#I WILL MAKE A LOVE POEM FOR YOU SOON BABY BOY WATCH ME YOU ARE MY REASON TO LIVE I LOVE YOUUUU

[popponn]

yoichi sir baby will u love me as i am

[ilycosy]

❝ DO YOU MIND ? ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x child of calliope!reader

summary — being the child of the mother of all muses, you're used to affections. boys and girls flock to you like you're a sweet, lovely thing, but they soon drop it when they realize that you're nothing like a muse. what happens if the camps precious, golden boy starts talking to you?

warnings : reader is a little toxic under their politeness, reader is also described to be feminine but there's no specific prns! luke is also kind of obsessive? he wants reader so bad.. not proofread (that's for babies /j)

aﾉn — i haven't written in a long time so bare with me, nor have i written for the pjo fandom ever (though ive been in it for a while..) this is also vv self indulgent (daughter of calliope here <3) so sorry if this isn't relatable ♡ lowercase intentional :)

being the child of the mother of muses has always been annoying— you've never had a break to just be. whether it be people chasing after you, or people who envy the attention you attract. there was always something, which you resented extremely.

if people were asked about you, they'd have only good things to say. you're beautiful, lovely, polite; but not a muse. it sometimes got annoying that it mattered so much to people, having others constantly talk about how you were never romantic.

you seemed to be uncomfortable with it at the very least, very few felt the resentment you held for love. those few could never confirm it though, having you reassure them that you're just a private person. ("there's no need for grand things, dear. i love you without such things." you'd say, through gritted teeth.) which is what might have drew luke castellan to you.

he saw through the politeness, observing you almost ever since you got claimed. he can picture when you got claimed, your embarrassed smile when an apollo girl had written a song for you. publicly performing it, you had lit up; literally. you were fifteen then— nothings changed in these past years.

luke can't remember all the times you've been confessed to, having songs, poems, even paintings done of you for your affection. but he can remember all the times he watched your facade crack; the way your smile stretched too wide to be real, your eyes dimming when you realized it was just another confession, or how you seemed to never interact with aphrodite boys anymore.

he finds it amusing mostly, how could such a pretty thing resent something people would kill for? either way, he finds himself being drawn in like you're a siren. the way your eyes darken at the mention of your mother, how you reapply gloss whenever you're nervous— he could go on really.

"are you going to eat that?" he finds himself asking you before he can stop himself, pointing at the yogurt bowl right next to your plate. he has half a mind to make sure he doesn't clam up when you look up at him, fluttering your lashes.

you gently push the bowl towards him, continuing on your morning like the best swordsman in the camp isn't talking to you. he pauses for a moment, licking his lips as he thinks of a reason to prolong this conversation.

fate seems to be on his side though— his brother, chris, being to busy talking to clarisse to even glance his way. he sits down, looking across from you as he eats the yogurt. he almost forgets that staring is rude.

"do you mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a bite out of your crossiant. somewhat annoyed by the curly haired boy, your leg bounces steadily. "do i mind what?" he asks, like he's stupid— for some reason, you can't help but let your annoyance take over.

"why are you here," you start, pointing at the empty table. void of friends, you always sit alone until somebody claims they're in love with you. "you usually sit with your brothers and annabeth."

he shrugs at your questioning, not being able to find it in himself to hold back a teasing remark. "you know where i usually sit?" he asks with a small small, but the glint in his eyes show a certain smugness that gets under your skin.

you smile back at him, stretched too far and there's a bite in your voice hidden under honeyed words. "bye castellan," you croon sweetly. "hope you find your way back to your seat!" is all you give him, a morsel of fake attention that sends him reeling.

the next day, you wake up a bit later than normal. rising from your bunk around nine means you've missed breakfast, a deep feeling of anger surges through your core in a flash before you stretch and get dressed for the day.

when you leave the hermes cabin, you're stopped by a familiar figure. tall, brown hair, and a stupid smug grin. "hey angel," luke almost sings with how pleased he sounds with himself. "i have a presant!"

he reveals a crossiant and cold coffee, the faint warmth of the once fresh crossiant eases the deep feeling in your core even more though the coffee makes you want to vomit. "i don't like coffee." you state, taking a bite of the baked good. "but thank you, castellan."

