,” says Matt.

You poke your tongue against the soft tissue of your cheek. “Cheeky,” you murmur.

“That’s also been known to happen.”

“What, being cheeky with—”

“—with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests? Yes.” He’s catching on quickly.

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, that.”

“I do have to say though,” he adds, and for a second you think he might ruin the joke instead of playing it out further, but Matt is full of surprises, “Out of all the mismatched bridesmaids I’ve met in my thirty-something years of, um, living, you’re my favorite so far.”

With your hand, you start fanning your face rather dramatically. “I feel honored,” you say. 

Again, he chuckles. “You should be.”

“Why, because you’re so irresistible?”

“I was going to say that I don’t like a lot of people because, you know, they’re dicks, but that works too.”

“Wow.” You take another sip. The liquor burns its way down your sore esophagus. “You have balls, man.”

“Is that a problem?” he counters with a question.

The answer comes naturally. “No,” you say. “I like it.”

“Good.” Hearing you clink the ice cubes against your empty glass by swirling it around, Matt concludes that you need a refill. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks.

The question sounds so innocent, but the look on his face renders you speechless. His hand inches dangerously close to yours on the counter, his knee brushing yours, and the heat shoots straight to your neglected cunt. 

Fuck this.

“You could do that, or we could skip that part and just…you know.”

One brush of your hand against his thigh, that’s all it takes for him to know. 

Pushing you through the door to his apartment a few minutes later, his lips are on you. The door falls shut with a loud bang, and he presses you against the wall of his hallway. 

His lips feel like a silky cloud of lewdness. The way he kisses you is utterly erotic. Your lips part in a delicious moan that he swallows with a grunt of his own. He swallows it all, shoving his tongue into the tight confines of your mouth, and exploring every inch he can reach. He tastes you. He consumes you. 

His hands desperately search for an ounce of bare skin. He’s tugging at your clothes, sliding and tearing them aside. Once his fingers finally brush over the bare skin of your stomach, he melts. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your leg hooks around his waist. You can’t wait. He has ignited a fire within you that no one has been able to light before. He’s touching you with a precision that puts your former lovers to shame. He’s paying attention to your every breath and heartbeat, and with every touch, he asks, “May I?” 

You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Once he has successfully removed the bottom half of your clothes, he falls to his knees. He is a sight to behold. The disarray of colors that shines into his apartment illuminates his face, bathing it in a selection of hues that bring out his best features. 

Matt has yet to take off his glasses, and you take the opportunity to tear them away from his face. You’re gentle though. You ask him, “May I?” mirror the question he has been asking you throughout the night, and after a thick swallow, he nods.

You caress his cheek as you remove his glasses, and when you finally see his hazel eyes in all of their glory, you have to bow down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So fucking beautiful, Matt.”

He whimpers. You could have sworn to have imagined it, but when you stroke his cheek with such a gentleness it almost makes him recoil in anguish, you know that you didn’t imagine the sound from his lips. You kiss it away. You kiss all of his insecurities away. You want him to feel as good as he is making you feel. You don’t know him, but you want to get to know him, and if he’s ready to surrender himself to you, you are more than ready to do the same for him. He can feel that with every brush of your fingertips and every kiss you deliver to his plump lips that taste like heaven and hell in itself.

Your words don’t leave him cold. His cock is aching in his pants—you take note of his impressionable size, which only makes you more excited for what’s to come—but he refuses to take it out. Not until you’re fully satisfied. To be honest, you could come just from staring at him on his knees in front of you, looking like he would lay the world to your feet and kill everyone who has ever dared to hurt you, but that is not enough for him. 

He needs the experience. Feeling your skin, tasting you, and breathing in all facets of your natural scent mixed with the artificial one from your shampoo. He can’t get enough of it. Of you. Of everything about and within you. He’s as attracted to your body as he is consumed by your soul. You’ve got him in a deadlock, but he would never complain about that.

You gasp when Matt grabs your thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Your panties are gone within seconds, torn on the floor somewhere. You’re completely bare to him. 

You want to warn him that you didn’t shave, but he doesn’t care. 

Before you know it, he has flattened his tongue against your pussy, and he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out, reaching for support on the wall behind you.

He flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, testing the waters before he sucks it into his mouth. 

His grip on your thigh becomes bruising. Matt eats you out like he has been starving for years and you are his first and last meal. He sucks on your clit, and he fucks you with his tongue. Your pussy is the altar he worships at. Your arousal is his holy water. He dives deeper and deeper into the wetness between your thighs, and he moans loudly when you pull at his hair.

“Fuck, Matt–” You’re clawing at whatever you can find. It feels so good. You’re higher than you have ever been.

The sound of his mouth working your slick folds toward eternal bliss is obscene and utterly sinful. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs. The pain grounds you in the here and now, making you focus on the tidal wave that is about to crash into you and tear you to shreds. 

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm takes over, and it takes you into another dimension. You come with a shout of his name. It’s nothing short of explosive. The orgasm drags on through his mouth on your clit, relentlessly sucking until the nerves jump, and you’re begging him to stop. 

His face glistens. With every kiss up your body, Matt marks you. By the time he has reached your quivering lips, he still tastes like you.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale. Without his shoulders to hold onto, you would probably lose your footing. “You’re crazy,” is all you can say. 

He smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

“Regret coming home with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He lifts you with ease. “Then I’m going to make it worth your while.”

And when your back hits the soft mattress and silk sheets of his bed, you don’t doubt that he is going to make good on his promise. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[honeypiehotchner]

Will you be my Valentine? (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This one shot turned out to be a lot longer than I was expecting, hence why it’s being posted today instead of yesterday 😭 (Also the first scene with Garcia is 100% inspired by a TikTok I saw and the idea just spiraled from there)

Summary: Each time a new member of the BAU figured out Hotch had feelings for you...and when he finally told you.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff babes. It’s vile how cute this is

WC: 3.6k

Everyone knew Hotch had it bad from the first day you started working at the BAU.

There was a case on your very first day, so introductions were sparse before you boarded the jet. You met with Hotch, and the two of you talked briefly about how things work in general, though he said you’ll pick most of it up from actual experience.

The case was in Arizona, and it was a long one. But it didn’t take long for Garcia to see right through Hotch.

“So, um. How’s it going with the new agent?” Garcia asked, twirling her feathery pen back in Quantico.

Hotch shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“What is that in your voice?” Garcia said. She grinned. Say it ain’t so, she thought. Hotch, the Unit Chief, having a crush? This is too good. “Oh my god, you think she’s pretty.”

“Penelope--” he tried to stop her, to tell her she had it wrong because that would be wildly inappropriate, plus, his thinking that you were pretty had nothing to do with--

“Oh, you totally do!” Garcia giggled, ignoring his protests because he was deep in denial. Finally! A crush! “PG out, lover boy.”

He shook his head as she hung up on him, but he knew the blush was evident on his cheeks. He could feel it, so he knew everyone could see it.

Even you, who walked in a second later to ask him a question.

You saw the red tint on his cheeks, but thought nothing of it as he steeled his face once more before listening to your question.

+++

A few months passed since you began at the BAU, and still Garcia was the only one privy to Hotch’s secret. He thought.

“Have a good night,” Hotch said quietly as he passed your desk. You were gathering your things to head out for the night.

“Don’t stay too late,” you teased, shouldering your bag. You noticed he had a fresh mug of coffee in his hand. “You need sleep too, you know.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a smile as he bounded the steps up to his office. “Sleep well.”

Rossi watched (and heard) this interaction from his office. He waited until he saw you disappear into the elevator before he knocked on Aaron’s door.

“Come in,” Hotch said, not looking up from the paperwork at his desk until he realized it was Dave. “Hey, heading out for the night?”

“Not yet,” Rossi said, sinking down into one of Hotch’s chairs. “So…what are your plans for the weekend?”

Hotch eyed Rossi suspiciously. Every time Rossi began with that, it meant one of three things: 1. He genuinely wanted to know what Hotch had going on this weekend, 2. He wanted Hotch to do something with him, or 3. He was digging.

Digging for what exactly, Hotch never knew. Until Rossi caved and outright asked.

“What do you think of Y/N?”

Hotch shrugged. He continued working on the paperwork to distract himself. “She’s doing really well. She adapted quickly. I’ve been very impressed. Strauss has too.”

Rossi hummed. “Well, that sounded rehearsed.”

Hotch looked up from the papers, giving Rossi a tired stare. “What?”

“I asked what you think of her,” Rossi repeated, smiling smugly. “Not how she’s doing at her job.”

“What’s the difference?” Hotch returned to signing off reports.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Dave sat forward, tapping the desk. “I’m not that dense. And neither are you. You think she’s cute.”

“She’s very pretty,” Aaron answered without hesitation, regretting it immediately because it only gave Rossi more ammo.

“I knew it,” Dave grinned, sitting back again and clasping his hands together. “Well?”

Finally, Hotch put his pen down. “Well what?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aaron grimaced. “You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is if you never tell her,” Rossi pressed. He had lectured Aaron many times on the dangers of never telling a woman how you feel about her. Especially when it was clear she felt the same way.

“It’s inappropriate,” Hotch said, reverting to his usual defense.

“You’re both adults, clearly capable of making your own decisions,” Rossi replied with a shrug. Aaron knew that Rossi was the reason the No Fraternization rule existed, but he also knew Rossi was the first to say how much bullshit that rule was ladened with. “I don’t see the problem.”

Hotch glanced back down, scribbled a signature on Morgan’s report and tossed it aside, opening yours. He paused. “For one thing,” he started, flipping open your folder. “I don’t know how she feels.”

Dave stared at Aaron, wondering if the man across from him was being serious. As it turned out, Aaron was.

“If you saw what I did earlier, then you’d know she does,” Dave said.

Aaron shrugged again. “She’s nice to me because I’m her boss.”

“She’s civil toward you because you’re her boss,” Rossi clarified. “She’s nice because she feels the same way you do.”

Aaron sighed. He knew Dave meant well, but it was exhausting to listen to him. Aaron wanted to say something to you, but at the end of the day, he was your boss, and you his employee. It didn’t sit right with him. And if he ever did say something, that would be the first topic of conversation. It was too complicated.

Not to mention, he had only known you for a few months, and all of that time consisted of work settings -- save a few nights at bars or restaurants with some of the team.

“Ah, I see,” Dave said, nodding slowly. He stood up to leave.

“See what?” Aaron asked before Dave made it to the door.

“You’re too far in your head about this,” Dave said quietly. “Once you get out, you’ll know what to do.” And he left.

Aaron stared down at your report, your perfect handwriting. It looked far better than his, and miles better than Reid’s. It was very clearly yours, too. It fit your personality.

He closed the folder. The rest could wait until morning.

+++

Not long after Hotch’s talk with Rossi, Morgan was the next to put the pieces together -- and say something about it.

On the jet returning home from yet another case, everyone slept, except Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi. Reid curled up on the couch. Emily and JJ fell asleep in their seats, and you had taken over two other seats to stretch out. No one minded. Morgan gave you his jacket, against your protests. Hotch wished he had given you his, but Morgan had beat him to it.

Morgan noticed Hotch watching you wistfully while you slept, looking up every now and again from his tablet to check on you. Hotch’s eyes shot toward you impossibly fast every time you moved, watching for a moment to be sure you were alright before he looked away again.

After watching this for an hour, Morgan moved from his spot by Rossi to sit in front of Hotch.

“Hey,” Hotch said, nodding to Derek. “Can’t sleep?”

Morgan shrugged, biting back a grin. “I got a cat nap in. You?”

“I’ll sleep better in my bed,” Hotch replied. “I’m a little too tall for these seats.”

“Yeah, you always looked scrunched up,” Derek teased, jokingly mimicking the position Hotch once tried to sleep in. He woke up with one hell of a catch in his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hotch looked up, suspicious and a little scared. “Sure.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak and you shifted in your sleep again, causing Aaron’s eyes to shoot over toward you. His eyebrows drew together as he watched you, waiting for you to settle back down.

By the time Hotch looked back over, Morgan was smirking.

“What was your question?” Hotch asked.

“That right there,” Morgan replied, lowering his voice a little just to be sure you wouldn’t catch any of it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What?” Hotch asked, feigning innocence, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and the smile he wasn’t able to hold back. “I don’t, uh-- What do you mean?”

“You should tell her,” Morgan said, starting to grin. “You really should.”

What Hotch didn’t know is that exactly two days before this, you confessed your feelings to Morgan. Only because he caught you smiling at Hotch, and you knew he wouldn’t give it up. Also because you were starting to go a little crazy, holding it in. But you called it a stupid crush and said it would go away. Derek didn’t believe you.

“No,” Hotch said, but he kept smiling. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Derek shrugged. “What’s the harm?”

Hotch stayed quiet, looked back down. He shook his head.

“Hotch, you gotta put yourself out there,” Derek whispered. “And you gotta do it before you’re too late.”

Hotch nodded slowly. He should’ve known you’d have someone else on your horizons. You’re much younger, far prettier than he ever thought to be real. No wonder someone else took notice. No wonder someone else was ahead of him.

“Seriously,” Morgan pressed a little further. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, y’know. Perfect timing.”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head at Morgan’s wicked grin. “Alright.”

+++

Emily and JJ realized it at the same time you did, though you told yourself you were overthinking and making it all up.

Hotch had bought your coffee.

It didn’t seem that strange, or romantic even. You happened to be at a coffee shop down the street, waiting in line to order when Hotch got in line behind you.

The two of you talked while you waited. What a happy coincidence, both of you were there before work. Your heart fluttered with every word he said, every smile he showed and laugh he let slip. Even his jokes, you were flustered beyond belief.

And then he got your coffee for you.

He asked, and you were so shocked that you said yes. You couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he.

Truthfully, Aaron was over the moon. His heart was beating like crazy, and he wondered if you noticed his nervous laughter. (You did.)

When you got back to the BAU, walking in together caught Emily and JJ’s attention. Reid was in the middle of a book, and Derek was nowhere to be found (probably off with Penelope). But Emily and JJ immediately tuned in.

“Hey you two,” you smiled, walking around to your desk.

“Hey yourself,” Emily grinned, keeping an eye on Hotch as he walked up to his office, smiling to himself. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A very good mood,” JJ echoed, propping herself up on the corner of her desk. “You and Hotch got coffee?”

“Yeah,” you replied, thinking nothing of it. “I just ran into him at my usual place.”

Emily and JJ shared a look, raising their eyebrows.

“Just ran into him?” JJ asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“…yeah?” you laughed. “What about it?”

“Did he buy your coffee?” Emily asked quietly, biting back a grin. “That’s…” She cocked her head, giving you a look.

“It’s what?”

“It sounds like he likes you,” Reid piped up, eyes still focused on his book. “It was a romantic gesture.”

Reid had known for a while. He kept it to himself, though, because nine times out of ten, when he first picks up on these things, no one else has yet. And if he mentions it, it’s often invasive and people get defensive, because it’s something they don’t want to think about.

So, he’s kept it quiet. But he has noticed. And now it’s getting obvious.

Your mouth remained open in shock. Hotch? Having a crush on you? That seemed ridiculous. Impossible, even. He’s your boss, for crying out loud. Not to mention, older and…does he even date? He doesn’t talk about his personal life. You know he’s divorced, but that’s it.

“No,” you laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I buy my coffee for my friends all the time. I’ve bought you guys coffee,” you gestured to Emily and JJ. “It’s fine, right?”

“It’s fine,” Emily shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not anything serious.”

“Just a coffee,” JJ agreed, although both of them still didn’t fully believe you.

It was friendly, sure, but the kind of friendly that had romantic undertones and intentions.

But you didn’t want to think about that because it felt impossible. They were reading too far into it, that’s all.

It’s a running joke that joining the BAU is a death sentence for your love life, so it’s a regular conversation, that’s all.

That’s all, you told yourself. That’s all.

+++

The BAU rang in February with a new case, this one in Alabama. It took a week or so to solve, and by the end of it, you were all exhausted. Yet you needed to eat, so the team went out for dinner.

Somehow — you never really know how this happens — the conversation veered toward Valentine’s Day. Derek brought it up, purely because he and Penelope are planning to spend it together watching the worst rom-coms imaginable.

“I don’t know, it just kinda bums me out. I never look forward to it,” you said, expecting to be in the majority at the table, but you weren’t.

“What?” Derek said. “We’ve gotta change that.”

You smiled at him, though it felt like he was pitying you.

“Why does it bum you out?” Hotch asked earnestly.

You hadn’t expected him to say anything, let alone to ask you a question. “Because,” you started. “I guess I just see all these happy couples, and the cards and balloons and flowers and chocolates and it’s— It’s just too much to look at.”

“You know, most of the happiest couples on Valentine’s Day are actually struggling in their relationship,” Reid said, mid-chew.

“What statistics back that one up, pretty boy?” Morgan teased.

“Just an observation,” Reid shrugged, swallowing.

“I know,” you replied. “I know statistically — also just from experience — that they’re not that happy, but still. They still look it. And it’s, you know, it’s sad.” You paused, not wanting to finish your sentence but you knew you had to because you dug this hole for yourself. “Because…I know that I’ll never have that.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked, his voice quiet with concern.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Emily said, her face sad as she shook her head solemnly. “You don’t know that.”

“But…I do.” Your smile was a soft, sad one born from acceptance. “I never have had it, and it just seems so unlikely for me. Besides, I don’t want to be pretending to be happy and in love. That would be worse than being single.”

“Not everyone is pretending,” Hotch said, his eyes soft.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I didn’t mean to take over the table, guys. Let’s— JJ, what are you and Will doing?”

The conversation went back into safer territory, as JJ told the table that her and Will would probably do something small after Henry went to bed. Or maybe a dinner, after Spencer offered to babysit.

“Yeah, or I could babysit,” you offered. “You guys should have a date.”

“Uh, you should too,” Emily said. “You’ll find someone.”

“Considering Valentine’s Day is in three days, I doubt it.”

The table was silent for a moment, but Rossi broke it. “You’ll find someone,” he said with his small smile. “You’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t unlike Rossi to talk like a fortune cookie.

+++

Aaron wanted to throw up.

Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but he certainly was nervous. He didn’t even know if you’d show up.

But he waited. Inside the coffee shop, at a table by the window, he waited. The barista kept giving him this look, like she pitied him because it was Valentine’s Day and he was sitting at a table for two. Alone.

He texted you and asked if you wanted to grab coffee, but you hadn’t texted him back — yet. Still, he needed something to do today, so he came anyway.

Why did he give everyone the day off? He felt ridiculous.

What Aaron didn’t know was that a few miles away, you felt even more ridiculous.

“It’s not even a date!” you cried over the phone. “What the hell am I so worked up for?”

“Because you like him!” Penelope gushed. “And he clearly likes you. Oh, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

You laughed at her as you worked your boots over your heels. “Relax, Pen.”

“I won’t!”

“Okay, well, I need to go because he texted like…an hour ago and I’m not even on the way. God, what if he’s already left? I bet he—”

“Shush! No more! You have a hot date and no room for self-doubt, now go!”

“Fine, fine, I’m going. Let me text him that I’m leaving— Penelope.”

Your heart dropped out of your ass. There, staring back at you, was your text message that you meant to send an hour ago. You forgot to hit send.

“I forgot to hit send!” you screamed, flying toward the front door. “I’m such an ass!”

“No you’re not!” Penelope yelled back. “Call him!”

“I can’t!”

“I will literally add him to this call right now if you don’t—”

“Don’t you dare!” You promptly hung up with her and called Aaron. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, please, pick up—”

“Hello?”

“Hi!” you sounded out of breath. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I meant to text you back, but it didn’t send, and I know that sounds like a stupid excuse, but I swear it’s true—”

“Y/N—”

“If you’ve already left, that’s okay, God I feel so bad—”

“Y/N,” he said again. He sounded like he was smiling. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I haven’t been here that long.” He had. But you didn’t need to know that, because it was irrelevant. He would wait years for you.

“I’m on my way now, I swear to god,” you said, laughing a little. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Do you want your usual?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. He knew your order. Your usual. “Yeah,” you said. “Please. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, still smiling. “I’ll have it waiting for you.”

Relief. “You’re the best.”

By the time you made it to the coffee shop, Aaron did, in fact, have your coffee waiting for you. Along with your favorite pastry from their bakery. Today, it had a pink heart on it.

He stood to his feet when he saw you come in. You looked flustered, yes, but beautiful beyond measure. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to stop himself from fainting.

You felt the same way. Seeing him out of the suit never ceased to amaze you. He wore a nice black button down today with jeans. He still looked unbelievably handsome, his hair fluffier than usual, not as slicked down as he does it for work.

“What’s all this?” you asked, sheepish. A red rose laid across the table, your favorite pastry sat next to your coffee. It was all so…sweet. “Aaron, you didn’t have to…”

He shrugged. “I wanted it to be special.”

He sat down after you did, his stomach doing somersaults. He didn’t want to point you in the direction of his question so blatantly, but he was getting impatient. He just wanted to blurt it.

Before he could, though, you turned your cup toward you and saw the writing on the side. There, in Hotch’s unmistakable all-caps handwriting, was one question: Will you be my Valentine?

You gasped, then pouted, shocked by it all, but so, so happy. Deep down, you wanted this to happen, but you never let yourself believe that it really could or that it really was.

“Really?” you asked him, looking up from the writing.

He nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “I know you said you don’t like the holiday, but I thought you at least deserved to have a happy one. At least once.”

You didn’t know what to say. “That’s… That’s so sweet, Aaron, wow, okay. Yes.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes what?”

You grinned. He’s so cute. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Oh!” he laughed. “Right. Sorry, I’m so nervous.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “I was on the phone with Garcia before I came-- She knows, by the way. She insisted this was a date, but I told her not to be delusional and-- Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” you murmured. “A lot.”

“Would you like to…” his voice trailed away. “I am so bad at this.”

Instinctively, your hand reached across the table and rested on his. “No you’re doing great!”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing red at your touch. He turned his hand over and clasped his fingers around yours. “Would you like to do this again? I don’t want this to just be today. I’d like to…see where this goes.”

“Me too,” you breathed, so relieved you could almost cry. “I’d love that.”

“And,” he added, enveloping your hand in both of his. “Penelope was the first to know. She saw right through me.”

“When?” you laughed. It was hard to imagine Penelope Garcia cornering Aaron Hotchner on something like this.

“I think it was your first case,” he admitted, the blush seeming permanent on his cheeks now. “I guess how I spoke on the phone gave me away.”

“The first day?” Honestly, it gave you a bit of an ego boost.

He nodded. “The very first.”

“That’s…adorable.” There was nothing else to it.

[partycatty]

based off of our lovely @igotcaged 's post here

older!johnny cage > can't get enough

johnny realizes just how much he adores you before a date night

notes: this is so fluffy i might throw up, also why are his boobs so big

[ masterlist ]

it was unlike the two of you to have a night off with a husband that's entire life is devoted to saving the world and making them smile at the same time. if it wasn't shinnok or a timeline disturbance, it was ninja mime or citizen cage. you worked in an office, a higher up that needed to be around or you swore the skyscraper's foundations would crumble. both of you held together your own worlds, but it was near valentine's day when you both get the opportunity to go home and get some rest.

it was cassie that ushered johnny out of his office with his bag full of belongings. she was tired of seeing her old man grovel and train like a military man, and wanted him to be a good husband to her step-parent, you. your own vice president insisted you go home after not getting the last few holidays with your family.

in johnny's typical hollywood style, he wanted to take you out on a date. usually, he was the type of man to just settle for something low key, like an at-home steak dinner or a walk in the park, but he missed you more than anything at the moment. so, he managed to convince you to wear something pretty, and he'd clean up all the same.

you pull and tug at the dress you settled on, a sleek beige dress that settled nicely around your ankles. so used to suit jackets and pencil skirts, you felt somewhat foreign.

johnny walks into the shared bedroom, tugging at his sleeves, but that all stopped when he got a good look at you.

"well god damn."

you twirl around to meet your husband's eyes. he cleaned up nicely too. a smooth pair of beige dress pants accompanying a brown button-up. his arms dropped to his sides as he admired you, and you could see in his eyes that he had fallen in love with you all over again. sure, you always dressed nicely, but johnny was reminded of how gorgeous you looked when you dolled yourself up, especially in the jewelry and dresses he had bought you over the years.

"kind of reminds you of our wedding day, doesn't it?" his voice is tender. you don't recall the last time he voice wasn't strained from spewing commands or taking business calls.

"that's probably the last time we dressed up like this," you reply teasingly, taking one of his arms in your hands and folding his sleeve for him, a task that he long abandoned since landing his gaze on you. "you remember that?"

"every day," his eyes are fixed on your small hands holding his large arm. he stands still, as if he'd startle you from moving. "i have our photo at the altar in my wallet. don't know if i ever told you that."

"you didn't," you grin down, buttoning his sleeve and patting his now bare forearm. "but i could have guessed."

as you reach for his other arm to fold his sleeve, his hand meets yours. with fluttering eyelashes, he places long, sweet kisses on each of your knuckles.

"i love you," he mutters into the back of your hand, placing another kiss and holding his lips there.

"you make me so happy," his hand twists your arm, giving him access to your wrist, where another kiss lands.

"okay, big guy," you giggle, trying to move away. "i love you too, but we'll be late."

johnny ignores your point and spins you around. he wraps one arm around your waist, trapping you against his front. you look in the mirror to determine his intentions, but his eyes are fixed on you. he holds your arm out for you and kisses the backside of your hand again. his mouth glides up, reaching your elbow.

"i see what's going on here," you smirk. "are you going all gomez on me?"

"let me have this," he mumbles again, kissing all up your upper arm until he reaches your bare shoulder, where he bites you playfully. of course, he doesn't bite hard enough for people to see as much as he'd love to.

"johnnyyy—" you whine-giggle out when his nose brushes against the flesh of your neck. "you're tickling me, don't be surprised if i kick you." johnny breathes in your perfume, rubbing the tip of his nose up and down your neck, all the while peppering kisses along the exposed skin. in between every kiss, there's a sweet phrase or two.

"sweet girl." your shoulder.

"my one and only." your collarbone.

"my wife." your jawline.

"i'm so lucky." your ear.

"my beloved." your cheek.

"you look so good." the corner of your lips.

having enough of his game, you twirl around and wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him in a firm but chaste kiss. when you pull away, he's grinning sleepily, and you giggle at your lipstick now transferred onto his lips.

"you might wanna wipe your mouth before we leave," you suggest with a laugh.

"why? not my shade?" johnny replies jokingly, leaning into the mirror to inspect the damage. "ah, you're right. it suits you better."

even after all these years, after everything he's been through, it still warms you inside that his youthful, loving side peeks its head around the corner at the best of times. you couldn't ask for a better husband.

[shaynesthetic]

The only thing I think I got right | Luke Castellan

Word Count: 10.2k

A "Better Unknown" AU oneshot

Main Series: Better Unknown

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Minor God! Half-Blood! Gender Neutral MC

Synopsis: Out of everything that Luke thought he fucked up his entire life, Y/N leaving him where he stood was the ultimate fuck up he wishes he hadn’t. How can he fix this? And will he be able to? 

Tags: Two idiots, mutual pining, Best friends to lovers, fluff, angst with comfort

Warning: Little beta- reading, foul language

Banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Hello once again! This was a last-minute idea that's why I'm a little late. Happy Valentines Day! Or belated Valentines' Day if it's already the 15th for you like it is for me. Once again, English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors. Critiques are always welcomed.

A/N: Also, I correct some stuff whenever I see fit sometimes. So if anyone sees any errors, no you didn't. Also also, as of February 16, 2024, I have updated the ending.

It was the month everyone either despised or loved; It was Aphrodite’s month. A.K.A Valentines. February was always Camp Half-Blood's busiest month. With nymphs making sure every tree was lush and perfect, satyrs helping Demeter kids with preparing and picking the ripest strawberries, Aphrodite kids running around the camp supervising preparations for a feast to be held in honor of their mother alongside some Hermes and Hephaestus kids who were tasked on helping them, with a small fee of dessert that is.

Half of the campers were hanging out with their friends today, grateful that they could finally have a day to themselves, either by canoeing on the lake or having picnics in front of the beautiful views the Hill can give them. Younger campers made heart-shaped letters in the arts and crafts center to send to either their parent or the person they wanted to confess to. Others were practicing the lyre, particularly the Apollo kids, who were asked to help serenade confessing individuals, once again, with a small fee of their food portions, drachmas, and other privileges.

 

Then there was Y/N. Along with some Ares kids, they were on the training grounds, passing the time. It wasn't that Y/N was a bitter gremlin on Valentine's or anything, it was just that they treated it just like any other day. Why need a day to celebrate your love for others when you can do that every day? Was their philosophy. Truth be told, ever since their mom's passing, they just didn't see the point in celebrating. But that was before coming to Camp Half-Blood. They didn't celebrate arriving in camp either, don't get them wrong…but at least they weren’t alone. It wasn’t like the Ares kids were bitter gremlins either; they just didn’t care. Well, they claim they don’t. But you’ll have to take their word on it. 

Y/N was with Clarisse and one of her other siblings, Mark, who insisted on joining them. Clarisse was helping Y/N with the spear, also with a small fee (why would anyone work for free nowadays anyway?). They have been sparring for a few hours, and none have yet to let down. Perks of being the Ares kid and a minor god, respectively. Another sparring session commenced and Mark just watched as their sibling and Y/N hit blow after blow with each other. The clashing of wood and iron made the air sting with adrenaline, and both took advantage of it. 

