#ALSO VALENTINE. HE LOOKS ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE

[beeholyshit]

I'M GONNA START CRYING I'M SO ILL RN

[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. 

[lumi077]

X-Men HCs

A/N: my hyperfixations are not very hyperfixating rn. literally they’re changing so fast. But take some nice little relationship headcanons, and the next Chapter of Winters’ Servants is coming soon!!

Characters included: Logan (Wolverine), Scott (Cyclops), Kurt (NightCrawler), Jean

Warnings: potential OOC, nothing else really. kept it nice and light.

Logan (Wolverine):

Logan would absolutely, if you use them, stretch out your new hairbands for you. If you express that you dislike using them unless stretched, he’ll offer to wear them on his wrists for a day or two till they’re stretched to your liking. It could be the most girly hair ties and he’ll proudly wear three on each wrist. When asked, he’ll happily tell them “Just stretchin ‘em for my woman/man/partner”

Scary dog privileges? Scary dog privileges. He adores making you feel safe enough to wear the most skin revealing or feminine clothing. You want to wear something revealing/very feminine but tell him you're scared? He’ll instantly assure you and tell you to wear anything you want. If someone says something, he won’t hesitate to shut them up before you even hear.

There’s going to be a point in your relationship that you’ll realize he absolutely doesn’t care about any of the gross stuff you do. Burp, Fart, don’t shave? He really doesn’t care in the least bit. Definitely the boyfriend that will go, unphased, into the bathroom while you're on the toilet and brush his teeth or shower without a care in the world. If you are comfortable that is, and he secretly preens when he realizes that you're comfy enough to do that stuff around him lol.

I wholeheartedly believe that when he realizes he wants you to be his forever partner, he’ll gift you his dog tags. His past is very personal to him, because he could never remember it for a good part of it. His dog tags are only second to him getting down on one knee. 

Speaking of getting down on one knee, sorry for all the people who want it to be a surprise, but he won’t make a big deal and will tell you about his plans beforehand. No surprise engagement, and no public one. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he wants to make sure you’re ready and want it too. He doesn’t put much on marriage because it doesn’t change much, and doesn't want you to feel pressured to say yes because there are people there. He’ll love you the same married or not, but he does note how pretty you look with the ring he bought you on your finger.

I personally believe he would be more likely to get in a committed relationship with another mutant. I just think a lot of the X-Men would want to be able to relate to their partner and have their partner relate to them, and Logan is going to live a long life so…I can't truly see him with a normal person. 

If you are apart of the X-Men, while he won’t baby you or anything, he finds himself keeping an eye on you the most. There have been a fair amount of times that you find yourself having a Logan shield on the field, and even more often if you are susceptible to projectiles. 

Dates are a norm at this point, Fridays are always the day he takes you out. It’s usually the same place, but he thinks it’s nice. 

Flowers are also a norm, if you mention you like them. 

He doesn’t do much on Valentine’s day because he already does all the normal valentine’s day stuff it weekly or bi-weekly. Does get cheat food so you guys can eat it and watch stupid rom com movies though. 

Scott (Cyclops):

First and Foremost Scott is such a golden retriever. Anything you want, he obtains quickly and with 0 thoughts of you getting him something in return. He just wants to see his partner happy and healthy, with a smile on their face as often as possible.

He is very big on PDA, likes to hold your hand, or slip an arm around your waist, put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc. Overall he just likes touching you, and just because you're in public doesn’t mean anything.

Adding on to his liking of PDA, I feel like he’s possessive. Like in the one X-Men movie, when Logan goes into the past and stops bad shit from happening and goes to touch Jean and he blocks him? Yeah he does that with you but with everyone. He likes people knowing your his and what’s better than you two being attached at the hip in public?

He likes when you wear his things as well, not so much for people knowing you’re his like mentioned above but just because you're adorable in it. Want his sweatshirt? He’s giving it to you even though it's negative 5 out. His cologne? Just take the whole bottle, even though it’s brand new. He’ll get another one!!

When he’s on missions and away, he gives you so many shirts and even a pair of sweats. Sprays the stuffed animals he got you with his cologne, same with your pillows. He will expect the same if it’s you going away for a long time. Or you’ll come back to him sleeping on your side of the bed where it smells the most like you, his face stuffed in one of your pillows that has one of your shirts on it. 

He is very vocal about being your boyfriend, and you being his partner. Everyone in the world knows, yet no one asked. He’ll gush about you to whoever will listen, the rest of the team is so done but they do admit his devotion to you is adorable.

All the ladies and gents and nonbinary pals who want an over the top surprise proposal, this is your man. It’s super romantic, he pays for your nails if you wear them, getting your hair done, and a new outfit. And you can’t even tell it’s because he wants to propose because he does this all the time. Then he takes you to your fav restaurant and pops the question.

Make no mistake though, he has to be 100% sure that you want him to propose to do so. He’s so attuned to you and your likings he gets your dream ring without having to ask everyone close to you first. Which also assures him no one can spoil the surprise.

He is one of the few ones who probably doesn’t care if you're a mutant or not, because his love is 100% blind. He would probably want a mutant partner, but once he falls he falls hard.

He also won’t baby you if you’re in the X-Men, but if he happens to laser them first? Not his fault.

Kurt (NightCrawler):

He is a very shy partner at first. But once he falls for you, and you make it obvious you have fallen for him it all goes out the window. He is a completely different person around you, confident and flirty. He is just so in love. 

Teases you almost constantly, he’s a teaser with everyone but he loves to see you blush and squirm from his words. 

Loves if you run your fingers through his fur, and almost emits a low purr when you do. If you brush it for him, especially if he doesn’t ask you but you WANT to, he swears he is going to marry you one day. 

He takes you places you told him you wanted to go to when you guys were in the talking stage. Paris? Done, let’s get some baguettes for back home! The Bahamas? Pack a bathing suit, and make sure to bring the detangling brush.

He loves non sexual acts of intimacy, like taking baths together!! Your fingers feel like heaven on his scalp when you massage the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. He also loves touching your body, he’s always careful with the fact he has claws but he would never dream of hurting you.

Big on cuddling and all that stuff in private, but I feel like he would want to keep it behind closed doors. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands on you otherwise. 

Long missions with him are never a problem, he’ll just teleport to you wherever you may be and spend time with you before heading back. 

He’s your call bird, and the gossip you two are able to share with one another? It is divine. He seems to know everything, and you know the most obvious stuff but he always makes you feel like Sherlock Holmes when you tell him things he already heard and was going to tell you about. Which is why he always makes you spill the tea first lol.

For marriage and proposing, I can see him accidentally proposing on a mission. Tensions are high, and he’s worried that one of you won’t make it home to the other. The thought alone makes him dread the upcoming battle, but he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes and states with all the conviction in the world “We’ll get married after this.”

You brush it off, after you both survive the battle, that he didn’t mean it. He just wanted you to know how much he loved you. But oh how wrong you are when you walk into a room with all your close friends and family, Kurt in the middle down on one knee and asking you to marry him. Your face was priceless, and lucky for him everyone took pictures. 

He definitely carries around a photo with you wherever he goes, and when he prays he takes it out and not only asks that God protect him, but you as well because there is no life beyond you. Even if you’re not religious he’ll still do it, just for the peace of mind. 

Jean:

She’s the black cat of the relationship for sure. I mean, she has a lot of issues but she always makes you her first priority. 

She keeps tabs on you constantly. What’s your mood, why? She’ll talk to you in your mind when you’re anxious to calm you, and let you know that she’s there with you. She’s probably an anxious persons’ best friend. You don’t even have to talk, she knows what you mean and changes accordingly. 

She is big on communication for sure. If you do something that bothers or hurts her feelings she will sit you down and talk to you about it. And she has this certain way of doing that doesn’t make you feel guilty. She’s just letting you know what she does and doesn’t like and won’t tell anyone else. These things are very private to her. And she expects you to do the same, and her feelings are never hurt by it. 

Jean’s type of love is selfless. She would put herself in danger tenfold just to keep you safe. Mutant or not, she would be the one to baby you if you’re a part of the X-Men as well. There’s always a kind of bubble around you, that not many but you notice. Hence, people think you’re indestructible because you’re the only one who came back uninjured for the fourth time. 

She wants to be independent, but also loves when you do stuff for her. She will never ask, but her heart warms so much when she sees you did something for her because you wanted too and not because she asked. 

She plans your dream proposal. She is almost a roommate in your own mind, she knows what you like and don’t like. 

Small extra blurb: imagine giving telepathic hints that you want a proposal. She thinks “Why are they broadcasting their ring si-ooooh. I see.”

She is so gentle with you, almost afraid that you’ll break and it’ll be all her fault. The way her hands gently caress you or how she holds your hand is so incredibly gentle.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Cod Scenarios

I had thoughts on these racked up in my brain about CoD characters having kids and what type of parents they'd be in a scenario or drabble manner.

Tag list: @puff0o0, @simp4konig, @blingblong55, @azereus, @rustic-guitar-notes, @shadofireshinobi, @anonymuslydumb, @skeletalgoats, @icarustypicalfall, @ghosts-cyphera,@connorsui is at it again, making me blush over her words, AHHHHH I LOVE HER. Did I tag almost everyone I know here? Yes, yes I did 😭

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

(Implied?? Wife!Reader, Parent!Reader. Not really specified, so gender neutral!Reader)

❥ Dad!John Price is the type of dad who'd fondly tell your kids about how you met, tell them stories about his time in the army, his experiences with their uncles and aunts from 141. Enjoying how their little faces express something great, admiring how cool their dad was for being so brave to constantly and willingly put his life on the line in the means of saving people. They tried telling him that they want to follow in his footsteps but that is a big no no. The last thing he wants is them willingly throwing themselves in danger and the risk was far too much.

❥ Dad!Johnny MacTavish is the type of dad to make his kids laugh by blowing raspberries on whatever body part his kids are ticklish on, he enjoys hearing their laughter and giggles. Definitely is the man who grew up with quite a big family so he'd love to have a full house if you were up to having it with him. He's such a family man to the bone, knows how things work around and mostly knows what to say and do when it comes to the kids.

❥ Dad!Kyle Garrick is the type of dad to dance with his kids, letting them have their little feet on top of his, letting them pick the music and guiding the little one. Having them smile and look up at him, his little one thinking it was just the best thing in the world to spend quality time with their dad. Swaying them around while they call him giggling, letting out squeals after he spins them. (I NEED GIRL DAD!GAZ 🥺😭)

❥ Dad!Simon Riley is the type of dad who absolutely HATES it when his kids cry, always doing his best to console them, depending on what made them upset. Being the one to patch them up when it's because of a "boo-boo", god forbid it's because of another person, he'd either make that kid piss themselves or that adult will NEVER see the light of day again. Because of that, the little one always finds themselves looking for their dad's comfort.

❥ Dad!Gary Sanderson who is the type of dad who finds so many ways to make his kid feel appreciated, whether that'd be through letting them help out and make them feel needed, thanking them and returning the favor for handmade gifts on days like Father's day or Valentine's day. The little one is always so eagerly awaiting for their dad to come home, knowing he'd be bearing so meaningful gift that goes in the memory box.

❥ Dad!Alejandro Vargas who is the type of dad who's strict but also not at the same time. Safe to say he did not have fun when Soap taught his kid to curse in Spanish when he first met the kid, that was probably Alejandro's fault for teaching Soap Spanish curses anyway. That kid is going to be loved I tell you, Alejandro has taken them to work just so they can see what he does and safe to say they loved being around everyone that Alejandro works with. (More likely that they still do this together however Alejandro is VERY strict since it's dangerous for the kid to even be out there)

❥ Dad!Rodolfo Parra who is the type of dad whose domestic, he has many memorabilias and scrapbooks of his kid's milestones, even kept the teeth that fell out. Always finding ways to spend time with the kids, whether it'd be through something as simple but meaningful as teaching them Spanish or taking them out to eat. His kids love and adore him, finding that the best time they spend with him is when he lets them talk about their day, listening in and validating their thoughts.

❥ Dad!König who is the type of dad who finds himself absolutely terrified that he's responsible for such a tiny thing. He's extremely protective of them, seeing his little kid whimper and point at something that caused them pain (even if it was by their own accord), König finds himself comforting the little one by soothing their crying and kicking whatever inanimate object it was just to make them feel better. He already hurt himself once or twice doing that and it did make his kid laugh, anything that makes them happy right?

❥ Dad!Kim Hong-Jin who is the type of dad whose a bit irresponsible at times, he tends to roughhouse with his kid a lot. There's definitely a lot of physical and playful activities with him in the means of spending time. He doesn't mean anything by it, just quality time, his kid is one of the reasons behind him stopping his gambling addiction. He wanted to set an example for them. The last thing he wants is for his kid to remember him by something negative so he does his best to spend time with them a lot despite him getting deployed.

Sidenote: I wrote this at 1 am and it was fun but my eyes hurt now, I have plans to go out tomorrow with a friend. Now regarding your guys' requests, ISTG I'm not ignoring you guys, I'm just not in the right headspace to write them except for a few I'm currently working on.