he barely has time to respond with a you're welcome or an im sorry before you're smiling, too wide for his liking, and walking away. he debates following you, trying to talk to you like he's desperate for a friend. but he decides against it, wondering how to keep a conversation going with somebody that hates being sought after.

a week passes of the same routine— luke catching you at odd moments during the day, offering you little things to keep you around for a moment longer. you find it annoying, but keep a pleasant attitude anyways, it certainly helps that he's not bad to look at.

a small rumor spreads through camp, luke castellan having a crush. it barely takes the day for people to speculate that it's you.

it almost disappoints you, not having expected the camps favorite to fall so easily— doesn't he have any other girls? you debate on telling him that you're not open for relationships right now, having been in so many already, you could very easily blame any one of your exes.

but you don't have the chance to reject him the next time you see him because he's talking already, smiling at you like you'd fall so easily. "do you wanna help plan an activity with me?" he asks, offering you a delicious smelling tea.

"why would you want me to do that?" you question him, almost allowing yourself to have a genuine lazy smile but you just force a docile confused tilt. you sip on the tea, the once tart raspberries are now sweet in the tea mixing with a hibiscus flavor.

you're too busy drinking to notice him begin talking, he's mid laugh when you tune in. "— maybe you could help with setting up the theater?" he suggests, you pretend like you know how you got into a full conversation with him by subtly trying to exit it.

"why not have the apollo counselor help?" you say sweetly, setting the tea down and turning your full attention onto him. he feels sick to his stomach at how you look at him, soft features with a sugared tone. your eyes look at him like he's below you, like he's a nuisance, and for some reason that might be his favorite part.

he searches your face for a moment, glancing at your cold eyes before he chuckles. "maybe i want to spend time with you," he smiles like a cat, curling on his face with a pride that shouldn't make you as heated as it does. "i think you want to spend time with me too, yeah?"

you almost roll your eyes at his suggestion, but unable to squeeze out of this one without being mean, you agree to help him.

it only takes a couple weeks to fix up the theater due to the lack of counselors wanting to help, so it's safe for the younger kids to have a play— after that, it's back to the apollo children to plan. you sit back on the stage floor, sipping on a water bottle as you bask in the cold dusk breeze. "do you mind?"

a voice speaks from behind you, rasping slightly. you don't even have to look to know who it is, "no, castellan." you say, because you can't think of a reason for why you would mind.

luke sits himself down next to you, his knee brushing yours as he looks down at your water with a stare that could only be described at halfway pathetic and endearing. "here," you say, handing him the bottle. "i don't need you to die of dehydration on me."

he takes it gratefully, drinking it almost empty in three big gulps that make you roll your eyes with a small scoff. "did you just scoff?" he questions, an odd excitement in his voice.

you quickly try to deny it, hands coming up to animate how you didn't scoff or anything of the sort. but he already has a grin like he's drunk of the noise, "you definitely scoffed! that was so funny," he says with a loud laugh that makes you shush him, afraid of other campers hearing.

"i don't know why you hide that." he mumbles on your hand, fighting the temptation to lick it so you release him. those thoughts subside when your pretty eyes look up at him in confusion, "your annoyance." he clarifies.

"im not annoyed," you say, a bit defensively as you pull your hand away from him. "bit rude of you to say that, castellan."

he rolls his eyes in response, one of his arms coming behind you to rest on the stage. you can feel the ghost of it barely grazing you, "you're definitely annoyed," he says matter-of-factly. "you're almost always annoyed, or angry."

you fight back a scoff, but then give up. rolling your eyes you turn to him, searching his face for how he noticed, why he's doing this— but you come up with nothing. "why do you care?" you almost snap at him, drumming your fingers on your knee.

"i don't," he says like it's obvious. "im the same way." there's a beat after he says it, a silence that seems more comfortable than awkward like it should be. admitting his anger to you felt like a breath of fresh air, because he knew you'd understand him.

you bite your bottom lip, turning to face him. "that hatred," you start, almost in disbelief that you finally have the opportunity to talk about this. "it doesn't go away huh?" the question is phrased more like a statement, barely asking for confirmation.

he nods, not speaking as he watches you. there was no need for an explanation on what the hatred was, he knew as soon as you began talking. the gift from your mother was never really a gift to you, a burden of what it means to be a demigod is all it was.

you never knew what was genuine, or what was your mothers doing. but you felt a sense of ease with the hermes boy, nothing like all your previous relationships. "do you think it's bad," you mumble, almost ashamed.