The dropping of the spear took Mark off his apparent disassociation, and the scene came into view. Y/N was on the ground, with Clarisse pointing a spear to their neck, one minor move from Y/N and Clarisse could nick them. Y/N, out of breath, smiled and looked up at the girl, before nodding and raising their hands in complete surrender. "Alright, Clarisse. You got me." The child of Ares cackled victoriously at them, Mark in the background cheering. Y/N got up and brushed the dust off their clothes. 

“You’re kinda getting good. You still suck but the sparring’s getting you somewhere.” Give it to Clarisse for giving compliments, if you can call it a compliment. But Y/N took it as one. It was a rare occurrence for the Ares cabin’s head counselor to give compliments to other cabins, but for some odd reason, Y/N was an exception. Well, it wasn’t THAT odd. Y/N and Clarisse were best friends, and other campers find that awfully odd. But to Y/N, they were odd to begin with and everything in their life, from the Gods to prophecies to quests are too, so who cares? Being friends with the biggest bully and their other siblings in the camp was the least of their worries. 

Y/N rolled their eyes at Clarisse before shoving their hands in their jean pockets, making their way to a hay bale, and plopping down on it. Clarisse sat next to them, looking at the spear in their hands. “Any plans for the Goddess of Love’s Day?” Y/N asks out of the blue. Clarisse only stared at them before she started laughing with malice. Is it malice? Y/N couldn’t tell.

“What do you think, Ease?” Clarisse smirked as Y/N blushed at the nickname. It was a nickname given by Y/N’s other best friend, Luke, the son of Hermes.  It was a nickname to embody what Y/N was to Luke, as he claims. Ever since the duo came back to camp after a particularly harrowing quest, Luke never had any troubles with sleeping and claimed Y/N had everything to do with it. Y/N begged to disagree, although they weren't going to admit he was right. Ever since, that nickname stuck like glue. Luke took every second embarrassing them with the nickname. It secretly infuriated them, but Y/N knew it had to be endearing, so they let it go. Y/N had a weird set of friends, who would never get along they think, but Y/N didn’t care. A friend was a friend.  

Clarisse, unfortunately, one day had the fortune of hearing Luke call them that. It was during one of the sword fighting training sessions with Luke, and he, out of either pettiness or wanting to embarrass the hell out of Y/N, called them up to be their test dummy sparring buddy. It went smoothly at first. Y/N wasn’t new to Luke asking them to be his sparring and demonstration partner whenever both Y/N’s cabin’s itineraries and his time as a teacher coincide, which doesn’t happen that often, but when it does Luke took advantage of it. Regardless, Y/N did it for Luke. And Luke was always ever so grateful for it. 

After a few demonstrations from Luke, the real sparring commenced. Y/N knew they had no leg to stand on and was awfully aware that Luke was the best swordsman in Camp Half-Blood. There was no way in hell they’d beat him. It was a short spar and before they knew it, Y/N was on the ground, a scene Y/N was all too familiar with to the point Y/N might as well befriend the ground they walk on by how much accustomed they were to being face to face with it. 

Luke smiled at Y/N as the tip of their sword was right in front of their throat and Y/N rolled their eyes. "You okay there, Ease?" he asked, offering their hand for them to take. Y/N partially accepted the offer, before their eyes widened. The nickname wasn't supposed to go out to everyone else. They looked at the crowd before them, Apollo kids, Y/N's cabin, and unfortunately, Ares kids and Clarisse. Shame and embarrassment became anger, and Y/N swatted Luke's hand before beelining to the exit. 

Luke stood there stunned, not realizing the gravity of the situation. It took him a while to finally understand what he had done. Y/N had firmly asked them to keep the nickname between themselves. But Luke couldn't help it. He forgets himself whenever he's in front of them. It was like Y/N was his tunnel vision, and he forgot every ounce of autonomy and thought. He knew he didn't mean to embarrass Y/N but it slipped. And now, Luke had to ask for penance. It wasn't new for the two to bicker and fight, it was in friends' nature to do so. However, this was different. Y/N was the type to always prove a point, and they'd normally react with a malice-laced “What the hell does that mean?” or a very exasperated “What?”, but today was different. They left without arguing, and that scared Luke more than all of their heated fights combined. He swallowed from worry and nervousness before apologizing to everyone in the arena, also beelining to the exit. Clarisse was there to witness everything, and for once that day, she snickered.

Ever since that day, Ease had stuck in everyone's minds. Although no one dared to use it and stuck on calling Y/N their name, Clarisse would use it often to either taunt or tease them, there was no in-between. 

"I hate you so much" Y/N begrudgingly says, looking far away from them. Clarisse's laugh roared as a response. "Does Mr. Loverboy have any plans for you both?” That got Y/N's attention. They tilted their head, trying to decipher her words. Clarisse, ever so observant, took that as an answer and sighed.

"He's such a fucking loser." Mark and Y/N's heads snap up, nonverbally lecturing the girl for the use of such…language. It was second nature to think Chiron was listening to them, and the look of disapproval from the camp director was hard to remove. The last thing they wanted was Clarisse getting in trouble or worse…dishwashing duty. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? That boy is in love with you and couldn’t get the balls to confess to you. He's stuck looking at you like a kicked puppy every time he even catches sight of you it's so damn annoying.” It was now Y/N’s turn to laugh, albeit it was more bitter than straight coffee. They knew it wasn’t possible. Y/N knew their feelings for their best friend were genuine but for some sick, twisted, sadistic reason, Y/N decided upon themselves to assume that it was one-sided, and thus made it their mission to lock it up and throw away the key. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, they were just happy for Luke to be a part of their life. Y/N has convinced themselves. 

“I can’t believe I’m friends with idiots!” Clarisse raises her arms in frustration and annoyance, to both her best friend and Luke themselves. It was clear that they danced around their feelings and it was so fascinating that an Ares kid out of everyone saw that, out of all the kids in the camp. It was comedic, albeit sad, but comedic.

“Clarisse, you’re the only one who thinks that.” “Not really.” Mark immediately interjects. Y/N glares at the kid, Mark shrugging in response. Clarisse pumps her fist in the air and high-fives Mark in vindication.  “Even the kid sees it, Y/N. Stop telling yourself it ain’t so because it is.  Luke loves you and you love him. End of story.” 

"I'm content that he's part of my life, Clarisse. Isn't that enough?" The last sentence came out in the form of a whisper, which even Y/N was surprised by. They tried to convince either themselves or Clarisse & Mark that that was the case.  Why were they getting choked up about this in the first place? Weren't they content that he was part of their life? Y/N damns their actions for betraying their words. 

“Look, just accept the fact you like Luke. Stop pretending and stop convincing yourself that you don’t. Let your feelings out.” Clarisse blurted out. Y/N couldn’t help but not stifle a laugh. “Since when did you become Aphrodite’s kid?” Clarisse jokingly punched their shoulder, a blush creeping in her cheeks. “Shut up.” The Clarisse that they knew, the one who hid her feelings well, embodied pride, arrogance & exuded bravery, and wouldn’t dare give any advice, less a confession, was back. 

“Look, I’m just saying that you’re no better than Luke. You might be even worse than him. And I don’t like seeing my best friend sulking because they made their own bed and laid on it. Stop being stupid and accept the fact that Luke has feelings for you and you have to as well or I'll have to beat you with a stick just to get it through your thick skull." 

Y/N spent the entire day looking for Luke, who was nowhere to be found in his normal stations. They asked all his siblings about his whereabouts but nothing. Na-da. Zip. It wasn’t like him to disappear. In a day they’d see wafts of his brownish-black curly hair in the crowd multiple times and knew it was him. Whenever they see him, it was as if he's the only one they can see. 

They decided to look around the cabins once again. They bargained to themselves that if they didn’t see him that time, they’d just look for them at the dining pavilion later tonight or just assume he’s busy. They were so busy with their thoughts it took them a while to finally see the man of the hour. He was leaning against the Aphrodite Cabin, talking to a girl. The girl was blonde, and her height was the same as Luke's shoulder. Louise Clifford-Jacobs, Y/N remembered her name. They were one of Aphrodite Cabin’s kindest members. Y/N wasn’t close to them but they’ve talked once in a while and they’ve heard nothing but kind words from everyone around her.  They were laughing and the girl was giggling, excitement drawn on her face. She notices Y/N approaching him and she taps Luke's shoulder before pointing to their direction. 

Luke looked away from her and saw Y/N, smiling and waving. Luke offered them what seemed like a smile and a hand raised. The smile was something Y/N noticed approaching him. It looked as if it was out of nervousness or tiredness, Y/N couldn't pinpoint which one. It looked forced and was nowhere near Luke's actual smile. 

Still, Y/N flashed a big smile at Luke, happy that they finally found him after that unnecessary scavenger hunt to locate him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You weren’t in the Sword Fighting Arena and your siblings didn’t know where you were”

Luke shifted on his feet, hung his head down, and put his hand on the back of his neck.  “Hey, Ease. Yeah sorry ‘bout that I had a lot of things to do. I’ll make it up to you soon. Honest!”  Y/N nodded their head in understanding. “Oh yeah!” they exclaimed, remembering why they were looking for him in the first place. “I was gonna ask you something. Do you have a second?” Luke began looking between them and Louise. The air suddenly felt thick as tensions and awkwardness rose as if Luke was caught between a rock and a hard place. It seemed as if Luke made his decision when he responded, "Oh shit, sorry Ease I'm in the middle of something with Louise. Do you mind?" 

The smile on Y/N’s face dropped and a forced hard line formed on their lips. “Oh. Oh okay. No worries. If it’s important I can ask you some other time. Bye Louise!” Y/N quickly walked away with hands in their pockets. Y/N felt a pang in their chest, and their heart began to beat more rapidly than normal. They didn’t know what they were feeling. Sadness? Disappointment? It seemingly wasn’t Y/N’s Day, but they convinced themselves that it was because Luke was busy, considering he was Camp Counselor after all. Yeah, that’s what it is. Y/N tried to rationalize what took place. However, Y/N evidently came up short.

It had begun to be a daily occurrence it seems, Y/N finding Luke, asking if they could talk or hang out with them and him disregarding them, brushing them off, or telling them they're busy. Just like it became a sudden everyday occurrence, it also became a nuisance and annoyance to Y/N. Once can be brushed off as a mere coincidence but multiple times in a week? Now, that wasn't a coincidence. It had become clear to Y/N: Luke was avoiding them. But why? Did they do something to upset Luke? Couldn’t be. Was it? It didn’t make sense to Y/N. It didn’t make sense to poor ol’ Annabeth either, whom Y/N found solace in. They felt bad and shameful, talking to a literal 13-year-old about stuff they should be dealing with on their own. But Luke was Annabeth’s brother, and Annabeth knew more about him than Y/N would ever in their lifetime. So, it made sense that Y/N would approach her. 

"I could've sworn Luke was walking back and forth from the beach. I've seen him there multiple times a day. Even at the lake with the canoes, I'd see him too. He always looked nervous and his hands were clammy. He was very jumpy too. Whenever I’d ask him, he’d brush me aside, force me off his case, and make me return to the Athena cabin.” Annabeth explained one day when they asked about their sibling’s whereabouts.  Y/N was slowly getting frustrated, not at Annabeth but at the lack of answers. Who wouldn’t be? Your best friend, out of the blue, began ignoring you; without offering any answers, without explanation. Anyone would go insane just thinking about it. Y/N felt they had no one else to blame but themselves. 

Y/N felt despondent more and more every day, and it wasn’t hard to notice. Their signature smile was gone, they weren't eating much, and aloof. Their cabin-mates noticed it too. They weren't their enthusiastic self and slugged around with their activities for the day. Their siblings, wanting to distract them from whatever caused their unorthodox behavior, asked if they wanted to do hand-to-hand combat or forge weapons in the camp forge, which was what Y/N liked doing the most, but was met with a shrug and a distant stare off into the abyss. 

It wasn't just their cabin that got the brunt of Y/N’s melancholy. Half of the population in the camp did. Their beds weren't as comfortable as they had gotten used to. Campers began feeling awful emotionally waking up, some had dreams that caused nothing but dejection and misery. Some Aphrodite kids even woke up feeling nothing but heartache, even though it was supposed to be their month. Everyone was affected, and regardless if Y/N knew of this or not, that wasn’t a matter to them that they cared enough about to fix. Selfish? Probably is. 

The last straw was on a random Tuesday when once again, Y/N looked for Luke. They once again, like clockwork, looked everywhere for him. They finally found them near the Hermes cabin, talking to his half-siblings. Approaching them, they sensed that Luke wasn't in the best of moods, with his back tensed than usual and their siblings looking as if the ground was far more interesting than their older brother's lecture. The two, who they later found out were the Stolls, noticed Y/N approaching. Connor (Y/N thought it was Connor but they weren’t sure) looked at Luke before directing his eyes towards Y/N. Luke's eyebrows scrunched up before looking at what had gotten the Stoll siblings' attention. Y/N, with hands behind their back and with a thin line on their lips, greeted Luke. 

Before Y/N could greet them, Luke stopped them. “Listen, Y/N. I know you wanna hang out with me and tell me whatever this is you want to tell me. I get that. I see that. But please, not now. I’m in the middle of something here.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow in sadness and in turn look at the Stolls. Y/N, who has been patient with their best friend, just wasn’t having it. Out of either frustration or desperation, Y/N spoke. “I know that and I understand that. Being a camp counselor is hard work, especially with these ruffians trying to tear down every wall in the cabin.” Y/N tried to lighten up the situation, earning a snicker from the Stolls, who weren’t their intended audience. Luke just stood there, his face still the same, albeit more unamused than before. 

“But you have to relax for once. You’ve been at it for days now so I was won-““No.” Luke immediately interjects with hints of venom laced in his teeth. Y/N’s breath hitched. This was the first time in their life they’ve heard Luke speak like that. He was usually this nonchalant, chill dude. Serious when needed but a stand-up guy. Today wasn’t the normal Luke. No, it was something else. It made Y/N’s spine tingle with fear. It also made the Stolls’ back straightened. 

“C’mon, Luke. I know you’re working hard but-""I said no, Y/N. Gods above, can’t you please just listen to me once? I’m busy. Please. Leave.” Y/N gulped, looking back at the Stolls before looking back to Luke, whose eyebrows furrowed and scar making him all the more menacing. Y/N immediately left, locking themselves away in their cabin. They looked up, and just thinking about Luke’s tone and expression made them tear up. It was oh so wrong for Y/N to cry over someone, let alone a boy. But this was no ordinary boy no. This boy was special to them, and their expression of annoyance towards them felt like a stab to the heart multiple times, each time the intensity got worse and worse and as a joke, his expression kept removing the daggers only to put it back in.

This made Y/N’s overthinking tenfold. They have settled at the fact that Luke hated them, thought of them as an annoyance, thought of them as excess baggage. These thoughts overwhelmed Y/N and in turn, tears welled up in their eyes, cascading onto their pillow until they fell asleep. None of their siblings tried to bother them, eyes looking back at each other laced with sympathy towards their once exuberant sibling. Y/N ultimately missed lunch and dinner, and Luke noticed that day that Y/N was nowhere to be found. But ultimately decided not to do anything about it. 

It was a Thursday when the downfall came. Y/N, who was feeling nothing but sadness the past couple of days, like a shift of tides, has inadvertently turned this sadness into something else; something much more dangerous and malicious: Anger. It was all of a sudden. Y/N woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and that’s when everything went to shit. Y/N’s anger poured over everyone in their cabin. Sammie, Y/N's bunkmate, asked them what was wrong. They were always there for Y/N and Y/N considered Sammie their closest sibling out of everyone. So, it was a surprise to all of their siblings when Y/N’s voice, filled with malice and venom, barked “LEAVE ME ALONE. CAN’T YOU SEE I’M NOT? FOR GOD'S SAKE JESUS ABOVE! ARE YOU STUPID OR BRAIN DEAD?” Everyone’s mouth hung open as they looked at each other, either out of fear or mere awkwardness.  Y/N wasn’t the type to scream at anyone out of the blue. They were boisterous and loud, sure, but it was out of happiness and eagerness to wake up every day. But now, it was like a cloud cast over Camp Half-Blood, even though it never rained there. 

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the scene in front of them. Y/N on their bed, blanket strewn about on their legs as they scowled at the now teary-eyed Sammie. Time stood still and the air got more and more heavy. Here was their zealous and exuberant sibling, who woke up and randomly just chose to pick a fight the moment their eyes opened. It wasn't like them. But no one knew what caused them to snap. Someone had to step between them and Hayden, one of the older members of the camp, guided Sammie away from Y/N before they further angered them. Essie, another one of their siblings, glared at Y/N.

Y/N, with everyone's eyes on them, finally was hugged by clarity's warmth and their eyes softened. They looked around to see their siblings looking at them with the expression of either disgust or shame, and Y/N couldn't stand to be around their siblings. They tossed their blanket aside and went out of their cabin, head down.

Maybe walking could clear my head. Y/N thought. So, they walked. And walked, visiting every place you can go to in camp, rinse and repeat. They felt like a soulless traveler, wandering aimlessly around. Lifeless and tired. As they began walking back to their cabin however, a familiar voice tried to stop them. They tensed up, realizing it was Luke, the same boy who had been ignoring them for days, who now had the utter audacity to come up to them as if nothing had happened. 

Y/N, more infuriated than before, turned around to look at the boy. He was in a smiley mood, creases formed on the side of their eyes. This was Luke’s signature smile that he knew Y/N loved, but unfortunately for him, today wasn’t the day it’d work on them. They glowered at Luke with intense fury in their eyes, and Luke, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to be sucked in by a black hole from where he stood, even though they had no idea what had made them furious like that. In the years of knowing Y/N, Luke knew they had that specific look whenever they were furious, that one that made you want to eat dirt or bury yourself alive.  It wasn’t a normal occurrence, which made the intensity of the look way worse. And whenever they did show it, regardless of how many times they’ve done so over the years, it always felt like the first, and Luke always shuddered seeing it. He wasn’t thrilled when his Ease was upset. And in years of knowing them, knew not to mess with Y/N during their spouts of anger, but what Luke wanted to tell them was very important to both of them, Luke thinks, and assumed it’d make Y/N’s mood better, just like every other plan Luke had for them when they were mad or upset. In hindsight, this was probably the worst decision Luke has ever made.

"Hey, I was looking for you. Do you have a second?" Luke put his hands in his khaki pants' pockets and smiled at Y/N. Luke's nonchalance made Y/N's expression turn from anger into disbelief. Did he actually believe that Y/N, whose face is red with anger and disgust towards Luke's actions for the past week, would just come around and entertain Luke's question? Certainly, no one would. Disbelief turned into fury, and Y/N's hands turned into a fist. They approached Luke, and for a minute Luke smiled.  Tunnel vision once again washed over Luke, and unfortunately for him, he failed to see Y/N, who without hesitation, swung at him. 

Luke was on the ground in an instant, shock painted across his face. He felt for the side of his lip, which was now cut open and oozing with blood. If Y/N was in a better mood, they’d take a picture of Luke’s expression and hang it up so people would gawk at it. But alas, Y/N didn’t have a camera, and they weren’t in the mood for stupid jokes, let alone Luke’s. 

“You really have the gall to ask me that? After what you’ve fucking done?” Y/N’s every step was filled to the brim with resentment, each step might leave and burn a permanent mark on the ground. Luke wasn't looking forward to what Y/N was gonna do to him. And Luke, in all of this, was painfully unaware of what he had done, as evident by the clueless look he had, which infuriated Y/N more. 

“You, Luke Castellan, are the stupidest, shittiest, and the most pathetic excuse of a man I've ever met in this entire lifetime. You ignore me for days, brush me off when I try to talk to you and act like I don't exist. You are just as cruel as the Gods. No, scratch that. Even worse. If you didn’t wanna be friends anymore you could’ve just fucking told me instead of you acting like you don't see me.” The anger in Y/N seemingly dissipated, replacing it with another just as intense if not more emotion: Anguish. Y/N's eyes were now filled to the brim with days' worth of unshed tears, it was as if the dam inside their heart finally burst. Luke finally, by the grace of God, realized the critical error they'd made. They didn't mean to leave Y/N in the dust like that, but Y/N didn't know that. It was his fault for not communicating with them about it. He, upon seeing his best friend, with tears in their eyes and anger and other pent-up emotions over the days splattered in both their face and actions, knew he had morally fucked up. Luke Castellan, who was very much aware of how many times he had fucked up in his life, who was so used to seeing the consequences of his actions, for seemingly the first time, was now so blissfully aware of how unaware he was of the damage he’d done. The last thing he wanted was to make Y/N feel anything but happiness. He never wanted to hurt them or make them cry. They swore one day years ago that until they died, they wouldn’t make Y/N feel that way. To be alone. To be abandoned, like the Gods did. Luke had always been angry at the Gods for ignoring them and didn't want anyone, especially their best friend, to feel that way after everything that had happened to them. But like the Gods, life was cruel like that, and promises were sometimes made to be broken. And Luke failed. Yet again. He did. At that moment, he realized just how much anguish and pain he had caused. Luke's expression softened and regret was now sprawled across his face.

Y/N raised their fist towards Luke, and he closed his eyes, expecting a second punch to land on his face. I deserve it. he thought.  But he waited and waited until…nothing. Instead, Y/N's fist faced the ground, and their head was down, tears dripping onto the dirt they were now kneeling on. They gripped on their pants like a lifeline, as they shook with rage. Luke, fully grasping what was happening, tried to approach them and touch their hand. But as soon as he tried, Y/N moved away from him. At that moment, you could hear Luke's heart shattering into millions of pieces. He'd officially ruined it. Just like everything he touched.

Y/N stood up and wiped the tears that were threatening to spill from their eyes. Their hair was a mess, shirt rippled as if it wasn't ironed and their hand was now a little bloody from the punch to both Luke's face and the contact with the Earth. Y/ N looked at Luke with malice, and Luke unconsciously stepped back.

“Stay away from me, Luke Castellan. If you know what’s good for you, I advise you to do so. Never ever talk to me again. Go fuck yourself. We’re done.”

Relationships end, that was a given. Love was silly like that. Breaking up and losing who you thought was your forever was one of the saddest heartaches you can get in life. That was universal knowledge. But Luke, at that moment, knew that that wasn't the case.  To him, the most heartbreaking thing was to see their best friend walk away, just like that.  They essentially gave up on him, and Luke had nothing to blame but himself. The one person who he knew wouldn’t give up on them, did just that.  Friendships come and go, and over time and unexpectedly, they can break off. And all you can do is accept and move on. That was natural. But this wasn’t something Luke didn’t want to just accept. He knew this one’s reason wasn't natural. And it had one reason: him. Luke Castellan. Son of Hermes. A fuck up.

Luke laid on his bunk bed, contemplating. This had been going on for two days already. Luke waking up and doing nothing but brood and contemplate. Nobody in the cabin bothered him, aside from Chris who stepped up as temporary camp counselor for him and updated him once in a while about what they did that day, and his other younger sister Mia who cleaned up his wound upon seeing him enter the cabin, dazed and hurt. He would kill just for Y/N to say something to him, to scream at him, do something instead of the cold glares they have given them when they reach the dinner pavilion or even as they walk near their cabin. For some reason, Y/N always knew they were there, and it pissed them off even more. The silence between them was deafening, and Luke hated every minute of it. It wasn't rare for the two to fight, Y/N was feisty and loved arguing, especially when they knew they were right. But the first time, when Y/N decided that they weren't gonna argue, got Luke shaken up and scared. 

Luke had looked everywhere for Y/N that day. He knew he royally fucked up, calling Y/N by their nickname that they’ve agreed upon should be kept in secrecy. Put that in the list of things Luke has fucked up in the years of their friendship. Worry filled Luke’s brain. What if they went to the forest and got hurt? Luke wouldn’t forgive himself if that happens. He’s lost a lot of people in his life, and when Y/N came into his life, while ambivalent at first, later on promised to himself that he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to Y/N. He had sworn to protect them, even though he knew they didn’t need him. Luke was just about to give up, his nerves shaken as he anxiously thought of multiple what-ifs in his head, when he found them ultimately in the last place they never bothered to search: the campfire. 

Y/N was sitting on the ground, hugging their knees. They were looking at the ground. Luke hesitantly walked towards them and sat next to them. The fire crackled as a girl, who was not older than 8, tended to the flames. He could’ve sworn he's never seen this girl in the years he’s been here but that didn’t matter. Y/N sensed someone was next to them, and looked up. Luke sheepishly smiled at them and in turn, Y/N looked away. 

Luke sighed and laid his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes. Y/N didn’t shrug him off, which was a good thing but they weren’t looking at him. They just sat there, the crackling of fire the only thing you could hear as it danced like two lovers in an intense dance for their lives. Silence went by minutes. No one dared making a sound. 

“I’m sorry.” Were the first words that pierced the silence that surrounded them. Luke sat right up and looked at Y/N who was now looking at them with the most heavenly eyes Luke had ever seen. Their eyes were out of this world, it was as if planets and novas were encased in them. But what ruined it was the gloss. Not because of the glossiness of their eyes, but the cause of it. Y/N had been crying. And it was Luke’s fault.

“Why are you apologizing, Ease? It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I embarrassed you. I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. And now here you are, crying. I also promised I wouldn’t make you cry either.” He sighed before putting his forehead on their shoulder, closing his eyes. It was another minute before Y/N spoke again. 

“It’s stupid, Luke. It was petty. And I made it a big deal by leaving. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of the campers. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

The pair looked at each other in lopsided smiles. “We’re both a mess, huh?” He looked at them again with the biggest and doofiest smile he could muster. Then, giggles. Giggling and laughter roared in the air as the two non-verbally apologized to each other. Hugs and jokes were shared that day in front of the bonfire. You couldn’t burn that scene whenever you tried. It was one of the best days the two ever had.

Emphasis on had. Luke thought. Now, he lays there, contemplating the bridge he’d burn from the one good thing in his life. What Luke couldn’t forget the most were their eyes, filled with hate and malice towards him. Seeing them like that felt like the entire world, his entire world, fall apart. And then they left them there standing, forced to pick up the millions of pieces he himself destroyed.

He knew he loved them; he really did. He could lie under oath and people would know he’s being disingenuous. He’d known for a while about what he felt for them. The way he looks at them from a distance as they laugh with their cabin-mates, a smile unconsciously creeps into his lips. The way their eyes drag towards them instinctively in the crowd. The way they put him over themselves and how much they accommodate him. Those were some of the things they loved about Y/N. And it took Chris and the entire Hermes cabin just to make him realize just how much of a love-sick puppy he was. Although he knew of his feelings towards them, just like Y/N though, they were both content in being part of their lives. Just like Y/N, He was scared that he might fuck up if they both got together, and he didn’t want to lose them. So, he convinced himself that keeping them in their lives platonically was the only solution they had. They were both idiots. Laughing at that now, Luke couldn’t help but slap himself in the face. You kept them platonically but you still fucked up. Way to go, Castellan. 

He was surely convinced he was just okay to keep them in their lives platonically. He didn’t even initially plan anything on Valentine's Day. Just hanging out with them and doing nothing was okay for Luke. But as Valentine’s Day crept around the corner, Luke couldn’t help but think of holding their hand that day as fireworks sprayed in the sky, red and white lights dancing and looking down at them. He couldn’t help but dream of holding them in their arms, kissing them on the temple, smiling down at them as they both looked at each other in adoration. He knew he had to make a move, as both were as stubborn as mules. Y/N had always been the one to initiate everything. From hanging out to just lollygagging around camp. Y/N has always been there for him. It was always Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. He swears he could make their name a chant, just to immortalize this being he could’ve sworn was given to him by the Gods themselves. What did he do to deserve such an angel? He doesn’t know. He realized that for once in his life, He wanted to initiate something first.  Not Y/N. Him.

He felt his heart ripping out of his chest, and at that instant, he knew he had to do something. At first, he couldn’t find Aphrodite kids who he was close enough to ask for advice since they were all busy with the Feast. But the Gods smiled down upon him that day, in the form of Louise Clifford-Jacobs. Luke wasted no hesitation asking Louise about what to do on Valentines, the perfect spot in Camp Half-Blood, the perfect food to serve, everything. He was so focused on planning he didn’t realize Y/N was next to him, the last person he hoped to hear him ask an Aphrodite girl about his plans for them. Looking at Y/N and their smile, Luke felt his heart beat in his chest. His ears turned red as the love of their life smiled upon them, like sun rays that greeted you in the morning.  Y/N had wanted to ask him a question, and although he wanted to entertain it, he still had to plan their date. Luke knew he hadn’t had much time but he didn’t wanna make them leave. Sacrifices were needed to be taken, and Luke had asked them to leave. The smile that left Y/N’s face broke his heart, but he had to do something so that his plan wasn’t blown. 

Luke watched as Y/N left and felt a pang, it was as if someone had shot them directly into his chest. Looking at Louise, they instinctively knew they had to make the date as special as ever. 

But all the planning. All gone to waste because Luke had failed to focus on the one good thing he had. He was so intent on making the perfect date he forgot who it was for. And now Luke was just there staring into the abyss of the bunk bed, dejected that not only he lost his best friend, his grand plan was useless now. Maybe he could give the plan to Percy? He wasn’t sure anymore. 

A knock on the door interrupted his brooding, and he sat up to see the last person he expected to see today. Clarisse La Rue, in all her Ares fashion, walked inside and sat next to Luke. She intently looked at Luke, anger pulsing through her veins. Luke gulps in response.

“I wanna punch you so bad, Castellan.” She started. “So, so bad. You don’t know how much you fucked up.”  He flinched. He knew how hard Ares kids’ punches are, but Clarisse’s was deadlier. You could’ve hit him with a stone and it would hurt way less. She continues. “But I won’t.” Luke sat up, confused. If she wasn’t there to hurt him then what? Luke couldn’t wrap around the scenario happening right now.