[hopesangelsprite]

Ken Sato HCs

(This man is too fine omg-)

Summary: Just a list of fluffy and filthy headcanons <3

Super, incredibly bratty like omfg 💀

Won't hesitate to tease you in public (bonus points if paparazzi's there lol)

Loves to see you get flustered, thinks it's the 2nd cutest thing in the world next to Emi ofc

Uses "And what about it?", "What're you gonna do if I don't?" and "Make me." on the regular bc he knows you can't 😭

Absolutely adores when you spend time with Emi and him, makes him get all melty and dad like

Refers to you as Mama both in and out of Emi's presence, knows it makes you flustered and loves it

"Look, Emi! Mama's here!!", "C'mon, Mama, don't be like that~"

Other petnames for you: Baby, Babe, Sweet Thing, Honey

Told you he was Ultraman on like the 3rd/4th date bc he wanted no secrets between the two of you

This man was locked in from the start-

Valentines' day? Bro bought you heaps of designer clothes/jewelry

HAD TO TALK HIM DOWN FROM GIVING YOU ONE OF HIS SPORTS CARS

He loves so deeply but can be very shy about some things like opening up and being vulnerable

Once Emi got used to you, he bought you slippers, toiletries, etc. for his house immediately

Wants you around all the time, thinks everything about you is so cute and perfect and omg-

Loves back hugs, giving and receiving

Gets jealous easily and is very pouty when he is

It's literally the cutest thing omg

Did I mention he loves back hugs? He really loves back hugs-

NECK KISSES NECK KISSES NECK KISSES

His neck is incredibly sensitive so neck kisses are a guaranteed ticket to pound town-

Very handsy, very VERY sneaky

Waist grabbing? Yup. Will he hide his hands after smacking your ass as if it wasn't him when it's literally just the two of you in the room? Also yes.

Isn't a boob man: confirmed

His hands are huge and he knows how to use them-

First time you hook up you think he invented fingering bc damn

Skilled when it comes to making you cum multiple times

KEN SATO IS A PLEASURE DOM AND THAT'S THAT!

Loves it when you whimper and beg, thinks it's so adorable

Coaches you through it, praises praises praises praises praises-

"Shh shh, it's okay, I've got you.", "Just a little bit more- there we go just like that.", "I know it feels good but you gotta stay still for me, Mama.", "Ah ah ah, I know you can give me one more."

Keeps his hedge trimmed iykwim

Is gifted and very cocky about it (no pun intended... ok maybe a little)

He's a good 7-9 in. at minimum, very veiny, above average girth

Finds your spot as soon as he's in and uses it until you can't breathe or think properly

Vocal. Ken Sato is very vocal.

Moans, groans, grunts, sighs, hissing, panting- the list goes on

Adores when you're vocal too, has a thing about hearing how good he's making you feel, likes seeing it in the form of tears

Back scratching enthusiast, makes sure you've got a fresh set specifically so he can see the damage they cause in the morning

Please pull his hair, makes him all weak inside

Prefers longer, deeper strokes bc intimacy but won't hesitate fuck like a madman

Refuses to cum anywhere but inside you, he's a family man what can I say 🤷🏿‍♀️

Overall rating: 10000000000000/10, will definitely hit again bc his libido is absolute insanity

Ken Sato is perfect husband and father material; with that I rest my case.

[togament]

as much as i love cute festival fluff with togame (someone else pls send in an ask for it lmao), consider confessing to togame on valentines with homemade chocolate since he’s a big foodie & he, more than anyone, would appreciate the effort 🥰

i can see him maybe not clocking the intention right away either bc he didn’t have friends until shishitoren (+ find it hard to believe anyone would be interested in him like that) & the thought of choji of all ppl making him realize it’s romantic bc the chocolate reader gave him “wasn’t as nice looking as kame-chan’s :<” is soooo funny to me

GHHRHRJRH GNAWING ON YOUR ARM THIS IS ADORABLE!!!!! kinda teared up a bit ngl. imagining a soft blushy togame got me in my feels. i feel like (Also yes pls someone send in a cute festival date hc with togame/any of your faves!!!! I have things to say about our turtle guy in particular but we can do your other faves too. idk i'm in a yappy mood.

“you’re finally ready to confess to togame after mulling it over for months. you even made chocolates for him to (hopefully) immediately devour. things don’t go quite as planned though.”

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : none just fluff, gender neutral reader, reader’s jelly and an overthinker, togame’s in looooove, choji’s a little shit (affectionate)

full story under the cut! fully SFW.

standing at the gates of the ori, you bounce on your heels in sheer nervousness, eyes tirelessly darting around in search for togame with two chocolate boxes in one hand. one smaller one and one huge and beautifully decorated one. god your heart’s beating a mile a minute and your brain’s working overtime. what if he got into trouble? a possibility. what if someone’s confessing to him? of course someone would. he’s tall, handsome, kind, can cook—what’s not to love?

what if someone asked him out on a date? shit.

..what if HE asked someone out on a date? double shit.

oh god. oh no. your form visibly slumps at the thought, doubtlessly breaking your own heart again. but hey, on the bright side, you could eat your own chocolates, right? you made them extra delicious too, making them into flavors you know he’d like. you even snuck in some ramune flavored sweets for him.

…you know you’d hate eating chocolates for the rest of your life after this.

but then, the sun in the form of choji, shines through the dark clouds in your mind. your body visibly straightens back up when you hear his distinct laughter and endless yapping along with the soft crinkles of cellophane and boxes. listening even closer, you can hear togame speak and get promptly cut off by the smaller boy.

breathe. he’s here.

shit— what if those boxes you heard were all his and choji was just carrying them with him? what if he already gave someone a kiss today? what if he’d take your box of chocolates and hand it to his date instead?? what if—

“oh hey it’s bunny.”

you were just ready to walk away when you were stopped in your tracks by his deep voice calling out the nickname he so annoyingly picked for you. even when you’re looking away you could just hear him smiling. you turn, giving both boys a slight wave before you’re met with the absolute mountain of chocolates choji and him are carrying.

you’re not the only one who wanted to confess to him then.

“hey uh-mind adding these to your pile?” you say, failing to mask the sadness in your voice. you catch yourself though, immediately correcting yourself. “got these for you guys. no biggie, really.” you made the chocolates. granted the smaller box’s for choji and it’s way less decorated compared to togame’s. more ‘default’ chocolate box than ‘I have liked you for the longest time please accept my love’ chocolate box. you yap some more, digging your own grave, “these were on sale today so… thought you guys might want a snack.” you didn’t get them on sale. hell you made each and every single one by hand for the both of them to suit their tastes. god knows how much time you and him have spent talking about cooking and food.

but then choji gasps.

“hey! lying’s not nice!” choji chirps at you, dropping the boxes of chocolates on the ground unceremoniously. togame could only look on since his hands are already occupied with even more of choji’s valentines chocolates. the smaller boy looks at you suspiciously, albeit playfully. "you made these, didn't you?"

fuck. he noticed. you stare at choji like a deer in headlights now, too stunned to utter a single word.

he eyes the beautifully painted box in your hands and you pray for the ground to just eat you.

“iiiiis that one mine?” choji points at the larger box, eyes shining. togame looks on though, silent but his mind’s racing too. little did you know the chocolates they were carrying were all choji’s, given by his droves of admirers and friends alike. while togame didn’t mind not getting any chocolates this year and all those years before that, he finds himself hoping.

please don’t let that be choji’s.

“Wh-no! it’s-“ “-kame-chan’s? waaah his box is way larger and prettier than mine is!” he cuts you off, eyeing the boxes as you hold them in your hand. still, he takes his smaller box from you. “why’d you give kame-chan a bigger one? you like him or something?”

a pause.

“is that why you’re blushing?” he prods, wiggling a finger at you. "is that why you're blushing too, kame-chan?", he adds, wiggling two fingers at the both of you.

you could just explode at that moment.

“HUH?? What??? n-no! I mean YES-“ “oh so you do?” choji adds, cutting you off again. Taking togame’s larger box of chocolates from your hands, he shuffles through the chocolate boxes he dropped on the floor, handing the taller, now stunned boy his first legit box of valentines chocolates.

you three are blanketed in silence. with the exception of choji’s giggles.

"choji wait-" “welp, I’ll be in the ori!” he brightly exclaims, swiftly taking all of the chocolate boxes from togame’s arms and off the floor, leaving him with the single, most prettiest one in the bunch.

yours.

choji leaves you both with a playful wink and you both stand there, glancing at each other and fumbling awkwardly.

silently, he opens your chocolate box and is immediately greeted with a beautifully arranged selection of chocolates and sweets. his gaze flits from the box, to your reddened face and back again. you motion for him to eat. and he does.

he didn’t think it was possible to like you even more.

he pops one of the ramune shaped bites in his mouth and his eyes immediately widen in delight behind his amber sunglasses. pushing the glasses up his forehead to meet your eyes properly, you fail to tear away your eyes in time.

“sure you made these yerself, bunny? could've fooled me. these are restaurant quality. ” he says in between bites. his tone’s something he only uses around you and choji. vulnerable, safe, gently.

your heart’s beating way too fast for your own good.

“mhm. thought you might like that one because y’know… ramune and all.” you respond, “your favorite, right?”

with an acknowledging hum, he closes the box, twisting and admiring the beautifully decorated container, a forest green box speckled with gold and ornate lines. you really set the bar way up high for him. he smiles softly to himself and you swear you see his cheeks redden a tint.

“…can ya teach me to make them?” his voice grows softer, just enough for you to hear him. “how’s next weekend?” as soon as the words escape his lips, his heartbeat rises up to his throat. what if you didn't want to? he's never done this before, making the first move. he still can't fully grasp why you'd go so far as make something for him, someone who's only respected out of fear, someone who's wronged so many for just one cause. it haunts him sometimes. the Shishitoren could forgive him but he can't forgive himself. why would you?

you'll convince him soon enough. make him see what you see in him, what others see in him.

now's not that time though. your mind’s already in another dimension, thinking about him giving his date YOUR dessert with the recipe YOU made for him. letting out a soft disappointed sigh before opening your mouth, you respond, “maybe I could.“

“Maybe huh.” he echoes you, arching a brow at you with a small frown ghosting his lips.

“yeah, maybe. I could send the recipe over to you if you want. you could try making it with your date-“

“date? I want to make them for you next month, doofus. only you.” he retorts, wanting to get his point across. he realizes you're overthinking again. he's assuring you. meeting your eyes, he sees the shade of red on your cheeks darken. you look like a fish out of water, mouth agape and eyes wide. extending a hand towards you, he nudges your chin up with his knuckle. “y’know what that means right? I like you.”

a small gasp escapes your lips.

“you do..?” a pause. “why?”

he laughs, playfully pinching your cheek.

“I just do, cutie. always have. I take it you like me too?”

you nod. do it properly this time.

“yeah. I really do.”

he smiles, dimples deepening on his cheeks. he looks so relieved you like him back. you swear you feel like you’re on cloud nine — is this really happening?

“it’s a date then." he says as he reaches over to pat your head. "you better not flake on me, bun. Else I’d take that imaginary date of mine out instead.”

scoffing, you push his chest and he lets out a soft 'oof'.

“you wouldn't dare—“

“ARE YOU GUYS DATING YET??”

choji screams from the distance, the entire Shishitoren gang’s staring at you both from the ori, desperately waiting for the both of you to finish. they've been watching you both the entire time with bated breath. his friends are all cheering him on.

a pause.

togame reaches over to hold your hand, intertwining his long fingers through yours. hoots and hollers echo as he waves them off with a hand.

you could only smile up at him, squeezing his hand into yours.

he squeezes back.

a/n: hehehehe self doubt togame making me soft. MAKE HIM FEEL WORTHY GOD DAMN IT. DATE HIM AND DATE HIM HARD.

[ellestray]

elle's favorite ateez fics. f = fluff ; s = smut ; sg = suggestive ; a = angst. ✧ = absolute favorites, must read. (only adding notes for these few fics to ensure readability for the overall list!) word count in brackets. last updated: may 2nd, 2024

authors; if you wish to be untagged, please let me know!

currently no individual fic for hongjoong, yeosang & jongho. please refer to the OT8 section, or come back for future updates!

성화 SEONGHWA

✧ [11,1k] plastic flowers — @bobateastay ( f ; s ; a ) ↪ note: this fic revolves around abortion, so please keep this in mind before reading. i read this on a flight— and i don't know if it was the altitude, but it broke me. the author beautifully wrote this, in a way where unconditional love, hope and pain are intertwined. one of the most pleasantly surprising and touching reads i've had on this platform by far.

✧ [2,3k] essence — @hwaightme ( f ) ↪ note: this one is for the poetic, hopelessly romantic fics lovers. everything i've read from this author was beautiful so far! the poetry in this fic was so pretty that i felt the need to share it to my friends... although i usually never share fics out of tumblr. i'm excited to read through more of your writings, bai!