"do you think it's bad that we feel this way?"

your question is softly spoken, genuinely interested in his opinion. he feels himself almost feel guilty for you, but he can't lie. "no," he wraps an arm around your waist. gently bringing you closer. "i think we might be the only ones in the right."

he says it with such confidence, a lack of guilt or unease in his voice that it makes you smile. not a sweet one, but a prideful one. one that could reflect the pride of a god, finally validation for the deep seated resentment that almost quenches that thirst for revenge.

minutes of silence pass by, the sun fully set as you lean your head on his shoulder. inhaling the pine and deep smell of his cologne, you hum. "are the rumors 'round camp true?" you ask.

he feels a small blush creep up his neck and ears, spreading across his face as he realizes that you heard about those. he never meant for his half-brothers to over hear a private conversation (said private conversation was in the bathroom, luke washing his hands while chris talked loudly about how he could get clarisse to go on a double date if he'd just ask you out already.)

"uh," he laughs awkwardly, his fingers drumming on the soft skin of your waist. "do you mind?"

you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face, "no." is all you need to say before his wet lips are on yours. hungry and desperate for your attention, which you give him without another thought.

[chosenimagines]

-FLIRTY-

01 Call me yours *wink*

02 You look like a cute little elve

03 Looking as good as ever

04 Did the sun just come out? I don't think I've ever seen you smile that bright

05 Did it hurt?

06 You are glowing brighter than the stars

07 I am hoping to see you soon again, Gorgeous

08 Oh damn you are looking so fine, Baby

09 My pleasure

10 How about you put your lips on mine

11 I love to see you in my clothes but I love them better on my floor

12 Now I couldn’t be more happy that I walked in without knocking

13 You have never called me that. Keep doing that!

14 Your hand fits perfectly in mine

15 Good morning, baby

16 I missed this mischievous glance

17 You owe a kiss, dear

18 What’s up, hot stuff?

19 If this is a dream I don’t want to wake up again

20 How about you go on one date with me and I make you fall in love with me

21 You shouldn’t argue with destiny, love. It wants us to be together

22 I wish I could meet you one more time for the first time so I could admire you in the right way

23 Did it hurt when you fell?

24 I am pretty sure you are the reason for global warming

25 Your beauty is distracting me

26 Hey, Lover Boy!

27 You tried to flirt with me

28 Don’t you know the language of love?

29 As always you are such a charmer

30 Your smile is gorgeous

31 I wanted to use a crappy pick up line but damn Angel you are way out of my league

32 You are worth all the trouble

33 We both know that you are in love with me

34 You are my favourite distraction

35 I noticed you staring at me, princess

36 You are very welcome to do it

37 There is only you!

38 Are you sure you want a kiss? I am not sure if you won’t fall for me again

39 That is my new favourite sound

40 You are totally flirting with me

41 Awww, I made you blush

42 Baby, the sun is nothing compared to you

43 Your hero came to save you

44 I thought I was already lost but then I looked into your eyes

45 Do you want my jacket?

46 It looks good on you

47 I love it when you are blushing

48 That lip biting is sexy

49 You owe my real date but I’ll be your fake one anytime

50 Don’t worry, I’m all yours

51 Chocolate for the sweetest girl on the universe

52 You don’t mind sharing with me, do you *wink*

53 Did you know that I love how you push back your hair?

54 I’ve never thought that I’d fall for a cute little elve *smirk*

55 Besides it looks better on you

56 Hey Gorgeous!

57 I can’t wait to show you off! You are looking stunning (insert nickname)

58 My lips hurt too

59 Maybe you want to watch a scary movie with me?

60 Your wish is my command

61 Heeeey, how you doin’?

62 The room got brighter when you entered

63 I can be your valentine

64 3… 2… 1! Happy New Year *leans in for a kiss*

65 Didn’t you see it? The sparkles between you and me

66 I want to do more than that *wink*

67 I’m heartless now, because my heart is all yours! *winks*

68 I couldn’t help but notice you when I walked in.

69 Has anyone ever told you that your eyes look like the ocean? Wild and beautiful

70 You make me feel like an artist! You are the perfect muse for my poems

71 I wish I could paint you like this, but I could never do you justice.

72 Damn, that accent though!