“Clarisse, if you’re looking for Capture the Flag alliances, go look for someone else. I’m not in the mood to think of strategies nor care for any bartering you're gonna do.” Luke bluntly stated as he plopped his head on his pillow, covering his eyes with his arm. He hears the girl sigh. “As much as I would really like to make an alliance with you, I’m here for Y/N”

This caught the boy’s attention as he sat up again. He stares at Clarisse before she starts to speak. “Look, I’m probably the last person you’d expect to play cupid but goddamn you both are annoying as fuck. I’ll cut to the chase, Castellan. My best friend is fucking in love with you, they just couldn’t admit it because they’ve made their thick skull think they didn’t have a chance with you. It has gotten worse ever since you started your little game of ignoring them. Now, I know you like them too, the way you look at them makes me wanna vomit but whatever. And I know you didn't mean to ignore them. This is all just a big misunderstanding and Idiot 1 and 2 do nothing but brood and sigh all day. I for one think it's annoying as hell.” Clarisse sighs, reclining on the railings of Luke’s bunk. " The point is, I’m not gonna sit around and see them cry over some idiot. Now, get your sad, pathetic ass out of bed and tell me your plan so I can help.”

Luke and Clarisse indeed formed an unlikely alliance. Although not in Capture The Flag, it was for Y/N so it was the next best thing. Luke’s plan was simple: it was a simple dinner date at the camp’s gazebo, with the gazebo facing the lake. Luke used his abilities as a Hermes kid to smuggle in Y/N and his' favorite food. Clarisse, who had connections with Aphrodite kids through her other best friend Silena, had asked them to help Luke with his case. They didn’t hesitate, seeing that love and courtship was their forte. Louise and Silena lead the operation, Luke owing them big time for this. In all of the planning and decorating, Luke had gotten antsy. And Silena was getting rather annoyed. Using her charm speak, she had managed to calm Luke’s nerves. Sighs of relief echoed as Luke decided to sit as far away as the Aphrodite kids and let them do their jobs without looking like a strict supervisor. 

Silena and Clarisse had known for a long time just how much the Hermes boy yearned for Y/N. In fact, the pair were taking bets on who would confess first, with Silena betting that Y/N would meanwhile Clarisse was betting on Luke. In the meantime, it seems like none of them were winning. And they wouldn’t like that now, would they? That’s why they agreed to help him. Though it was the second reason, the real reason why was sweeter, but they would rather be caught dead than admit that.

Whilst Silena and Clarisse helped prepare, they couldn’t help but look back at Luke. His leg wobbled up and down and he kept wringing his hands. Sweat was rolling down his head as his eyes shifted, while silent murmurs left his mouth. In the many years these two have known Luke, they have never seen him like this. He was the epitome of confidence, both in the eyes of his siblings and everyone in the camp. He was ever so self-assured with both his abilities in sword fighting and his abilities as Head Counselor. Yet here he was, a blubbering mess.  It was definitely out of character for him. The two kept snickering every time they looked back at him, and they looked back at each other, rolling their eyes.  This was definitely blackmailing material for the future. 

That night on Valentines Day, the feast had commenced in celebration of the Goddess of Love. With everyone in the dinner pavilion, Chiron had shared their usual pleasantries, and just like clockwork, finally asked everyone to commence the celebration. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes and eating well tonight, courtesy of the Aphrodite cabin, kids who knew they helped in preparations can finally eat up and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. Couples from different cabins were allowed to eat next to each other, as their single siblings watched in horror and disgust. Burning of offerings had also commenced tenfold, with everyone thanking the Goddess of Love for a very successful day. As the celebration goes on, Y/N sat next to their siblings, half of them sitting with their loved ones, while the rest talk amongst themselves. They sat in the middle, aimlessly picking and playing with their food. 

A cough took them out of their state. Clarisse, who was wearing her best red dress, and Silena who absolutely looked stunning in their off-shoulder dress stood next to each other, looking at them. Y/N in turn looked up at them, eyes filled with gloom. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be like that the entire night, Y/N”.

“And what if I was?” They barked in retaliation. They were in no mood to bicker with the daughter of Ares. They weren’t also in a mood to celebrate this supposed-to-be happy occasion. Why would they? They just lost their best friend and the person they have been yearning for in just a week.

“Well, that’s no good now, is it?” both snicker at each other.  They sigh before standing up, back hunched and their arms on the table. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to entertain pranks nor play with matchmakers, no offense Silena” she smiled and nodded back to them.

“Well good news. This is no prank. Silena and I decided that since you’re alone this Valentine’s you could come join us on a little singles bonding.” Y/N raised their eyebrow in suspicion. They had a hunch that whenever these two were together and involved, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. These two, besides them and Clarisse, are partners in crime. And when there’s trouble in the air, Clarisse and Silena are the main culprits.

Y/N sighed however. Despite not being in the mood, they had no plans whatsoever. They were, however, in an entertaining mood. There was nothing to lose. So, they humor them, albeit begrudgingly. They rolled their eyes and looked back at them. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

The girls smile and jump in excitement. Seeing this commotion, they knew something was up. These two were planning something, and Y/N was mentally cursing themselves for agreeing. There was fire in Clarisse’s eyes, and in the many years they’ve known her, they knew exactly what this look was: Determination. A determined Clarisse was dangerous, that they knew. They would stop at nothing to get things done, regardless if it'd kill her or not. An over exaggeration on Y/N’s part but you get the point.  But curiosity was a killer. And well, satisfaction will bring them back.

Silena dragged Y/N away from their table, no one paying mind to them leaving, while Clarisse pushed them forward. They walked and walked until they ended up in the Aphrodite cabin, desolate with no one but themselves. They dragged them to the cabin’s vanity table that was lined with different hair items and products, from hair gel to combs. Aphrodite kids were stacked, and Y/N anxiety never faltered.

“What the hell are you two gonna do to me?” they asked, voice laced with fear. Clarisse’s usual cackle filled the cabin, alongside the sound of a turned-on hair dryer. “Oh c’mon, Y/N liven up. It’s Mom’s Day. I’m giving you a makeover, of course. Courtesy of the entire Aphrodite cabin.” Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror and realized they look utterly horrid. Their hair stuck out in every direction; their eyes red from the constant crying. Eyebags evident from the lack of sleep. Silena was right, They thought. They did look like a mess.

 “Think of it as self-care, Y/N. As the Head Councilor of the Aphrodite cabin, we are humbly your fairy godmothers for the evening.  I’m gonna make sure you look perfect and stunning. Now. Face the mirror.”  

Silena was right. Y/N did look perfect right now. They looked the best they’ve ever been ever since they entered camp, hell, even before they were homeless. One word can describe them right now and it was this: Ethereal. They looked like you could put them in Olympus and no one would be any wiser, no, scratch that, they looked more than just a God. They looked like a celestial being. Silena and Clarisse couldn’t help but gawk at their joint masterpiece and Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror, basking in their appearance. 

Y/N couldn’t help it as a tear rolled down their cheek, which Silena tsked before wiping it off. “Someone who looks celestial tonight has no right to cry. Look at you!” Both Clarisse and Silena were now beside them, and they gawked once more at them. Their confidence skyrocketed ten-fold, and by God they didn’t think they were even capable of looking like so. They looked at both Clarisse and Silena, nodding at them, eyes closed, feeling ever so grateful for their job tonight. But they knew the night wasn’t over, and without hesitation, Clarisse took their hand and led them out the cabin.

It was a short walk and before they knew it, they reached the lit gazebo. Y/N’s eyes sparkled as they stared in awe at the decorations that littered it, fairy lights in little jars, red and white clothes draped at the roof of the gazebo. Food was on the rose petal decorated table, with a beautiful table setting with handkerchiefs folded into swans. But that wasn’t the only thing that was in there. A curly haired boy sat on one of the tables, dressed in a suit, looking down and twiddling with their thumbs. Luke. They thought.

All the happiness they felt have now dissipated, and fury once again taken hold of them. “What the hell is this?” They spat venom, and the pair couldn’t help but flinch in retaliation. Looking up, Luke saw Y/N, and he couldn’t help but gawk at them. Luke had always known Y/N was ethereal, but with Silena and Clarisse’s help, they were all of a sudden out of this world. It was as if Y/N embodied Aphrodite, you can even say moreso, however you wouldn’t catch Luke saying that aloud. All the gawking Luke did however, was ruined when they saw their face. They were infuriated. Angry that they were tricked by Silena and Clarisse. Angry at him. 

Luke wasted no time and made a beeline towards Y/N. "What is he doing here?” Y/N asks Silena and Clarisse, and the duo stayed quiet, looking at Luke for help. Luke sighs, putting both his hands up near his chest, a sign that he wasn’t there to put up a fight. “Don’t get mad at them, Ease. They helped me.  I asked them to trick you. I’m sorry.”

“I told you that I didn’t wanna see you anymore, Luke.” “I know that but please hear me out.” Without saying a word, Y/N began to turn around and walk away. Who wouldn’t be pissed? The last person they wanted to see right now was standing there, whilst they recruited their other friends to basically trick them into seeing him. To say they were pissed was an understatement. 

Not wanting for Y/N to leave before he explained himself, he grabs their arm. The touch felt electric to Y/N as they spun around as Luke held them. And for the first time in a while, Y/N’s expression softened. It had been days since the two had hung out, let alone seen each other. The fight had made them more distant than before, and Y/N couldn’t help but yearn for Luke’s touch. As skin contacts skin, his touch made them putty, and all the anger they’ve kept just seemingly dissipated, and there was nothing left but yearning. Painful, painful yearning. 

“Please, Y/N hear me out. I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.” Y/N closed their eyes, sighing. Y/N knew Luke was their weakness, it had always been. And as he stood there holding them, all thoughts were officially lost. They nodded, and Luke for the first time in a while had his signature smile plastered on their face.

Luke looks at Y/N’s eyes, enamored as the lights from the gazebo danced in it. The more he stared at their eyes, they felt like a moth drawn to the flame. He could stare at it forever, like how Narcissus looked at his reflection in the water, but Luke had to snap out of it, and finish the hell that he had started.

“Listen, Ease. In the years I’ve lived on this Earth, I’ve recognized just how much I’ve fucked up. I was very much aware of how much I’ve done so. With Hal, with…Thalia.” Luke looked at the ground, tears began welling in his eyes. Y/N, who looked at him with adoration, wasted no time putting their hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to them. Luke looks at Y/N, before laughing, tears betraying him as they rush down like a waterfall. Y/N’s expressions softened even more, as they used their thumb to swipe any more tears that dared leave Luke’s eyes. A nod left Y/N, encouraging Luke to continue. The gesture made Luke a little more courageous, as he swallowed, before continuing. “With dad’s quest. I knew how much of a fuckup I was. I was always aware, and for some odd reason, when the consequences of these fuck-ups arise, I just ignore them. Not the healthiest option I know but I just stopped giving a fuck, you know? It is what it is mentality.”  As he looked at Y/N, he took their hands into his, and suddenly yet all at once, it felt exhilarating. Their hand in his felt bright and warm, a feeling both of them never felt before. In that moment, they both seemed to forget all the troubles, trials and tribulations they’ve experienced, and what matters right now were just the two of them, in that moment, a scene like in a movie.

“But seeing you walk away like that with the angriest and furious eyes with tears cascading down your face, I realized something.” He breathes out as his grip on their hands tighten, it was as if at any minute, Luke would lose them, like they would drift away from them, never to be seen again. “I realized that out of all the fuck ups I did, hurting you was the worst one I’ve ever done. In that moment, I realized that making you feel alone and small was the biggest fuck-up I have ever done. For the first time, It felt as if some part of me died that day. Out of all the mistakes I've done in my life, you were the only one I was willing to fix."

Luke adoringly stepped forward more, and the space between them left as if it never existed. Luke moved his hands to their forearm, and in turn they put their hand on his chest. “You, Ease, made me realize that out of everything in my life, you’ve become the only thing I got right. I could forget everything, and you’d still be the only constant I’m thankful the Gods had given me. You're the only one who has seen the reds and the blues of my life and despite everything, you just burned them all up. And you, with all your love for an idiot like me, kissed them goodbye.”

“I’m here to fix things between us, Ease. Let it be known that I’m not willing to give you away that easily. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. So please, I hope you forgive me.”

Y/N, upon hearing Luke’s words, couldn’t help but allow the tears to fall from their eyes. Overwhelmed with emotions, they wasted no time putting their arms around him, sobbing as they cling on to him, scared that they might fall away from them. It took Luke a minute before wrapping their arms around them as well, swinging them back and forth as the pair laughed and giggled in each other’s presence. Tears and smiles were shared amongst the pair, and Luke, smitten in love, broke the contact first, his hands on Y/N’s waist. The pair basked at each other’s presence with adoration, as they stood there, foreheads touching.  Y/N’s hands crept once again to Luke’s face and in that moment, as they looked at each other, time stood still, silence washed over them. “Ease, I promise you, you won’t regret it.” He giddily smiles at them, and they chuckle. 

“I know I won’t.” Y/N replies. Luke leans in, and in sync, their lips move against each other. The pair melted in each other as Y/N placed their hands on their neck. Y/N’s lips were soft. Luke thought. And a smile crept into his lips as his dreams of what their lips felt like on his was now in fruition. Electricity filled the air as the two savored each other, apologies and I love yous passed back and forth with each kiss. It was invigorating, the pair thought. He parts his lips for them, allowing each other to explore and satiate the hunger they had for each other. Their hands slipped into his curly hair and in turn, Luke pulled them towards his body more.

They broke apart after a few minutes, the two catching their breath. As they looked at each other, a sudden boom made their heads snap towards the sky. Red and white lights danced in the sky, covering the entire valley with the Love Goddess’ colors. The two looked up at the sky in adoration as they held onto each other, Luke’s head on their shoulder as they laid their head on his, with Luke’s arms around their waist and their hands resting on top of his. 

Silena and Clarisse watch on as their friends bask in each other’s presence, and in turn they look at each other. Clarisse held out a hand, and Silena couldn’t help but groan as they fished in their pockets, placing a few drachmas on the God of War’s child's palm. Clarisse nodded a thank you to Silena, before both of them left to give the two some deserved privacy.

Never in the million years Luke would think the Gods would give him someone, let alone a person who loved all of him. Y/N, his North Star, his tether, his world. He didn't expect them, out of everyone, to now be in his arms, fully embracing the feeling they had for each other that they were so afraid to admit before. Now, as his name fell from Y/N’s mouth, he smiles as he basked at the moment, silently thanking the Gods for this one. And maybe, just maybe he thinks, he can forget about why he hated the Gods in the first place.

[youunravelme]

congraaats on 1k!!

could you do “good! get out of here! i didn't want you here anyway!”, “are you actually leaving?” and “you actually believed that shit?” with mat? but end it fluffy😅

thanks!!

thank you thank you!

(also let's ignore that this was from my 1000 follower celly from MONTHS ago lolol, happy valentine's day!) does this drabble make sense? i don't know, let's pretend it does though.

ever since he bought the ring, he couldn't stop staring at it. and maybe he should've been more careful, like not pulling the ring out when you had just fallen asleep or anytime you left him alone in the bedroom, but he couldn't help it. he looked at it and saw his future.

with you.

like now, he had his back to the door, gazing at the ring snug inside the velvet box. he had all these plans, it was going to be this friday night, he'd already made the arrangements.

however, he was too busy looking at the promise of his future to hear you walk in the front door.

"you okay?" you asked from the doorway of the bedroom.

mat jumped, snapping the ring box shut and hiding it behind his back before he turned around and faced you. "what?" he squeaked out.

your brows pulled together while your mouth twisted down in a frown that was cuter than it had any right to be.

god he wanted to marry you so bad.

would you hate him if he proposed now?

he cursed at himself in his head. you deserved better than a rushed proposal in your messy bedroom.

"mat? you okay?"

he blinked at you. "you're home early."

you glanced at your phone and looked back at him. "i'm actually home later than usual...."

"oh," he said.

"are you sure you're okay?"

mat scoffed, though it sounded more painful than anything. "me? why wouldn't i be okay? i'm great, fantastic even."

you blinked. "okay, you're acting weird, so i'm gonna go shower, i'm getting dinner with syd and holly."

“good! get out of here! i didn't want you here anyway!”

you laughed as you spun on your heel to walk into the ensuite. mat hurried back to the dresser and shoved the ring box under the underwear in his top drawer.

once his heart rate settled down, your words settled in. mat burst into the bathroom where you were just getting into the shower. "are you actually leaving?" he asked.

he could see you glance at him through the clear glass doors. "yeah," you said. "i made plans for tonight. besides, you told me you didn't want me here anyway."

it was clear you were joking, but mat gasped anyway. "and you actually believed that shit?"

you laughed, and it sounded like music to his ears. "you've been acting odd lately. thought you'd need some space from me."

before he could change his mind, mat stripped off his clothes and joined you in the shower, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. "i could never get tired of you," he mumbled into your shoulder. "did i hurt your feelings?"

you tilted your head to the side, allowing mat to trail his lips up your neck. "nope." you popped the p. "just thought you wanted some space."

mat shook his head vehemently. "i never want space from you. in fact, i don't think i see you enough, so you should definitely cancel on holly and sydney and just stay home with me."

"is that so?"

mat hummed and kissed the spot right behind your ear. "mhm."

"what's in it for me if i stay? i was promised wine and charcuterie."

"i can promise i'll wine and dine you and love you all night long."

you hummed. "anything else?"

mat pulled back just a little. "that's not enough?"

you laughed yet again, and god if he could he would bathe in the sound. you turned around in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his forehead to yours.

"i'll text the girls, let them know i can't make it tonight."

mat leaned down to kiss you but it barely qualified as a kiss because he couldn't stop smiling.

fuck his plans.

tomorrow.

he was gonna ask you tomorrow.

[brokebonewritings]

Be Mine, Forever?

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Valentine's Day Special

Summary: Your day is interrupted by an impromptu girl's day. and your night is filled with passion as Matt surprises you for Valentine's Day. You had a surprise for him as well. Song: Here (In Your Arms) - First Dance by Hellogoodbye

Word Count: 4.4K

Navigation | Series Masterlist

The day started normally enough. Of course, Valentine’s day fell on a week day this year so you were stuck at work. You sent Matt a few ‘Good Morning’ and ‘Happy Valentine's Day’ texts, but it's been radio silence from the other end. This was expected though, since he had already informed you that he was going to be in court all day. 

You sit back at your desk, you've been preparing all month for a new exhibit at The Met. The plans that spread across your desk puzzle you as you try to figure out where to place each case and art piece.

As you meticulously arrange the plans for the new exhibit, your mind can't help but wander back to Matt. The silence from him is starting to feel unusual, as he's always been the one to send you sweet messages and surprises on special occasions. But you brush it off, he's never disappointed you.

Just as you're about to finalize the placement of the last art piece, Marci rushes into your office, a mix of urgency and excitement in her eyes. "Hey!"

"How did you get in here?" You respond with a raised eyebrow. "Did my assistant let you in?"

Just as you finish your question Justin, your assistant, rushes in behind her. "I am so sorry. I tried stopping her, but she is so fast in those heels."

"Lawyer walk." Both you and Marci say in unison. 

She turns back to you with a smile plastered on her face. "I need you to come with me for the rest of the day."

"Marci, I can't just leave work in the middle of the day." You cross your arms over your chest.

"Oh yes you can, I already spoke to your boss! So come on." She grabs your coat that's by the door, along with your umbrella. "We got things to do, come on."

You sigh and thank Justin for trying, and invite him to also take the rest of the day off. Which he does happily.

"So what are we even going to do?" You ask. Grabbing your bag, and putting away your belongings.

"Well we're gonna go get ready for our Valentine's Date Nights, duh." She helps you get your coat on, and you both were off. "I just know that Foggy, and Matt are planning something special for us."

You smile at the thought. "Have you heard from Foggy today? I know they had a busy day."

"Not a word. You didn't hear it from me, but apparently their client is very demanding of their time."

"Oh shit, really?" 

You loved the gossip you got from your lawyer friends. Not that it was filled with a ton of details. Client/Lawyer confidentiality and all that.

"Mhm, Needs lots of attention to detail." She says before dragging you into a nail salon. You realize how nice this salon is after looking around. "Hey, wait, I don't think I'm gonna be able to afford this right now. Trying to save up for a new apartment with Matt, remember?"

She laughs before checking the both of you in for the appointment she had already made. "Who said you were paying? It's all on me today, hun."

"Oh my god, no way! I seriously cannot accept this."

"Too late! It's already done, you don't wanna ruin this day for me do you?" She pouts after turning back to you.

You sigh and shake your head. "Thank you, this is incredibly kind of you."

"Don't even mention it. I wanna make sure we both are dolled up!"

You're both called back after about 5 minutes. The salon was nicer than you thought. When you had both settled at the manicure station, they had offered you both a glass of champagne. Who were you not to accept a free glass?

It was truly relaxing, you were glad that Marci got you out of work early. You both spent the next two hours getting your nails prepped for a night out. Usually you don't get long nails since you work with your hands most of the time, but she insisted you get something more elegant. You couldn't refuse since she was the one paying.

Just as the nail technician finished with your right hand, your phone buzzed on the table beside you. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Matt's name flashing on the screen. You quickly picked it up and answered, not wanting it to go to voicemail.

"Hey! Happy Valentine's Day!" You chirp happily. "How is court?"

There was a brief pause before Matt's voice came through, heavy with exhaustion. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart." It's been chaos. I couldn't even find a moment to catch my breath."

You let out a sigh of relief, understanding his predicament. "Then I guess tonight will be a good night to cash in one of those massages I owe you, huh?"

Hearing the low rumble of his chuckle sent chills through your body. "Yeah, guess it will be." He pauses. "I was wondering if you would meet me on the roof tonight, like we used to?"

"Yeah, of course I will." You blush, it has been a while since you both sat on the roof together. "What time do you want me there?"

"8:30. There is room for you to be fashionably late, of course."

You let out a giggle. "Yeah okay, 8:30 then. I'll see you then."

"I love you." He says with a loving sigh.

"I love you too." You respond before hanging up.

"Soooooo," Marci pipes up. "Romantic Dinner?"

The blush was still tinting your face from the conversation. "Yeah, on his rooftop."

"That sounds lovely, very romantic."

As you finish up at the nail salon, Marci insists on taking you to a cafe nearby. She called it a Galentine's Brunch, just the girls. When you both arrived, you were surprised to see that Karen was able to join you. 

"I thought you were in court with Matt, and Fog?"

"Oh no, I told them I wouldn't be in today. Playing hookie." She laughed lightly. "Besides, Im not going to deny Marci a girls brunch. We need it."

As you settled into the cozy booth at the cafe, sipping on your latte, the three of you began catching up on each other's lives. Karen shared stories about her latest investigative assignment, Marci talked about her recent courtroom victories, and you filled them in on the details of the upcoming exhibit at The Met.

Marci nudges you playfully. "Have you thought about what you're going to wear?" she asks with a mischievous smile.

You shake your head, realizing that you've been so caught up in work and the surprise day off that you haven't even considered your outfit. 

"I just figured I would wear what I was wearing right now."

"You're joking." Marci says. "You have to wear something else. Not saying that what you're wearing right now isn't cute, but this is Valentine's Day."

"Yeah you gotta wear something he can undress you with" Karen chimes in with a mischievous smile. "Cause you know he'll love it if you wore something hot."

"Okay, okay. I have been saving a silk dress for a special occasion."

"Silk? I gotta see this." Marci says forcefully.

You pull out your phone and find the dressing room photo you took of the dress in question. It was a lavender colored dress with a cowl neckline. They both stare at the photo then back to you.

"Where have you been hiding that!" Karen says in disbelief.

"In the back of my closet." You respond with a laugh. "I just didn't know how to style it."

"I will simply just have to come over and help you with that." Marci states. 

"And." You pause. "There's matching lingerie."

They both squeal before you change the subject back to Marci and Foggy's plans for the evening.

You stare in the mirror at the dress you had shown Marci, and Karen earlier in the day.They had left about an hour ago to get ready for their own plans. Not without them giving your outfit their seal of approval though. 

Sitting on your bed, you pull on the heels Marci had carefully chosen. This was going to be a good night, but you didn't know why the butterflies in your stomach felt so prominent. You haven't been this nervous since you started dating Matt.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that there's nothing to worry about. It's just a rooftop date with the love of your life. You run a hand down the front of your dress, feeling its smooth texture against your skin.

As you do your makeup, you can't help but replay all the beautiful moments you've shared with Matt. From late-night conversations under the stars to stolen kisses on the rooftop, every memory fills you with warmth and love. Tonight is just another chapter in your story together, a celebration of your deep connection.

With your hair styled in loose waves, you stand in front of the full-length mirror and admire the final look. The dress drapes perfectly over your figure, accentuating your best features. You feel confident, more confident than you've felt in years.

You look at the clock on your nightstand, and see that it just hit 8:00. Perfect. You grab your bag and set out walking towards his apartment building.

The city is alive with the energy of Valentine's Day. Lovers walk hand in hand, their laughter and joy filling the air. As you make your way through the bustling streets, you can't help but smile. The anticipation in your heart grows with every step.

Finally, you arrive at Matt's apartment building. Taking a deep breath, you enter and climb the stairs towards the rooftop. The familiar sound of the door creaking open greets you as you step onto the familiar space that holds so many precious memories.

The sun has already set, casting a magical glow over the city skyline. The soft twinkle of lights fills the air, creating an atmosphere that feels straight out of a fairy tale. And there he is, standing near the edge of the rooftop, tall and handsome as ever.

Matt turns as he hears your footsteps approaching. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. That's when you realize that you're not alone. You turn to see that your friends are there. Not only your friends but also your Aunt May and Peter.

"What is happening right now?" You say with a nervous laugh.

"Sweetheart," You hear him say and you turn back and give him your full attention. "I have been meaning to do this for a while, but I didn't know how to go about it."

"Matt, are you?" You begin before he cuts you off with a kiss.

"Ever since I met you I have been so entranced by you.You've brought so much light and love into my life, and I can't imagine a future without you by my side," Matt says, his voice filled with sincerity. He takes a step back, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small velvet box. Opening it to reveal a dainty opal ring, he drops to one knee.

You stand there for a moment, wondering if this was actually happening or if you were have a really specific dream.

"Will you marry me?" Matt asks, his voice filled with vulnerability and love.

The world around you seems to fade away as you lock eyes with him, feeling a mixture of excitement and overwhelming joy. The weight of his question hangs in the air, and time seems to stand still.

Tears well up in your eyes as you try to find your voice. This moment feels like a dream, but the warmth in your heart tells you it's all too real. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the question like a beautiful promise.

"Yes," you whisper, barely able to contain your joy. "Yes, Matt, I will marry you."

The rooftop erupts in cheers and he stands and slips the ring onto your finger. You glance around, realizing that they had all conspired together to create this magical moment. Aunt May wipes away a tear of happiness while Peter grins ear to ear. Marci and Karen are practically jumping up and down with excitement, their eyes shining with joy. Foggy is trying to conceal his tears by wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

Embracing Matt tightly, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. This rooftop, once a place of solace and refuge for the two of you, now holds even more significance. It symbolizes the foundation of your future together, a place where love can blossom and dreams can be realized.

Amidst the cheers and laughter, you take a moment to soak in the beauty of this milestone in your relationship. The twinkling lights of the city below seem to dance in celebration, mirroring the joy in your hearts.

"This is so epic, and I got it all on video." Peter says amidst the celebration.

As the cheers die down, Aunt May steps forward, her eyes glistening with tears. "Oh, darling" she says, her voice filled with emotion. "I couldn't be happier for you both. You deserve all the love in the world. Your father would have loved Matt."

"Thanks Aunt May." You say with a tearful smile.

As the rooftop continues to buzz with excitement and congratulations, you and Matt share a tender moment together. He pulls you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. You feel safe and cherished as you rest your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ears.

"I love you so much," Matt murmurs softly, his voice filled with emotion. "And I promise to spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You look up at him, your eyes filled with adoration. "I love you too, Matt," you reply, your voice filled with sincerity. "And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

After the shared dinner with all of your friends and family, you all decide it's time to head home to spend the rest of Valentine's Day in the comfort of your homes.

Saying goodbye to everyone, you and Matt clean the roof top and share a few intimate moments with kisses and lingering touches.

On your way back down the stairs, you can feel Matt's presence hovering over you. So you stop for a moment and turn to see what he is doing. As you turn, you feel his hand slide up your jaw as he pushes you against the wall. You gasp as he presses himself against you, one hand around your neck and the other sitting on your waist.

"Ive been waiting all day to be alone with you." He growls into your ear before kissing you roughly.

Your heart races as his lips claim yours, a hunger and desire that electrifies your senses. The intensity of his touch against the coolness of the wall sends shivers down your spine.

His hands explore every inch of your body, igniting a fire within you that only he can quench. The urgency and longing in his kisses leave you breathless.

With each touch, each caress, the connection between you deepens. Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, driven by a love that transcends words.

As he pulls away, you feel dizzy with the intensity of his attack. "We need to get back to your apartment." You state.

"Oh do we?" He questions. "I have no problem ravishing you right here in this stairwell."

You huff, as you stare at his smirking face. "I would actually love for you to ruin this dress, but in the comfort of our bed."

"Our bed?" 

"Yes, our bed." You smirk as you push his hands away and begin to walk back to his apartment.