[1,2k] the first snow and being in love — @i-luvsang ( f )

[884] 02:36 — @hwapetals ( f )

[642] adoration — @kisshwa ( f ; sg )

[8,6k] both — @hwaightme ( s ; f )

[200] 10:24pm — @hotteoki ( f )

[986] anguish — @kisshwa ( a )

[n/a] bf texts — @hotteoki ( f )

[79] 9:22pm — @cozykpopblurbs ( f )

[1,6k] i'll be with you — @cheollipop ( f )

[519] lazy make out sessions — @crazyforhwa ( s )

[1,2k] realistic sex — @byuntrash101 ( s ; f )

윤호 YUNHO

✧ [13k + 18,2k] unprofessional attraction ; pt.1 , pt.2 , [tbc] — @jk97 ( f ; s ; a ) ↪ note: i was so engulfed into this fic that i skipped a lecture to continue reading. fics that are heavier nsfw-wise usually aren't my thing, but here, every single line pulled me in. hell, i felt even more insane about yunho after reading this. saying i'm excited about the next chapters would be an understatement.

✧ [14k] closer, face down — @ncteez ( s ; f ) ↪ note: again, although i usually prefer fluff over smut, i absolutely loved this fic... the build up made it so enticing! i don't know if a re-edit still is in the works, but i'd absolutely re-read it regardless!

✧ [84,5k] project: make you love me (series) — @hwaslayer ( f ; a ; s ) ↪ note: pulled an all nighter to read the entire series in one go... it was that fun to read! the relationship was built up at a nice, natural pace, while still keeping the reader on their toes. (this made me very excited about the seonghwa series in progress..!)

[1,1k] bedfellows — @sungbeam ( f )

[1,3k] he knows he loves you — @honeyhotteoks ( f )

[2,5k] convenience store chances — @ohmyamor ( f )

[n/a] boyfriend texts — @koizekomi ( f )

[300] nothing sweeter — @i-luvsang ( f )

[1,1k] nsfw alphabet — @yunhobug ( s )

[425] 3:52am — @edenesth ( f ; sg? )

산 SAN

✧ [3,7k] leave the window open — @sungbeam ( f ) ↪ note: so sweet. so comforting. the kind of heartwarming fic that feels like hot cocoa on a cold winter day. (also made me feel insane about san... but let's not talk about that.)

[1k] always available — @everyonewooeverywhere ( f )

✧ [1,6k] capturing us — @03jyh23 ( f ) ↪ note: another sweet, poetic, hopelessly romantic fic— my favorite kind! finding fics like these always feels like discovering a little treasure. looking forward to all the wips!

[n/a] boyfriend texts — @koizekomi ( f )

[2,6k] take a break - @cheollipop ( f ; s )

[249] 21:23 — @petitemingi ( f )

[350] boyfriend headcanons — @i-luvsang ( f )

[600] one more minute — @seonghwaddict ( f )

[1,3k] no strings, no expectations — @seonghwaddict ( a ; sg ; f? )

[468] stretch marks — @beenbaanbuun ( f )

[475] valentine's series : movies — @whimsicalwritingsandmore ( f )

[n/a] instagram stories with bf san — @lwtqts ( f )

[371] hold me — @cheeseceli ( f )

민기 MINGI

[800] untitled — @cheollipop ( a ; f )

[2,8k] mind over matter — @mingisaddctn ( s )

[256] 23:22 — @petitemingi ( f )

[1k] 23:46 — @seonghwaddict ( f )

[447] princess treatment — @cheeseceli ( f )

우영 WOOYOUNG

✧ [1,2k] broke you heart, i'll put it back together — @dairyminki ( a ; f ) ↪ note: loved this so much that i had to read it twice. something about wooyoung hopelessly in love wanting to fix this... name twin, if you're reading this, hi- i'd be seated for a part 2 if you ever have the time to write it!

[2,2k] vacation — @bobateastay ( f ; s )

OT8

[700] when you don't say i love you back — @jjunberry ( f )

[2,4k] romance tropes — @beenbaanbuun ( f )

[n/a] situationships (texts) ; pt.1 , pt.2 — @yunhoszn ( f )

[2,9k + 3k] as boyfriends ; hyung line , maknae line — @honeyhotteoks ( f : s )

[n/a] sex ban (texts) — @kisshwa ( sg ; f )

[n/a] sending you a pic of themselves (texts) — @bombuni ( f )

[1,3k] outfit turn-ons — @starillusion13 ( sg )

[1,2k] make-up sex — @nateezfics ( f ; a ; s )

[944] showering — @seonghwaddict ( f ; sg )

[1,6k] as boyfriends — @atiny-moon ( f ; sg )

[2,5k] that one specific habit they do that highlights their love language — @sanhwaism ( f )

[1,1k] top 3 kinks — @seonghwaddict ( s )

[2,8k] making out — @sxcret-garden ( sg ; f )

[n/a] asking them to draw a flower (texts) — @eightmakesonebraincell ( f )

if any link is broken, or if i made any mistake when tagging fics— please kindly let me know!

[missglaskin]

Yandere S.T.A.R.S Team (Resident Evil) platonic headcanons

Note- I am back (It's been years), this has been in my drafts so I said fuck it/this is so messy and the timeline/canon may not be accurate but enjoy! This is mainly platonic, but w/some characters it could be interpreted romantically

Characters; Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, Joseph Forest, Brad Vickers, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, Enrico Marini, Kenneth Sullivan, Edward Dewey

The first person you perhaps meet is Albert; he is the leader of the S.T.A.R.S Team. Not only do all the recruiters get approved by him, but he also overlooks all your tests. He greets you like any other, but gradually something takes a hold of him. He's in denial at first, even seeming harsh. You may initially believe he didn't like you; oblivious to the countless files and cameras hidden everywhere.

Having the rest of the team be just as enamored was not on the table. You are immediately welcomed by the team and Rebecca is the first to befriend you since you two are the youngest of the team. Like how Richard was tasked with watching over Rebecca, he’s tasked with the same responsibility over you (even if Wesker preferred to do it himself).

Chris can't help but grow quickly fond of you. He positions himself in the role of your protector; feeling the utmost responsibility for your happiness and safety. So if you have any problems - whether it's with Chief Irons or getting in trouble for say, breaking a rule; trust he'll be quick to intervene and 'save' the day.

You're all Chris ever talks about to Claire and before long, the two of you cross paths. Claire, like her brother assumes herself in the role of being your friend right away. She occasionally pays you visits and you can be sure that you will receive calls from times when she's unable to visit. Claire expects Chris to keep her informed of you at all times.

Barry, Enrico, and Kenneth all take fatherly roles; they look at you and already placed adopted papers on the table ready for you to sign. It makes it all the harder for Wesker to have any absolute control as they all put their foot down.

Barry adores you and it’s not taken lightly when it’s said he treats you as his child, probably cause he views you as actually one of his own. He invites you to a family dinner, introducing you to his family who all naturally take a liking to you. Barry insists on his house always being open if you need a place to stay or run into trouble. 

Since Barry sees you as his own, there is a never-end to his dad jokes. Even when you comment on how terrible it is, he likes seeing the smile on your face. Trust you'll be invited to every birthday, barbecue, or any family Burton event.

Enrico while he adopted a fatherly role, he was a bit reluctant to get so attached to you. He’s the few in the team who's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to call out the others when he thinks they are going too far. He worries a lot about your safety, and most times it's Enrico who comes out on top of arguments on who gets to drive you home. 

Kenneth as the oldest of the team, feels the most responsible for you. He is aware just like Enrico and doesn't wish for you to be scared of him or the team. He wants you to come to him whenever you need anything, even for small tasks such as finding a specific file. Like Enrico, Kenneth has no problem telling the others to back off if you need space.

More trouble comes along when Forest and Joseph come along. They develop their tendencies the quickest and tend to be the most clingy out of the team. They (along with Chris) become your partners in crime.

Joseph is someone you can always count on to make you smile even in the most serious of situations; he doesn’t care when others lecture him for it. You're not safe from his teasing. Granted you're not the target of his pranks but he likes to poke fun at you from time to time. It's why no alarms are ringing in your head when he says something questionable, assuming he’s just being Joseph.

You're not safe from Forest's playful teasings either. He can be a little annoying, poking your cheek or trying to tickle you when wanting your attention. Like Joseph, he's very affectionate, putting his arm around your shoulder and resting his head on your lap if you allow it. The others lecture him for doing it so publicly but Joseph knows it's jealousy talking more than anything.

As said, a squad of its own is formed; Chris, Joseph, Forest, and you. While they tend to be jealous, the three are okay with sharing when it comes to each other. Forest and Chris enjoy competing in shoot training and showing off who can do it better, inviting you to place bets. They're happy to show you all the gun's tricks and let you choose your weapon's signature.

Joseph, being a mechanic, can't always spend as much time with you. But he'll eagerly drag you into teaching you the ropes, whisking you away from the other two. He beams with pride when you grasp something from his impromptu lessons. Even if he's not exactly teaching you anything, he's happy to chat about anything as he works. 

Jill becomes someone you’re close to, someone whom Chris and Barry trust to leave you alone with. She’s not afraid to whisk you away from the others when she wants to and won’t hesitate to call out anyone selfishly taking your time (Uhm Joseph). 

Most of all, Jill loves having girl time with you. She's there for any fashion advice, gladly taking you shopping to revamp your wardrobe. If you're unsure how to do your makeup, she's eager to help, though Jill never wants to teach you so you can keep coming to her.

Jill is also willing to use any excuse to have you stay over at her place anytime even suggesting sharing an apartment to ‘save money”. And if you think Wesker’s the only one with a bunch of files, Jill has a hidden drawer filled with everything she has on you. 

Brad becomes incredibly attached but is a bit shy about approaching you. He'll do little things to make your day better, like bringing your favorite coffee (watching you do it too many times) or organizing your desk just the way you like it.

Brad tries to agree with everything you do, supporting any ideas you bring forth in, team meetings and hesitates to snitch on you, always trying to talk to you first to prevent trouble (aka punishments). Similar to Kenneth, he's aware of his tendencies and doesn't want you to fear him.

Richard is the softest guy on the team as said, was tasked with watching over you and quickly grew fond of you, He has made it well known that if you ever need help you can seek him out even when you get in trouble, he’ll gladly keep it hidden from the others to avoid you being in trouble even taking the brunt of it.

If you find yourself spending time with Richard, trust that Rebecca is there, too, being the sweetest in the group as well. Initially, she might not fully grasp her tendencies, but once she does, her sole concern is your safety and happiness. She frowns upon hearing Jill and Chris discussing ways to keep you confined and is the one who tries to reassure the others not to be too 'harsh' on you.

Edward may appear intimidating, but he's actually a softie at heart. While he might not warm up to you as quickly as Forest and Joseph did, given some time, he grows fond of you and eventually places him as your trusted friend. He's aware that his demeanor can be intimidating and desires nothing more than for you to feel comfortable opening up to him, always offering a smile whenever he sees you around the RPD.

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

Chief Irons has learned that you're the one person he can't even dare to go near. You might be a troublemaker, breaking every rule in the book, but Albert will put his foot down to ensure nothing comes of it. It's enough that the rest of the team has a dislike towards Irons, and he, along with everyone in the RPD, knows that crossing you means crossing the Stars team.

Wesker also keeps the extent of his monitoring and knowledge of you a closely guarded secret. He's aware that Kenneth, Enrico, Richie, Edward, and Barry all vocally dislike the idea of 'stalking' you in such ways (they all do but try to keep it as ‘morally right’). In his grand plan, he hopes to lure you away, but he must do it in a way that won't raise suspicion.

You have the most protective people watching over you. Even a simple accident like someone spilling a cup on you puts everyone on high alert.

Your favoritism doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the RPD, sparking rumors around the station that Edward and Barry quickly shut down whenever they hear someone bad-mouthing you.

Chris and Forest, on the other hand, can be incredibly impulsive, leading to all sorts of issues that Wesker and Enrico have to deal with. Jill and Joseph even got in trouble once for punching someone.

That means going on no dangerous missions; the one thing they all agree on. Wesker ensures that all your missions are carefully managed, eliminating any risks of you being in danger, and he pretends not to know what you mean if you ask. The other members are willing to gaslight you, suggesting that you just happen to get the easy ones, even Rebecca and Brad.

They're all eager to fight each other to train you, each claiming they're better at teaching you self-defense. Chris and Forest are the ones who usually end up teaching you since they're often the first ones to arrive. But everyone knows that if Wesker insists on training you, they can't object. And it's probably for the best, as some (Uhm Richard, and Edward) will pretend to lose or go easy on you because they don't want to "hurt" you.

The team normally doesn’t go out, but they all want to spend time with you. Usually, all of you go to diners (except for Wesker, wonder why). There's a little argument over who should order you to prove who knows you the best.

Your seat is chosen to please everyone, sometimes between Jill and Chris, other times between Richard and Rebecca. Another silent argument happens when they debate on who should pay for you; Enrico succeeds by slipping the payment to the waiter when the others aren’t looking.

Everyone always makes sure you come home safe. You expect numerous calls from everyone checking up on you. They all secretly know you're fine, as they're in cahoots with each other, but they just want to hear your voice.

There's also a chance that if Richard, Forest, or Jill are the ones bringing you home, they'll make some excuse about needing to stay overnight because they're tired or the weather is bad.