73 I believed that I knew what beauty looks like but damn...

74 So how do I get out of the friendzone? Should we give kissing a shot?

75 Don’t tell me your heart isn’t racing.

76 My heart is racing, and I can’t tell whether it’s because I’m terrified or because I like you.

77 Trust me, you look gorgeous!

78 Did you know that your laugh is sexy?

79 It was kinda cute actually

80 This is all for you

81 Thank you for your precious smile, love

82 I don't want your body! I want to know your soul

83 Your hair is hanging in your food! *brushes it behind her/his/their ear*

84 You make me so nervous, but for some reason I still like it!

85 How about we go on a rollercoaster? The rollercoaster of emotions

86 If you’re feeling nervous, we could hold hands.

87 You like my name? You should here my phone number

88 I lost my number. Can I have yours?

89 I lost my heart. Can I have yours?

90 Hey, don’t be ashamed of being shy! It’s actually really cute!

91 Did you know I can read palms? *takes her/his/their hand and traces along the lines* I can see that you are meant to fall in love with me

92 That outfit looks great on you.

93 May I have this dance? *smirks and bows* 

94 I was more than lucky to run into you. See you around?

95 Maybe we can hang out again? *grins*

96 We work well together. *winks*

97 Has anyone ever told you how funny you are?

98 This was fun! Don’t you want this to happen again? Like tomorrow 5 o’clock

99 How about next time just the two of us hang out?

100 Aren’t you tired, sweetheart? You’ve been running through my mind a lot lately

101 You make me want to know more.

102 Just ask me out. I know you’re dying to.

103 I can’t help thinking that we look really good together.

104 Wanna go grab a drink?

105 I’ll come if you do *wink*

106 If it’s a date, then I definitely have time for it.

107 I’ll always make time for you.

108 I bet anyone would like you.

109 I know I was staring, but how can I help it. You're so gorgeous I just couldn’t look away.

110 I wish I could see you more often.

111 I thought this party would be a waste of time, but then I saw you.

112 I’m a very honest person and you are honestly the prettiest/most handsome person here.

113 You should smile more, you look lovely.

114 You should smile! Your happiness is lifesaving

115 Because of my great looks and your stunning smile and personality you should be my date to the dance

116 Are you good at ball games? Cause you really caught my eye! 

117 You, me equals a perfect match!

118 You’ve been here for how long?! I could have never forgotten someone like you

119 How about you be the Belle to my Beast?

120 Time stopped when you walked by

121 Why can’t I take my eyes off you?

122 My heart skipped a beat when our eyes met.

123 Feel my pulse. This is how my heart beats whenever I’m around you.

124 Can’t you stay a little longer? It’ll be worth your time.

125 I wanted to give you some of my sweets but I am afraid that you will get any sweeter

[spencers-renaissance]

i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.���

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[thegremlincrowsnest]

Denki x Reader NSFW

This is my addition to the LoveIsland AU! by doinmybesthere

I'm saying I'm sorry now because I was very...under the influence so to speak when writing this.

All characters are 18+, All reader inserts are poc, ftm and use he/him/they/them pronouns. All reader inserts are plus size

CW: Pussy eating, fingering, creampies, multiple orgasms, no protection used.

Fragment 31V, Sappho

Silence breaks my tongue and subtle fire streams beneath my skin, I can’t see with my eyes, or hear through buzzing ears.

Sweat runs down, a shiver shakes Me deep — I feel as pale as grass: As close to death as that, and green, Is how I seem.

That was the poem you had memorized since you decided to join this stupid island show. Ok, you were lying a bit; it wasn’t all stupid, you did want to go in the first place. But since you were here, you suddenly wanted to leave. The constant cameras and eyes on you did grow on you, but at the same time, you despised them. The constant eyes on your curves and plush thighs, the quiet mumbles of how you looked like a god did make you smile but you were stand-offish. Not really shy, but definitely not in any immediate rush.

As you sat next to the pool, tanning with a copy of Sappho in your hand, your sun was quickly blocked from you. Looking up you were met with a brilliant smile and golden eyes. “Hey, there beautiful~” the ray of sunshine spoke. You felt your cheeks burn under his gaze, aware of how his eyes quickly took in your stretched out form.