He follows closely behind you, his eyes never leaving your body. The desire he has for you is palpable, and it fuels you as well. As you pass each door, you can't help but imagine what would happen behind your own.

Approaching his door, you grab the keys from his hand and begin to unlock the door.

"I promise, I'll ruin that dress, right here," he whispers in your ear, causing you to shiver.

You hear the click of it unlocking as you turn to him, "Well, Mr. Devil. Ruin the dress then." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the door creaks open, the sound echoes throughout the hallway, the anticipation in the air is palpable. Together, you step inside and kick the door shut behind you. He pins you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body like a man possessed.

He seems desperate to claim you, to conquer every inch of you. You're aching for him too, the want and need between you undeniable. You need his touch, his kiss, his warmth. You're completely vulnerable to him, ready to give yourself to him in every way.

His lips meet yours in a searing kiss, his hands holding your neck as your fingers dig into his shirt. You break the kiss, both of you panting heavily, your hearts pounding in sync. 

"I love you so much," you whisper, your voice shaking with emotion.

"And I love you more," Matt replies, his voice filled with warmth and devotion.

With that his hands grip the top of your dress and he pulls, ripping the dress down the front. You moan at the intensity of the moment. He really did ruin the dress.

You're left in the lingerie you had on underneath as the dress drops to the floor. He takes a moment before feeling up your sides and realizes what you have on.

"Oh you dirty girl." He groans. "You wanted this to happen tonight, didn't you?"

You smile, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Maybe I did"

"Well, I'm not complaining." He says slowly. "You have no idea how hard this is making me."

"I think I have some idea." You say as you lift your knee, feeling his erection already straining under the fabric of his pants.

His hand maneuvers down to pull your lingerie to the side, revealing your most intimate parts. "I'm going to make you scream, baby."

With that, he lifts you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom. The moment you step into the room, he drops you onto the bed and crawls on top of you.

"I want you so bad," he growls into your mouth. You feel his erection pressing into your thigh, and you're more than ready for him.

He breaks the kiss and starts to unbutton his shirt, you lay back watching as he undresses himself. What a sight it was, he could have been a Greek god.

Once he's stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you again, his hand traveling down your body, tracing patterns on your skin as he does. His fingers run along the edge of your underwear and you shudder at the sensation.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slowly pulls them down, revealing your naked body to him. He leans down and begins to kiss your inner thigh, nuzzling into the most inner part.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his thumbs brushing against your waist.

Before you can respond, his tongue swipes up against your core. You gasp at the sudden electricity of the situation. He repeats the motion, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, steady circles. Your hips start to rise in response, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. You arch your back, moaning softly.

Matt responds with a gentle growl, his fingers still moving against your waist, caressing your skin. He reaches down and slowly pushes two fingers inside you, drawing out a loud moan.

His other hand moves to your breast, gently squeezing and kneading it. You mewl, your body trembling with need. His tongue continues to dance around your most sensitive flesh, and you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, Matt," you moan, "I need you inside me."

He stops his ministrations, lifting his head towards you. "Not yet," he says, standing up and helping you off the bed. "I want to make you beg for it."

He leads you over to a table by the window, bending you over it. The cool glass feels amazing against your naked skin, as you're exposed to the room with your legs spread apart.

Matt positions himself behind you after dropping his boxers. You can feel his erection pressing against your ass, precum leaking out. You know he's ready for it.

"You're going to make me come so hard," you whisper.

He rubs his tip against your entrance, teasing you, making you crave him even more. Sliding his cock between your folds. You push back against him for any sort of friction.

A loud crack echoes through the apartment. His hand lingers, massaging the area he just spanked. "You need to be a good girl for me. Or else the next one will be a lot harder. Do you understand?"

You nod, pleasure spread across your face as you lean against the table. 

"Good girl, sweetheart. Such a good listener."

Beginning to slide against you once again, you hold back every instinct to push back against him. With every teasing thrust, you feel electrified, your desire for him only growing. He knows what he's doing to you, and he loves every moment.

He slowly begins to tease your hole as you stand there whimpering. Pushing the head inside you, and quickly taking it out.

"Please, Matt, fuck me," you plead. "I can't take it anymore."

He pulls away, a devious grin on his face. "Not yet," he says, kissing the side of your face.

He picks you up, carrying you over to the bed. He lays you down, spreading your legs wide apart and kneeling between them.

"I need you to beg. Okay, sweetheart?" He says and you nod.

He slips two fingers into you, pumping and curling to find your sweet spot. You cry out in pleasure as he hits you right where it feels good. 

"Please, oh god, Matt" You moan loudly. "I'm going to come, please I need you in me."

That must have been enough for him. With a low growl, Matt plunges into you, filling you up to the hilt. He thrusts deep inside you in one swift motion, the bed frame creaking under the force of his passion.

He pulls out almost immediately, leaving you emptiness. "Please," you beg, wanting more.

He chuckles softly, teasing you by running his cockhead up and down your slit. "Patience, sweetheart. I want this to last."

He thrusts back into you, moving slowly, savoring every moment. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

The way his cock pulsed inside of you was almost too much to bear. He began to pick up the pace, each thrust harder than the last.

You let out a loud, trembling moan, your head falling back as pleasure washed over you. 

"I love you," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you too," you choke out, the emotions taking over you.

He picks up his pace, driving into you harder and faster, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Your body responds in kind, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

"I'm going to come," you gasp, your voice breaking as your orgasm starts to build.

Matt's thumb found your sensitive clit, sending you soaring towards the edge. "Come for me, baby." he growls.

You let out a wail, your nails digging into his back as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your inner walls clenched around him, milking him as you shook uncontrollably.

He continued to thrust into you, driving you further over the edge. Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, your body writhing beneath him in pure ecstasy.

Finally, he slides out of you, leaving your inner walls quivering. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as your heartbeats sync.

You lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking.

"My ass hurts." You after taking a deep breath. He begins to chuckle as you giggle. 

"Sorry, too much?"

"Not at all."

"Good" He says as he pulls you closer and peppers your face with kisses.

As you lay there entwined in each other's arms, your skin still flushed and sweaty, you can't help but smile. This was more than just sex; it was a powerful expression of love and intimacy.

Matt pulls away and smiles, a look of pure contentment on his face. "I just can't get enough of you." 

You giggle and wrap your arms around him, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

"Can we talk about the fact that we're engaged now?"

"I've been planning it for the last 2 weeks with Foggy, Peter, and your Aunt May."

"There is no way that Peter kept a secret for that long. How did you even manage that."

"You can thank your aunt for that one. She basically grounded him from texting you."

This made you both laugh. "You know, I'm gonna have to get used to being called Mrs. Murdock."

A smile spreads across his face, "I'm already getting used to it."

As he pulls you in for another kiss, you can't help but feel a rush of emotion. This man. This strong, protective, and passionate man, is now your fiancé. The thought brings a smile to your face, and you wrap your arms around him even tighter.

"I can't wait to see what the future holds for us," you whisper.

He pulls away slightly, a gentle smile on his face. "The future is ours, my love. And I promise to love and cherish you, always."

"Though I do have one complaint."

"And what is that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"You never asked me to be your valentine."

Chuckling, he pulls your hips closer before whispering in your ear. "Be Mine, Forever?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

join my taglist!

[zombyjuice]

YOU USED TO LIVE A BLONDED LIFE₊˚⊹ ᰔ(๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)>c[_]

in which it’s almost valentines and all wonbin can think about is the girl on his bus rides home.

wonbin x fem!reader

cussing, awkward, kinda bad ngl, reader is poc ermmm enjoy :3

“I’m lonely, I need a man before Valentine or I’ll go fucking insane” you speak coming up behind your friend Luna who practically jumped out of her seat phone flying in the air “Goodness! Someone needs to go put a bell on you” you look down at her with a menacing stare getting out of your 🕴️pose and going to the other side to grab your chair, stepping over her phone.

“I feel like you’ve already gone insane,” she picks up her phone thanking God it’s not broken “Cute hair by the way” she points out your now dark brown hair up put in a ponytail and a white headband with a fluffy blue star clip attached to it, you smile softly touching your hair “hopefully that cute boy on the bus thinks the same, he’s always staring at me I think he wants at me” you let out a giggle and jump up and down on your chair “oh my GOSH he’s so fine how~”

“shut up I’m sure he’s going to like it your pretty and look straight out of one of those old quirky Japanese fashion magazines, also you don’t have the worst personality” she states finishing her coffee “Oh? whatever fuck you let’s go” you kick her under the table and watch her face curl up in pain laughing out loud.

You guys shuffle out of the cafe with grumpy faces seeing all Valentine’s decorations and giddy men and women with gifts for the significant others, “disgusting” you sneer “Be happy” you glare at her “Shut the fuck up and be mad with me fuck valentines!” you slightly shout her eyes darting around not understanding how you have no shame(in Korea), you were a strange complex person but she loved you for it, deciding to ignore the glares.

Not even on the bus yet eyes immediately start darting trying to find the boy excited dressed just for him even though in the back of your mind you knew you were never going to go up to him ever, especially remembering your first interaction.

To make a long story short he was at the bus station at 1 am doing God knows what (waiting for the bus) and since there was barely anyone there you and Luna thought it was the best time to do a silly little TikTok you sprouting with energy cause Luna just gave you tons of it.

The song was slowed down so there you were dancing your heart out (slowly) to Ma Boy by sistar19 to get the perfect video and everything would’ve been fine if you didn’t heard the stifled laugh that the boy was holding.

Your face contoured with fear and Luna's deadpan while tapping your shoulder to run. And ever since then you’d see the boy every day, which would be concerning any other man but this was a breathtaking man who looked at you like he wanted to go down on you any moment.

Luna says it’s not that bad because the video ended up being great the sped up video making people laugh and you guys got viral the next day but you think that was hands down the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“I think you guys would look good together” your friend states while you guys eagerly waiting for the bus “What do you mean? How?!” you get giddy slapping her arm “idk it give cute black cat bf and weird orange cat gf” “okay can you hop off always trying to insult me” “that’s what I do best” “oh you're a fucker” “ow! Stop pinching me gay fuck” “You’re g-”

“the doors open” a quiet voice that belonged to no other than your future(not really) pretty black cat boyfriend >:3

you both barely look back and beeline into the bus.

“haha,” you awkwardly laugh a little too late at the boy who looked at you a little silly, both of your eyebrows raised strangely at each other “Oh my gosh” Luna muttered.

You turned around all of a sudden you would like to leave right about now.

The bus ride was quite awkward you and your friend standing and chatting sometimes losing yourselves in the convos and laughing a bit too loud immediately going to check if he looked at you a certain way.

You guys shared cute glances here and there you could feel the way he looked at your outfit or the way he scanned your side profile also not failing to catch the soft grin plastered on his face.

When the time came around for you to get off your bus stop you frowned, yeah you guys never talked before and you weren’t planning on it, but his presence was enough you could gladly sit awkwardly next to him as he looked at you with those cute boba eyes, gladly giving him the same look back.

You gave him one last look and a soft tight lip smile before walking away with your friend off the bus, but what you didn’t catch was that he followed you guys off.

“excuse me- excuse me”

You guys turn stiff and you snap back to see him slightly smile and wave “Can I um speak to you, please, not to be weird or anything”

You look at Luna with a smile a little too bright and she nods smiling back and glaring at Wonbin before walking off.

you look back at the boy's direction and you walk up to meet each other properly…

“You changed your hair,” he states blankly your eyes go a bit wide, and chuckle a bit “Yeah I was tired of the blonde, but I’m nervous this might be too plain though it does look a lot better I might add some color or maybe like a couple of blo- sorry I blabbering” he giggles a little too hard eyes turning into crescents and cheeks burning red “sorry that was a weird statement, not your fault, haha but um I’m Wonbin…” he scammed your features and your reactions finding them all so cute how expressive and real you are it’s like he could see you take note of his name in your head.

“Wonbin.. pretty I like it! I’m y/n” his face burned more and he couldn’t help but let out a nervously high giggle “Also pretty I think you're pretty too and I wanted to introduce myself properly and take you on a date or two before you know, Valentine's” gulp.

[aquagirl1978]

I was wondering what makes chevalier your favourite? ☺️

Oh anon, today is your day, the day that I finally respond to this ask. Yes, I've been putting this off because well, reasons.

Chevalier has been my favorite since Day 1 - even before the game was released in EN, I saw some posts about him and already, he was the one. While his route suffers a bit from being one of the first 3 released, I think his Romantic End more than makes up for it. But it is really in his events where you see this other side of him - the human who found love - that he really shines and a lot of these reasons come from there.

He makes me cry (happy tears). Okay, I know this really isn't a reason. And I know lots of people cry at many of the routes. But I don't. So when I do, it means I really, really, really like a character. And his Romantic End reduced me to tears. His events leave me teary eyed. And even Gilbert's route god damnit made me cry 3 times - all because of Chevalier. God help me when his sequel drops in EN.

He loves you. Like, he really, really, really loves you. I think he might even love you more than you love him. Here is a man who loves you so much, he will do anything for you, like play a silly Valentine's Day game. A holiday he puts zero worth on, but because you do, it has meaning. He quietly eats all the beignets you make - they taste so good because you made them.

He is kind. He doesn't think he is kind - and most would agree with him, but you see his kindness in so many different ways. The way he warned you in his route to be wary of everyone. How he stayed away in his amnesia story when he knew it would hurt you. And there's this one scene in his sequel (Drama End) that is perhaps his ultimate act of kindness.

He is a good man. He might not be the shining ray of sunshine Leon is, and many of Chevalier's actions are, well, a bit rough? Harsh? But he doesn't have an ounce of malice - what he does, he does to protect (country, family, you). Even Leon agreed that Chevalier did the right thing on Bloodstained Roses Day. Chevalier also kills all the assassins in his route to protect his brothers. He allows himself to be the brutal beast so that his favorite brother Clavis can continue to be human.

He is awkward. You are his first for everything - his first love, his first touch, his first hug and kiss and everything else. He's learning, with you as his teacher. It's a slow progression, but worth it to see how his touch changes.

He is playful. Unless you read his events, you won't see this side of him. But he can be teasing when alone with you, sometimes he is so bad he is a bully. He likes to bite and leave marks. If you try to wake up too early, he is liable to drag you back to bed and hold you tightly.

He finds you worthy to stand next to him. To him, you are perfect.

I'm gonna end this right now before this becomes a book too late.

[ang3lofdivinity]

༘⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Relationship(s): Charlie Morningstar + Vaggie (romantic), kinda Yan!Alastor + Fallen Angel!Marionette!(implied)fem!Reader (platonic or romantic, whatever you want), slight Husk + Angel dust

Genre: Fluff :))

Warnings/notes: Spoilers(?) For Hazbin hotel, reader is able to make plants and stuff, reader is decently human and fought in war, they fell from heaven too, Emily sees the reader as a “mother” figure, death mentions, Alastor being alastor, Angel being himself as always, Alastor has been made.. somewhat yandere, Drugs and other hell stuff mentioned, ooc? Suggestive content (mostly from Angel), Cannibalism, toxic dependency, SWEARINGGGG

Format: Long/Short stories + Headcanons

A/N: GOD. SCHOOL SUCKKSKSKSKSKKSKS. Sorry i’ve been gone for a bit again- sickness is very much not fun. Anyways, here’s an late Valentines present for you all featuring our favorite deer demon! :)) - Also, you can just see Niffty and Charlie calling you a female (if you aren’t) an accident on their perception— HUGGEEEE inspo taken for an idea/convo in this from @/princekeerys :))

Reminder: YOU are responsible for your content consumption!

There’s a reason why you’re here now.

Everyone is.

Perhaps heaven made a mistake when they first allowed you to enter heaven after your death, allowed you to live amongst angels and other pure beings whom had never done a single horrible act in their lives- or well, since their creation.

The morals that they purveyed were so.. impeccable, granular too.

Everything here was having a pernicious effect on you, these individuals were so much better than you. They didn’t take the life away from others without a second thought. They didn’t grow up to become a weapon. They didn’t feel wrong for the things they did in their lives or just in the past-

They weren’t like you. A monster.

It’s basically an antithesis. Between you, and the ‘winners’.

But you tried your best to fit in. And it worked.. for the most part..

You decided to pick up working as a gardener and freelance artist, which was.. quite fun. You felt genuinely happy after so long where you have been deprived of it, not allowed it, and not given it before. You actually managed to make it to a high ranking position, The Head Archangel.

“(____)?” A feminine voice speaks up from behind you, it’s gentle- dulcet. It’s like they’re afraid to speak up in the slightest. You pause, removing yourself from your memories. That’s right— you’re painting. You place down your brush into the cup filled with paint water as you shift around on your stool, looking at the woman.

Catherine Stockholms, that’s her name. She’s a young 18-year-old girl who died in the 1940’s due to a train going on the wrong track and crashing into the one she was riding that day. Her light blonde hair, cut short and curly in the back, frames her face with the side parts gracefully reaching just at her shoulders, slightly longer than the back. Her hair is adorned with a dark purple headband featuring a bow. She has pale yellow eyes which are nervously looking around while she starts hugging herself.

She wears a white collared shirt with sleeves that extend slightly above her chest, ending in a square-like shape near the shoulders and neck. Layered over the shirt is a charming dark purple dress that falls to her knees, boasting puffy sleeves and a skirt that puffs out, followed with a nonchalantly worn black coat from her era with some intricate details of flowers vines on it. Her attire is completed with white socks adorned with lace and simple black mary janes.

“Good evening, Catherine.” You say with all of the warmth you can, smiling as you tilt your head to the side.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Tone quizzical as you ask your question, causing Catherine to tense.

She stayed silent for a good few seconds before she answered your question.

“..(____)” She started again as her eyes nervously darted around the room.

“You’re being taken to.. the Angelic Court.”

Eyes widened, your mouth went agape as your breath hitched. No. There’s actually no way. What have you done?.. What’s going on??

“May.. I ask why?..” you mutter your words, almost slurring them as you try to hold back the other words and tears threatening to spill out. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong… unless… perhaps they figured out their judgment was incorrect—

“They haven’t told me but- they want you to arrive in an hour from now. Today.” Catherine fiddled with a piece of her hair, face painted with worry.

“..I see. Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

Catherine simply nodded before heading off, leaving you all alone with your thoughts as they raced. Causing you to slowly stand up and start pacing around, hugging yourself. No. Nonononono, please don’t do this now. Not now.

Why does this have to happen now? But hey, at least they could correct their judgment. You would no longer be in a place where you did not deserve to be in from the start ever since you died so many years ago.

Your eyes drifted off to your violin, custom made just for you. Flowers all over, intricate details engraved into the instrument as you stride on over to it within the corner of the room, picking it up. A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you tried your best to keep a cool-head, fingers coiled around the fretted neck of the instrument while the other went to circular body’s strings.

Not playing anything as you simply just tried to remember the good moments as you played it, the times where you made flora flourish and beauteous. Dying plants now brought back to life due to your abilities, that made you feel like something- it gave you a purpose. Something you needed to live.

..God, you hope this is all a fever dream.

You’ve heard how Hell is dirty, filled with disgusting freaks who didn’t deserve the true salvation of Heaven.

But perhaps you should be down there, after all, you killed so many..

Yes… you deserve to be burning with all of those same sinners.

. . .

“(____).” Sera loudly speaks, her voice firm as she looks down upon you. You’re in the supreme courtroom of Heaven and the operating place of the Heavenly Court. The courthouse is quiet, however there are the occasional whispers between the angels as they look down at you in shame, anger, or sympathy.

You try to control your tears as you dip your head down low, gripping your upper-arm as you dig your nails into the flesh of your skin.

“Yes, Madame?” You pathetically utter out as you tried to relax yourself with the thought of you being able to stay here. But either way, it would still be a harsh situation..

Doubt gnaws at your soul, questioning whether you truly belong among the pure and righteous. The fear of being exposed as a true sinner, unworthy of such divine tranquility, consumes your thoughts.

Yet, as you contemplate the alternative, the prospect of hell sends shivers down your spine. The thought of being surrounded by vile beings, perverse and wicked, fills you with revulsion. The idea of enduring torment alongside the depraved and despicable is a horrifying prospect.

“We have found that you are…” The Seraphim pauses for a moment before she continues.

And you almost fall to your knees.

“Guilty, of the sin of Pride.”

"I understand, Madame," you spoke softly as your heart weighed heavy as you watched the angelic court dismiss and the whispers among the decision grew. Guards surrounded you, all with perfect posture as they motioned for you to follow them as hands were put in cuffs.

You simply nodded and you were escorted towards the pearly gates. Your gaze was avoiding everyones as you bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress everything you felt in the moment like you had for years. You’ll remember the feeling of the soft clouds beneath your feet as you walked through these gates the first time, truly a beautiful feeling.

Emily, the second seraphim, slowly walked over to you with her head lowered. She stood there for a moment as she stared at you while the guards stopped in their tracks, waiting for Emily to say or do something. She was the first person you looked at directly, and just looking at your despair-ridden face.. She just collapsed into your arms, she couldn’t even utter anything besides sobs and hiccups.

"There is no need to cry, dear. It'll be alright," you comforted the best you could, a smile plastering itself on your lips as you awkwardly managed to slightly hug her back. Emily took a deep breath before pulling back, still hiccuping as she handed over your violin.

"I love you.." Emily mumbled through tears. With nods of farewell from the angels, you were whisked away once more, now standing tall at the heavenly gates.

"Goodbye, dearest friend," Sera's voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I will miss you too, Madame," You replied with a nod, before you stood near the edge of the giant fluffy cloud that held you up, along with the entire of Heaven. Near the edge, handcuffs forcing your hands to remain behind you just in case before you fell backwards.

You plummet down, it is that of beauty intertwined with tragedy. It looks like a falling star. The descent feels inevitable, as if you're being drawn inexorably into a hellish abyss. Doubt creeps in: do you truly deserve this fate? But nevertheless, you are destined to crash into the unknown location below, a city.

..city?

Yes, Pentagram City.

The sky is overcome with a red sky- dark to light, a sun far too bright, no wait. That’s where the angels come down here for the extermination. The city is separated into different sections, as far as you can tell, 7 of them. 7 deadly sins.

You wonder if Lucifer is still here. Alive.

Well… he has to be!

Nevertheless, as you crash with a loud smash of nearby items and such, you can’t find the energy to get up. Your once purely white wings, fluffy and all now covered in dirt along with whatever feculent things from beneath you and with a slight ash gray hue. It feels like you’ve broken something in your body, or maybe multiple things as your once glowing halo that hovers above your head lowers- slightly cracking.

Who knew it could do that.

Taking a guess, you’re probably in the pride ring. What did you even do that was so prideful?…

Although struggling a bit, you manage to lift your head up and survey around.

These.. demons have their businesses in these places, where it seems like they’re allowed to sell everything from cigarettes to drugs. How unholy…

There is a Clock Tower located in the city that seems to be glimmering with a gold shine, which serves as a counter for the 365 days that pass until the Exorcists return for the next Extermination. Yes, you know about the extermination, you once heard Lieutenant Lute speaking of it before to Adam.

Are you to be killed like the rest of these filthy creatures? Criminals, drug dealers?

You don’t wanna get up. Scratch that, you can’t. Your body won’t allow you to do anything besides breathe. This hurts, it hurts so bad, why does this have to happen to you—

Writhing around for a moment, you manage to utter out some words to yourself;

“Am I.. really allowed to live?”

“Just keep living.”

“But am I allowed? Why.. why must this happen to me, they should’ve just sent me here in the first place.”

“(____), stop. Please. Live, even after all of these horrible acts.”

“But-“

“No. No, I will not have any refutes here, (____). Live, for all of us.”

“..Yes, sir.”

You stumble upwards on your feet, managing with a motion of your hand to put your violin in the safe inter-dimensional pocket dimension, just for you to place all of your items into it, safely. The feeling of your wings heavy behind you as you come to find you’re in a hidden alleyway, filled with cigarettes, condoms— filthy sinners.

Fighting the urge to cry, you intake a sharp breath. An angel would not cry over this. But it doesn’t really work.

But you’re alone, you have no idea about anything in this place of what it’s like, how the people are, you can only imagine all the terrible things they’ve done to be punished and sent down here of all places. Hell is just the definition of unholy, it’s the exact opposite of heaven. The only thing going through your head is to cry, scream, try to get heaven to take you back and get out of this horrible place.

But then again, don’t you deserve this?

You don’t know anymore.

It’s all hurting your head.

It hurts to think about, and the tears which have now started slowly pouring down your cheeks sting.

It didn’t work.

This is pathetic.

Your body reacts before you can do anything else, running in some random direction. You can just feel the millions of eyes staring you down like predators carefully marking down their prey, burning through you. It doesn’t feel safe here, it’s hell after all.

The trial had to have been all a lie, fabricated with evidence that was made up. You haven’t done anything prideful, nor lustful, not even envious or any of those other sins that ended mortal souls or other angels whom were truly guilty of the crime. But you— no, you weren’t them. You aren’t guilty.

Someone must’ve made something up!

That trial was unfair, arbitrary, unjustifiable.

Tears spill as you’re too busy with your thoughts and your legs almost fail on you a few times due to it, well, it does happen when you just can’t do it anymore. Hugging yourself pathetically as you fail to notice how luminescent, thin yet strong strings are tightly wrapped around your ankles, neck, hips, and arms. Yes, hell uses some of the worst things you feared or hated in life, and it’s using the idea of a marionette for you. These strings really won’t do much, but they’re not entirely safe. They just make things.. difficult.

That’s unfortunate..

Just another soon to be hindrance.

“…..’lo??”

Someone’s speaking, but the ringing drumming through your ears is so loud, it’s hard to hear them—

“Hello?..” A feminine voice tries to capture your attention, even going as far as to snap her fingers in front of your face. Your head immediately raises to stare up at her, as she looks panicked.



“Sorry- so sorry! You just..” She stuttered out an apology, but you weakly waved your hand.

“..No worries. It’s okay.” The woman in front of you looks relieved as a sigh escapes past her lips.

The woman is very tall, and slender. She has pale white skin, her cheeks a rosy red that compliment her red eyes. She has long, blonde hair, mixed with a lighter blonde and even pink highlights, which is tied into a twice-banded low ponytail. Her blonde bangs flip to her left with a curl.

She has an untucked white, long-sleeved dress-shirt with a simple black bowtie. Over this she adorns a fitted red tuxedo jacket with pointed sleeves, dark-red lapels and a pair of red fitted dress pants. She wears black and white saddle shoes, which remind you of an older time in human history.

“I apologize- again,” she awkwardly laughs with a somewhat goofy smile on her face before leaning forward and holding out one of her hands to you, which shocks you. Aren’t demons in Hell supposed to be.. well, hellish?

“I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar!” As she introduces herself, you take her hand albeit hesitantly, lithe fingers wrap around your hand and she pulls you up. Her touch is gentle, although it feels like her nails are going to scrap you- they don’t. She seems.. too nice as of currently for her to hurt someone she just met.

“..Previous head Archangel, (____). It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Morningstar.” You know that last name. At least it feels like you do. As she lets go of you, you curtsy as Charlie’s cheeks heat up a bit while waving her hand dismissively at your actions.

“Same here! Um… would you mind telling me why you’re down here?..” Her tone is fearful almost as she inquires about your predicament.

“..Some fabricated trial where they found me guilty. But— I….” You halt, taking a deep breath and shaking your head.

“It’s nothing to be worried about.”

She understands before continuing to speak.

“Would you like to try and.. get back into heaven?” The blonde’s question intrigues you as you raise an eyebrow.

“I… that would be nice.” You reply almost monotonously as you lower your head, but the woman places her hands on your shoulders, causing you to tense a bit. But she doesn’t seem.. threatening, not in the way you imagined at least. So you loosen up a bit.

“Well, I think I have the solution for you, Head Archangel!”

“That would be?”

“Coming to my Hazbin Hotel to get redeemed!”

. . .

The idea was ludicrous- or well, close to that. But when you first arrived here, you weren’t expecting any of this to happen. You don’t regret coming here— too much, that is.

The hotel is tall, elaborate amalgamation of arched windows and turrets, one of which seems to be broken. It appears to be at least seven stories tall, with at least five of which being guest floors. An ocean liner, a sailing ship and a carousel litter both sides and appear to have been incorporated into the structure of the building itself; there is also a train with some tracks looping the first and second floor exterior. Located on the top right of the building is a small radio broadcasting room, used as the work area for… someone Charlie referred to as ‘Al’.

Many signs are displayed outside the hotel: One atop the entrance reminiscent of the Hazbin Hotel logo, a large pink one atop the building with the hotel's name in lights, a neon 'HOTEL' sign at the bottom right and atop the building where Al’s broadcast room is located, a small 'On-Air' sign is visible. Also located on the outer facade are various arrows pointing to the entrance and the broadcast room.

The entrance has a tented cover with a booth in the center reminiscent of a circus or theater ticket booth. In a sense, at least!

The interior however— theres wooden boards covering shattered windows, signs warning of asbestos, bloodied tools left lying around, and paintings are shown hanging off the walls. Much of the furniture in the lobby are strewn around haphazardly or remain boxed up in several large wooden crates.

The bar, why is there a bar in a place meant to discourage sin? You have no clue, uses skeletons, snakes, and bones as general themes, along with card suits and candles, and advertises itself as a casino. The area the bar in has glowing green wooden walls instead of the usual red wallpaper, given that it’s been sorta… merged with the lobby of the hotel.

Despite the shabby and poor condition of the hotel, the overall theme of the building remains ornate and regal, with stained glass windows, (semi?) lavish furniture, and generous usage of gold. Like the rest of Hell that you’ve seen so far, the hotel has a largely red color scheme.