 If you need someone to drive you to the station or pick you up, perhaps because you can’t drive, they're all willing to fight each other once again to do so. They've left important meetings or appointments countless times just to rush to your aid. It's almost always Wesker, Richard, Enrico (and sometimes Chris) who beat the others in picking you up.

Once again, you're always taken to events that the teammates have. Brad is getting takeout, he's on his way to pick you up since he assumes you're also hungry. Forest wants to go out for a drink, prepare for him to be at your door, and when you attend together, he’s protecting your drink with his life and will even pretend to be your boyfriend. Barry has a baseball game he wants to attend, so why not come with him and his family. 

Jill needs to pick up a new outfit or something in the way, she decides to take you as well. Rebecca comes along, and sometimes the three of you have spa days in the process. Rebecca also loves going on road trips with you; there needs to be a person or two with you to ensure nothing bad happens. Rebecca once brought you to her favorite team's basketball game and the two of you shared those nachos and fries. It was Rebecca's happiest memory.

Movie nights are a must. Brad and Edward agree with anything you wish to watch, while Jill and Joseph are fighting over which ones to watch. Chris and Forest are trying to get your attention more than actually watching a movie. Meanwhile, Rebecca is actually enjoying the movie and wants to talk to you about it later on. She and Richard ensure you have your popcorn, and Richard brings your favorite bakery treats.

Expect to be always praised when you're around the team. Wesker himself praises you for a job well done whenever you find a clue or bring him the right file. Richard, Edward, and Rebecca are the most vocal. Also expect Chris and Barry to give you a pat on the back, while Forest and Joseph jokingly pat your head.

Wesker has you as his right-hand assistant, even when it’s not officially confirmed as such. You're tasked to help and stay by him whenever he needs assistance. He pretends not to see everyone side-eyeing him when he places your desk right next to his, but then again, they all ignore his stare when they come to your desk for whatever excuse they need.

The best people to comfort you are Barry, Enrico, Kenneth, and Richard. These men hate seeing you in tears. Brad will try to make you laugh while hugging you, while also finding the right words to comfort you. You can lie to Enrico, and he'll still know; he's memorized your body language, pulling you into an immediate hug before the tears even come. 

Kenneth's ability to comfort shines in giving the best advice and solving any issues you have. Richard will sit next to you and listen; it could be the middle of the night, and he'll gladly answer any call or stay up to do any activities that will cheer you up.

Something everyone has huge arguments about is punishments; it gets heated at times. These discussions are, of course, not done in your presence.

Wesker is open to punishments, Chris and Jill agree with precautions, and Barry may reluctantly agree but claim he wants nothing to do with it. Brad and Rebecca voice their disagreement but can’t really intervene. Edward and Richie, like Barry, say they want nothing to do with it. Forest and Joseph don’t like it but will let the others make the decisions. Enrico and Kenneth are the most vocal against such decisions.

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

Everything is going well in the team until the mansion incident.

You had to be with the Alpha team, unaware of the fate that fell upon the Bravo team, as there was no way Wesker would have let you out of his sight.

You had to witness Joseph get mauled by the zombie dogs, and if it weren’t for Wesker shooting the one coming at you and Chris pulling you along, you may have been a victim of it. Getting into the mansion has them immediately checking for injuries, only to realize you are just shaken up.

If you try to suggest coming along with Chris to check on what’s happening, Wesker immediately disapproves, even pulling rank to have you stay by him, and Jill agrees. Chris assures you he'll be just fine.

Things happen and it may lead you to be separated from Wesker and Jill. It makes all of them panic and look for you. Chris is nervous but assumes you must be with either Wesker or Jill. Jill and Wesker are trying to remain calm as they search. There is a chance you will meet Rebecca, who informs you of Edward's death, and this leads to you reuniting with Chris. 

Alternatively, you may come across Barry, who refuses to leave your side, leading you to reunite with Jill. Both scenarios will have you meeting Richard, who immediately embraces you upon seeing you safe. You may also encounter Enrico, who seems hesitant to inform you of who he believes is responsible for the situation.

Forbid you get injured at any moment in the mansion, everyone will be in panic. Barry will try to reassure you, holding your wound while Jill rushes to get any herbs. Or Rebecca will try to tend to you while Chris silently panics in the background, refusing to leave your side. Richard will insist you stay in a room for your safety while he tries to find Rebecca or first aid. Enrico tries to remain calm, bringing you along with him as he rids the area of any zombies, fearing the risk of leaving you alone.

Soon enough, you will find out about Wesker's involvement, and his first act is to keep you as a hostage, even knocking you out. He’s merely bluffing but needs to keep the others away. If he encounters Enrico, he is well aware the man knows he’s a traitor and will kill him in front of you. After all, you will know the truth either way.

It all ends with Wesker believed to be 'dead,' killed by the tyrant, and the mansion about to blow up. You and everyone mourn all those who you have lost, and you are surrounded by the remaining survivors as they try to comfort you and tend to any injuries you may have gained. 

You are too lost in your grief and all you have experienced that you don’t realize the eyes all watching you, as they all make a silent vow to themselves to forever keep you safe. And most of all, you don’t know that Wesker has been reborn, getting out of the mansion as he plots his revenge.

@aphroditelovesu @yanderes-galore @gwynsly @tiddlybops

[alastor-simp]

Be My Valentine - Alastor x Female Reader

♥️HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE! Also I know Alastor is AroAce, but lets just assume in this fic he is not. Enjoy♥️

It was finally Valentine’s Day in Hell, a little holiday that some demons enjoy doing with their partners and others that find it absolutely ridiculous, like a certain deer demon. Alastor didn’t much care for a silly little festivity like this. He found romance a bit ridiculous, but he wouldn’t go as far as to make fun of someone else in a relationship, it wasn’t who he was. He did find Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship adorable, since he saw how happy the two of them were together. The little sparks between Husker and Angel were easy for him to spot, and it led to lot of teasing at the hands of Alastor, which earned him a middle finger from a certain cat on occasions.

Since it was Valentine’s Day, Charlie thought it would be a great idea to decorate the hotel. Heart paper strings were hanging from the ceiling, along with XOXO and heart balloons on the walls. It wouldn’t be Valentine’s Day without some sweets, so Charlie along with Niffty made some chocolate covered strawberries and pretzels for everyone else to enjoy. You were trying to figure out how to help liven the mood. “Music would be nice” you thought. Heading over to the record player, you skimmed for any good songs to play. Frank Sinatra was what you picked, and you decided to play that. The melody began to carry out all throughout the lobby, catching everyone ears, causing them to sway. “Ah! Excellent choice my dear!” You heard Al’s voice call out from behind you. He was sitting on one of the chairs, with a hot cup of coffee in his hand, wearing a pleasing smile. Smiling back, you made your way over to the couch and took a seat, listening to the tunes.

Soon Charlie came running back, “Okay everyone! Ready to start the Valentine gift exchange!” Before the decorations were put up, Charlie suggested that everyone pitch in and do a Valentine gift exchange. The gifts would be exchanged between two individuals: Charlie + Vaggie, Angel Dust + Husk, Niffty + Sir Pentious, and You + Alastor. Everyone got together and presented the gifts. Charlie had given a bottle of perfume and new hair bow for Vaggie. Vaggie gave Charlie a unicorn plushie and T-shirt with their faces on them. Angel got Husk a fancy bottle of Italian wine. Husk gave Angel a popular perfume from the Lust ring plus some mini outfits for Fat Nuggets. Niffty had actually handmade mini plushies of Sir Pentious and his egg bois. Sir Pentious got Niffty some roses plus a new sewing kit.

Now it was time for you and Alastor to exchange gifts. While you did have something for Al, there was something else you wanted to give him, but it was a surprise. Alastor was smiling down at you, hands behind his back, holding a mini box and bouquet. “Here you are my dear!” He handed you the box and flowers. Ahh he remembered how much you loved (your favorite flowers). Thanking Alastor, you opened the box, which contained a beautiful ruby necklace

“W-ow Al! This is beautiful! Thank you.” Holding the necklace up, you looked up at Alastor, face flushed. “You’re welcome, my dear! Allow me!” Grabbing the necklace from your hands, he motioned his body behind you, helping to place the necklace around your neck. Turning back around, you pulled out your gift and presented it to Al, “Happy Valentines Day Al” Grabbing the black box with red ribbon from your hand, he opened it, revealing a new rose tinted monocle. He had broken the one he had before, and didn’t have the time to replace it. “Ah I needed a new monocle. Thank you kindly, y/n!” Smiling you nodded your head and faced back towards the others

Al looked into the box again and saw a little piece of paper that was placed underneath the monocle. Turning away, he took the paper out and read it:

“ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏꜰᴛᴏᴘ ᴀᴛ 8 ᴘᴍ”

Well well, what was this? Another surprise, perhaps? Smile widening on his face, He placed the paper in his suit pocket, before turning back to everyone like nothing happened. The day continued as normal, with everyone chatting about random topics and participating in some bonding activities like board games and watching some random romance movies. It soon gotten late and it was time for everyone to head to bed, or so you thought. The glances you saw between Charlie and Vaggie hinted that they were going to be doing something else. Even Husk and Angel dust, especially since you saw Angel dragging Husk into his bedroom, well good for them, they make a cute couple. Going to head up and finish your plans, your eyes caught Al who had looked right at you. You smiled and walked away.

**8 PM- Alastors POV**

"Hmm I wonder what the little darling has planned for me?” Al thought to himself, as he made his way to the location you told him in the note. Ascending up the stairs, Al arrived at the door that led to the rooftop and opened it slowly. His eye widen at what he saw. In front of him was a small dinner table with chairs, decorated with candles and roses.

He was left stunned by what he saw. Walking closer to where the table is, he admired the little set-up. "Do you like it?" Turning his head around, Al saw you standing there, wearing a flowy black dress, bright smile place on your face. Alastor looked back at the table, then at you, "Was this the little surprise you had planned for me? If you wanted to have dinner with me, all you had to do was ask, my dear." Alastor gave a soft smile, making his way to you, lifting your chin, "You look positively radiant, darling." His words caused you to flush, "T-thank you. Go and take a seat Al. I'll be right back," Alastor smiled and let you go, heading over to the chair to take a seat.

Soon, you came back holding two plates, the aroma wafting off of them was mouth-watering. Placing them down, the smile on Al's face had widen. In front of him was a tender venison steak, his favorite, along with a side of salad and baked potatoes.

After that, you had grabbed a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, and poured it into the wine glasses for both you and Al. Once everything was set in place, you slowly took a seat on the other side of the table. "This is my first time cooking venison, so I hope you like it." You fidgeted with your fingers under the table. "This looks spectacular! Thank you my dear!" He grabbed his wine glass and held it up in front of you, "Cheers, my dear!" Smiling, you grabbed your glass, bumping it against Al's, letting out a small clink. The both of you started to eat the meal you prepared, well you were watching Al more than eating, monitoring his reaction. You knew about his diet and what he mainly ate, so last thing you wanted was for him to try the venison you prepared and do a spit-take. The fork in Al's hand, held a piece of steak, and slowly it made its way into his mouth. The whole time you were sitting there, gazing at his reaction to see if he liked it. His expression didn't change, but he went back in for another bite, and another, and another. Heaving a sigh of relief, you were happy that he liked the meal, letting you go back to your meal.

Soon the both of you had finished eating, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Delicious!" Al said, wearing a pleasant smile. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Are you in the mood for some dessert?" You said as you got up from the table, and made your way over to grab the dessert that was hidden. Walking back, you placed a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries on the table.

"My dear, you know I'm not a fan of sweets." Al said to you, while looking at the bowl with strained face. "I made these myself using dark chocolate, so they won't be as sweet, trust me." Grabbing one of the strawberries, you held it up towards all, "Say ahh." Al raised an eyebrow at that, but he shook his head, amused at your actions, before taking a bite. Looking at him, you were expecting him to spit it out, but surprisingly he swallowed, "Not bad!"

Whew, glad he liked them. Now it was time to tell him what you were thinking/feeling. "Um Al? Can I ask you something?" Alastor looked at you, smiling like the joker. "Of course my dear! What is it?" He leaned in, placing his elbows on the table, lifting his head up with his hands. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy, and your palms were sweating. Your eyes looked down at your hands, until you turned your head back up to look at Al. "W-will you be my valentine?" Alastor eyes widen at that statement, but he continued to gaze at you. Feeling nervous, you looked back down to your hands, "Y-you don't have to answer, I understand you find romance and stuff a hindrance." you said. The two of you were sitting in awkward silence, until you heard his chair scrap across the ground, indicating he had gotten up. You knew it, he was going to leave. You had made him upset.

A hand was placed under your chin, making you look up. Alastor hadn't left, he had only gotten up to get closer to you. "Stand up, my dear." He said to you. Moving slowly, you got up from your chair and stood in front of Al. He continued to look down at you, his eyes flashing crimson. Then he got closer, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug. "What an adorable request! I must admit, developing relationships with another is still new to me. However! I wouldn't mind forming one with you, my dear. I accept!" He whispered all of this in your ear, causing goosebumps to form. Your eyes got teary, as you hugged him back. After a while, Alastor moved a bit, placing one hand under your chin, and the around your back. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were soft. "Happy Valentines day, my doe." His head moved closer to yours, causing you to slowly shut your eyes, letting his lips press against yours in a soft kiss.