“H-hey there,” you responded, brain fuzzing out quickly as you sat up to properly speak. Hyper aware of the eyes and cameras on you, you pulled your braids to the side, exposing your neck and chest just a little bit more. He introduced himself as Denki and said that he’s been having an eye on you for some time.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you on the first day. You’re just so beautiful,” he remarked as he licked his lips.

You both talked for some time, changing topics from shared likes to dislikes and passions you both have.

“I saw you were reading poetry and at first I was going to try and write something for you, to try and impress you,” he commented with a chuckle, blushing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, what happened to it?” You asked with a cocked eyebrow.

He was silent for a moment before responding, “I realized I suck at poetry…” You didn’t intend to laugh as loud as you did, but you couldn’t help it. He protested saying he was trying his best. “I decided instead I wanted to take you back to my room so I can read to you some of my favorite poems,” his voice was low and he leaned in close enough where you could smell him. Whiffs of sharp citrus and warm spices filled your nose, it made you want to lean in more, becoming enveloped in its intoxicating allure. He stared down at you with a very noticeable hunger in his eyes. So inviting and striking.

Denki couldn’t help, but lick his lips again, watching as a drop of sweat travels down from your neck to the valley of your breast. Your brown skin looked delicious in the warm summer sun, soft and subtle, perfect for marking. You make eye contact and silently agree. Quickly you both sneak away to his room, as soon as the door clicks shut, you’re pushed against it. Denki kisses you softly before deepening it as he lets his hands roam your plush body. You do the same, running your fingers across ropes of tightly wound muscle, squealing softly as you feel his hands grip your love handles.

“You’re absolutely stunning. I swear I’m not a perv, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about this body of yours.”

He kisses your neck, sucking gently as he tastes your skin. You whimper softly feeling his soft lips leave a trail of small marks, taking special interest in your stretch marks. He tugs your panties down in a frenzy, whining like a puppy as he smells your arousal. It's thick and sweet as it mixes with your sweat, he can’t help himself as he licks up the insides of your thighs. Placing your legs on his shoulder he lifts you up, placing you down on the bed so he could lift your hips higher. Resuming his ministrations he spreads your lips, slowly licking your slit, nuzzling his nose into you.

You try to hold back moans, whimpering and biting your knuckle as you feel his tongue thrust inside of you. His arms lock around your thighs, letting you squeeze his head with them, refusing to let up. He squeezes the rolls of your stomach and sides, sitting up slightly as he looks down at you. “Breathtaking,” he moans as he pulls his cock out.

He rubs your clit gently, gathering enough essence to slide two fingers into you. Jerking his cock in tangent with how he fingers you, spreading his fingers ever so slightly, wanting you to fall apart. You both watch each other, how you both whimper and whine at the softest of touches or praise. He finds your sweet spot and presses against it as he jerks he stops touching his cock, letting it throb as he fingers you faster, cupping your face with his other hand. “Let go for me baby, wanna see that face again,” he groans, rubbing his thumb against your clit, three fingers thrusting wildly into you. You can barely think straight before you throw your head back. Moaning loudly and gripping the sheets your body shivers, squirting across his arm and lower stomach.

You shiver as your orgasm begins to subside, as you sat up you were about to apologize when you’re being pushed back. Denki kisses you deeply, swallowing your soft moans and cries as he slowly pushed his cock into your sloppy pussy. Shivering he pulls back, panting softly as he begins a steady rhythm

Plap Plap Plap

“So good, you’re so good, fuck darlin.’”

Plap Plap Plap

“Fuck you’re so tight around me baby."

You can’t tell if the whining you hear is from you or him. He has your knees on his shoulders as he pounds into you, feeling his balls slap against your ass. You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you feel his thick cock hit the deepest parts of your body. Suddenly the realization that a camera could catch you both makes your blood freeze. As if he can sense your anxiety he pulls your face to him. “Keep lookin at me sweet cheeks. Look me in the eye as I fill this cute pussy.”