Along with like.. almost every person here and around the place.

“Charlie?” A more deep, feminine voice calls out. You snap your head in the direction of- …Vagatha?

The silver haired woman appears to notice and remember you as well, due to her expression changing immediately.

Holy.

“Honey- please don’t attack her!!“ Charlie stammers, moving in front of you. But you gently push her aside and walk towards her.

“..Agatha?” She bites her bottom lip, giving you a look saying: l‘please.’ You know what she means by that.

“I haven’t seen you since.. well, life.” You almost trip over your words, given that you haven’t lied in about a few years or so. Despite that, she looks relieved. She gives you a small nod before looking at Charlie’s surprised expression.

“Right.”

“How.. OHHHH! Wait- you guys know each other from Earth!?” The Blonde exclaimed in absolute delight, cupping her cheeks. Vaggie quickly nodded in response, giving you a look of appreciation before walking over to Charlie who held her captive in a bear hug, babbling on about how she was so happy for the two of you.

You stared at them for a moment before bursting out into a fit of giggles. Vaggie pouted, but she really did love it. Even if it didn’t show.

You’re glad she found someone who made her happy. Even if it’s the daughter of Lucifer.

Wiping away the tears of delight from your eyes, you sigh contentedly before you started to survey around the hotel more while the two lovebird’s were being all adorable. Two figures- a black and white cat wiping down the bar, and a tall spider-like character were talking (mainly the spider one) as the cat seemed entirely done with everyone and everything.

Blinking repeatedly for a second, your head turns to the door of the hotel. You don’t know why, but you almost head towards it, you’re unsure why- but it almost feels like something is beckoning you to leave, to run out and leave this place.

But you can’t.

Why?

Simple: you don’t have anywhere else to go.

“ANOTHER WOMAN?” A voice shrieked out, causing you to recoil away and snap your head to the voice.

A smaller demon was looking up at you, a cyclops-like demon with pointed limbs, white skin and one large eye. Her eyes light yellow iris, hot-pink sclera with a yellow gradient were basically the size of atoms as she continued to stare. This is certainly awkward…

Her red-pink hair is kept into a slightly messy bob cut with swirls on each side, and a single light yellow streak located at the top. Her mouth has sharp light yellow teeth inside and black lips, and small hot-pink dots on each of the corners.

The bug-like woman wears a neckerchief around her neck, red-pink maid dress under a white apron with three hot-pink dripping splotches. She also wears long black gloves which covers most of her hands and arms, along with matching-colored tights.

“…Hello, Miss?” Choking out the words, you smile the best you can despite how tense you were.

“Nifty!!! It’s nice to meet you!” She squeals out, a large toothy grin on her face.

“Right well- Hello, Miss Nifty.” You bobbed a curtsy to the small woman who seems far too excited to be here.

“Y’know, I was kinda wishin’ you’d be a bad boy, but whatever! Anyways- this place is filthyyy so, I gotta kill more bugs to make sure they know not to come here anymore!” Niffty bounces up and down elatedly,

“Pardon?-“

“Okay, BYEEE!!” And with that, she was running off in the opposite direction.

Your breath hitches, and your body tensed. Is.. everything super fast here? Everything feels too fast for your liking.

You take a moment to breathe, trying to relax your tense body. It’ll all be okay… you just, need a moment to let everything sink in.

Striding over to a chair, you sat down and leaned your head back, making you stare at the ceiling. A sigh slips past your lips as you rest your hands in your lap. Surprisingly, the couch is.. much more softer and comfortable than you had imagined before.

“Why, another patron?” How many people are going to approach you today?

You tense, turning to the voice speaking- it sounds like that of an old radio…

A slender, darker brownish beige-skinned demon with a dapper appearance stands before you, a slightly messy, red-pink bob-styled hair with black tips and a pair of rather large, black-ended fur-tufts on top of his head which evokes the ears of a deer. On the back of his head is a brown undercut, while small black antlers protrude from the crown of his head.

Kinda cute… you admit.

The man wears a high-collared, fitted red pinstripe coat with darker-colored sleeves, strawberry-red cuffs, white-trimming on darker-red lapels, and the bottom hem being ragged. Under his coat is that of a strawberry-red dress-shirt with a black cross on the chest, and an accessorized black knotted bow tie with a strawberry-red center on the top front.

He has black gloves- are those his hands???… probably not. You hope.

Nevertheless, they have strawberry-red fingertips, black dress pants with cuffs the same color as he coat, and black heeled ankle boots with strawberry-red pointed toes, with his hands behind his back he’s holding a thin cane with a vintage styled microphone attached to it.

“..Good evening, Sir.” You say, voice drained even when you try to keep the politeness you still have left. A drowsy smile plastered its way on your face, attempting to straighten your posture. The man seems amused by your words and current situation as his smile gets ever so wider.

“Manners? My, what a rare thing to come across in Hell, mm?” He quips as he motions for you to stand up. You tilt your head in confusion as you leisurely rise up from your spot to stand up from the couch, and he approaches a bit closer before dipping down, grabbing your wrist while dipping down and kissing the back of your palm.

…

You don’t think you’ve ever blushed that much before.

A man has never done this to you before, when did this ever happen in time???? Does he just- do this whenever he meets someone new??? Why in heavens name is this attractive and why are you finding it so?????? What is going on..

It takes you a good long minute to process what just happened as the man straightens up his posture once more, letting your hand fall to your side. You can hear him laughing a bit at your flustered expression, making the blush become more apparent and darker in color.

“Now who are you, my dear?” The way he emphasized ‘my’ in his sentence was.. odd, but nevertheless: you didn’t comment on it.

“(____). It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You curtesy at the man in respect despite your flustered state.

His smile grew wider in amusement and satisfaction- in a way— this is certainly something.

“And, you are, sir?”

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure to be meeting you, my dear, quite a pleasure!”

. . .

Well.. this place has started growing on you.

And the people too.

Charlie by far has been the friendliest to you, trying to get you comfortable over the few months you’ve arrived here. She hasn’t forced you to do anything, only given suggestions and her ideas, asking for your opinions, etc.

But you’ve taken the role of a musician for the hotel!

She could not be more overjoyed.

Vaggie and you don’t speak too much.. but have a friendly relationship. Any chance you got, you would also ask for her opinions on the music you’ve been working on, if it sounded good enough because.. Charlie would just be a bit vague in her rating, but Vaggie could be much more blunt and straightforward.

You’re thankful for that, musically that is.

Even if it might hurt your feelings sometimes, it’s better to know your mistakes.

Husk hasn’t interacted with you much, but has decided to give you a record for you to possibly use as a reference for a song, or even play it! That.. honestly gives you a bit of a confidence boost, given that he really doesn’t reveal much of his past to anyone.

But he trusts you enough to at least give you one of his favorite records!

You’ll make him proud, no matter the cost.

Angel Dust has attempted to make an advance or two upon you, flirting with you like he does everyone, but you’re a bit too awkward for that and instead decide to invite him into your room to listen to you play.

Genuinely? He’s impressed. That façade of being the porn-star that he is fizzes away a bit as he simply stares at you while you play on one of your instruments.

He might just get more fond of you.

Niffty is.. okay!! You find her to be quite adorable like.. 90% of the time, despite her habits with bugs. You try to help her clean sometimes, but most times it doesn’t work. Though the times when it does, she thanks you a lot! And you even let her test out some of your instruments.

As long as she doesn’t break them, or ruin them in any way. To which she promises you she won’t, and you hold it to her.

She enjoys your company quite a lot, though!

Sir Pentious is an interesting figure. A villain genuinely turned good- however, you don’t really see him often anymore. His little egg boys however, you truly want to adopt all of them! How could you not want to, they were simply so endearing!

He’s heard your music a bit, by passing near your room in the hotel, and he will admit that it is damn near relaxing to listen to you play and compose your pieces.

You’ll certainly try to interact with him more.

Alastor now… he’s quite the character! He was the second person who persuaded you into letting him hear you play your music (with the first being Charlie despite how scared you were.) He even gave you some songs that were some of his favorites to play!!

All of them were jazz, but you didn’t mind. They weren’t too bad, after-all!

However his behavior now has… ringed bells in your head.

Made you frightened.

You decided to ask Vaggie what she knew of him, and eventually told you his story. How he had gained all of his power from those overlords and deals..

It made you unnerved. How could someone of a mortal soul kill so many people???

And despite being an angel, why is he so interested in you?

You, for one, don’t consider yourself to be very interesting. All besides for your species and musical abilities, you don’t see why..

But, you didn’t question it for so long and kept quiet.

He appeared to enjoy your presence more than others, even being as willing as to ask you if you want him to send some of his shadows to follow you around town when you went to do errands for Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, or just one of the members of the hotel.

Of course, you denied but thanked him for the offer. It’s not like it stopped him. It was only for your safety.

What if one of the Vees approached you?? Or Vox used his manipulation powers on you??? What if you got attacked??? He can’t let his new source of entertainment get harmed, or be taken away!

You weren’t some delicate flower.. but he definitely saw you like it.

He even offered you deals.

Ones for your soul.

Denying every-time, of course. You liked your freedom. The mere idea of a deal for your soul felt like every bit of freedom would be drained from you, everything taken away from you. They could do anything to you.. even kill you.

God forbid.

It scared you.

But that didn’t stop him from trying to own you.

Whenever he was listening to you play and you did a wonderful job (especially if it was one of his favorite songs or jazz in general), he would pat you on the head while merrily singing praises to you of how well you played!

It got to the point where Angel Dust even has made some.. inappropriate remarks about Alastor’s words to you. It makes you blush out of embarrassment every time, and you yelp back a response.

“Damn, toots, didn’t know you were baggin’ smiles over there. You two had-“

“NO. NOTHINGS HAPPENING BETWEEN US!”

“HE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE THAT STUFF…”

It’s infuriating at times. And you had to do it by yourself, as Alastor usually wasn’t around during those times when Angel Dust made his remarks.

..It’s.. whatever.

But it doesn’t help your case when Alastor offers you his hand for you to hold, or with his arm for you to link with, to walk around with you, walk you back to Hotel…

Most times you accepted! Back when he wasn’t so…

…Possessive.

It wasn’t bad, at first. You thought he was just being kind to you. He had manners- proper decorum. How could you dislike a person with manners, after-all!

You didn’t notice it.

But that possessiveness grew.

Almost like a corruptive infection.

Now, it’s just straight up.. bone-chilling at times.

It’s like he was infatuated with you, trying to get you to do everything with him—

Most times you deny it now.

Still he was a persistent one.

And even got you to say yes.. a lot.

You don’t even know what even led to this behavior from him, why everything you seem to do he has an interest in already.

He’s even tried persuading you into getting a radio for yourself in order for you to listen to his radio shows! And honestly? The idea didn’t seem too bad, in your opinion. And.. this was before any of the bells started ringing in your head about his behavior, so there was really nothing bad about it! At least, to you. So, you headed out and found yourself a radio (although, you have to say it was certainly quite the adventure).

Alastor was especially pleased by this.

Yet, ever since you got it, you didn’t even feel safe in your own room anymore. Main cause of it being like a thousand eyes watching you when you were just simply trying to work on your music, sleep, draw— anything. The only time it went away is when you were going to dress yourself. Thank whatever saving you for that. But, even around the hotel- you could still feel the hairs rise up on your neck due to the sensation.

A part of you wanted to tell Charlie, or even Vaggie of your troubles. Hell, even Husk or Angel Dust about it. But, Charlie would.. more than likely blame herself a lot more, and you didn’t want her to worry her to the point of exhaustion since she was already doing so much. You don’t believe you’re close enough to Vaggie to even… tell her much, especially about a problem as banal and close to unbelievable as this. Husk could try and help, but probably would be too indifferent about the situation and your wellbeing as the two of you aren’t that close either. And, for Angel Dust… he probably wouldn’t help you as much as you wanted. Niffty? She was kinda out of the question because you really couldn’t see her taking you seriously, nor finding her around much.

So there was only one option, probably one of the worse ones: Alastor.

Honestly, you believed he would probably just laugh at you. But maybe he’d take you seriously. Maybe he wouldn’t.

God forbid, this is horrible.

Like the foolish idiot you were, you told Alastor about your worries one day.

“Mister??..” Your voice is a mere whisper as you gently knock on the door to his room. Knuckles softly hitting the wood, you recoiled your hand back and fidgeted with your fingers as you awaited for a response you were, more than likely, weren’t going to receive. Well..

Those were your thoughts. Before the door quickly opened, causing you to jerk backwards, stumbling over yourself. That’s certainly the fastest anyone has answered the door for you. He took a moment to stare down at you, surveying your expression, you suppose.

“Good evening, my dear!” His normal orotund voice speaks up with the radio-like effect still filtered over it. You nod in greeting, waiting to see if he continues on.

“Is there anything you need? You know, I could’ve been doing something terribly important!” He emphasizes ‘terribly important’, and the way he does it has you worrying now. Did you interrupt him?

“Oh— i’m sorry. I can leave and come back later. Or just,, not come back if you’re not available.” There’s silence that follows your response as you wait. Until there’s..

Laughter.

Hysterical laughter.

“No no! It’s a joke, my dear! I’m available. Come in.” He stepped off to the side, motioning for you to enter. And, you gave a nod of appreciation before approaching any further. So.. now you know that half of Alastor’s room is a bayou.

One that appears to always make it seem like its night. Fireflies flit around, their lights illuminating ever so slightly. The bayou is mainly cool colors, blues, and greens (for the trees mainly, which look reminiscent of weeping willow trees), and even a tint of purple to it, not including the light from the fireflies. The only thing making you uneasy is the fact that there’s a.. dead deer. Resting on a table. In the middle of the bayou area. And a fork is poking out from its chest, with a knife properly placed down on the side of it on the table. There’s even a few puddles around the grassy floor, and a larger lake in the back you can slightly see

For the rest of the room which is decently normal: an intricately designed fireplaces, being its sharp teeth designs, and golden colored swirls. A neon green light is shining from inside, slightly dimmed due to the darkness. Upon it there are skulls, and oddly shaped candelabras with lighted candles. On the walls are pictures within picture frames to which you really can’t depict, some tilted and others straight. Then, there’s the large buck antlers and what you can suspect to be its teeth hung proudly above the fireplace in a wooden frame. A long, red and golden trimmed carpet is spread out from near the door to a small desk off to the side, covering some of the wooden flooring.

The stag sits down in one of the red cushioned chairs next to the fireplace after having the door closed for privacy, and motions for you to sit by the one in front of the other. When you do find yourself comfortably sat in the chair, your eyes drift off to look at the rest of the room.

On a wooden bookshelf, he has… a lot of books, all of different sizes but with a similar, burgundy color. There’s also one of his signature radio’s on the top shelf, along with another on a lower one. An animal skeleton, and a golden statue that’s matched with intricate designs of swirls with a bottom compartment with what looks to be voodoo symbols for the handles. Not even mentioning the gator skeleton on the wall with little fairy lights you can suppose, there’s a small container for papers on his desk, a black and dark orange lamp, and a bottle of ink all neatly placed on it.

“So.. what is it you need from me, darling? Perhaps a deal?” Again with the deals..

“No. I just— .. you have to promise me you won’t laugh, even if you find it stupid.” Please, please, please, agree. You cannot deal with these thoughts and feelings anymore, god forbid.

“Mm… Is it that serious?”

“To me- yes. To others I might just seem.. delusional or paranoid.” Replying to his inquiry, he hums a noise of satisfaction.

“Alright. Go ahead then.”

With those words, everything you’ve been holding in ever since these sensations have started spilling out almost naturally. You tell him almost everything, how you’ve been feeling someone watching you, how you’re scared for yourself and the rest of the hotel staff if its soon going to happen to them, if anything bad is going happen to the hotel itself- or any of the residents. Being the bleeding heart you are, now?

The overlord quietly listened, grin never leaving his face as he felt so many things at once. It’s almost annoying to him why you’re like… this. The fuming hatred is something that cannot be fathomed by merely anyone, something so deep, it’s incomprehensible for him even. Someone who has murdered so many innocent people, someone who can never show his true emotions beyond that cursed smile that’s plastered on his face. He loathes you so much for simply everything you do. Isn’t that the reason he liked you for the things you did??..

But then there’s the other feeling.

It’s confusing.

Say, if you were to start… disliking him, ignoring him, avoiding him at all costs. He feels like he’d go insane. Like he needs your attention on him, or else he cannot function. And yes, he likes the attention from everyone on him, but if he lost yours- dear satan, he could actually be insane. Why do you think he’s offering you so much?? A twisted part wants him to own every little piece of you, everything about you, and he cannot deny that he likes that idea more than you could ever possibly imagine. Ripping away every little bit of innocence you have would just be delightful to him, it’s all making him have this awful feeling swirl within his chest. One that twists and tugs at his dead, tar colored heart.

He wants to rip it out.

He needs to. Perhaps then these vile feelings that you’re causing him will eventually.. wither away.

This is making him weak. Making him go soft.

And what will that do to his reputation?

“Well, my darling..” Alastor cleared his throat.

“If you would like, I suppose I can offer you a deal.”

“Alastor-“

“Not for your soul, this time. Just a simple deal between friends!”

To say this intrigued you would be an understatement.

Well now, you’ve made a deal with the devil!

Or, a devil.

He offered you his protection in the way of being by your side for most of the time, or having one of his shadow spies with you, in exchange for a favor from you later on, of his picking. And you were desperate, you didn’t even think first about negotiating the terms of your now first deal in Hell! With.. the Radio Demon!

And thankfully, not for your soul.

Oh freedom how you love it.

He’s thankful you still haven’t figured out who has been watching you all this time, who you were worried about.

Nevertheless- ever since you made that deal, you and Alastor were practically connected at the hip. But the rare times where you weren’t together, one of his shadow spies was with you! You have to admit it- they were adorable. You had to at least pet them a few times on the head while gawking at them. Of course, they squealed in delight due to the sudden display of affection shown by someone. Even when they at first, didn’t trust you, they definitely started to warm up to you now.

Charlie, Vaggie, nor any of the other residents have said anything about this so far- besides Angel Dust and his usual remarks.

..But then Husk spoke up one time.

Being at the bar, resting on a stool as you tried to unwind a little bit, and given it was quite lonely at the time- you decided to just.. simply relax for a moment in the company of probably one of the quietest people within the Hotel. It was the right opportunity for him.

“Kid.. a word of advice: don’t get too close to that asshole. He may seem all nice and charming, but he’s in Hell for a goddamn reason.”

Those words stick with you.

And with passing months, you think more deeply and deeply about your deal. And those little spies don’t seem so cute in a way anymore. And Alastor..

Maybe you’re overreacting.

“Okay, okay! So.. I have a great idea!!” Charlie merrily exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, bouncing up and down in delight. Her smile was wider than ever, and her girlfriend beside her was softly smiling with hands planted on her hips. Vaggie was so in love with that princess..

It was adorable!

Charlie had called a staff meeting to the living room, where everyone (Including Husk even) were resting on the couch or floor.

“I thought, if we wanted to get more in touch with the idea of rehabilitation, we might want to become more.. human! By getting in touch with certain, good aspects of human life!” The princess continued, surveying everyone’s expressions.

“So, me and Vaggie picked some holiday’s we could possibly celebrate here at the Hotel!” She motions to a writing board where the handwriting is rushed but, legible. Some ideas on the board are scribbled out, and 3 main ones are circled, followed bullet points displaying what each are about, what they would do, and how the Hotel would celebrate.

‘Halloween’ , ‘Valentines Day’ , ‘Christmas’

“..Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Husk huffs out, grimacing.

“Language. And, seriously?? Let’s just try it.” You try and persuade the cat.

“I’m with Husk on this one, toots.” Angel adds. Your head snaps to the Spider, furrowing your brow as he simply shrugs in response.

“Don’t care for these anymore like I used to. I bet most of us even celebrated ever since getting here, including you! Whens the last time you celebrated goddamn Christmas?!” He continues on, raising an eyebrow at you.

“..When it last happened in Heaven?” The confusion in your voice had Angel looking at you in an awkward manner as he just… turned his head away from you.

“That’s even more of a reason!” Charlie exclaimed, quickly turning to her girlfriend and motioning for her to speak which led to her giving a small sigh, and a gentle smile before turning to the rest of the group with a now blank expression.

“So- we want you all to take a poll. You’ll all get a small slip of paper, and a pen. Then write down your answer. After you’re all done with that, then just slip in into the bowl.” Vaggie explained, gesturing to the bowl resting on the surface of a wooden table with a dark pink cloth draped over it.

And just as said, Vaggie and Charlie gave everyone (including themselves at the end) a small slip of paper and a pen to write with. Husk grumbled about how stupid this was, but still scribbled something down, Angel doing the same but with a huff of annoyance beforehand. Niffty had to be more excited than either of them, being the first to put her answer into the bowl. Then Charlie put hers in, then Vaggie did, then Angel and Husk (begrudgingly- that is), where Sir Pentious followed suit. So there was just you, and the Radio Demon.

You didn’t know what to put down.. honestly. Biting your bottom lip, you slowly wrote something down onto the slip. Arising from your spot, you treaded over to the table and dropped the paper into the bowl.

“Pardon me, darling!” Alastor excused himself, causing you to come to the realization that he was standing right behind you. Turning on your heel, you held out your hand.

“Sorry— here, I’ll put it in for you. As… an apology? Of sorts?” You awkwardly chuckled.

“Well, aren’t you a lamb!” He laughed, placing the folded piece of paper into your palm and you turned back around and dropped it in, before heading back (being that Alastor has already went back to his seat) to your spot and sitting down. (You.. aren’t a lamb. What the hell did he mean by that??)

Charlie almost jumped out of her seat, rushing on over to the table while gripping onto Vaggie’s wrist. She was practically bouncing up and down as her girlfriend first picked up the bowl, shaking it gently, before she pulled out the first slip and cleared her throat.

“First holiday of choice...”

“Christmas.” The angel stated as the princess happily clapped her hands in delight, before she was given the bowl where she shoved her hand inside of.

“Next isssss…”

“Valentine’s day!” She beamed, grinning widely. The couple went back and forth passing the bowl.

“Valentines- WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS NOTE, ANGEL!!!??”

“Halloween!”

“Valentines, again.”

“..Whatever Angel said!!..I guess..?? Huh.. Okay um, so whatever Angel answered…”

For the last one, Vaggie allowed Charlie to say it (to which she was ecstatic to do.)



“And last but not least.. Valentines!!”

. . .

“Soooooo..” Charlie started as she looked at Vaggie, holding her hand tightly as they smiled at each other before once again turning to the group.

“The holiday is that we’re going to be celebrating is going to be..”

“Valentine’s day!!”

This was going to be fun.

Charlie had Husk save all of the red wine possible, Vaggie was discussing possible decorations for the hotel, and you were left to find some romantic music to play on your violin and possibly on the piano.

Niffty was making sure that the Hotel looked more perfect than ever as to not have to worry about it after the soirée, and for the after party for just the employees and patrons of the hotel. (although, got more distracted by roaches more than ever.)

Angel Dust was feeling especially romantic, trying to advance upon Husk at the even more than usual, to which Husk had to endure and ignore.

For Alastor? God knows up to what he was doing.

Like— you could barely find him around anywhere..

But nevertheless, you tried to play some romantic pop tunes, romantic jazzy tunes, anything that would work for this holiday. Took you quite a bit, but when you got it- you felt very accomplished!

And this.. got Charlie to actually get a venue where you could play at..

Oh lordddddd….

Of course, you asked for Charlie and Vaggie’s opinions on it, and they were elated to hear it. (Mainly Charlie!)

You’d tried figuring out what outfit you were going to wear for the holiday, searching and scanning everything you possibly had in your wardrobe for something.

And you found that very something.

The outfit that you’d chosen was lovely, in your opinion. A white collared dress up shirt underneath a red, button up tailcoat. The back was a large, ruffled fishtail hem, and with puffy sleeves that turned into long, fitted sleeves to the wrists. 4 golden buttons embroidered onto the chest area where the coat ruffed out into a darker red. The buttons had small, thin chains that connected them to the one across from each other. White fingerless gloves where a bit of it wrapped around your middle finger were chosen! Nicer than you thought. This was then followed by some black trousers, which were a bit baggy and flared out near the ankles (but not too baggy it looked like they were hanging off of you). And to top it all off, you put on some black heeled boots.

If you were to say you weren’t excited to show everyone your outfit and see their’s, you’d be lying to yourself.

..this holiday thing actually might be a bad thing!

(Not that you thought so in the first place.)

You’d even play in that outfit as practice, just to see if it was comfortable and playable! (Which it very much was).

With every passing day approaching the Holiday, everything mainly felt like bliss. Charlie was more elated than ever, starting to teach more lessons about how Valentine’s day could help the Hotel more, Vaggie was.. very high strung (yet tried her best to relax for her girlfriend when asked by her). You yourself even started helping with decorations around the Hotel just to get the couple to relax for at least an hour or more. You ended up working for almost the whole day, yet it was worth all of that time and work. They deserved all of that resting. And the best thing at that? You did it mostly by yourself!

Very rewarding, if you might say so yourself.

Before you got self-conscious about everything you helped on.

Especially when the special day had arrived.

What if they don’t like it?? What if they don’t like your music? Don’t like your outfit???? If you make a fool out of yourself, then what next?? You’ve become so tense, your shoulders almost reaching to your ears— this is not going as ‘stress-free’ as you’d planned.

Fidgeting with the cuff of your overcoat, you bit your bottom lip and anxiously awaited for the inevitable knocking that would arrive at your door soon. As an angel, you’ve gotten quite stressed due to a multitude of reasons, but this might be one of the more stressful and worrying situations you’ve been in since.. a bit.

The hand twiddling with the cuff then turned to your other hand, playing with your fingers. A part of you really didn’t want the string of knocks to arrive, but.. there was really no control over the current circumstance. Only to freak out about something you’ve worked so hard in, something you thought you’d looked decent enough in, decorations they’ve probably already seen and possibly laughed at- your breathing hitched at the thought. God, you feel so stupid. They’re going to hate it, you’re going to embarrass the Hotel, aren’t you?

Knock, knock!

And there it is. That dreaded sound. Your nails started digging into the flesh of your hands through your gloves, and you felt your stomach drop. This is going to be ruined- you’re going to ruin it.

Hesitant to open the door, another knock sounded out as you further approached the door. And with a final deep breath, your hand rested gently on the cold metal of the doorknob before twisting it and swinging it open.

To someone you.. weren’t exactly suspecting to see!

Alastor!!

“…Good evening, Alastor!” You almost stuttered over your own words, forcing a smile to plaster itself onto your lips.

Even more surprising, the man was dressed much more differently!

A black, long collared dress up shirt where it’s sleeves slightly poke out with a red cross on the chest under a Bordeaux red pinstripe coat with same colored lapels. A ribbon red waistcoat with rosy pink colored, vertical strips decorating it along with 2 wine red buttons. A pair black dress pants and his usual shoes, along with his gloves.

It takes you a moment to realize the stag has put up his hair into a small ponytail. Good grief… how can a man be so attractive.

“Good evening to you, my dear! I do believe it’s time for your little performance soon at this soirée!” His head tilts to the side a bit, trademark smile always on his face as per usual as he stares down at you. Your smile immediately turns into a small frown with a sigh from you, causing you to bury your face into your hands.

He halts for a moment, before continuing on.

“Now, what’s got you all a mess? I thought you would love this!”

“I do!! It’s…” The words lodge in your throat as you falter to continue on, turning away from the man with your arms wrapped yourself in a hug.

“..What if I fail- what if I look tacky?? In my performance, and by just.. looking at me and my appearance!!” Facing the man once more, you motion to your ensemble with a fearful look as your gaze downturns to the ground.

“If I fail.. I ruin the image of the hotel. I ruin my image, I ruin everything!! If i’m not perfect in this.. I don’t even know anymore…” Internally, you’re questioning on why you’re telling your deepest fears to an overlord known for being mostly apathetic to most. Who knows.

The overlord grin remains the same as his eyes narrow looking down at you. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t like the little thing you had going on here! He enjoys the amusement of people failing so much!!.. but, theres something that pangs him right into his unfeeling and dead heart like a knife.

An exhale escapes past his lips as one of his hands rest upon your shoulder.

“Darling.” The biggest part of him is telling himself to say something akin to his normal snarky remarks.

But he can’t now.

Whats stopping him? Has he gone soft?? What in hell is wrong with him??

“I’m more than certain you’ll do wonderful in your little show for the Hotel. Have you disappointed us before?” Your head raises a bit as you open your mouth to speak, before a clawed hand reaches for your jaw and lifts it up to fully face him, making you avert your gaze almost instantaneously.

“You’re going to say ‘oh, I don’t think so. At least I hope so.’ And darling, only half of that is semi-correct. Your performances have not once failed to amaze us, including me, beyond belief and words that could describe it. Your voice is delightful, and your playing is even rivaling one of my favorite jazz songs from back in the day!! I can understand your stress, but you shouldn’t worry much about it, my darling doll.”

The mans words had you actually speechless.

“However, you can never beat me at piano!” He laughs, and you huff in response before he clears his throat.

“Now.. hasn’t this been enough dawdling for now, doll?” Alastor inquired, to which you leisurely nodded due to yourself still processing his words.

He hand already laced his arm with one of your arm, almost making you squeak out from surprise in response. Like a second instinct, you moved slightly closer to him, mainly behind, and bit your bottom lip once again.

“Off we go, now!” The deer explained in a sing-song-like tone, marching out of you, trailing behind while struggling to close your door…

Walking down those stairs is nerve racking as you keep your gaze downcast at the steps and your shoes, almost clinging to Alastor’s arm now with both of your arms wrapped around it.