~END~

Tagging:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi, @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman

[ihave-atummyache]

jewelry

Stray Kids Imagine

OT8

summary: jewelry that shows the world u are their’s.

6.5k words

im not gonna say nsfw but im not gonna say sfw either…. some where in the middle.

absolute tooth rotting fluff tho!

also my seungmin brainrot is insane rn so like… just read and u will see

this is the song that inspired me to write this, can’t explain why, it just did.

Bang Chan:

Chan is definitely the type to absolutely spoil his baby!! Whether it's with jewelry or clothes or just nice words. He is such a caretaker and genuinely enjoys taking care of others.

He actually got you the locket for Valentine's Day. On the front, it has a pretty floral design and on the back in dainty cursive, it has his initials and your initials. You felt the tears immediately spring to your eyes when you opened the little black box.

"Chan! You didn't! This is so pretty. Oh my God," you can't stop the smile from spreading across your face and Chan can't help but mirror your own expression.

"Open it, love," his voice is gentle and you bite down on your lip to try to fight back the smile a little bit. You grab the necklace and gently unwrap it from the cushion before pulling it out and opening the small locket.

Inside is a picture that you and Chan had taken the first time you visited him. You had asked a stranger to take a picture of the two of you in front of the Han River and it turned into one of your favorite pictures of the two of you.

It was the same photo you used for your soft launch and one of your many phone backgrounds of you and Chan. Hyunjin had even painted the picture and gifted it to Chan for his birthday and it hung in his room, right above his desk.

"Baby," your voice cracks and your bottom lip juts out as your eyes fill with more water, "How did I get so lucky? You're literally perfect, you know that?" You finish your sentence and look up at your sweet boyfriend, his eyes swallow you up with pure love and adoration and you hand him the necklace before turning around and sweeping your hair over your shoulder.

"Can you put it on me?" You ask quietly. He grabs the necklace from your palm over your shoulder and twists it until its perfectly straight. He places the necklace over your head and fiddles with the delicate clasp for a bit before placing a kiss to the back of your neck, something he does every time he puts a necklace on you.

Your fingers reach up and gently touch the pendant, looking down at it again. You truly lucked out on getting the most perfect boyfriend you could ever ask for.

You turn around and press your lips against his, swinging your leg over his thighs and straddling his lap. You grab both his cheeks in your hands and hold tightly before you pull away from the kiss and start kissing him all over his face, his dimples, his nose, his forehead, his eyes.

He can’t stop the giggles falling from his lips at your antics. Your love for the gift made him feel absolutely elated.

"I'm so in love with you. It makes no sense," you confess and pull back to look down at your boyfriend again.

"I'm so in love with you, babygirl. You own my heart," his ears redden at his own confession and he grabs your hand from his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the palm of your hand.

"You really outdid yourself. If this is what our first Valentine's Day is like together then I can't imagine the rest of the holidays," you giggle at him and he smiles against your wrist before letting his hands drop around your waist, pulling you tighter to him.

"I want to make love to you now. I want everything off except this locket. How does that sound?" he asks suddenly and you smile down at him, pressing into his hips a bit harder, applying pressure to where he is slowly getting hard under you.

"Sounds like a plan," you agree and lean in to kiss your sweet boyfriend again.

Lee Know:

Minho is a bit possessive. We all know this. He can't help but wanting to make sure everyone knows that you are his, even in a subtle way such as a necklace.

"Baby? Are you home?" Minho's voice echoed through the empty space of your apartment. He continues walking further into your house until he finally lays eyes on you in your bedroom.

You were knocked out cold, making time for your daily nap. He chuckles as he shrugs his jacket off and places it in the chair at your desk. He reaches into the pocket of the jacket and pulls out the thin chain. He rolls the pendant in his fingers again, a small smile on his lips.

He approaches you where you are on the bed and uses this moment to really just take you in. You look so peaceful, completely relaxed against your pillows and a plushy hugged to your chest.

He gently moves a stray piece of hair away from your face before leaning down and placing a kiss where your hair just was. You twitch a little when his lips meet your skin but you don't wake up.

He gently moves his hand under your neck, careful not to stir you awake, and clasps the necklace to you. It falls just below your collarbone and he leans down to press another kiss to the skin exposed there.

"M-Minho?" you grumble out, slowly pulling your eyes open and being met with the soft eyes of your boyfriend. He knows exactly where to touch you to wake you up and your neck and collarbone have always made you stir.

"Hi, baby," your voice is still raspy from sleep and you can't help yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into the bed.

He lands on top of you with a chuckle before rolling off of you to the other side of the bed. You look up at him, still a bit dazed in your freshly awoken and cuddly state.

He would never admit it out loud, but he loves when you are sleepy or just waking up. You cling onto him like a baby and it makes his heart want to absolutely explode.

"I got you a gift, pretty," he pushes that same strand of hair from earlier behind your ear and you raise your eyebrows at him.

"Oh? What is it?" you ponder quietly, leaning into his touch. His hand gently trails down your neck before he traces the outline of the chain and rolls the pendant in his fingers.

"You already have it on," he replies, a smirk on his face and your hand slowly moves to your neck, tracing the necklace. You jolt up, suddenly much more awake and get out of bed to look in the mirror at the necklace around your neck.

It's a thin chain with a pillar bar pendant on it. You rub your fingers over the pendant before your notice the engraving on the front. It's his name in Korean on the front but you notice more engraving along the back as well. You gently spin the pendant around and on the back is his name in English.

"Possessive lil guy aren't you?" You tease as he rises from the bed and walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest to your back. You reach up and gently play in his hair.

"Mhm. You could say that," he agrees and places a kiss on your jawline. You twist the strands around your fingers and smile at your pretty boyfriend in the mirror.

"Your hair is getting long, my kitty," you comment and he breaks his gaze from your eyes to look at himself in the mirror.

"I need a haircut," he replies and meets your eyes again in the mirror. His gaze shifts down your neck, stopping and focusing on your pulse point before continuing down and look at the necklace against your chest.

"Leave it. I like it. Why did you get me this?" You question and drop your hand from his hair to play with the necklace again, sliding the pendant back and forth across the chain.

He shrugs in response and lets his fingers creep under the hem of your shirt, placing his hands against your warm stomach.

"Just because," he replies and you raise an eyebrow at him, not buying it for a second. He lets out a sigh of defeat, knowing you saw right through him.

"I saw some tweets. You're getting a lot of... attention. Male attention, lately. I appreciate them saying how hot of a girlfriend I have but I need them to remember that you are mine," he confesses, rocking the two of you back and forth while his thumbs continue to rub against your stomach.

You hum in response, still fidgeting with the necklace. It's pretty, stunning even. You know it probably cost a fortune but it came from the same guy who told you he would buy you an entire apartment complex so you didn't have to deal with neighbors.

"Also," he places a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder, "I think it would look pretty dangling over my face while you ride me," he says it so nonchalantly and you smack his arm gently.

"Lee Minho!" You scold but you can't stop the giggle from escaping your lips anyways. He lets out a breathy chuckle against your neck, making goosebumps rise to your skin.

"Never take this off. Okay?" he suddenly asks, his voice much softer and a bit more vulnerable. You turn your head to lock eyes with him and immediately nod.

"Okay," you agree and lean in, pressing your lips against his.

Changbin:

"Is this corny?" Changbin turns his phone to you and shows you the matching bracelets that came up on his feed. They were simple and pretty, a rectangular charm with the advertiser's logo engraved in it. On the other side of the bracelet is half a heart and when placed beside each other, the hearts become magnetic and connect.

"Not at all. I think it's cute, bun," you smile at the screen and then look up at your boyfriend. He is studying your reaction with his own soft smile on his lips, obviously trying to read you and exactly how you feel.

A few weeks later, Changbin is even more giddy and excited to see you than usual. When you open your front door, he is bouncing on the balls of his feet with an adorable, dimply smile on his face.

"What are you so happy about, cutie?" You widen the door further, allowing his infectious smile to cause your own smile on your face. He bounds into your house, slipping his shoes off and making his way to the living room.

Changbin plops down on the couch and only then do you notice the package in his hands. He gently tears it open and opens the box, letting out a small gasp. You approach him from behind to get a look over his shoulder.

"Bun? What is it?" you question and he pats the cushion next to him, signaling for you to sit down. You quickly circle and sit next to him, turning to face him on the couch.

"They came. The bracelets I showed you!” he exclaims and holds the two pieces of jewelry between your faces. You smile at him and his adorable antics before grabbing one from his hand and flipping it over in your fingers.

His name was engraved into this one and on the back of the half heart was your first initial. You glance up at him and catch him already looking at you, big goofy smile on his face.

"You're the cutest ever, do you realize that?" you question and lean forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Help," you wrap the bracelet around your wrist and flip it, holding it clasp up to him.

He lets the other bracelet drop into his lap and quickly clasps yours for you before offering his own wrist and bracelet. The chain was a perfect length. It wasn't tight enough to make you feel claustrophobic but it wasn't so loose that it was tickling you or sliding up and and down your arm and wrist.

You grab his wrist, bringing it to yours and letting the hearts connect before giggling at the action. You pull out your phone and take a video of the bracelets connecting before turning both your wrists over and filming your matching names.

"You're just so lovely, my Binnie," you whisper out after tucking your phone behind you. He leans forward, hands around your waist and places his plush lips against yours.

The two of you are so goofy and smiling that the kiss is practically all clashing teeth and giggles. You wrap your arms around his neck and look behind his head, glancing at the shiny metal around you wrist. How lucky are you to be claimed by Seo Changbin?

Little did you know, he felt even more lucky being able to claim you as his own. He felt an immense amount of pride at the fact that he would be walking around with your name on him at all times. He felt even more prideful when he thought about how someone may compliment him on the bracelet or ask about it and he gets to gush about you.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin buys you jewelry all the time. He can't help it! He thinks his pretty little thing deserves pretty things. Most are just absolutely stunning necklaces, rings, earrings, bracelets, you name it, he's probably gotten it for you.

The one thing he realizes he has never gotten you, is an anklet. He's seen you wear them before and he thinks they look so pretty around your ankles. He loves the way the chain glitters in the right light and the subtly of the accessory.

Also, being the absolute gem that he is, he absolutely worships your body. Every. Square. Inch. This include your ankles. It's a delicates spot on your body that has become one of his favorites. He pulls your shoes off after a long night and will press a little kiss to your ankle, rubbing out your sore soles.

If he has your legs on his shoulders while pounding into you, he'll turn his head and place gentle kisses and nips to the skin of your ankle. It keeps you grounded and some how drives you even more crazy.

You're sitting on the couch, your feet in his lap and reading your book while he focuses on the show playing in front of him. His hands gently trail around your ankle and down your feet. His touches are gentle but not gentle enough to tickle. If anything, it was making you feel more relaxed and sleepy.

"Do you like anklets, my love?" he suddenly asks and you peer up at him from behind your book, thinking for a moment before nodding.

"I do, actually. I just don't wear them often. They usually get covered up by pants or leggings or whatever so I only wear them when I'm wearing something that'll show them off. Why do you ask?" You inquire, curiously and he shrugs, turning to face the television again.

"No reason," he ends the conversation there and you nod, returning to your book.

A few days later, you receive a text from your boyfriend then a text from the front desk of your apartment complex, notifying you of a package. You hadn't ordered anything. What could you possibly be having delivered? You open the message from Hyunjin first.

loverboy: sent u something (: tell me if u like it honey

You smile, letting the pieces start to fall into place. The package is from your boyfriend and you excitedly bounce up from your bed. You slide your shoes on and make your way down to your apartment's front desk. They hand you the package and it's small, only a few inches wide and flat. You drop your brow to a furrow as you make your way back to your apartment.

You don't recognize the name of the sender but you tear it open as soon as you set foot back into your place. You open the box and inside if a small piece of jewelry with a paper on top. You read the paper first and it says its an anklet.

You smile to yourself, reminiscing on the conversation you two had a few days prior. You pull the jewelry out but what you weren't expecting was for there to be Hyunjin's name on the anklet. Your jaw drops and you smile widely before pulling your phone from your back pocket and ringing your boyfriend.

"You love me sooo badddd," you tease as soon as the line connects. You hear your boyfriend's deep, breathy laugh from the other side of the phone.

"That would be correct. You like it, my love?" he asks. You can't see him but he looked so nervous on the other side of the phone. He leans back against the mirror, surely leaving some marks but he really didn't care at the moment. He chews down on his lip while he waits for your reply.

"I adore it!" you exclaim, excitedly before scurrying to the kitchen table and sitting down. You place your phone on speaker as you debate which ankle to put it on.

"Put it on your left ankle," his voice suddenly breaks the silence, almost like he was reading your thoughts. You chuckle at how incredibly in-tune he is with you.