You fight to keep your eyes open as he pulls you down into his thrusts, borderline screaming as you feel his cock hit your womb entrance. Then as he reaches down to rub your clit, your body freezes as you squirt on his cock. His pace doesn’t falter as he watches you dissolve in front of him, body clinging to him like a safety line. He picks you up, bouncing you on his lap as he holds your face to his. “Good boy, take my cum, take my cock, fucking be a good little cock slut and take it all.”

Plap Plap Plap

He holds you tightly, biting into your shoulder as he cums deep inside of you. Growling, his nails dig into your thighs as you grind against each other, prolonging your orgasms. You collapse onto the bed, your head laying on top of his chest. Suddenly, you feel confident in this competition.

[wickedpact]

dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........  late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

  B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.)  the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

  C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

  D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

  E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

  F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest. 

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

[ps-i-dont-even-know]

Devil may cry parent headcanons

Dante

He probably is a fun dad but at the same time don't leave your kids with him, it would be a disaster

Will wake up to crying at 12 am and try to put the kid back to sleep, ends up with both of them watching tv instead

This man will do anything with your kid, they want to go to the park, sure he'll have to keep an eye on them. They want to see the movies, sure has to be below pg or he will never hear the end of it from the nightmares his kids have. Want to go to the zoo, sure he just needs to make sure they don't go into the exhibit.

He will play dress up and tea time with them. He will put on a dress and have them do his makeup just so he can go to tea time, and might start some beef with Mr teddy for stealing his cupcakes, but he will do it proudly.

He will try to do their hair in the morning for school, again he is not the best at it and will probably give them crooked pigtails, he's trying he really is.

Can't cook for shit, I'm sorry if you think he could cook please take a look at all the pizza box stored around his shop. Like he will take cooking lessons or watch cooking shows but dear god how do you set fire to milk.

He will always be there for his kid to vent even if he doesn't know how to respond he will sit and let them rant about stuff, also trying to cheer them up because he doesn't want to see them sad

If they brought their homework to him he would be confused he can barely pay his bills i don't think he knows how to do math, but drama he will rock that stuff his acting skills are on point even if it's cheesy

Will waste all his money on the kid, toys, clothes, video games, you name it he will buy it and give to the kid

Remember how I said not to leave your kid alone with Dante yeah, he may or may noteave his weapons/devilarms around for the kids to grab them, like halfway of Dante walking into the main room and he sees ebony in his kids mouth he tricksters all the way to them and quickly grab ebony before anything bad happens, but the kid will start crying and he has to find something for them to mess with or he'll get a headache

He accidently devil triggered in front of his kid now depending on which one he get two responses and he's expecting screaming for both, but if its regular dt like humanish looking one, "woah, dad grew scales and wings, are you a lizard king?" Now its his Sin Dt he would get "Oo, daddys a gaint dragon" for both case they will proceed to touch his scales? And will be all over him trying to climb him to the point he literally has to switch out of dt so they don't get hurt. Also he's a heat source for winter if the heating doesn't get paid for.

If his kid comes out as any of the lgbtq+ he would be supportive and loves them for who they are, I also see him being apart of it too.(I know a few people see him as asexual I do too, as well as bisexual)

Vergil

Look this guy probably has no clue what he's doing, even if we wish he could've taken care of Nero (at least I do) he didn't and now he has another kid to take care

Please help him hold the baby, he can't properly do it at all, he's just holding them by their chest and staring at them with confusion as the child cry, "why won't they stop screaming?"

He will get the hang of taking care of the kid, but please don't leave him alone with them for long he still has no clue what he's doing half the time

"Hey can I hang out with (insert name) at the mall?", "Do I know their mom?", "Uh, no", "Do I know their dad?", "No" Then that settles it, you can't go", "But-", "No buts, if I don't know their parents you can't go, and that's finale"

Can he cook, probably but he's been in hell for most of his life and doesn't know what he's doing half the time. Thank god for cooking shows and book he at least tries a learn how to cook, and doesn't burn anything unlike someone else

He will read the kids William Blake or other bed time stories before bed time, and will do activities where they try to make up poems he has to thank Nero for the idea

Speak of Nero, if Vergil has a mission he will leave his kids with him, he's not trusting Dante at all. Nero absolutely loves his step siblings even if their like a few years younger than him, they will either play with the other kids at the orphanages or play Nero which consist of Video games, sometimes sword fights if they beg long enough, or just talk about the stuff their dad and uncle does that are stupid and make fun of them for it.