As much as he despises touch- ..he doesn’t seem to mind this much.

“..Tell me if my touch makes you uncomfortable.” Oh? How thoughtful! His grin strains a bit as he strides on over to the group, you clinging to him as you take a moment before you start raising your head to the couple to which you have stopped in front of within the lobby of the Hotel.

And, they’re certainly matching.

You have to stop yourself from squealing like a fangirl.

Vaggie's ensemble has a black and purple mauve dress featuring asymmetrical layers and a feathered tailcoat of a matching red that Charlie has, eye-like designs embroidered into the fabric. Similar colored fingerless gloves she now wears, with a black ring with a bunch of hearts on her ring finger. Her hair has been tied up with her usual bow but now into a ponytail. A shawl-like garment is adorned with three bold red hearts along the left side in a line. She finishes up with dark lace stockings and white flats.

Charlie wears a black overcoat draped over her shoulders that reaches to her upper calves, and small golden sun shaped pins on both sides of the coat with a thin chain connecting them across her chest. She wears a black choker with a dark red heart pendant hanging off of it, and a golden bracelet around her right wrist. They even have matching, black rings with hearts all over it with each other!! Black petals adorn her hair, which is tied in her usual hairstyle. She wears a sleeveless, red top followed by a black and golden belt where the center is a golden shaped, empty heart. To top it off, she wears black baggy pants with black boot heels.

“..You both look-“

“WONDERFUL!!” Squealing, you start happily bouncing up and down, gawking at the couple with linked arms in front of you.

“Oh, thank you!! YOU LOOK AMAZING TOO!” Charlie beams, stars practically shining in her eyes.

Vaggie gives a nod as agreement with Charlie, and one of appreciation at the same time.

As the couple and Alastor engage within a conversation for who knows whats, you find your eyes wandering off to look at the rest of your friends to see what they’re doing.

Over at the bar, a certain well dressed spider demon and a slightly underdressed cat demon are.. ‘interacting’.

“Ohhh c’mon, babycakes. We could-“

“No. Go fuck yourself..”

“Only if ya’ watch me!” Husk groans at Angel, who has now slightly climbed onto the counter of the bar, to which Husk pushes him off.

You try to suppress the urge to giggle out-loud and decide to look for a certain small bug demon.

But.. you can’t find her—

“WOAHHHH!” Gasping, you almost recoil at the familiar voice, but ground yourself as your head snaps down to look at Niffty- who is all spiffed up!

Niffty’s hair has been put up into one that appears to look more like one from the 1950’s as it’s far more curly than before. It’s accompanied by two white roses which are held together by a thin, red wine piece of rope in the shape of a.. bow slightly sagging.

Her outfit incorporates a short sleeved, white dress up shirt, matched with 5 coral pink buttons aligned in the middle of the shirt. Added on, she has two pearl earrings and a white, and pink pearl necklace which is matched with a silver chain. The skirt of her dress has a sort of.. belt incorporated into it already as it has a slightly white, rectangle belt holder in the center of the blush pink skirt- which reaches to her ankles. White polka dots along with venetian red roses matched with a Russian green stems are embroidered on the skirt scattered all over it. To top it all off, she has simple white Mary Jane-like shoes.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you smile.

“Awwh! Nif, you look adorable!!” You pat the small demons head. Not in a condescending way.. just.. as a spur of the moment decision.

“YOU LOOK VERY PRETTY!!” She squeals out, bouncing up and down.

And before you could actually start speaking once again, the small demon… bunny hops onto your chest, making you stumble back with a squeak-like sound and unlace your arm with Alastor’s in order to have both hands on Niffty to make sure she doesn’t fall either..

You’ve noticed that the couple and Alastor have stopped their conversation, probably looking at you and Niffty now…

“I could add something to make you look better!”The words don’t sound too sinister, but she’s grinning like a maniac.

“..Like?” You anxiously smile. Her toothy grin grows wider.

“ROSES!! IN YOUR HAIR!!” Yelping out her words, which makes instantaneously nod her request, she giggles happily.

Suddenly the small demon… now has a bouquet of red and white roses. How? You have no clue. While she climbs her way to your shoulder, plucking some petals from both colored flowers. You try your best not to move as your gaze drifts off to look at the trio beside you.

Yep.. they’re staring at you.

“..You guys good?”

“Of course, my darling!” No. Nothings alright. Why is that little miscreant touching you?- why did she make you stop being so close to him now? He’s owned her soul for quite some time now, and knows how she acts, being quite fond of her! But, why is she acting ever so.. friendly with you?..

His smile has become more strained than ever as his head turns to the couple still looking at the display of you and Niffty. Charlie looks more excited than ever, and Vaggie is.. more surprised.

“Now! Where were we?”

As the conversation now resumes, Niffty finishes up with placing the rose petals in your hair, and finishes by placing a red rose near your ear- tucking the stem beneath your hair.

“Okay!! I’m done!!!” Niffty practically shrieks out, clapping her hands as shes placed down on the ground.

“Thank you, Nif. It’s beautiful.” The small demon merrily bows before rushing off… somewhere else.

Nervously, your head turns to the center of the foyer, where the piano to which you’ve avoided up until causes to gulp. But, in response, you take a deep breath.

You just.. need to be calm. You need to relax.

What causes you to come back to your senses is a small tap on your shoulder.

“You ready?” Vaggie quietly asks, moving closer to you. And you pause for a moment before nodding, now putting a smile onto your face. She even gives a smile back.

“Alright, everyone!! Gather the hell up!” Angel and Husk both appear from the darkness of the Bar, approaching the center to where the small stand with the piano atop of it rests. Niffty has rushed into the room, happily bouncing from adrenaline, you suppose..

“We’re headin’ out. And we aren’t going to mess any of this up for the hotel.” She loudly exclaims, resting a hand on her hip as the rest of the group nods. Safe to say you’re panicking so much internally

Please, please do not let this venue end horribly because of you…

. . .

Backstage, you’re pacing.

The venue is lovely from what you’ve seen so far. Velvet curtains shroud the stage as of currently, which has you awaiting for your time to step up and play those lovely songs you’ve been practicing all this time.

As you had first entered: seating area is adorned with cushioned chairs arranged around tables draped in cloths of white, pink, red, or regal purple, each adorned with intricate heart designs. Silverware gleams under the soft glow of candlelight, while glasses of wine shimmer with anticipation. Plates overflow with delectable cuisine from most sinners and overlords who’d arrive here at the Princess of Hell’s invitation (of course, with threats unknowingly added by the Radio Demon!!)

Candelabras cast a warm, flickering light across the room. A polished and lavish golden chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its crystals catching the light as dangling heart pendants gently sway, casting a romantic glow over the scene.

At the bar, being ran by Husk, patrons are usually having ‘lively conversation’, as they await for their entertainment.

But thats also worrying for you, adding more stress. They’re awaiting you.

What if—

The curtains part slowly, and you tense. Goddamnit, no time to think, and no time to have these silly worries replay in your head. You impatiently wait for the curtains to fully open, as rehearsed before. And when they fully do, you can see the eyes of thousands just.. staring inside, from the wings. It takes every last string of restraint for you to try to relax yourself during this.. ‘predicament’.

Taking one last deep breath before the inevitable fate for you on that stage.

You stride with as much perfect posture you can, hands clasped in-front of your lap as you make it to your grand piano, stationed on the mahogany floorboards of the stage. It takes you a second to settle down upon the stood, but when you do, you hover your fingers over the keys of the instrument, recounting every single one in your head as best as you can.

With nothing more to think of besides playing, you start playing the first few chords..

And just like that, you’re immersed within your passion, and everlasting fears as you play key after key.

To say each of the residents and sinners were baffled would probably be an understatement. A great understatement.

You’ve been practicing.. so hard for this very moment, and everything you’ve done has been paying off. Charlie is just absolutely blown away, Vaggie is.. speechless, Husk has his eyebrows raised and arms crossed as his listens to the tune and your singing, Angel Dust is just grinning with an ‘I knew it’ look, Niffty looks like shes going to… explode, and Alastor.. is smiling. Smiling more than ever before- no, this is.. a genuine smile.

Turns out his word really was true.

As the last chord of the piano and last note of your singing lingers within the air, you awaiting for well.. anything.

Booing, laughter, anything.

It only took a few seconds for loud clapping to echo throughout every nook and cranny and your head snaps to the audience. They’re all cheering, all in a slightly similar way of course. Husk is nodding, softly clapping his hands with an amused smirk plastered on his lips. Charlie is vigorously clapping, bouncing up and down merrily as she hugs her girlfriend who was clapping at your performance with a small smile, as well. Angel is cheering the loudest, proclaiming “THATS MY FUCKIN’ BESTIE!” Or… something along the lines of that. Niffty is actually about to jump from her seat, and people start whistling in awe at your play.

Heat crept on your cheeks as you gave a sheepish smile towards the crowd, standing up to slightly shift away from the piano in order to curtesy in respect as they continue on with their cheering. Before you could process, flowers- specifically roses were being thrown onto stage. With widened eyes, you stand up straight again and stare at everyone, trying your best to ignore the heavy light which felt too warm for your liking- but you shouldn’t complain..

Flowers are constantly being tossed onto stage, the applause continues and you take another curtsey before scurrying off stage, making the lights dim.

You don’t really know why you ran off in such a beautiful moment, but you were going to have to leave eventually. The main thing is that you really aren’t.. used to such big crowds applauding for you. It feels much different than just being in a theater, for example.

Finding yourself backstage into the single dressing room it has, you almost collapse onto the sofa with a drawled out groan. You haven’t even bothered to turn on the lights within the room, or the lights on the vanity off- being your only light source as of currently.

..Not gonna lie, you’re probably going to fall asleep if you lay down like this for the rest of the evening.

That would be nice.

Yeah.. you might just do that.

Your eyelids slowly start to get heavier and heavier, making you shift to your side and slightly curling into yourself for warmth. May all be damned because this was surprisingly comfortable despite how you were dressed and.. well, everything else. And with just a few more seconds, you shut your eyes with a content smile gracing your lips.

“Now.. was I wrong, my darling doll?” A voice beams from the side, causing you to immediately rise up out of fear and shock. Well, so much for getting some rest now.

“Oh— Alastor! Hi!..” Trying to pull yourself together, ruffling up your hair a little with a hand, leaning back on the couch as you sit more in a tailor position on the couch.

He takes a moment survey the room, tapping a clawed finger against the side of his microphone before turning to face you. You swear you can see him hiding something behind his back- but you can’t prove anything, can you? You’re too tired for this anyway..

“What are you doing? Don’t you know, the people are quite excited to see you outside?” The inquiry has you blushing even more from embarrassment and hope that the floor magically eats you whole.

A huff escapes you, now turning to bring your knees up to your chest and bury your face into your legs instead of facing the one man who would make fun of you as he found you just trying to rest. It’s.. irritating. And, not really because of Alastor. Just, upsetting.

“Sorry. I’ll.. be out in a moment.”

“Before that, my darling. I have another question for you.” It takes you a second to raise your head up at the stag, staring at him as a motion for him to continue on speaking. He seemed almost hesitant to continue, but slowly managed to get the words to come out.

“Do you have a Valentine so far? Has anyone asked you?” Oh fuck.

He’s so going to mock you. Holy shit.

“..No.” Please please, please do not make any remarks. Don’t. Please.

“Mm.” The mere hum in response freaks you out, but you manage to keep a straight face as you’re internally screaming at the top of your lungs, probably crying as well.

Biting the inside of your cheek, nails digging into the cloth of your pants, close to the flesh of your legs as you await the interchangeable fate from this encounter.

“How would you like to be mine then, darling?”

..what?

You’re honestly.. shocked by this. The amount of time it takes for the cogs in your brain to process this new information is.. quite a bit. And, just before you can even utter a single word to the man’s advance- he reveals what he’s been hiding behind his back this whole time: wilted red roses. How romantic.

Blinking repeatedly at the gesture, you find yourself leisurely getting up and walking closer to the buck, gently wrapping your hands around his holding the roses.

“..I would love that.” Simply staring at the roses, you can’t help but smile and then look up at the man.

“And, is this you asking me out?” The query is mainly a joke as you chuckle a bit, his face still the same as ever: smiling, staring back down at you. However, you thought this mainly as a platonic gesture instead of a romantic one, being that you know a lot better. He chuckles for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Perhaps. Would that be so bad?” That definitely had your heart fluttering.

You’re still reeling from the unexpected gesture he’s made. His usually charismatic demeanor has softened, revealing a vulnerability you never thought you'd see in him. He should be withholding this. His eyes, although still half-lidded have a.. gentle warmth that draws you in. The air is charged with tension, a palpable mix of anticipation and uncertainty as you try to comprehend the depth of his actions. And with your thinking in that moment, you realize that this enigmatic figure before you is more than just ‘The radio demon.’ More than just a demon that has been feared for centuries.

He’s another mortal soul. Just like you.

Yet however, curiosity pangs you right in the heart as you recount the things he’s told about himself to you.

“Wait, Alastor,, are you sure?.. Please- I would not want to lose you over this. I know-” The more you overthink this and try to babble on, he slides his hand from under yours and brings it to cup your cheek.

“My darling doll, do you think I don’t love and cherish your company more than any of the others at the Hotel? it’d be a downright shame to not have a beauty as talented and great like you on my arm. Yet, I don’t believe you feel such similar feelings, no?” He laughs obnoxiously at his own words, but inside he’s.. he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you don’t-

“Oh- no, of course not!”

He swear he can feel his undead heart halt like it had been beating all of this time.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your image anyways..” With a shrug, you feel guilt wash over you. Why did you lie?

“..It wouldn’t, my darling doll!” The reaffirming words seemed much more disappointed than before and it almost made you freak out even more. Did he know?

As silence passes through between the two of you, trying to figure out what to make of each other’s feeling and words. You start to speak.

“Alastor.. are you actually trying to court me?” The words come out as a whisper, a hand of your own reaching up to place over his on your cheek while the other still held the rose bouquet.

..Static.

Radio static fills the room.

You’re afraid.

“My darling doll.. would that be such a problem?”

“…No. I don’t think so..”

His grin widens even more than you could possibly think of after being strained for such a long while. His thumb brushes downwards to your jaw and tilts your head upward more, stopping as soon as he has you looking more at his own jaw and the lower part of his mouth.

“Now tell me, why would you lie to me? Quite the bad habit, doll!” That static from earlier has still not left- in fact, it’s gotten louder than you’ve noticed up until this point in this encounter. He’s even lowered his head to go face to face with you this time.

Goddamnit.

“I didn’t want to make things awkward between us. I truly value our friendship, and I didn't want to risk losing that by admitting.. that I saw you in a far different way than probably you did for me. It's not that I don't appreciate your affection or the effort you've put into courting me before or even now, it's just that I didn't want to lead you on or give you false hope. Not only that- I was certain that you didn’t have any romantic attraction to or for anyone for a matter of fact.” Speaking faster than you intended made it harder to even keep up with your thought process.

“Not in a rude way! Just- I care a lot about making you comfortable and not passing any boundaries of yours. You don’t like romance much, you don’t like when people touch you if you don’t initiate it first.” Your shoulders slumped as you continue to ramble on, or at least try.

“All that? Dear.. I told you exactly how I felt. I wouldn’t mind if it was you.”

“..Are you sure you like.. aren’t pressuring yourself to feel this way?? Or something?”

“Darling, I force myself to do nothing. It all comes naturally!” Oh yes, naturally. That obsession? As much as he despises it- it did happen.. naturally.

“Besides…” The feeling of his claws starting to dig into the flesh of your cheek causes you to whine in pain, flinching even. You almost drop the roses due to the sudden reaction. This.. is not something that’s happened before.

“You aren’t dating anyone, correct?” His odd sing-song-like tone made you so.. uncomfortable. Dear goodness, all the color drains from your face as your eyes widen a bit at this. Immediately pulling your hand off of his, now wrapping both arms around the bouquet.

His claws stop digging into your cheek, almost making you instantly cry if you weren’t restraining yourself, wanting to run away, yet he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip ever so gently. How can the same person who just hurt you be the same person with such a gentle touch, told you such comforting words and possibly be the same person who just hurt you?

Stumbling backwards away from the man with hitched breathing, your eyes anxiously survey the man who hasn’t moved but, his smile has become more tense as his eyes have become narrowed as he stares you down like prey.

Why in Heaven’s great name is this happening??

Feeling a warm liquid trickle down your cheek, you instantaneously raise a hand to feel the damage done- already knowing what it is. It’s fucking blood. The sensation of tears start welling up and you lower your gaze for a long moment as you try to piece everything together.

“You- why!?” You cried out, with the tears now pouring down and mixing with the blood on one side. Unintentionally, you back yourself against one of the walls of the dressing room.

Oh you’re so screwed.

“Oh? Are you against me now? But, you don’t know even the beginning of how deep these vile feelings course through me for you!! You started this, darling.” Screwing your eyes shut as you hear his footsteps start to approach, you can’t help the whimpers that leave you.

With the subtle touch of one of his hands on your shoulder, you no longer think you can see him as the same person you did before, even after the sentimental moment. Even after the few times you’ve revealed your feelings to him, no matter how kong you’ve spent time together.

“Everything I’ve done for you so far was because of these wretched emotions started fluttering around, making me feel so much at the same time. It’s infuriating. They’re filthy, disgusting, but they’re still there. But, perhaps if I finally do something about these, I’ll finally be able to be rid of them. Perhaps it’s time that I take action on these, no?” You desperately want to shake your head no- but being frozen with shock with everything currently happening does you no good.

“You’re my valentine, darling. Always mine, and mine alone!”

Those are the final words spoken as your tears continue to pour, but he couldn’t care less and kisses them away. He enjoys this anyway. After-all, you’re helpless. The entire situation is helpless. And with no other thought in mind, he finds his lips on yours in a chaste kiss.

You physically have no idea why this took so long- and I’m sorry y’all. ILY POOKIES, ENJOY YOUR FOOD.

[nonranghaes]

Oooh jun(or kwan) and hating on valentines day tg? (until one of you surprises the other ofc w smt lowkey)

-🌱

ever since seungkwan first met you, he knew you absolutely hated valentines day. in your own words: "why should love have a price on it?"

which... to be honest, he couldn't really debate. he'd heard you rant at length about how you liked the aspect of it spreading love to loved ones, but hated how capitalistic it all is. it's not just spreading love, it's buying expensive jewelry or flowers or chocolates or going out to restaurants to flaunt that love and how much money someone was willing to pour into it.

"love shouldn't be like that," you had said to him while he watched you tape up hearts in the university cafe. "if you want to spend money on gifts, then fine--but it shouldn't be because capitalism makes it out that you're a bad partner if you aren't throwing money at your partner. love shouldn't have a price tag."

vernon had also heard the entire rant, nodded, and said "true."

however, it did make dating you a little... difficult for this first valentines day together. the two of you had agreed no date today: you had work, so did he, and you didn't want to fight busy restaurants if you went out. you had, however, sent seungkwan a picture of yourself and a cute heart-shaped sugar cookie earlier: the only good side of valentines day is that one of my coworkers bakes the best fucking cookies. bringing you one btw <3

which gave him an idea. an idea that involved calling up one sick kim mingyu (he only had a cold, but seungkwan knew his partner would be doting on him) and video chatting his way through a recipe. you wanted a night in? seungkwan was going to give you a night in.

"that sounds like a threat," mingyu says right before going into a coughing fit.

serves him right.

the moment you walk into his apartment, seungkwan hears you complaining about traffic, and how busy the streets are, and--

"... seungkwan, what is this?"

"heart shaped foods," he says without looking up from where he's plating heart-shaped breakfast potatoes alongside heart-shaped pancakes. "for valentines day."

"oh." you make your way into the kitchen, watching him. "did... did you make all this?"

"obviously." he's a little more curt than he means to be. "mingyu supervised over the phone. but i knew you were working late, so... i made us dinner." seungkwan turns to you. "i know you don't like valentines day, but--"

you kiss him, hands cupping his cheeks. "god, i love you. thank you, kwannie."

he stares at you. "huh?"

"i don't like valentines day, but," you squish his cheeks a little, "i love you, and i'm starving. so..." you smile. "thank you. happy valentines day, seungkwan."

he wraps his arms around you, smiling softly. "happy valentines day to you, too."

[elvenisms]

friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date. 

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute. 

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles. 

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again. 

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back. 

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave. 

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back. 

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door. 

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.” 

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there. 

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you. 

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—”

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was  beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.” 

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention. 

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer. 

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath.  His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek. 

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips. 

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best. 

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

[lumizwrld]

ＰＲＯＦＥＳＳＩＯＮＡＬ✯

"I love, you love. This love, we're professional..."

➢ !Dom¡ Ryohei Arisu ♥︎ Afro-Latina Reader

☕︎ word count ・3.2k (This late ass lil Valentine's Day smut, I'm so mad bc I wanted to post this on valentines Day but I ended up changing some things around.♥︎)

⚠︎NSFW WARNING⚠︎

cw ✐ outside the borderland universe, valentines day sex, shy arisu turning into dom, sensual, passionate, roughness, dirty talking, teasing, arisu eating reader out, cowgirl, missionary, reverse cowgirl, swallowing, submissive reader, moaning, whimpering, groaning, arisu being a good boyfriend, only Arisu Ryohei's perspective

✍︎ Summary = Not only had it been Valentine's Day, but it was also the day that Arisu showed his all to you. Being your boyfriend of just 1 year, he wanted to end this Valentine's Day off with a banger. As you're met with his surprise, you also find him hiding away from you (knowing his cowardness). After met, you encountered with his aggression, his frustration with himself, handing it all out to you in the most sinful way. ✧

It felt like she was never going to walk through that door, time unexpectedly reached a standstill lingering for her urgently to open that door and die from the death-defining adornment of all my love scattered through the apartment loft.

Anxious, I spent hours trying to find the best-looking outfit I could find and made sure it was her favorite color. Midori, the creation of yellow and blue. A green dress suit that complimented black pants and a pair of dress shoes embodied on me. I only desired perfection yet, she wouldn't want it any different. She would be happy even if I wore black sweats and a white t-shirt. From what I can recall earlier, she preached, “Please don’t go overboard about today, when I come back home, let's just smoke and lay in each other's arms? That could be our lil Valentine's Day right there." however, I feel like sometimes she doesn’t know how tenacious I can be when I listen to her.

Call it crazy, I was never the type to do anything so grand as this. Granted, I’m best with my hands yet I’d never expected to create an outbreak of devotion to her. Petals of roses scattered all over the floor, the flame of the candles shining so bright like an August day, inhaling the air of romance in the atmosphere, and centering the stage with her favorite songs faintly singing their way throughout the place….

God, she's gonna kill me…

“Shit Y/N, stop making me panic like crazy just hurry please…” I prayed in my head, disregarding the fact that the more I kept my eyes on the door the more I’d be tempted to faint. “C’mon baby, make it home quick.”

Pacing, fidgeting of fingers as I tried to ignore how nervous I was. “Shit.” I groaned to myself, placing my arms behind my head. For a moment, I thought I heard keys fidgeting at the door. Anxiety rushed all over me again, striding toward the door and then taking a slight step back.

“Fuck,” I groaned, “I-I can’t do this…” I uttered in my head.

“Baby I’m home-“ She spoke before being astounded at the place. I could sense her soft footsteps kissing the floor, loving every moment of this affection. Nonetheless, I hid in the master bathroom. Heart pulsating out my chest, I had no clue why I felt terrified to meet her.

She drives me crazy, I hate the way I get with her…

I hate that she tenses me up without doing absolutely anything to me…

Her gentle voice sang out my name yet I refused. It was guilt, agitation, and love fighting in my body right now. I couldn’t regulate to move.

“Ryohei? Where are you amor come out,” She questioned, sauntering up the stairs to the bedroom. “Baby you don’t understand how in love I am with the place. You didn’t have to do this.”

“G-Give me a second hani, I-I’m in the bathroom.” I notified her, head thrown into my palms as I elongated a groan.

“Hey…” She expressed, embracing her body against the bathroom door. “Don’t hide from me. Don’t be nervous baby, I love what you did. Thank you for that.”

A weak giggle flew from my lips, “Hani I’m fine I swear. I just had to use the bathroom that’s all. You love it huh?”

I could hear her voice pitch up scarcely, chuckling while battling to open the door for me. “Ryohei c’mon, I wanna see you.”

Hesitated, my hands trembling as if the temperature plunged in the room. I held my breath for an instant, my hand reaching out for the knob. A slight turn for the lock, gradually opening the door was all I needed to do before her eyes lit with a thousand stars.

“Hi…” I spoke, shoving my hands in my pockets as her eyes scrutinized my frame.

“You went all out for me,” She confessed, creeping closer to me with her hands elevated towards my chest. “You look so handsome cariño, oh my god…” She adored, inclining her head against my neck.

“I’m sorry for-“

“I know it’s okay, you went all out for me I know this probably overwhelmed you.”

“I just feel like I made this awkward now. I hid away from you and it’s like…I’ve been waiting for you all day you don’t understand mama I-

How swiftly, her lips shut my doubts up. Her fingers, locked themselves up behind my waist. Her tongue, communicating with mine. She made me melt in her embrace, I didn’t know where to position my hands. It was so bad how this kiss instantly made me desperate for her.

My head tilted inwards, permitting her hand to crawl up my back to the strands of my hair. She certainly knew for a fact that this was all gonna be in her control yet, I desired things to change for a second. Her free hand seizes my neck as her kisses trailed down my lips to my jawline. I guess this was her turn to show me her devotion to me cause, it had me to a point where it illustrated all over my face how badly I wanted to touch her beautiful body. All her pent from work, relieved from my bare hands. Even though she was always the one to command, I yearned for this to be all about her.

“How was work baby?” I communicated, my hand going for the back of her head as she made love to my neck.

“It was slow, but…All I thought about was you. I couldn't wait to get here.”

“That's…” I spoke before sighing at her gentle bites. “Good to hear baby, I've just been doing this all day.”

“I can tell, you do love me.” She whispered in my ear. Kissing it gradually, she was luring me deeply into her pool of lust.

“C’mon baby, let me take this off you.” I offered, taking her coat off. As she became free from the restriction of her puffer coat, her hands latched onto my entire body. “Baby, it's okay you don't gotta rush.”

“It's not me rushing, you deserve this.”

“I deserve this? All I did was just show you how much you mean to me, you always show me how much you love me. Granted I do, but I wanna do it in a form-”

I could feel her taking the lead, slowly walking back to the bed as she clung to me. “Mi amor, you talk too damn much. Just look pretty and let me do everything okay?”

I giggled, “Alright don't fuck with me like that."

She giggled in unison, “You’re everything to me. I love you, but you need to realize how much you are worth. You're worth everything fucking thing on this planet.”

I guess this was it.

I guess this is where it ends.

All this shyness, is gone.

I guess, this was where I made a mark.

I pushed her onto the bed, leaping on top of her frame. My hands grasping her neck as if she disrespected every inch of me. This went along with a harsh, desperate kiss.

I heard a whimper, yet that didn't cross my mind at all. I could tell she was surprised with every bit of emotion rushing throughout her body in this moment. Mainly, I was focused on one thing.

“Nobody’s ever told me that before until I met you. You love me too damn much, that's one thing I fucking hate about you. I hate how you make me feel this way and don't let me do anything in return.” I spoke right in her ear, her pants in mine as a form of a response.

“Ryohei…” She sighed.

“I want you,” I demanded, finding my way down my belt buckle. “I want you to let me do everything.”

Her hands reached on my belt, supporting me with unbuckling. Crazy, it seemed like I had her wrapped around my finger.

Assertive, her hand went inside my pants.

Heart felt, the way I spoke in her ear.

Temptation, her hands trying not to go any further.

“I won't stop you at all.”

“Y/N…”

“Do it please, I promise I won't stop you.”

Her desperate hands found me in my boxers, exposing myself on her own. Her kisses deprived my lips again, this time with a sense of belonging to be submitted to me.

Her defeat, she wanted this from me all along.

So in my response...

Don't hold this back, let it out….

First, it was me losing myself in between her legs.

Her thighs were gripped with my cold hands as I kissed the lips of her deprived pussy, darting into her eyes while I licked her sensitive clit. She felt the exhilaration instantly, her hands lost in my hair as she whimpered for me to slow down and stop. Still, such a beautiful woman who doesn't know how hard-headed I can be.

"Fuck." She moaned, "Ryohei just like that, lick me like that."

I answered her demands, licking her til she would see stars while I had my free hand teasing the entrance of her hymen. Entreating her right, she kept trying to close her legs yet I retained them open with all my might.

"You're all in my mouth." I teased, "All in my mouth."

She winced, panting at my fingers fucking her, imitating what I had planned for in a moment. Her begs and cries, all in my ear like a siren luring in a sailor. She had me hypnotized.

"I've never been so jealous of fingers in my life." I teased once again, "Mama, why are you holding yourself back?"

"I-I'm not."

"No?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Why are you lying to me?" I spoke, inching myself up to her face. "Don't lie to me."

I then lost myself in her eyes, brushing her hair from her cheeks. Nobody said anything, just a swift grab from her back, switching positions that transitioned this moment.

Her warm skin was positioned on top of me as her hand latched on my chest while straining to place me inside her. Her eyes revealed all her lust, how she begged for me without even saying a word. Gradually, she consumed all of me. Songs in unison, allowing me to thrust deep inside her warmth. It was as if this was the last day we'd be together. Who would have known, I'd be the one in control of this.