"You know me too well, Hwang Hyunjin," you tease and pull your left leg up into the chair with you. You wrap the jewelry around your ankle and clasp it.

"Send me a picture," his tone is more demanding than asking and you cant help but immediately obeying when this side of him decides to make an appearance.

You pull up your camera and turn your leg, snapping a picture then sending it to your waiting boyfriend. As soon as it sends, it says read and Hyunjin hums on the other side of the phone.

"Can't wait to have your legs up on my shoulders later. Gonna look so pretty with my name on you like that," he suddenly speaks up, his voice low. He obviously isn't alone at practice and you bite down on your lip at the thought that someone could hear his dirty words for you.

"Mm. The sooner the better," you agree, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously. If there's one thing your boyfriend knows how to do, it's turn you on with just a single sentence.

"I'm wrapping up here. I'll be to yours soon," his voice is gruff and he hangs up before either of you can say anything else to get each other worked up. You can't help yourself though.

You pad away to your bedroom and take your top off before sitting in front of your mirror and crossing your ankles. In the reflection of the mirror is your exposed chest and your barely there shorts and at the bottom of the screen is the anklet with Hyunjin's name. You press send before you can think too hard about it and he replies almost instantly.

loverboy: you're playing with fire, princess. behave.

Han:

"Happy birthday, y/n," Jisung holds the wrapped box out to you and you raise an eyebrow at him, taking the wrapped box with the bow on top from his outstretched hand.

"My birthday isn't for another three months, Sungie," you laugh and he shrugs, biting down on his lip to suppress the smile.

"Christmas came early this year," he replies again and you laugh, placing a hand on your hip.

"Is it my birthday or Christmas? Make up your mind, you goofball," you tease and look down at the gift in your hand again. You sit down cross legged on the floor and Jisung mirrors you, sitting in front of you.

You glance up at him once more, his eyes eager and big as he waits for you to finally open his gift. You smile softly at his cute face before finally beginning to open the gift. You pull the bow off and set it on the coffee table.

You have a shoebox full of mementos from your relationship and he has a habit of topping gifts with a bow and you started to keep them. You can pick out exactly what gift each bow was on still, to this day.

You pull the box from the wrapping paper and slowly open it. It has a necklace, a pretty one. It has two tiny pendants, a sapphire and then a little circular silver pendant with a virgo symbol on it. You flip the silver pendant over and engraved on the back is 'IX・XIV・MM'.

"Baby..." you trail off as you twist the pendant in your hand. Is that an authentic sapphire?!

"Do you like it?" he asks, quietly. You look up at him, shock still on your face before nodding vigorously. A small smile breaks out on his face at you reaction. He quickly realizes your silence is in shock, not because you don't like it.

"Wait until you see the next part," he speaks up and you look up at him, your eyebrows dropping to a furrow. He pulls his hoodie over his head, leaving him in a sleeveless tank and leans closer to you. His hands wrap around a necklace around his neck and you scoot closer.

It was your birth stone and your zodiac sign. You flip the silver circle over and engraved in roman numerals is your own birthday. It was practically identical to the one in your hands.

"Han Jisung. I'm going to cry," you speak out softly. He chuckles and you look up at him, your eyes big and sparkly. Your boyfriend is so thoughtful. Although it is a subtle gesture, it is very clear that he wants a piece of you with him all the time.

"Please don't because then I'll cry," he replies and his hand finds the side of your face, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. Before it can get any deeper, however, you jump up, necklace in hand, and rush off to the bathroom.

You hear your boyfriend chuckle from his spot before you hear him slowly get up and trail behind you. You reach the bathroom and attach the necklace to your neck before turning it and letting the two pendants hang on your chest.

They're so subtle but so pretty. It's a piece of jewelry that you really have no reason to ever take off. It's small enough to go with everything but stands out enough that it would never be overlooked.

"That blue looks stunning on you, darling," Jisung's voice pulls you from your daydream and you turn around to face him, your fingers still playing with the necklace.

"Ya think so?" You ask, tilting your head and he closes the space between you, placing his hands on your hips as you sit back against the bathroom counter.

"Mhm. Although, you do have the magical ability to look good in everything you put on. You even look good in yellow! Who the hell looks good in yellow?" he chuckles and you let your head fall back, a laugh leaving your lips.

"You're too sweet for me. I don't know what I did in my past like to deserve this kind of happiness but i'm very thankful to myself," you whisper and let your hands trail up his exposed arms until you interlock your fingers behind his neck.

"I thank God every night that you're mine," he replies, eyes still big and soft for you. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sappy sentiment and let the blush rush up to your face.

"Maybe i'll just get your name tattooed on me. Just in case I have to take this off," you speak up and Jisung eyes light up at the idea, a bit too excited.

"Would you actually?!" he exclaims, a ridiculous smile on his face and you can't help but roll your eyes, shaking your head.

"That was a joke and you're a little too excited about the idea," you counter and a cute pout makes its way onto his face. You lean forward, kissing the pout from his lips before looking up at him again.

"I love you," you breathe the words out and despite the amount of times you've told each other that you love one another, a blush still climbs to Jisung's face. The same way that you have learned to absolutely adore.

"I love you, endlessly," he replies and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Felix:

"What's your ring size?" Felix asks, scrolling on his phone and you freeze, almost dropping the bowl of food in your hand.

"W-what? Me?" you question, pointing to yourself and your boyfriend rolls his eyes before looking up at you. A small smile plays on his lips.

"Who else would I be talking to, angel?" he questions and you clear your throat before sitting down in the chair across from him. You push his bowl of food towards him and he locks his phone, placing it down on the table.

"Relax, baby. I'm not proposing yet. I'm trying to get you a gift. Something for your birthday that I think you would like," he speaks up, a cheeky grin on his face when he realizes just how flustered he has gotten you.

He leans down and takes a spoonful of food into his mouth and you clear your throat again, telling him your ring size for each finger. He quickly grabs his phone and opens the notes app, writing down your answers.

"What are you wanting to get?" you question and he looks up at you from over the bowl, an eyebrow raised.

"It wouldn't really be considered a gift if I told you what it was, would it?" he asks and you take a bite of your own food before shaking your head.

"Can I have a hint?" you inquire instead and Felix chuckles. He always tries to not tell you when he's getting you a gift because it always goes this way. You beg and beg and beg for him to tell you what he got you.

"Sure. It's a ring," he replies sarcastically and you narrow your eyes.

"I gathered that, you little shit," you grumble and he chuckles again, gently kicking your feet under the table with his own.

"You'll love it. I promise," he assures you and you glance up at his pretty eyes. They stare back at you, big and sparkly.

"Promise?" you question, slightly appeased by how assured he is that you'll enjoy your gift.

"Pinky swear," he stands and reaches across the table, holding his pinky out. You stand as well and interlock your pinky with his. You both kiss your thumbs and press them together before leaning towards each other and pressing your lips together in a soft kiss.

The night before your birthday, your boyfriend decided to spend the night. He claimed he wanted to be there as soon as the clock struck midnight so he was the first to tell you happy birthday but he also wanted to be the first to give you your gift... well gifts.

"Happy birthday, my love. You make me the happiest ever," Felix speaks up from beside you. He had to have been watching the clock because you didn't even notice the time change while scrolling through social media.

"I love you," you simply reply and sit up from his chest to kiss him softly on the lips. He pulls away quickly, much quicker than his needy self usually does, and walks towards his bag. He reaches in and pulls out a gift bag before making his way back to the bed and sitting crosslegged facing you.

"Open," he demands and you chuckle, locking your phone and taking the bag from Felix's slightly shaky hands. You reach in and pull the tissue paper out before you're met with three boxes.

You pull all three out at the same time and toss the gift bag to the side before opening the first box. Inside is two rings, both have pinkies on them. If they're placed together, it looks like a pinky swear. You open your mouth to thank him and gush about how much you love him but he interrupts you before you can.

"Open all of them and then let's talk," he chuckles and you smile, nodding in agreement before moving on to the next box. It also had two rings in it and engraved on the inside was you and Felix's initials and your anniversary date.

Finally you reach the last box and open it. A pretty diamond ring sits by itself in the box and you gasp. It was the exact ring that you had favorited a million times on your Pinterest and you look up at Felix with tears in your eyes.

"Felix..." you trail off and he's already looking at you with tears in his eyes.

"Okay, I lied. Maybe I was thinking about proposing. So, y/n... will you please marry-"

"Yes!" You interrupt him before he can finish and throw yourself into his lap, "A million fucking times, yes," You scry into his shoulder and you can feel the deep chuckle leave his chest as he buries his head in your neck.

Seungmin:

“I love that choker that Innie had on. With his name on it? I just know it costs an arm and a leg though,” you chuckle to your friend on video call and she nods at you.

“No but seriously. The stylists ate with that one. The whole look was just-”

“Okay! No thirsting over Jeongin! Please!” you interrupt her and she just laughs at you as your bedroom door creaks open. You look over your shoulder and are met with your boyfriend’s pretty face.

“Thirsting over Jeongin?” Seungmin questions, an eyebrow raised at you and you chuckle before pointing at your phone.

“Somebody is talking about how good Innie looked in that choker with his name on it,” you roll your eyes and your friend laughs on the phone.

“You started talking about it first!” She objects but you shake your head at her.

“No, I said I wanted one of my own. I didn’t say anything about how he looked in it. I was commenting about how good I would look in it,” you defend yourself and Seungmin chuckles, plopping down on his stomach on the bed next to you, mirroring your position.

“Mm. That definitely would suit you, pup,” he chuckles when you immediately blush, knowing your friend is listening in on the other side and watching you two.

“As hot as you two probably look fucking, I would rather gauge my eyes out than witness it. Love ya, y/n. Bye!” she rushes out before hanging up the call, not even giving you time to reply.

You let your head fall into the pillow, burying your burning face from Seungmin’s eyes. You felt hot all over and all he had done is give you one little compliment.

“You got me all flustered, Kim Seungmin,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the cotton but he just chuckles before flipping over onto his back and pulling you towards him.

“Hush. I’m the one that’s hard right now because of this thought, not you,” he counters you and you slap him gently on the chest, mumbling out something along the lines of ‘because I don’t have a cock that can get hard’.

A few weeks later, you’re at Seungmin’s place when there’s a knock at the door. He opens it and at the doormat is a package. He grins before picking it up and taking it to his room. You’re too preoccupied in the kitchen, fixing some food, to even notice he hasn’t returned until you hear him call for you.

“Baby? Come here!” His voice calls out to you and you turn around, realizing he isn’t in his chair where you last saw him and make your way to his bedroom.

“Yes? I wanna get this food done before the boys get home… what’s that?” you point to the leather in his hand and he holds it up, facing the outside towards you.

It’s a leather choker with big silver letters, “KSM” on the front. He reaches behind him and pulls out something that couldn’t be anything short of a collar with a little tag on it.

“Come here,” he beckons you to him and your feet move before your brain can even process that he called you towards him. It’s like your body moves on autopilot with him, ready to obey his every command.

“Kneel.” he demands and once again, you oblige. You settle on your knees between his legs, resting your hands on either one of his thighs.

“Which would you like to put on, pup?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips. The pink choker/collar catches your attention again and you gently pick up the tag, turning it over.

On the back, it has simple writing: ‘Property of Kim Seungmin’. You flip it over again and instead of your name on the front, it’s just says ‘Pup’. You shift on your knees and pull your lip between your teeth before looking up at Seungmin through your eyelashes.

“You pick,” your voice is soft and you place both your hands back on his thighs, rubbing gently as your eyes dart back and forth between the two chokers.

“You like them then?” he asks and places both chokers into one hand before using his free hand to gently stroke the side of your hair, pushing a few stray strands behind your ears.

“I do,” you nod, forcing the words out. You know he will scold you if you don’t use your words and something in you tells you that being a brat wouldn’t work in your favor right now.

“What a good girl you’re being. So obedient. How about we wear the black one while you finish dinner and while we’re in front of the boys. We’ll save the pink one for just us,” he strokes your hair again and you nod.

He drops the pink collar and wraps the black choker around your neck, securing the buckle. His hands trail down either one of your shoulders, making chills rise at his touch.

“So pretty. Such a pretty puppy for me, aren’t you?” he asks and you nod quickly, trying to keep being the good girl he wants you to be.

“Let’s go finish cooking, baby,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, helping you off your reddening knees and back towards the kitchen.

I.N:

“Here, babe. I’m gonna be gone for a few weeks and I know that isn’t too long but I’m still gonna miss you like crazy,” Jeongin hands you a little box and you smile at him. It’s rare that you see this soft, confessional, side of him. It’s cute and so very sweet.

“I love you, Innie. I miss you already,” you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. You look down at your hands and open the box. Inside was a little black bracelet with a small, rectangular attachment and a leather strap.

You pull it out, eyebrows dropping in confusion. You drop the box and flip the bracelet, examining the leather strap. On the inside was a little message, burned into the leather.

lNo matter how far, my love for you is never ending.

“Innie, I’m gonna cry,” your bottom lip drops into a pout and he gently takes the bracelet from you. He secures it on your wrist and in this moment is when you notice that he has the exact same bracelet in a different color on his own wrist.

“I haven’t even told you the best part and you’re already tearing up, crybaby,” he chuckles and you blink away the tears behind your eyes. You squint at the nickname and he leans forward, kissing the furrow between your brows.

He drops your hand and reaches up to touch his own bracelet. When he does, yours glows and vibrates. He touches it three times, causing three vibrations and it lights up three times.

“No matter where we are, I can tell you I love you and we can tell each other that we’re thinking about one another,” he smiles at you, sheepishly and you let out a shaky breath. He’s so cute, it hurts.

“Baby, I don’t want you to go. Ever. Can’t you just stay here with me forever?” you ask quietly and interlock your hands with his. You bring one hand up to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles before letting his arms fall, keeping your hands locked together.

“If I could, I would, honey. I hope you realize that. You’re so important to me and I’m scared I don’t tell you enough. I love you in a way that is honestly so terrifying. Nobody has ever owned a part of my soul until I met you,” he confesses and brings your hands up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles in the same way you just had.

“You don’t have to tell me, Innie. I know you love me. You know I love you just as much, don’t you?” you question and he immediately nods. He knows that you belong to him just as much as he belongs to you.

“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s only a few weeks,” he reassures you before leaning in and letting his lips entangle with yours.

A week later, you’re sitting in your office. The days have seemed much gloomier and longer without your angel here to be with you. He truly brought a kind of light to your life that you had never though would be possible. He literally brought technicolor to your life and you couldn’t be more grateful.

As if he somehow knew you were thinking about him, the bracelet on your wrist suddenly vibrates. You jump lightly at the surprise and smile down at the bracelet when it vibrates three times.

You pick up your phone and send a text to your boyfriend.

i love you most. goodnight my love. i miss you like crazy

You knew it was close to 3 am in his time zone and you know he wasn’t near his phone but it was still nice to know he would be waking up to the texts of reassurance from you. You press the bracelet three times, confirming in that moment that you love him too.

a/n: i gotta stop calling jisung cute but like... hes so cute>_< seungmin is so sajagsgssk. i NEED him. BAD.

[harmonictechnicality]

Grocery shopping with Steve Harrington should not be such an arousing task, but it is.

It so is.

Eddie swears on all of his calloused fingers that watching Steve strut down the cereal aisle with his little shopping cart is better than hand stuff.

Seriously. He always walks a few feet behind Steve, just to get the perfect view of that award winning ass (Eddie made him a trophy for it last Valentine’s Day - it’s on their mantle).

They’ve been together for what? Eight years? And it never gets any less sexy. Watching him reach for the granola bars on the top shelf, stretching his annoyingly tucked in shirt.

Eddie pretends to peer through imaginary opera binoculars as Steve reads over the nutrition label. Steve flips it over a couple of times because he always forgets which brand he likes better - the blue box or the red box. Eddie never reminds him that his favorite is the blue box because the whole charade is too adorable.

But once Steve figures it out, he tosses the blue box into the cart, and Eddie always lets out this rumbly throat sound at the sight.

Steve turns his neck to look at Eddie. “This again?”

“This always.” Eddie catches up to Steve’s side at the canned food section, slides his hand in Steve’s back pocket. “Never not this.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bends down to grab a few cans of chicken noodle soup. Which holy fuck, seeing his boyfriend at a 75° angle holding his favorite soup preference? Eddie might as well be packaged and placed on the shelf. Cause his mind is turning to liquid. He’s becoming a bowl of horny broth at the sight of Steve all domestic and bent over.

Eddie quickly flicks off his jacket because the entire store just warmed up exponentially. Global warming doesn’t have shit on Steve Harrington holding discounted canned goods.

Steve lightly smacks Eddie's arm. “Pull yourself together.”

“I’ll pull your self onto my self.”

“Really?” Steve snorts. “That was the best you could come up with?”

“Yeah well, the lower quadrant of my brain shut off the second I visualized your ass dimple in the middle of the bread aisle.” Eddie explains, untucking one edge of Steve’s shirt.

“Sorry for the inconvenience to your grocery-kink brain.”

“You should be.” Grocery kink. Steve with a shopping cart kink. Eddie has both, no doubt.

And it’s totally true. The bread aisle is usually where all hope is lost for him. Fluffy breads, kneading dough, squishy carbs all around them. Steve’s sides are just begging to be squeezed in that aisle (amongst other places). The deli employee outwardly gawks as Eddie pokes at Steve's waist, pinching any area of skin that he can get his hands on.

"Just making sure the products are nice and fresh!" Eddie shouts to the employee, hugging Steve firmly from behind. The poor meat-slicing guy laughs nervously before scurrying into the stock room. Honestly, Eddie should probably feel more sympathetic but it's so hard to focus on anything else when Steve kisses his cheek. Accepts his weird affections fully.

"These people don't get paid enough to put up with your shit." Steve is laughing as he says it though. Clearly not that bothered by all of the attention he's getting. That's part of the reason they work so well together. They're absolute attention whores, equally.

"Okay, cut it out." Steve wiggles out from Eddie's grasp. "You're gonna smush the sourdough."

Eddie freezes. Mulls over the consequences over the next thing he's about to say. "Is that an invitation?"

"Ew."

"You said it."

"You twisted it."

"How could I not?"

"You need help." Steve turns down the next aisle, still speaking as he stays on task. "Preferably the kind that involves a person with a legal pad and a couch that you can lie down on."

Eddie snickers, thoroughly loves it when Steve bites back. Makes the chase feel like it just started, even after all these years.

He keeps it together for roughly twelve more minutes, which is probably a record. Eddie also deserves a trophy on their mantle for that - he's gonna hint to Steve about investing in one whenever they get back home.

But the aisle where Eddie’s composure levels malfunction entirely, is the frozen food section. See, whenever Steve opens the door to get milk or eggs or whatever essential dairy item they need, a rush of frigid air blows out. Makes Steve’s already bitable skin all bumpy. His neck is covered in little chill bumps, all of his baby hairs stick up with his raised skin.

This is the only instance where Eddie mildly wishes he were a cannibal, just to give Steve a little chomp. A little nibble at his change in skin texture. Eddie's not even sure why the chill bumps send him over the edge but they do - every damn time.

“Baby, we’ve talked about this.” Steve says once Eddie gets him pinned up behind the corner freezer in the very back.

"There were no snoopy old ladies around this time." Eddie licks all the way up to Steve's ear, tugging gently around the edges. "I checked."

Steve huffs once before taking Eddie's face with both hands, kissing him deep. The rest of his body is cold from the surrounding freezers, but Steve's lips are warm. Hotter every time Eddie's mouth connects to his again. Steve still tastes like the nectarine samples they had back at the produce aisle. The taste drives Eddie to suck on Steve's bottom lip, drinking up any leftover flavor he can. Make Steve's natural pout even more plush than it normally is.

He untucks the rest of Steve's annoying polo - lets his hands slide all the way around, landing at the small of Steve's back. Eddie presses his fingers into Steve's skin, making him shiver. Causing more chill bumps to rise. Ones that he created this time.

They've kissed like this over a thousand times by now, but it always feels different. It’s a new kiss on a new day.

And Eddie couldn't give a single fuck if the deli employee or the snoopy old lady saw them making out next to the lactose-free cheese selection. He'd show off his stupidly gorgeous boyfriend everywhere, make a complete spectacle out of it every damn time.

Steve would let him do it too. Eddie bets that Steve would let him get away with a full anarchist uprising if he wanted. Which he does. Kinda. After they're done kissing, obviously.

They stop only because Steve lets his lips part and his fingers drag down Eddie's chest. And whenever Steve does that move, he's approximately thirty seconds away from moaning explicit words. Loudly too. Eddie knows all of Steve's physical indicators by heart now. It’s practically Eddie’s native language, he would speak only that one if he could.

Eddie takes the cue to stash all of his hormones away - goes back to dotting small pecks all over Steve's face. He needs to get Steve laughing instead of panting. It's safer that way. Eddie isn't trying to get arrested in a supermarket for christ's sake (although that would make one hell of a story for family reunions).

They're sort of blotchy, all pinks and reds, as they get to the checkout line. The cashier must think their complexion is permanently like this. Every time she’s seen them, they’re blushed-up like Vegas showgirls. Eddie is immune to the embarrassment of the situation. He's pretty sure Steve is too - he can tell by the way Steve is still leaning all over him while he fumbles to get his wallet open. All love-drunk and kittenish.

They head back to their car, and Eddie gets one last look at Steve's signature shopping cart strut. He sighs dramatically - crushed inside that he'll have to wait till their next grocery run to see it again.

"That's it." Steve says after Eddie sighs for the fifth time. "You're returning the cart."

"Why?"

"It's punishment for your ridiculous behavior."

"Rude."

"Necessary."

"Fine." Eddie snatches the handle and stomps all the way to the cart corral at the front of the store.

This is an outrage. Steve should know that his sexy cart-walking encore is the best part of Shopping Day. Seeing him walk further away before returning - always doing a little hair ruffle thing as he comes back. It's Eddie's own version of Baywatch and Steve is ruining it.

He slides into the passenger seat, slamming the car door to emphasize his anger.

"Steve Harrington, I'm so fucking mad at y-"

Eddie can't even finish his sentence before Steve's mouth is on his. It's a messier kiss this time, Steve is doing all the moving while Eddie tries to figure out what's going on. He pulls back, raising both eyebrows.

"I get it now." Steve answers Eddie's nonverbal 'what the fuck' question.

"Get what?"

"The shopping cart thing." Steve looks Eddie up and down. "I get it."

Holy shit. "Were you checking me out?"

Steve nods. Shrugs. Nods again.

"How much time do you think we have before the ice cream melts?" Steve motions to the backseat, tucking in his lips, hiding a smirk.

Oh. That. They're doing that.

"I'd say we have..." Eddie checks the nonexistent watch on his wrist. "More than enough time."

They haven't had desperate car sex like this since their first year of dating. It's so good that Eddie wonders why they stopped having desperate car sex.

For the rest of the car ride home, they're obnoxiously touchy-feely. Eddie's hand stays glued to Steve's overpriced jeans. The denim is much softer than any pair of jeans that Eddie owns. Maybe that's why they cost a fortune.

Steve takes one hand off the steering wheel whenever there's a straight shot - rubs his fingers over Eddie's knuckles. Bounces off his rings like stepping stones.

They're nauseating. If Eddie saw any other couple act like this, he'd throw tomatoes ate them. Taunt them mercilessly.

But Steve Harrington is the prototype that future scientists will use one day to build their genetically flawless human race. So Eddie is allowed to be as nauseating and revolting as he wants.

Their plan failed. The ice cream is completely melted by the time they get home. But who fucking cares? Eddie is dating someone with his same weird shopping cart kink and that's all he could ever ask for.

And besides, that just means that they’ll have to go grocery shopping again.

[thatgirlsza]

Motivation

Satoru Gojo

The fact you own two silk robes and stratte around in them all the time, especially out of the shower is motivation enough for him to drag you to your room and make love till the morning. Also particularly romantic events like Valentines Day, date nights, birthdays and so on.

Kento Nanami

Scratch his scalp while you are both cuddling and he'll fuck into the next day. He loves your fingers in his hair while his face is between your breast. It makes him shiver especially when you find the spot just under his ear.

Suguru Getou

Suguru absolutely cant take it when you are doing something and matain eye contact. Weather it will be cleaning, cooking eating or talking. Do it for 15 seconds and his ready to watch those pretty eyes lid up in pleasure.

Toji Fushiguro

Give him a massage, he'll take you instantly. He doesn't understand why but the feeling of you sift delicate fingers moving into his skin over every crevices makes me nearly feral. Especially when you use oil on him and he can feel you slip your fingers around his back. It gets him hard and fast.

Ryoumen Sukuna

Ryoumen thinks anything you do is sexy and loves drag you away to do something but he absolutely loves it when he sees you doing anything remotely domestic. Cooking, cleaning and being with kids. Not only do you look adorable, it just turns all the wheels in his mind.

Ino Takuma

Ino is a sucker for you straddling him. When you are both chilling and you swing your legs over him get ready for a real good night. He'll start caressing and kissing until his head is between your legs

Chousou

Chousou loves it when you tell him what to do, even if your not being particularly dominant. In fact when you gentle ask, "Chou please can you make me a snack?" With your lips in a pout and eyes peering at him, he would rather just make you the snack.