“Hold my hands mama, let me help you.” I panted, observing her lustful face as her body fucked with mine. “Nobody can hear you let it out for me baby.”

“Don't say that Ryohei.” She moaned, tossing her head back.

“Why?” I conversed, “The way I'm talking to you, does it bother you?”

“You know exactly what you're doing.” She groaned, vigorously grinding herself to the profound thrusts I provided.

“Tell me then, what am I exactly doing then? Speak to me mama, tell me what I'm doing to you.” Overstimulated, her hands released mine and grasped on my neck. This encouragement I gave was gonna finish with something grand I persisted to myself. However, it seemed like even when this is finished. She's gonna want more.

My cold hands rushed to her nipples, caressing them with gentle squeezes. The evil giggles she made that were intended with lust filled my ears, moaning afterward when I brought her close for me to suck on.

“I want you on top.” She panted faintly.

“What did you say?” I questioned, slowing my strokes.

“Please,” She panted, “Get on top of me.”

My eyes dilated, soon switching positions. She looked so innocent, like a porcelain doll. So fragile if I were to even touch her, she’d break. My arms found themselves beside her head as she held the support placing me inside her again. Silk soft legs, trapping me around my waist as a so-called embrace.

“Is this a trap?”

“What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Aggressive, I thrusted once. Her gasp left her lips however before getting just a slight exhale, I placed my index finger right inside her needy mouth. Creeping myself closer to her face, she was like a model, a sight of pure beauty to me. This was all mine.

All of her was mine...

All of mines, to ruin...

Sounds of sin, the aroma of sex, the sloppiest of kisses, the sensing of sweaty skin, all at once could be seen as a form of art. My hand went from her lips to fondling her chin as the other maintained my balance, compelling her to look directly into my eyes as I slowly stroked up the pace.

“You want it like this baby?” I moaned, observing her surrender her beautiful body to me. "Tell me your beautiful thoughts I promise it won't hurt to just tell me."

“I-I can’t,” She panted, straining to fuck me in unison. “Control me fuck, I feel like such a whore Ryohei I'm sorry-”

“No no, fuck me like a whore then, don’t be scared baby. Show me how much of whore you can be to me.” I encouraged her, leaving her to snatch my hand and kiss my fingers, slowly suckling them.

“Ruin me, ruin me.” she entreated. First my thumb, then my index finger along with my middle. She replicated what she would do to me, It was to a point where I could die right from how much of a slut I turned her into. Neediness overfilling her eyes as she wished for me to cum...

Was it bad that I faintly felt it?

“Ruin? Did I bother you too much hani? I'm sorry, that's all my fault. Isn't it?” I giggled, moaning afterward.

“Don’t apologize,” she panted, removing my damp hair that began to cover my eyes from the thrusting. “I love everything you’re doing to me.”

“I forgot to tell you how beautiful you looked today. Mama is this what you want from me?" I intended, my lips inches away from hers. "Yes, this is what you want, right? You want me to talk to you like this when I fuck you like this baby? Tell me I know you do." Brown profound eyes, darting right into her soul as she hesitates to choose which action to make, panting or moaning her heart out of the pleasurable feeling of me penetrating her swollen pussy. Her grip was so strong I couldn't help but moan to her embrace on it.

Her eyes were in such worry yet, smiling like a complete slut at my weakness. Her right hand on my neck, resisting herself to combust from me. “Keep talking like that and I swear I’ll cum all on you.”

“Do it, mark all the things that belong to you. Mark your territory baby, cum on my dick.” I intended, deepening my penetration to hit her where it hurts.

Her head was sunken into the pillow and her hand that existed on my neck soon felt her body. Rushing hands, all on her breast. Generously squeezing her nipple to the stimulation, god it was all my fault she acted this way with me. Her luscious lips were soon bitten. I could tell she was starting to feel her climax.

“I…I can’t…Ryohei…” She moaned, arching her back leaving me to slide my hand under. Obtaining her close, I departed subtle kisses on her neck down to her chest.

“Do everything on me. Like I said before, show me how much of a slut I turned you into.” I groaned, maneuvering my head to her deprived breasts, brushing her finger away to allow placement of my tongue on her nipples. Sucking passionately, I offered her soft bites to signify my admiration to her breast instead of just her pussy and her lips. And so, just when I thought this session would last for a while longer, I winced at myself gaining a strong sense of sensitivity. “Tell me where you want me to cum mama, give me what you want.”

She panted, “No, no don’t do it yet, please. I wanna keep going please, don’t stop Ryohei please.”

I awed, “I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? You want more of me huh?”

“S-Shut up.”

“Shut up? Mama think before you speak. You said you love everything I’m doing, right?” I taunted, pulling out of her. “You told me to ruin you, don’t take back anything.”

“R-Ryohei why did you-”

She found herself on top of me again, this time her eyes darting to the ceiling. My grip, so profound, and down on the stands of her hair, her back arched to the tension. Devouring, her needy pussy embracing my dick made my body rush with nerves. God, I’d loved to watch her fuck me if we placed mirrors on the ceiling. Observing her face full of pain from my thrusts, her perky nipples all alone likewise yet the hypnotic bouncing would be such a movie I’d reminisce every single fucking day.

“Lose yourself to me Y/N, let me be the only one to see you like this. I wanna be the only one to make you this filthy.”

The exertion she had was overwhelming mine, I felt depleted to where I lost grasp of her hair. She sensed me discharging, “Amor, please. Don’t stop please, let me help you.” She pleaded, going on all fours. “I need you.”

The minute she slid up, I directly jerked up from the sensation on my tip. Yet, she never left that spot. I worshiped every moment, her pussy fucking my tip knowing damn well she desired for me to cum.

“You want it inside you mama? Advise me.” I demanded, seizing her arms and bearing them back aggressively, gasping on her back. “Let me do it inside you, let me cum inside you.”

“Do it then Ryohei, let it out please.”

“Y/N, I'm starting to...W-Wait I feel it.”

My eyes latched, throwing my head back as I moaned as loud with all the strength I still had.

Yet, this feeling only grew stronger.

Grasping my hair, I couldn’t help to sustain my body from all this pleasure.

But, once I opened my eyes. Her beautiful eyes were met with mine, but her mouth was full of me.

“I thought…I thought I came inside you….” I huffed, wincing at her subtly licking me.

“You really did lose yourself." She giggled, following her tongue down my shaft.

“Fuck,” I huffed, “You're an evil woman y’know?”

“Yeah, you know I love you right?”

“Uh-huh”

Her tongue had found a home on my dick, licking my hardened tip as she motionlessly kept her gaze on me. “Good, I want you to remember that.” She grinned, spitting on it as she watched me jolt up again.

“Y-Y/N!?…” Whines, the pain yet pleasure filled my soul. Seizing her hair, I forcefully fucked myself into her filthy mouth for a moment. “That’s what you wanted huh? All of me in your mouth right like this?”

Her soft giggles flew in the air, “Yeah, it seems like you wanted it more than me.”

I soon hauled her up to my face, kissing her passionately as I released her from my grasp.

Once again, she got on top of me but soon began wrapping the covers on us. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I spoke, caressing her in my arms as I kissed her forehead. “God, you took everything outta me.”

As we snuggled in each other’s arms, it went silent. Taking in this void of quietness, my lips soon parted those soft, heavenly words of...

“Hani, I forgot to tell you once you got home...Happy Valentine’s Day.♥︎"

[stardustbarbarians]

Enchanted

A Daniel Wagner / Samuel Kiszka fic

Summary: Sometimes it takes some meddling to see what is right in front of you.

Tags: fluff, love spell au, very light angst, low-key funny

Words: 10.8 k

Author's Note: Happy (late) Valentine's Day!! I literally got the idea for this one the day of the holiday and proceeded to write this, thinking it would be at max like 2,000 words. So, yeah, this one kinda got away from me. Anyway, this is dedicated to @ofthecaravel for being more enthusiastic about this idea than I was (she also made the cover pic so everyone say thank you, Karou). Title taken from Enchanted by Taylor Swift. Please enjoy!! <3

+++

When Danny had the idea to go to the art fair near his house, he hadn’t thought he’d be walking away with an honest to god love potion. I mean, those aren’t real, right?? It’s all just made up for awful rom-coms and Disney movies. So, when that witchy woman had stopped him and gave it to him for free, he thought nothing of it. 

He had been weaving through the various booths, eyes catching on all the colorful and sometimes gaudy wares these artists were trying to pedal. Some of them were honestly good, others were just clearly trying to make a quick buck. Danny bought a few things; a few jewelry pieces he thought were cute and a fresh squeezed lemonade. 

“Danny?” a woman had spoken up, catching the drummer’s attention. He tensed up at being called out, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized but knowing it was always a possibility every time he left his house. 

Schooling his features to be warm and inviting, Daniel turned on his heel to face the woman. She was what Danny could only describe as a “contemporary witch”, complete with long, black hair and a revealing yet classy black dress and a wide-brimmed black hat. Danny had to suppress his scoff at how on the nose she looked, glancing around her clearly witch-themed, yet populated, booth. But, it clearly worked to help sell her goods, so who was he to judge. 

“Hey!” he responded, abandoning his wandering and making his way over to her. She smiled widely at him, her eyes lighting up as he approached. 

“Oh, my god. My friends are never gonna believe me,” she rushed, her tattooed hands fluttering to her chest. 

“How about we get a picture to prove it to them?” he offered, having gone through this enough times over the years to know that that was what most people were after when they spotted him. 

She nodded, searching frantically for her phone. When she pulled it out from behind the register, Daniel noticed two things. One; her hands were shaking. Two; her lock screen was a picture of him and Sam posed together. It was a picture of them on stage, embracing and beaming at one another and - wow, is that really what he looks like when he smiles at Sam? 

They took their picture, her asking for a hug from him which he happily gave her. 

“So, what brings you over this way?” the woman - ironically named Greta - asked, leaning against the table she had set her register up on. Danny worried for a second as her long hair passed over a candle, only for him to realize it wasn’t real. 

“Had a free afternoon to myself, thought I’d check the art fair out,” he answered honestly, a shrug of his shoulders tacked on at the end. 

She nodded acceptingly. “Find anything interesting?” 

Danny held up his fingers, wiggling them to show off the rings he purchased as well as shook his cup of lemonade in front of her, smiling. She laughed, her head tipping back a bit to show off a moth tattoo that rested under her clavicles. 

“That’s all, huh? You must be pretty picky.” She looked him up and down, her eyes feeling strangely like they were able to see past his physical form. Danny blamed that on the witch-themed booth she ran. 

Danny shrugged again. He didn’t think he was, but then again maybe he was. 

“Here,” she blurted out, jumping up from her perch to brush past him to go deeper into her booth. Daniel watched as she stopped in front of a display of bowls that held vials of various shapes and sizes. Each one was sorted by color, some of them even seeming to glow which made Daniel do a double take. There was probably just a light fixed at the base of the bowl to give them that effect. 

“On the house,” Greta chirped before tossing something at Daniel. He instinctively caught it, letting out a breath of relief that he had. When he got a proper look at it, Danny realized that she had thrown him a vial of baby pink liquid that had been sealed in a teardrop shaped glass vial. The top was a gradient into Barbie pink and formed to a point, sharp enough to probably kill a man. Daniel turned it over in his hand, the liquid sparkling in the light of the sun streaming in through an opening in the tent he was in. 

“What is this?” he dumbly asked, already knowing what the hell it was. 

“A love potion,” Greta flippantly answered. When Danny snapped his head up to look at the woman, he saw the mischievous glint in her eye that never reached her soft smile. 

Daniel coughed on his own spit as he swallowed wrong. He covered it up by taking a few sips of his lemonade. He had no idea how to react to that. 

“Uhh… that’s really kind of you, but I can’t take this.” 

“Nonsense. I insist,” she pressed, waving off his concerns with a wave of her hand. 

Daniel looked back and forth between the woman and the vial in his hand, weighing the pros and cons. Then he realized how ridiculous he was being. It was a kind gesture and love potions weren’t real. 

He tucked the vial into his pocket of his jean jacket and smiled. “Thanks!” 

“My pleasure,” she answered, that devilish gleam back in her eye as well as that feeling that she was seeing through him rather than at him, “and trust me, you will be thanking me later.” 

That made Daniel chuckle a bit nervously. She was starting to creep him out a bit; time to make a quick exit. 

“Right, well. Maybe I’ll see you at one of our upcoming shows!” Danny politely suggested, already backing out the way he had come in. 

“Of course! Talk to you later!” Greta’s last sentence sent a shiver up Danny’s spine. It felt like a promise rather than a send off. 

With one last quick smile, Danny got his ass out of there and trotted down the booths to get away. He definitely wanted to toss that so-called “love potion” away now. There was no telling what was actually in it. He’d just throw it into the next trash can he saw. 

+++

Daniel did not toss it away. Instead, he forgot about it completely and left it in his jacket pocket. It stayed there for a month, silently waiting for the next time someone would wear that jacket and find it. 

“Hey, Dan!” Danny was in his kitchen taking some ibuprofen for the headache he was fighting when he heard Sam call out for him. 

With a big gulp and a gag he didn’t even try to suppress as he felt the pills catch on the side of his throat, Danny responded with a shout of his own. “Yeah?!” 

“Can I borrow a jacket?! It’s cold as balls out and I don’t have one!” 

Setting his empty glass of water in the sink, Daniel ran a hand through his curls. Sam had stopped over at Danny’s before the band’s scheduled studio time so the two of them could carpool. 

“Yeah!” he shouted back. He went through a mental checklist to make sure he had everything he needed before he left, adding Sam to the bottom of that list. 

“What the fuck is this in your pocket?!” Sam called out again, breaking through Danny’s concentration. 

“I don’t know! I’m not over there!” 

It was quiet again for a moment, Danny quickly going through his checklist again as he passed by his laundry room to grab some socks from the pile. 

“Can I drink it?!” 

Daniel, starting to get a little frustrated by Sam’s antics already, huffed out in exasperation. 

“Go ahead!” he screamed harsher than he had meant to. But, really, how the hell was Daniel meant to know what the fuck Sam was talking about. It probably was a shot of fireball or something he never drank. And if Sam wanted to be tipsy while they recorded… Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“It tastes like bubblegum!” Sam excitedly exclaimed, his voice louder as Danny was just around the corner from where he was stationed by the front door. 

“That’s great, buddy,” Daniel dismissed, walking past him briefly as he went to grab his sticks from the living room. Doing the pat down on his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet, Daniel finally rounded the corner to his front door only to see Sam sprawled out on the ground. 

“Sam?” Danny cautiously asked, hoping Sam was just being theatrical over how long Danny was taking to leave. 

But then he didn’t answer. Or move, for that matter. 

“Sammy?!” Daniel was distraught now, tossing his sticks to the side as he kneeled down next to Sam to shake him. 

He still wasn’t stirring, but at least his chest was moving. Daniel frantically searched for a pulse, lifting up his hand to check his wrist. That was when he spotted the nearly empty teardrop shaped vial in Sam’s hand and Danny’s heart sank even further. 

“No no no no-” Danny chanted under his breath, pressing his fingers into Sam’s wrist. His heart rate slowed a bit when he was able to feel Sam’s pulse in his fingertips. He sighed deeply, feeling his shoulders sag in relief. 

“C’mon, Sammy,” Danny implored, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and began to shake him. It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make his head loll around his shoulders. 

When that didn’t work, Danny bit his lip as his brow knit together. He had an idea, but he’d feel awful for going through with it. With another sigh, Daniel resigned himself to it. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he murmured, pulling his right hand off the bassist’s shoulder. He reared it back and smacked it smartly against his friend’s cheek. Cringing at how loud the slap resounded in the echo-y chamber of his vestibule, Daniel smoothed his hand back over the pink mark blossoming on Sam’s face. 

It worked, to Danny’s utter relief. 

Sam’s eyes fluttered open as Daniel caressed his fingers across the angry outline of his hand, groaning as he lifted his hand to his forehead. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam grumbled out, sitting up on his own. Danny sat back onto his heels, raking his eyes over Sam to check for any signs of danger. 

“You drank the vial in my jacket and passed out, I guess,” Daniel tried to explain, the concern leaking through his tone. Sam still had yet to look at Danny, his eyes having shut once more as he sat fully upright. 

Huffing out a laugh, Sam looked at the vial in his hand, a drop of that baby pink liquid slipping out of the opening and splattering onto the floor. He turned it over in his fingers a few times before he spoke again. “Hell of a rush.” 

Daniel couldn’t help but snort, his worries easing significantly at the joke. Sam was going to be ok. Maybe a little groggy, but ok. That Greta girl should count herself lucky nothing worse had happened to Sam or else he’d bring down hell around her ears for hurting his best friend. 

“Alright, Sam. Let’s get you up or else we’ll be late for studio time,” Danny grunted out as he hauled Sam up to his feet by his arm. 

“Right, right,” Sam quietly answered, his hair flying out around him as he shook his head to presumably clear it. 

And that was when Sam looked at Danny for the first time since he fell. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” 

+++

“Hey, guys, we might want to reschedule.” 

“Yeah? And why is that?” Jake was the first one to look over at Daniel. And when he did, Danny watched as his entire body went rigid as his eyes flew wide open. 

“Something wrong- oh my god.” That was Josh, this time. And just like Jake, Josh’s eyes got comically wide as he took in the sight of Danny and Sam. 

And Daniel really couldn’t blame them. He’d have the same reaction if he saw his little brother clinging onto his best friend as if his life depended on it. 

Sam had long since jumped into Danny’s arms, his arms and legs wrapped around Daniel as if he were a monkey and Daniel his favorite tree. He had refused to get down, Danny having tried to fight him in the parking lot before entering the studio to get him to walk on his own, but Sam was having none of it. Even on the drive over, Sam had tried to climb into Danny’s lap a few times all while gushing about how pretty he thought Danny was. He finally got Sam to stay in his seat after promising to hold his hand as he drove. But as soon as they stepped out of the car, it was no holds barred. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Jake asked, his eyes still locked onto his baby brother’s strange behavior. 

“I’m holding the love of my life!” Sam answered for Daniel. And if Daniel’s face wasn’t burning before, he was certain it was set ablaze by that. And the worst part was Daniel could tell Sam was using a genuine tone. 

He watched the twins look between the two rhythm section members, their lips pursing as they took in the sight. Daniel wanted to hide his face in his hands, but they were currently holding his obnoxious best friend so he couldn’t. 

“Oooooooooo-k. Umm, what the fuck is going on?” Josh had abandoned his station at his microphone, setting the equipment down on a chair to his left before he joined Jake at his side. 

Danny sighed, his eyes closing in shame. He wanted to look everywhere else but at the twins and their calculating and bewildered gazes. 

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” Daniel let out a squeak after he spoke, Sam surprising him with kisses he placed on the side of Danny’s neck where his head was nuzzled. He tried to pull away, but Sam just chased after him with his lips. 

“Try us,” Josh answered, his arms crossing over his chest as his hip popped out. Jake was idly fiddling with his guitar, probably not even aware that he was playing at all, but his eyes never left Danny. 

With a deep sigh, Daniel launched into the story of Greta and her stupid fucking love potion. While he was explaining, he knew his story sounded made up. I mean, for god’s sake, the titular character shared the name of their band. It just sounded like he was caught in a lie. The only thing he knew would work in his favor was the potion vial that he had the foresight of bringing with him. 

It was a fight, but Daniel was able to wrangle Sam off of him and set his feet on the floor. However, the man still refused to let go of him completely. So Daniel had to live with Sam resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around Danny’s torso. With his hands finally free, Daniel was able to fish that vial out of his pocket and toss it over to the twins. 

Josh caught it, Jake watching it sail over towards his twin with his eyes. Daniel watched as they inspected it, the baby pink liquid still shimmering in the light. He pointedly ignored Sam and his embarrassing antics. Or, at least he tried to. It was very hard when he kept peppering kisses all over Danny’s cheek and neck as he spoke sweet nothings into his ear. Danny felt shivers dance their way across his skin, his veins warming at all the contact and compliments. But he refused to indulge in them. Sam was not himself right now and he would be damned if he was going to take advantage of him. But, they still felt nice. 

After a few seconds of turning over the evil liquid, Josh tossed it back over to Daniel. 

“Alright,” Jake started, pulling the cord out of his guitar, “we believe you.” 

“Really?” Danny was truly bewildered. He thought the twins were going to think it was some kind of stupid prank they were trying to pull on them. He was actually relieved they did. 

“Yeah. We’ve never seen Sam act this way before. Plus he’s a dog shit actor,” Josh answered, a laugh escaping his lips after the last sentence. Danny had to agree; he’d seen the movies Josh had made where Sam was the lead. There weren’t that many. 

“Oh, thank god. Because I need help.” Daniel’s tone was desperate, his hands trying to pull Sam’s off his waist. But every time he tried, Sam would just slide them back into place. He eventually gave up, huffing in resignation as Sam giggled in his ear. “Yeah, I’m gonna be honest with you on this one. I don’t know where we’ll even start,” Jake bluntly pointed out, placing his guitar on its stand. 

“What if you two try to contact the people who organized the fair and see if you can find the woman who sold me the…” God help him, “...the potion.” 

“Yeah, alright. What are you going to do?” Josh was already pulling out his phone, not looking at Danny as he spoke. 

“I’m going to see if maybe she posted that picture and contact her that way,” Daniel explained, having to shove Sam’s hips away from his own in order to get his phone from his back pocket. 

“Sounds like a plan. But how about we don’t do this here,” Jake posited, his eyes sliding over to where their producer and mixer were watching raptly as Sammy placed yet another series of kisses onto Danny. 

They all agreed. They wanted to spare both men as much embarrassment as possible and also minimize the possibility of this leaking and sending the wrong message to their fan base. 

Daniel offered up his house considering it was the closest. 

“And I’ll drive lovebug here, too.” Danny hooked his thumb towards where Sammy’s face was pressed into the side of Danny’s, a dopey smile on his face as he nuzzled deeper into Danny. 

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Josh so helpfully pointed out, trying poorly to suppress a laugh. 

“Yeah, ha ha. Let’s go,” Daniel sharply ordered, trying once more to rip Sam’s arms off of him and failing. 

“No, no, wait. Let us get one video for blackmail,” Jake quickly requested, already having his phone out and pointed at the two. 

Danny, knowing that there was no way they’d relent, groaned and let Jake record his misery. 

“Alright, Sammy. Tell us how you feel about Daniel,” Jake prompted, the laugh in his voice barely contained. The youngest perked up at the question, his smile getting brighter. 

“Well, where do I even begin! There’s so much I feel about him,” Sam cooed, resting his chin against Danny’s shoulder as he spoke. Danny felt Sam’s hair slip off his own shoulder as Sam tilted his head to get a better look at Danny. 

“Why don’t you start with the physical,” Josh, that bastard, piped up. Danny shot him a glare, Josh only responding with an “innocent” smile. 

“Oh! That’s easy! He’s got these beautiful dark eyes that you can easily get lost in. They’re this gorgeous shade of amber brown that have this nice green in them that remind me of moss in the forest. Oh! And when they catch the light just right they’re so bright and I get butterflies. And speaking of butterflies, when he smiles at me I can’t help but feel like I’m going to pass out from how beautifully warm and overwhelming it is-” 

“Alright,” Danny squeaked out, his voice cracking as his face began to heat up, “that’s enough.” 

“No, no, we’re just getting to the good part. Sam, what else about Danny do you like?” Danny bared his teeth at Jake. He knew it was ineffective, what, with his face burning as bright as a stop light. 

“Oh, his arms are really nice. I love it when he picks me up because then I can feel them flexing and it makes me all dizzy.” Sam’s voice was dripping in honey. It was so sweet it made Danny’s stomach ache. 

“Really? And what about his freckles?” 

“One of his best features, definitely. They get all dark and prominent in the summer when he gets more sun. He’s got 137 of them!” 

“Alright that’s-” 

“And what about Danny’s personality?” 

“He’s the sweetest guy ever! I swear, he’s so sweet he gives me cavities. Like this one time, I was feeling really down in the dumps and then Danny went out of his way to get me a case of my favorite beer and made me laugh so hard I nearly pissed myself. He just knows me sooooo well. And also he takes care of Rose the best and he is always so gentle and loving with her… what isn’t there to love?” 

“Ok, show’s over. We’re done here,” Daniel firmly decided, reaching out to yank Jake’s phone away from him and end the recording, holding it out of Jake’s reach as he tried to grab it back from him. 

Danny tossed it back at him when he was done, watching the guitarist nearly fumble the device to the ground. He shot Danny a confused look at his shift in mood, but he didn’t respond. He simply held onto Sam’s arms as he turned the two of them around and made for the door. 

As they walked to the car, Daniel pointedly did not think about the fact that Sam apparently just seemed to know how many freckles Danny had off the top of his head. Or how that made his heart flutter within his chest. 

+++

The car ride back was considerably less dangerous than the drive over; Sam hadn’t tried to climb into Danny’s lap since he preemptively laced their fingers together. However, Sammy hadn’t stopped talking. And it wasn’t his usual babbling, no. It was much worse. 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” The shock of it had worn off at the thirtieth time Sammy had confessed it to Danny, that first time making the drummer jump out of his skin. Now it was just getting annoying, like the beep of a smoke detector. 

“You’re really hot,” Sam giggled, leaning his head across the consul and bumping it into Danny’s shoulder. 

Danny just groaned, throwing his head into the headrest behind him and asking god what he did wrong to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment. It was one thing to toy with his destiny, it was another entirely to play around with his emotions. 

“I hope we fucking crash,” he whined, the light turning green and taking his foot off the brake. 

“I hope we fuck.” 

Daniel felt his foot involuntarily slam down on the gas, forcing the both of them to jerk back in their seats as the engine loudly revved like an animal letting out a warning growl. Danny whipped his head over to Sam briefly, taking in his lashes batting flirtatiously and his wolfish grin. The driver felt his heart pounding in his chest, ripping his eyes away from his distracting passenger and forcing himself to look at the road. 

“What?” he croaked out, not really wanting to hear it again but also wanting to know if he heard Sam right. 

“You heard me,” was all Sam spoke in response, a dangerously flirtatious edge to his words that made Danny’s heart lurch in his chest. 

“Just… Just keep those thoughts to yourself, ok?” 

“Ok!” Sam cheerfully agreed, settling back down onto Danny’s shoulder. That was another thing about this that was driving Daniel slowly insane: Sam did almost everything Danny asked of him. 

He was so, utterly fucked. 

+++

“Ok, so Greta must be a popular name among artists or something because the fair organizer said there were about thirty booths registered under that name,” Jake explained after hanging up the phone. He tapped his pen on the pad of paper he’d been writing on idly, turned towards Danny’s spot on his couch. Sammy had tackled him onto it, curling up right against his chest like an oversized dog and refused to move. 

“Did she give you the list of businesses, too?” Danny asked, having to crane his neck to look over at Jake. 

“Yeah, and I was able to cross off a few of them already,” Jake answered, swiping away at his phone again.

“Nice work,” Danny praised, his eyes darting back to his phone. He and Josh had taken on scrolling through Danny’s instagram mentions in order to try and find the famed Greta. And, Jesus, people really loved tagging him in shit. They had been at it for hours and were still only finding posts from about two weeks ago. 

“Is this her?” Josh hoisted his phone up into Danny’s field of view. Danny squinted as he analyzed the woman’s face. 

“No,” he groaned, his frustration mounting as they had zero luck. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sam like this, it was just… It was too much. Yeah, maybe Danny had been dreaming about this exact scenario for years, but this wasn’t how he wanted to get it. He’d felt guilt slam into him with every touch Sam bestowed upon him as he remembered that Sam wasn’t in control of his actions. It was that stupid fucking potion that was making Sam all cuddly and cute; the normal Sam would never do that. The normal Sam wouldn’t repeatedly confess his love for Danny in a myriad of ways, or kiss his neck and cheeks, or cling to him every second of the day. No matter how badly Danny wanted it to be true, Sam just wasn’t in love with Danny like the drummer was in love with the bassist. 

And that was the time that Sam decided to stir just enough to burrow deeper into his embrace with Daniel, grumbling something under his breath that was reminiscent of a cat purring. And just like it never happened, Sam fell back asleep again. Danny watched for a bit too long as Sam’s chest rose and fell with each even breath he took, his face held in a content smile as he dreamed away. 

“Man, I haven’t seen him curled up with someone like that since we were kids,” Josh commented, taking a break from his endless scrolling to crack his neck and stretch. He had watched the whole thing, Sam’s stirring and Daniel’s flush creeping onto his face as he gazed down at the cozy bass player. 

“What do you mean?” Danny had moved his own phone out of the way to properly look at Josh. The man had taken to sitting on the floor with his back against the couch that Sam and Danny were laying on. 

“The last time he looked that content while sleeping was probably when he was about eight-ish; that was when he stopped taking naps with mom,” the singer explained, his eyes cast upwards as if searching the farthest reaches of his mind. 

“What, are you calling me his mother?” Daniel felt his face pinch into one of disgust as he remembered what Sam had sprung on him during the ride over. 

“No, what he’s saying is Sam has always liked to cuddle, but only feels comfortable doing it with certain people,” Jake clarified, not even bothering to look up from his notepad. 

“Yeah, he’s never done that with us. And, now that I think about it, he’s never done that with his girlfriends, either. At least, from what I’ve seen, anyway,” Josh added, rambling just a tad at the end. He even brought his hand up to his chin as he thought, his fingers stroking the hair on it absently. 

Daniel had no idea what to do with that particular bit of information, so he elected to shove it into his mental box labeled “The Sam Incident” to be ignored until further notice. It was starting to become alarmingly full. 