[multim00n]

Cole dating headcannons

Okay, so first off, you know the ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ quote? Yeah, that applies to your and Cole’s relationship

If you bake/cook he’s your personal taste tester, he’ll literally eat anything you make

He doesn’t think before he speaks, he’s def the type to say the most unhinged thing ever and be totally chill about it

He’ll absolutely steal your food

His love language is physical touch and he’s a BIG cuddle bug

He’s a gentle giant, I headcannon him to be around 6’4

He prefers to be the big spoon in the relationship, but if you want to be the big spoon then he won’t refuse lol

LOVES LOVES LOVES when you wear his clothes, he thinks you look adorable in them

If you’re taller then him he’ll literally be so confused but also kinda flustered at the same time, he’ll probably look at you like this 🧍‍♂️

I also headcannon him to be a listener instead of a talker, so he’ll listen to you ramble over face time or just in general because he loves your voice <3

I think he’d be a secret romantic at heart, he 100% buys you flowers at least once or twice a week and buys you stuff that he thinks you’ll like

He’ll also give you rocks that he thinks are pretty or matches your eye color :)

He loves it when you play with his hair while you cuddle, and if you hum he will MELT

He’ll probably get a tad emotional if you hum a lullaby to him while ya’ll are cuddling in bed because it reminds him of his mom :,(

He’ll 100% play video games with you, he may or may not go easy on you, it just depends on his mood that day lol

He’s actually really laid-back, and generally prefers to communicate rather than fight

He’ll listen to you rant about your day

He’s the type to give you flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day (he’ll love it if you give him chocolates as well)

He’ll take you on late night drives/flights on his dragon or vehicle

Secretly loves slow dancing with you :’)

He gets a tad jealous if you hang out with Jay too often 😭

He’s suuuper protective of you if you’re not a ninja, he’ll walk you home, and do laps around your house to make sure you’re completely safe

Even if you are a ninja, he’ll still be protective of you, but he knows you can handle yourself, so he only acts protective if you’re in trouble

He’ll def carry you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch or something ‼️‼️

HE GIVES YOU PIGGY BACK RIDES

He gives the BEST bear hugs omg omg

I wouldn’t really say that he’s touchy in public, but he does hold your hand and snuggle up close to you whenever you sit together!

PICNIC DATES WITH THIS MAN OMG 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

If you identify as nonbinary or something like that then he gets really defensive about people not using your preferred pronouns/name

He’s a sucker for picking you up and spinning you around <3

—————————————————————————————————————

[merao-mariposa]

There's something I absolutely love about the eggs' sibling dynamics is how they've changed.

Tallulah went from being the little girl that everyone had to look after and protect to one of the most emotionally strong and strong-willed eggs. I won't forget how after Creation showed up at Philza's house on Valentine's Day Chay became deeply upset, I don't have the clip but you can see it from Phil's POV

We can see how Tallulah is armed, with her shield raised, on the defensive and stands between Creation and Chayanne. protecting him.

Let's remember that although Tallulah is not considered one of the veteran eggs, she is undoubtedly one of the first. I consider that Tallulah is one of the best eggs, she has her own personality, she has her changes, her defects and her virtues

I still remember how I went from being the little girl who had to be protected, to being a truly emotionally complex post-purgatory one.

Tallulah is still the heart, don't get wrong, she's just grown up and matured (she had character development xd)

But my favorite case is without a doubt Ramon-Leo-Dapper. They are triplets, they were really united eggs, Ramon and Dapper were generally seen playing (hitting each other) constantly and Leo was seen with them. Leo found comfort in her brothers after the death of Trump.

But not everything can last forever.

They are still triplets and they still love each other.

But Leonarda has her nephew Pepito, and her brother Roier and her dad Foolish, maybe even Richas because he is also her nephew (And she is currently among them + Sunny and Tubbo in the city of Fobo) she is no longer the extremely rich and a bit lonely one, she is still iconic and happy but now things are different. She has a lot more people around their.

The same with Dapper, the most important thing for him now is his newly revived father (which is not shocking at all, nope) and his little sister Pomme whom he loves with all his heart. Dapper is one of the eggs that has gone through the most screwed things (this egg has a longer list of kidnappings than hats) and therefore one of the strongest but above all hopeful with the idea that it will have peace in this new beginning.

Ramon, oh Ramon, you could make a bible just about Ramon, the relationship he had with Spreen and the impact that had on his relationship with Fit. How now he is no longer alone; he has two little hermanitas whom he adores; Sunny and Empanada, a big brother figure in Tubbo and two loving parents who love each other.

He went from being locked up to having sleepovers every night with his dear little sisters, spending the mornings in Tubbo's factories, learning single words in Portuguese with his dad Pac and going on adventures with his dad Fit.

If Leo were to place Pepito over his brothers (because sometimes he feels that Pepito is very coded as a little boy) it would hurt her bad, but they would understand because Pepito is Leo's family.

When Ramon came between Leo and Sunny, he didn't do it out of choice, he did it to protect his little sister, Diamond Girl, because Sunny is Ramon's family.

If Dapper could have chosen an egg to be freed from purgatory, he would not have chosen himself, he would have chosen Pomme, because Pomme is Dapper's family.

and that doesn't stop them from being family to each other.

[writesleah]

the way i loved you ౨ৎ m. riddle

౨ৎ mattheo riddle x reader, brief cedric diggory x reader

౨ৎ angst/fluff

౨ৎ after a hard breakup, you had finally moved on and found your perfect man. he was everything you could’ve asked for, but the lingering thoughts of your ex take a toll on you

౨ৎ swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, borderline betraying cedric :(

౨ৎ 1.8k words

౨ৎ if it’s not already completely obvious, i was listening to the way i loved you by taylor swift when i thought of this lmaooo i couldn’t fight the taylor references so there is a couple in here, it’s just my deep rooted swiftie mindset

“hey baby. you look beautiful today,” cedric smiled, sitting down at the slytherin table next to you, a bold move for a hufflepuff, but everybody thought he was far too good looking to say anything. well, some people.

mattheo riddle had the absolute nerve to speak up, as if he hadn’t completely ruined your life only months before.

“alright, diggory?” he snorted, looking your boyfriend up and down with disgust. he and cedric probably could’ve gotten along just fine if it wasn’t for the clashing common interest that seemed to have mattheo spitting as many nasty comments as he could - you, “i see you’re still pissing about with her.”

he didn’t even bother to say your name when he was talking about you. twat. you felt your anger starting to pool up in your stomach, a force threatening to take over until a soft hand placed itself on your hip.

“just ignore him, okay?” cedric smiled down at you, encouraging you to do exactly what he was doing. you nodded.

“it’s fine. he’s just… yeah,” you sighed, scrunching your eyes a couple times before continuing to eat, doing your best to ignore mattheo’s presence on just a couple seats down.

—

“he’s perfect,” pansy sighed, practically drooling over your relationship.

you had shown the girls the card he had made for valentines day, which was honestly the smallest thing he’d done for you on the day. he had a tendency to show his affection as much as he possibly could, making you experience every single love language at least once a week.

“that’s adorable, oh my god,” daphne gushed, reading the card over and over. it was a sweet message where he described his love for you, and it definitely warmed your heart, “i’m actually so jealous of what you guys have, it’s not even funny. astoria, come read this.”

astoria made her way over to the group and took the pale pink card from her sister’s hands, her eyes scanning the words that practically formed a letter with how many cedric had written. the three of you watched as her face contorted into an expression of admiration and light jealousy, her cheeks slightly pink.

“stop it, you’re going to make me cry knowing that i don’t have a man that loves me like this,” she whined, punctuating her words with a small laugh.

cedric was your ideal boyfriend. he was attractive, sensible, smart and kind. he got along with your parents and siblings, and always made sure to compliment you in some way every time he saw you. he said everything you ever wanted to hear, and was just perfect for you, so why couldn’t you get mattheo out of your head?

“i need to ask you all something,” you blurted out, a little annoyed at yourself for doing so, but also relieved that you could get it off your chest.

the trio looked over at you with raised eyebrows, waiting for you to continue.

“what is it?” pansy murmured, her head tilted just slightly as her eyes studied you.

"okay, let's just say... hypothetically, you have the most perfect, incredible boyfriend and could never ask for anything better, but… there’s this pesky little lingering thought about a certain past endeavour that you can’t get out of your head.”

the girls looked at you a little confused, though daphne’s expression quickly hardened. she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“please tell me you’re not still thinking about riddle,” she groaned in disappointment, shaking her head whilst running her hands over her face. the other two expressed disapproving noises and sighs, looking at you as if you’d just told them you were going to kill someone.

“it’s mattheo, what do you want me to do?” you mumbled defensively, helping it would support your case a little, but it just made them give you a glare.

“i don’t get what you see in him. he’s a boring, lazy prick who skips every class he possibly can to smoke weed and get plastered with his equally as boring and lazy roadman gang,” astoria huffed with a small shrug, looking at you with more concern than anything, “all you guys would do was scream at each other and cry about it all, and then go and make out in the rain or something, which i suppose is pretty hot, but it doesn’t make up for all the arguing.”

“you go insane when you’re with him. i didn’t even know it was possible to feel that much, but you definitely proved that it is,” pansy snorted, though it was clear her comment wasn’t really a joke.

you just sighed and brushed it off, promising that you wouldn’t do anything. it was just something on your mind, right?

—

you were walking in the corridor on your own, cedric just having left to get to his class, which was on the complete other side of the school to yours.

“rare to see you without prince charming these days. have you broken up already?”

you knew who it was when the first word was spoken, and after days of trying to get him out of your mind, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“do you have nothing better to do than terrorise me and my relationship, riddle?” you spat, turning around to face the boy, though your expression quickly dropped when you saw crimson blood spattered across his face, “why am i not surprised?”

“wow, last name basis now, princess?” he chuckled, brushing off your comment about his injuries with a small huff of either annoyance or amusement, you couldn’t really tell.

you tried to walk away, not wanting to involve yourself in his antics when you couldn’t trust yourself to not snap without somebody nearby to warn you not to. it was hard to control yourself around mattheo for some reason. probably all the pent up anger you had from the relationship and its ending.

“just piss off. i honestly can’t be bothered with you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head. his face dropped at that, seeming much less entertained now that you had say that you genuinely didn’t want to speak to him. he didn’t like that.

“no, absolutely not. what you’re not gonna do is act like a bitch because you’re in a mood about something,” mattheo scoffed, grabbing your wrist to pull you back, leaving a faint, bloody handprint on your skin, to which you groaned at.

“can you not?” you murmured, trying to wipe it off, but only smearing it across your arm further. at this, he sighed and pulled you into the prefect’s bathroom, the nearest place with a sink.

“here, since you apparently need everything done for you. i see some things haven’t changed,” he tugged your arm under the sink and lightly rinsed it away, rolling his eyes as he did so, and taking the chance to wash his own hands, “you’re a real piece of work, you know that? especially these last couple months. i don’t even know what’s happened, but it’s annoying.”

“what happened is we broke up. i’m not going to be your sweet little angel every single day, riddle,” you retorted, shaking your head and patting your arm dry with a paper towel.

“i still don’t get why we ended things,” the brunette shrugged, as if the comment he had just made meant absolutely nothing, “i mean, you’d probably be sat in my lap cleaning me up right now if we hadn’t.”

his words were a harsh reminder of how much things had changed. if he had come to you battered and bruised when you were together, which he had done multiple times before, you would end up sitting in his lap whilst cleaning off all the blood, reprimanding him for getting into fights again whilst trying to fight the incessant butterflies that flapped around so aggressively in your stomach. you were feeling those same butterflies now, too.

“well… we’re not, so you’ll have to settle for some water and a paper towel. maybe you’ll get a plaster if you can find one somewhere,” you scoffed, trying to act as nonchalant as he was.

“come on, princess, don’t be like that,” mattheo groaned, looking at you with a frustrated expression. you didn’t get why he was still calling you princess. he’d taken the pet name he loved using for you so much and turned it into a mocking insult. that hurt you, you had to admit, how he took something so precious and made it into a nickname only used for when he wanted to be rude.

you glanced over at him, meeting his eyes. those eyes. those perfect, dark eyes that, when in the sunlight, turned into a gorgeous, flowing blend of various chocolate shades that sparkled and told so many tales in such little space. you had to chastise yourself for thinking about him so fondly when you swore you disliked him so much.

“why are you doing this to me? acting as if everything’s just perfectly fine and like there isn’t so much shit between us?” you sighed, running your hands over your face out of pure annoyance. why was he acting like this? why were you okay with it?

“i know you. i know every single facial expression you make. every single word you say,” he muttered, studying your face rapidly, “and i know that half the smiles you show off when you’re with diggory are fake. he’s boring you, i can see that clear as day. at least when you were with me, it was fun.”

you shook your head at his words, a soft huff of disbelief forcing itself out of you. deep down inside of you, you know that everything he was saying was true, but you couldn’t admit that. cedric was your boyfriend, you loved him, didn’t you?

“stop it, mattheo,” you pleaded, looking up at the blood-drenched face of the boy you didn’t know whether you adored or despised.

“i was your first… everything, princess. you can’t just deny that what we had was special,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he was getting annoyed again, his soft facade crumbling.

“what do you want me to do? apologise?” you breathed out in disbelief, looking at him as if he was insane, “if that’s what you want, then this is me standing in front of you and saying that i’m sorry for what happened that night, and it hurts my pride to say this, but i sometimes find myself wishing i could change my mind. is that what you want from me? i’m sick of these games.”

mattheo seemed to pause at your words, each syllable playing over and over in his head as he registered what you had just admitted. it was as if his entire body just glitched, every muscle coming to a standstill, though his eyes flicked back and forth as if he was reading the words from a book. it took a moment, but he eventually cracked a small smile, his head tilting.

“did you just reference a taylor swift song in your apology, love?”