He went back to his scrolling, his eyes beginning to burn with how long he’d been staring at the screen. He wasn’t aware that he’d taken to running his fingers through Sam’s hair and absently playing with it as he focused on finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. 

Right when he was about to take a break and grab something to eat, he spotted her. 

“AHA!” he exclaimed, bolting upright and rudely jolting Sam out of his peaceful slumber. The bassist even grumbled, rubbing at his eyes and shooting a grumpy look at his personal pillow for the violent awakening. Danny felt the sympathy ache in his chest for Sam, rubbing a soothing and apologetic hand over Sam’s arm. Though, with how frizzy and staticky his hair looked, Daniel had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Sam. 

“You found her?” the twins asked simultaneously, Danny feeling briefly like he was in The Shining as they both gave him the same expression as he looked between them. 

Daniel nodded his head, turning his phone around to show the others. Sam took the opportunity to sleepily and unceremoniously flop himself down against the drummer’s chest face first, wrapping his arms around his waist. Danny instinctively placed his hand onto his back to steady him, rubbing it as Sam mumbled something into his chest that Danny could not understand. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jake, ever the impatient one, urged Daniel. He pushed away from the table he was stationed at, making his way over to lean over the back of the couch to watch the drummer’s screen. 

danielrwagner: Hey, so uhhh

danielrwagner: This is going to be a strange question but

danielrwagner: Are you the woman who gave me a vial at an art show a month or so back? 

Daniel had set his phone down onto the couch, figuring he’d have to wait a while for a response - if he ever got one, that is. What he didn’t expect was for his phone to buzz almost immediately afterwards. 

StarshineGreta: Hi Danny!

StarshineGreta: Yes, that was me

StarshineGreta: Why did someone drink it? 

danielrwagner: Yeah

StarshineGreta: Who was it?

Daniel swallowed nervously, glancing down at Sammy who was still wedged into his chest and showing no signs that he was moving anytime soon. 

danielrwagner: …Sam

Call from StarshineGreta 

“Guys, what should I do?” Daniel panicked, his heart rate kicking up in speed inside his chest as his ringtone started to cheerfully chirp in his hand. He frantically looked back and forth between the twins, looking for their help. 

“Answer it!” Josh screeched, his thunderous voice that Daniel normally heard echoing through stadium speakers just as loud and commanding in his living room. 

With a nervous bite of his lip, Danny did as he was told. 

“Hey, Greta. Just so you know, you're on speaker with… with the whole band,” Daniel greeted, making sure to give her the courtesy of knowing that everyone could hear her. But, it seemed that she didn’t even register what he had said. Instead, she launched right into it. 

“Alright, how long ago did he drink it and what are his symptoms?” Her voice was nearly clinical if it weren’t for the clear enthusiasm dripping off her words. 

“He drank it at about ten this morning-” 

“And he’s acting like a lovesick puppy and won’t leave Daniel alone,” Josh interjected, leaning over so that he was closer to the phone to be heard. Though that wasn’t really necessary since the man had shouted, anyway. 

“Yeah, Sam won’t stop touching and cuddling him and if he tells him to quit it he gets all mopey and sad,” Jake added, flashing Danny a grin that Daniel merely glared at. She really didn’t need to know all that. 

The beat of silence that followed made Danny’s nerves spike into the stratosphere. What he didn’t know was that Greta had merely muted her own mic so that she could laugh as boisterously as she wanted to without being heard. 

“Interesting. And how much did he drink?” 

“Pretty much the whole thing. There’s about an eighth or so left in the bottle, I’d guess,” Daniel informed, feeling as if the vial in his pocket got heavier as he thought about it. 

“Wow. Ok, wow. No wonder he’s so clingy,” Greta replied, her surprise seeping into her tone. 

“I wouldn’t call him that-” 

“Dan. Try standing up.” 

Giving Jake a disgruntled look, Daniel tried exactly as suggested. As he did, Sam’s arms tightened around Sam and pulled him back down towards him. “Nooooooooo,” he had whined out in protest, his brow knitting together in a grumpy frown once more as he looked up at Danny through his lashes. 

“No,” he said again, this time more firm and accented by Sam’s grip readjusting around Danny’s ribs to pull himself even tighter against Danny’s chest. 

When Daniel looked over at the younger twin, he was met with a small yet smug smile of victory. 

“Shut up,” he lamely shot back, wanting to cross his arms over his chest but being prevented by a certain bass player. Instead, he just settled his free arm back onto Sam’s back right below where his hair stopped in the middle of his spine. 

“Is it a problem that he drank so much?” Josh asked, completely ignoring the exchange that happened between Jake and Daniel. 

“Not really, no. The effects will just be stronger than if he had just drank the recommended amount,” Greta explained. 

“Will it last longer?” Daniel quickly interjected, the horrifying thought of having to deal with Sam acting like this for a month causing panic to lance through his heart. 

“I don’t think so. Maybe a few extra hours, but it should be worn off by tomorrow evening.” 

“And how come your potion actually works? Like, why isn’t yours bullshit like the other ‘love potions’ out there?” Jake so delicately questioned. 

“Normally, most of mine are but… well…” Daniel did not like how her tone shifted from confident to apprehensive, “I won’t sugar coat it. The potions I make are meant to amplify what emotions are already inside someone. They can’t manufacture love or hate or happiness if they don’t already exist in the person who drank it.” 

After she finished her explanation, the room went silent. Daniel felt as if his mind was beginning to overheat inside his skull as he tried to process the information she had just dropped onto them. 

“I don’t get it,” Daniel croaked out, feeling as if his mind was halting all function as he stared blankly down at his phone. 

“Do you have that potion on you?” Greta’s voice wasn’t scheming, per say, but it was clear she had a plan. 

Daniel dug into his front pocket, fishing out the aforementioned vial. He held it up into the air, looking at it and wondering how something so unassuming could flip his world on its axis. 

Before the drummer could even respond to Greta, Jake had swiped it out of his hand so quickly Danny could only blink dumbly at the man. 

“Josh!” he called before tossing it towards the man. 

“Wait-” was all Daniel could get out before the singer had uncapped the vial and tossed it back like it was a shot. 

“Ooh, bubblegum flavored,” Josh cooed after he swallowed, flipping the vial in his hand after he replaced the cap. 

Daniel just sat frozen in place. Great, now he was going to have to deal with two Kiszkas attached to his hip at all times and he wasn’t going to be able to do anything-

“How ya feeling, Josh?” Jake had asked in a voice reminiscent of a gameshow host from the 70s. 

“Honestly, Jake, I feel no different. Daniel, I love you, man, but not like that,” Josh answered, pointing at his little brother curled up into Danny’s chest like an overgrown cat to prove his point. 

“So, that means…” Jake prompted, holding out his hand as if to cue Daniel to understand. It didn’t work. 

“I still don’t get it. And now I’ll have two of you on top of me-” 

“Oh my god,” Josh impatiently groaned, tossing his head back in frustration as he scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“Jesus, you’re dumb, Dan,” Jake added, exasperation of his own causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. 

“I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually,” Greta optimistically offered, her voice cutting through the groaning from the twins. 

“But, wait, what should I do? Is there anything I can do to help Sam? Or, like, cure him?” Danny inquired, electing to ignore the twins and their antics. 

“You’re just going to have to wait it out,” Greta answered, her voice not even remotely sympathetic to Danny’s plight. 

“Thanks for the insight, Greta.” Jake leaned in towards the phone again, giving it a two fingered salute. 

“Yeah, and thank you for the free blackmail!” Josh was smiling as he waved at the phone, his tone chipper and not at all matching the devious words he spoke. 

“Any time, boys!” 

And with that, the call had ended. 

“Well, we best get going,” Josh sighed as he got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Yep. Seems like you and Sam need some time to yourselves.” Jake had playfully nudged his baby brother on the shoulder with his hand, Sam only responding with a half-hearted grunt of annoyance at being jostled. 

“Wait, hold on-” 

“Goodbye, lovebirds!” 

With a slam of the door that carried with it a sense of finality, Daniel was left alone with a love-drugged Sam. In his house. Alone. 

“I thought they’d never leave,” Sam yawned, mimicking his older brother from earlier as he stretched his arms above his head, his face pinching together as he did so. Daniel pointedly did not look at the sliver of tan skin the bassist exposed above his waistband as he stretched, a playful teasing of his happy trail poking out briefly. 

“Uh, what?” 

“The twins! I thought they wouldn’t take the hint,” Sam playfully implied, his hands tracing up from their perch on Daniel’s stomach to his pecs. And that was when he realized that Sammy was straddling his hips and looming above him with a look in his eye and a smirk on his lips that was anything but innocent. 

Danny was stuck in his position on the couch, feeling like those butterflies they displayed in glass with those pins that pierced through their wings stabbing through his own limbs. He felt frozen, caught between his own animalistic desire and his morality; the angel and devil on his shoulders waging a war. 

“Are you hungry?” Daniel squeaked out, his voice breaking as he shoved Sam off of him and bolted off the couch. He felt like his face was on fire as the rest of his skin prickled with its own heat. He stood himself on the opposite side of the room, all but pressing his back to the wall. He didn’t care what that witch or the twins said; Sammy would never do that. 

He’s not himself. 

Once Sam recovered from Danny tossing him into the couch, Sam turned those sultry eyes back onto the drummer. “Yeah. For you.” 

Daniel gulped. Sam’s voice had purred out of his lips, matching the very clear bedroom eyes he was shooting Daniel. And Danny was not liking how his body was reacting to that. 

“I’ll order sushi,” Daniel quickly stated before bolting out of the room and away from Sam as fast as he could. 

+++ 

Dinner was an ordeal. Daniel had to essentially manipulate Sammy into eating, which made him feel like garbage. But, he tried to reassure himself by saying it was for Sam’s own good. And if Danny had to use his powers of suggestion over Sam to do it, then it was just a means to an end. To be fair, it wasn’t like he was forcing Sam to do something like make out with Danny or anything like that. It was just getting him to eat his goddamn sushi. 

It also didn’t help that Sam had scooched his chair right up beside Danny’s and would move closer to him each time Danny had tried to move away. And then Sam had tried to feed Danny his food. Which was… an experience. 

“C’moooooooooon Danny! It’ll be cute like Lady and the Tramp!” Sam whined, waving his chopsticks in the air. 

Daniel, knowing his willpower against Sam was weakening, relented. He huffed out a “fine” and half-heartedly opened his mouth. Sam squealed excitedly before gently picking up a roll with his chopsticks and placing it between Danny’s lips. Daniel figured the pain of Sam’s nagging was worth the pleasure of seeing his brilliantly excited smile as Daniel chewed his sushi. 

“Ok, ok, now me!” Sam exclaimed, setting down his chopsticks before opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue like he was about to get his tonsils checked. 

With an exasperated yet fond sigh, Daniel selected a sushi roll and brought it up to Sam, cupping a hand underneath it to catch it if it fell. As he placed the sushi on Sam’s tongue, Daniel made the mistake of looking his friend in the eyes. When he did, his breath hitched inside his throat. Daniel could feel as the air around them crackled with a charged energy that sparked to life as their gazes met. And Daniel felt himself unable to tear his eyes away from Sam as he slowly pulled his chopsticks away.

When Sam slipped the food into his mouth and began to chew, that was when Daniel was able to look away. 

That was a few hours ago. The two of them were once again cuddled up on Danny’s couch, Sam trying his absolute best to get every part of his body touching every part of Daniel’s. They had thrown on a crime procedural show; Bones or Law & Order, Daniel didn’t know. He was far too distracted by how Sam kept attempting to get Danny to kiss him or let him blow him or an assortment of other things that made his face glow bright red. 

He’s not in his right mind, Daniel had to keep reminding himself. And he would not break to love-drugged Sam no matter how many times he would flash Danny those puppy eyes that would normally make him fold like a house of cards under a slight breeze. 

“Daaaaaaaanyyyyyyyyyy,” Sam sang, wiggling himself onto Danny’s lap in order to plant himself right in front of Daniel’s field of view. He would no longer be ignored, despite the fact that Sam had always had Danny’s full attention; he just was acting as though he hadn’t. 

“Sam, I’m trying to watch this,” Daniel weakly protested. He had no idea what the plot of the episode was, much less the actual name of the show. 

“Watch me instead,” Sam whined, his shoulders slouching as he theatrically threw his head back in frustration, “you’ve been ignoring me all day.” 

“That’s not true-” 

“It’s like you don’t love me.” And that was what finally caused Daniel to break his facade. He looked Sam right in the eyes, taking in the pout of his lips and the dejected nature of his eyes. Daniel isn’t ashamed to admit that he felt his chest ache at the sight. There was genuine heartbreak in Sammy’s eyes that did nothing to quell the guilt that had been thrumming through Daniel’s veins all day. 

Sam could not have been further from the truth, really. Daniel did love Sam. Like, embarrassingly so. He felt it swelling in his chest every second that he spent with Sam, even when he wasn’t with him. Actually, that was when he felt it the most, when Sam wasn’t with him. Those were the moments when he found himself wishing for the man to be near, feeling his heart long for his calming and wonderful presence. 

But, he knew Sam didn’t feel that way about Daniel. Danny knew Sam the best out of everyone on earth; he’d be able to tell who Sam was in love with. It wasn’t Daniel. 

“That-That’s not…” Danny didn’t know how to answer that. He really didn’t. He had no idea if Sam would remember anything from this after the potion wore off. He really did not want to risk the most precious thing in his life. 

Instead, Daniel just gently lowered Sam’s head down into the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms around Sam in order to pull him as tightly against his chest as he could. If he couldn’t say it, he’d show it. 

Sam calmed down after that, apparently perfectly content to just exist inside of Danny’s personal space. It wasn’t long after that Daniel felt drowsiness creep up on him. Despite not doing much moving around considering the human ball and chain known as Samuel Kiszka was attached to him all day prevented that, he was still exhausted. Emotionally, that is. Who knew having the love of your life falsely confessing his love for you would be so draining? Danny sure didn’t. 

“Alright,” Danny yawned, reaching for the remote to turn off the tv, “time for bed.” 

“Carry me,” Sam murmured, already half asleep against Danny. 

“Sam…” Daniel protested with a sigh, knowing that he was going to anyway but hoping Sam would change his mind. 

“Please, baby,” the bassist whined, moving his head so that one eye poked out from his curtain of hair to give Danny that wretched Puppy Look. 

Like the whipped man that he was, Danny just sighed as his shoulders sagged in defeat. After shuffling around Sam’s limbs to better fit around Danny as he stood, Daniel walked the two of them up to his bedroom. Danny decidedly did not think about what this would look like to an outsider. 

“When did you get so heavy,” Danny grunted halfway up the stairs. 

“It’s not nice to comment on a lady’s weight,” Sam shot back, his face still completely nuzzled into Danny’s neck. The breath of his words made Daniel have to suppress a shiver. 

“Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.” 

Sam giggled, the vibrant and gorgeous sound making Danny’s heart soar. 

Jesus, he was so doomed. 

+++

It had taken some master level bargaining on Daniel’s part, but he was able to convince Sam to leave him alone long enough so that they could each finish their nighttime routines. Daniel had just loaned Sam a pair of his sleep shorts and a shirt to use as pajamas; the shorts were just a bit too big on Sam and caused the waistband to sit dangerously low on his hips. Daniel found himself having to force his eyes to focus on anything other than that sliver of skin on Sam’s abdomen, which was an incredibly hard task. 

Daniel was far from surprised when Sam had climbed into the bed next to him and proceeded to wrap all of his limbs around Danny. It was like the man had managed to find the exact places where he would fit perfectly against Danny like he was meant to be there. Frankly, it was driving Daniel mad. 

“Don’t I get a kiss goodnight?” Sam hummed directly into the drummer’s ear, able to feel the vibrations in his best friend’s chest that was pressed into his side. 

The question made Danny sigh. He knew what would happen if he said no. 

“You’re going to keep going until I snap or give in, won’t you?” Daniel addressed the ceiling, unsure if he was speaking to Sam or god at this point. 

“Yep,” Sam replied, popping the P in the word. Daniel could hear the mischievous smile in his words. 

Now, it was just a matter of weighing Daniel’s conscience against his desire to get some goddamn rest. And, well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to kiss Sam. But, once again, not like this. But… well, it wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed before. It happened a few years ago when they were both drunk; the both of them had laughed it off afterwards, but neither of them spoke of it again. Danny was sure that if he had explained to Sam that he was only doing it to get him to relent so that he could sleep, Sam would understand. Hell, this would be far from the first time Danny had done something Sam had asked of him to get him to shut up so he could sleep. 

“Fine,” Daniel had begrudgingly agreed, the word sighed out. But, before he could tell Sam that he was only going to get a quick peck and nothing else, Sam had pounced. 

Danny’s cries of protest had been drowned out by the press of Sam’s unfairly soft lips, his facial hair not an unpleasant bristle against his skin. But, no matter how good it felt, Danny couldn’t allow this to continue. There was just one small problem: Sam had managed to snake his hands from where they had wrapped around Danny’s torso to his head. He felt those lithe fingers weave their way into his curls, locking him in place like a boa constrictor did with their prey. No matter how… how hot that was, Daniel was the one in his right mind. He was the one responsible for his own action, so that meant he had to… to… oh, dear lord, Sam’s tongue was soft; feeling like the finest velvet money could buy. It beckoned Daniel’s own tongue, gently pleading with it to slip inside Sam’s mouth. And, truly, who was Danny to argue? And, god forgive him, Sam’s mouth was so warm and inviting, it should be a sin. 

Daniel blames his fixation on Sam’s mouth for the reason he failed to notice just how long their kiss had lasted. What finally broke him out of his trance was when Sam’s thigh slipped its way between Daniel’s own, brushing against his interested dick and pulling a surprised yelp from his lips. 

Fighting against Sam’s, admittedly strong, grip on his hair, Daniel pulled away from Sam. He made sure to physically push away Sam’s thigh from its spot between Danny’s legs, knowing that should have been his first act. He was out of breath; another indicator for just how he had failed to be responsible. And looking into Sam’s confused and hurt eyes did nothing to help the guilt mushrooming within his chest. 

“You’ll thank me later,” Daniel explained, even sounding out of breath as he tried to put as much distance between himself and Sam as the love-drugged man would allow. Or you’ll hate me later. 

“But what about here and now?” Sam whined, closing the precious distance Danny had built up. 

“You got what you wanted-” and fucking then some, “-just go to sleep.” 

“Daaaaaaaan-”

“Go to sleep, Sam.” Daniel snapped, immediately regretting his tone as soon as he saw the genuine hurt in those amber eyes. 

With a scowl, Sam settled down into the sheets. What hurt the most, though, was when Sam had retracted all of his limbs from where they intertwined with Daniel’s, flipping on his side to face away from his best friend. Despite having wished for it all day, Danny had no idea it would hurt so fucking much. 

Even though he wanted to so fucking badly, Daniel did not reconcile the situation. It was for the best, he had to tell himself. This way, Daniel would be able to actually sleep and Sam wouldn’t be as weirded out towards Danny when he inevitably snapped out of this spell. 

It was for the best. 

Then why does it feel so wrong? 

+++

Daniel had gotten no sleep. 

Despite how much he tried, it seemed that every time he closed his eyes he was met by the image of Sammy’s disappointed face. He knew, deep down, that it was the right thing for him to do, to push Sam away like that. But that really was a thin comfort when the hurt in Sam’s eyes before he disentangled himself from Danny was still playing on loop in his head. Isn’t that what he had been trying to avoid this whole time? Hurting Sam? And, somehow, he had managed to do just that. It was frustrating and exhausting and Danny just wanted to get some fucking sleep. 

Through the night, however, Sam had managed to intertwine himself once more with Danny. It felt like a hollow victory. And when he eventually, slowly, woke up, Sam had seemed to be completely over their spat from the night prior. 

He had simply stretched his arms over his head, his hair a mess of tangles and static, and asked Daniel about breakfast. How Danny had wished that he could just brush off what happened the night prior. 

The rest of the day had happened much like the day before; Sam refusing to let Danny stray too far from his touch. It had been inconvenient as Danny tried to go about his day with another person attached to him at the hip. However, he was able to adapt by lunch time. Sammy was still whispering things in his ear that made his blood simmer in his veins and did nothing to suppress his guilt at what images and scenarios his brain supplied him with. 

Daniel had resigned himself to the fact that his day now would revolve around Sam entirely. He had wanted to go to the grocery store to restock his fridge that was becoming barren, but he knew there was the possibility that someone would recognize the two of them and their… compromising position. 

So, instead of going out and being productive like he had wanted to, he sequestered the two of them to his house. They settled on a Harry Potter marathon, Daniel once again unable to focus on the screen whatsoever with Sam pawing at him continuously. Daniel had ordered food and plopped the two of them on the couch. 

By the fourth movie, Sam had fallen asleep in Danny’s lap. Daniel, now with those doe eyes off of him, felt that he was finally able to end his guise of watching the screen. It had reached the late afternoon, that golden light sun streaming in through the windows of his living room and highlighting the lazy dust mites floating in the air. Most devastatingly, however, was how that sun had focused on Sammy’s profile. The man looked angelic, ethereal in a way that should not be feasible for a mortal. His hair glowed a golden hue, making it look like a halo was crowned onto his head. It made Danny’s heart ache within his chest. 

Daniel had been so distracted by how gorgeous his best friend looked that he failed to really notice that Sammy was beginning to wake up. 

“Daniel?” Sam’s voice was gravelly again. Danny felt his eyes focus on Sam’s, snapping him back into his own mind. 

“Sam?” 

“Wh… What happened?” Sam had lifted himself off of Danny’s chest, sliding a hand from where it rested on the small of Danny’s back to grab at his head. He blinked rapidly, sweeping his eyes around the room as if it was foreign to him with a grimace on his face. 

“How much do you remember?” 

There was a pause before Sam responded, his eyes sliding their focus in on Danny’s. “Remember? Dan, I’m not missing any time.” 

And if that didn’t make Daniel’s blood run cold. 

“So… So…” Danny couldn’t spit it out. No matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn’t say that Sam knew everything. That would make it real. 

“So… what happened?” Sam prompted again, seeming to be more lucid with each passing second. 

Danny involuntarily gulped, feeling a cold sweat breaking out across his skin. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t that hard to say what happened; he already told the twins. So why the hell was it so difficult to look Sam in the eye. 

“You… You remember that vial from my jacket that you drank?” 

“Mhm, tasted like bubblegum.” 

“...Yeah. Well, that uhh…” 

Oh, for fucks sake! Just say it! 

“It was a love potion,” Daniel rushed out, the words all mushing together to sound like one long word. 

Another beat of silence passed between the two, Sam staring down at Daniel from his perch in his lap and Daniel looking everywhere he could that wasn’t Sam’s eyes. He really wished Sam would move, it would at least help the raging blush on his cheeks. At least slightly. 

“Oh, sick!!” 

Finally, Daniel looked Sam in the eye. Of all the ways he had forecasted that Sam would react to that information, enthusiasm and whimsy was not even on the list. He had expected Sam to get awkward, to politely remove himself from Danny’s touch and make an exit as quickly as possible. He had far from expected Sam to link his hands behind Danny’s neck and eagerly inquire about the potion. 

“Dude, that’s so cool! You know what this means, don’t you??” 

“...No?” 

“Magic is real! And we just proved it!!” Sam’s smile was huge, bright enough to outshine the sun. 

“Sam-” 

“So, like, how does it actually work? Like, I remember that conversation we had with the witch about it only affecting those who already are in love, or whatever, but did she say the actual mechanics of how it worked? Like, is there a special ingredient that it needs to work?” Sam reminded Danny of a puppy in that moment. His eyes were bright and full of enthusiasm, his entire body buzzing with an energy that made it impossible for him to sit still. 

This time, it was Daniel who failed to give a timely response. His mind was too busy reeling over what Sam had glossed over during his rambling to properly process the man’s question. Realizing that the reason Sam was looking at him so expectantly was due to him waiting on the drummer, Danny shook his head to force it to work. 

“H-Hold on,” he began, taking a hand that had rested on Sam’s waist and bringing it up to his forehead, “you… you remember that conversation?? You were asleep!!” 

Danny hadn’t meant for his voice to come out like a screech, however he was just so damn confused that he really couldn’t focus the brain power on proper speech etiquette. 

“What?” Now it was Sam’s turn to knit his brow in confusion. “Oh, yeah! No, I was just faking it. It’s an old trick I pull out sometimes to get out of work; I started doing it so that Jake, Josh, and Ronnie were stuck doing chores instead of me.” 

Daniel felt like he was losing his mind. How was Sam so goddamn chipper about this?? 

“Ok. Ok. Oh my god.” Daniel forced himself to take a breath. It felt as if his entire world was crumbling beneath his feet and his brain was struggling to keep up with the rapidly shifting terrain. 

“So, you remember that whole conversation.” It wasn’t a question, though Danny had intended it to be. 

“Yep!” Danny felt a piece of his soul die at the chipper tone Sam used. He elected to ignore it. 

“And… that means you understand how it actually works…” 

“Apparently better than you did, Danny Boy,” Sam snarked, a playful grin that bordered on flirtatious spreading across his lips. 

Danny could only stare incredulously at Sam. 

“And you’re ok with it??” 

“...Yeah,” Sam answered slowly, “I already knew I was in love with you.” 

And that, right there, was how Daniel Wagner died. In retrospect, he had a good go of it. He was able to follow his dreams, be a rockstar. If he had to pick one, he’d say his one regret in life was ever befriending Samuel fucking Kiszka. It would have saved his life, after all. 

“Danny?” 

Sammy’s voice snapped him out of his cardiac arrest, pulling him back to the present. 

“Y-You… You…” Once again, Daniel felt like his brain was melting out of his head and pouring out of his ears. This can’t be real. Like, it just can’t. “You already… me??” 

“Yeah…” Sammy was looking at him strangely, as if Danny were the one acting weird. 

“You realize what you just told me, right??” 

“I don’t understand why you’re acting so surprised. You already knew this.” 

Danny tried to follow Sam’s logic in his head, he really did. He was still under the spell. He had to be. It was the only way Sam’s behavior made any sense to him. 

“Sam… you were drugged, ok? I don’t know exactly how, but those… your… actions were not your own,” Danny tried to explain, careful and gentle as possible. 

Then, it was as if a lightbulb went off inside Sam’s head. Daniel felt relief hit him; finally Sam got it. They could move past this and save their friendship. 

“Daniel, look at me,” Sammy slid his hands from behind Daniel’s neck to rest them on the sides of his face, positioning it so that Danny had to look at him, “I am not under any spell right now. I am in my sane mind, do you get me?” 

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off before he had the ability to protest. 

“I am so fucking in love with you. Like, so fucking in love it’s probably illegal. And that was why the potion worked. Because I am in love with you. If I wasn’t, it wouldn’t have worked at all… do you understand what I am telling you in very clear, not-able-to-be-misinterpreted words?” Sam had said every sentence slowly and with a gravity to it that left no room for debate. They were spoken as fact; as law. Just how energy cannot be created nor destroyed, Sam Kiszka was in love with Daniel Wagner. 

Yet Daniel still had a hard time grasping the concept. 

“But… all that… that cuddling and-and kissing and all that… you’ve never acted that way before,” Daniel reasoned, believing this to be the work of the potion and hard evidence to support that belief. 

Sam just laughed, the noise warming up the ice that had frozen in Danny’s veins. 

“I always wanna kiss you, Daniel. The only reason I hadn’t yet was because I didn’t think you wanted me that way. And before you try and say it was the potion forcing me, it just never occurred to me to not act upon my feelings.” 

Danny was still apprehensive, unable to fully grapple with the concept that Sam wanted to kiss him at all times. But, he was beginning to see what everyone had been telling him the past 24 hours. 

“...Prove it.” 

With nothing but a quick “ok” spoken under his breath, Sam wasted no time launching forward and locking his lips with Danny’s. His hands slid from Danny’s cheeks to the back of his head, manipulating it so that Sam could tip it back and deepen the kiss. Once again, Danny felt dizzy. But, unlike the other kiss the two of them shared last night, this one was quick and urgent. Sam had something to prove and he was not about to let Daniel walk away from this without getting his point through Danny’s thick skull. 

It was Sam who eventually pulled away, having to gasp for air. 

“Holy shit,” Danny panted, his head feeling woozy as he took in the sight of his best friend looking absolutely ruined, yet giddy just from his lips. 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed in response, his smile turning dopey as he laughed. 

“You… You love me…” 

Danny watched in real time the excitement and shock that flooded Sam’s eyes. 

“Oh, thank fucking god,” Sam quickly uttered, throwing his head back, “YOU FINALLY GET IT!” Sam had taken to shaking Danny by the shoulders. 

“That’s actually great news because I’m also in love with you,” Daniel admitted, a giddiness of his own flooding his veins at finally being able to say those words out loud to Sam. 

“I would fucking hope so, you dense idiot.” There was no malice in Sam’s words. Quite the opposite, really. He had leaned back down onto Danny’s chest, burying his face into Danny’s neck as they embraced. 

“Wait… when did you-” 

“Truthfully? When we graduated.”

Daniel started to process what that meant. Since we graduated…

“YOU MEAN WE ACTUALLY COULD’VE FUCKED THIS WHOLE TIME??” 

+++

Tag list: @doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensGateDaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @Gabyvanfleet @Sarakay-gvf @Mamalikes-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @st4rdust-ch0rds @pr41sethemoon @fallonfatality @earthlysorrows @jessicafg03 @rossy1080 @hippievanfleet @spark-my-nature @hayley1623 @schleeble @gretavanflipflop