Also that one dad to try and help with math homework but makes the kid cry because they don't understand the problem and he's yelling at them "What's 2 x 2?" Its traumatizing please someone tell him to cool it or his kid is going to have problems when it comes to yelling and math, also complains how he didn't learn it that way as a kid, I promise you he was homeschooled.

Now his kids can vent to him but he has no clue what to do nor have much good advice but he will give what he knows even if it's not the best.

This can go many ways, this man know his kid is getting bullied he will go down to the school with the Yamato and threaten someone's life, give his kid the sword for them to deal with it instead, or use some brain cells and deal with it like civil people and we hope he chooses the last one

Now he's a little careful with his devil trigger and doesn't want to scare his kids, but its by accident really and he expects screaming, just like Dante he gets two responses. Regular dt and I'm going off of 4 because I don't think he has one in dmc5, "Dad, why didn't you tell me/us your secretly a bug, don't worry well keep you away from shoes." If its Sin Dt, "Wow, your a dragon this whole time, does this mean I'm also a dragon, where do you keep your stashed gold?", I feel like for his regular dt they will sometimes smack him with a fyswatter and he has to turn out of his sin dt quickly because they want to mess with the fire coming out of him.

If his kids come out as lgbtq+ he will be supportive and a little confused because he has no clue what it is. They have to explain what it means and what their sexuality means, he'll still be supportive and loves his kids no matter what they are

Nero

Out of Vergil and Dante, he's probably the one who knows more about taking care of kids since he grew up with them in an orphanage and takes care of them

I feel he's like a mix between Dante and Vergil, Fun dad but will put his foot down on somethings

If its a girl you bet he will go out to a store at whatever time it is and buy then pad/tampon when their monthly comes no questions asked he just knows. If its a dude he will give the talk, not just protection but what not to do, like when a girl tells him to stop he needs to stop, no advancing on or anything like that (I feel like the no advancing will also go for the girl)

Doesn't do favoritism, he hates that stuff since he technically dealt with it as a kid, if one kid ask why he loves the other more than them he will shut that down quickly and tell them he loves them equally and will move moons for them to both be happy

Best cook hands down, and will let his kids help if they want to but keeps them away from sharp objects. He will also take them out to dinner if he doesn't want to cook

He's decent with homework, and goes about it in a fun learning experience for the both of them, if they get an answer right they get a point that they can trade for something special later kne, if they get it wrong they will go over it again, but still get a point because no favoritism. He also help make a volcano, but also put a little extra pizzazz to it, and might have caused the whole kitchen to be a different color now.

His kids can vent to him, he will understand and try to help give advice for some issues, also takes them out of the house to do something they want to do to cheer them up

He will encourage his kids to follow what they want to do, play a sport? He will show up to every game, even if that means giving Dante his mission he will. A club? He will make sure they have everything they need for that club and be on time for it, be it art, book, yearbook, student council, etc. They want to do boy scout/girl scout, he will make sure he gets them a vest and help put pins on as well. He will be the number one supportive dad

As soon as his kid comes to him crying about how some other kid is bullying them he will be mad, he'll reassuring his kid that they are amazing first, then go to the school, if they don't do anything he will go straight to the parent and make sure that their kid doesn't mess with his anymore.

Will watch anime with them, if they agree that is don't want your dad into your stuff. But like he's absolutely into it, he seems like the person to like Bleach (this was not intentional I complete forgot that the voice actor for Nero also did Ichigo) or Cowboy Bebop. Maybe sailor moon but you won't hear him say it

Look he's really new to the devil trigger business, the only thing close he had was that ghost creature, so keeping this thing in check and not popping up randomly is hard. His kids reaction are, "You hair is longer, are you like rapunzel, oh wait you have wings and a crown your an angel. Oh can I braid your hair please," of course he will let them braide his hair he can't say no to a pouting face, they also will poke his wings to see if their real.

He will definitely support his kid if their aprat of the lgbtq+, will buy them flags, merch, you name it. He want his kid to feel safe and loved

Lady and Trish

Look I can't separate these two, when I first saw them I thought they were girlfriends, and I can't let that go. But these two would definitely be the fun and protective mom

So considering Trish and Lady are both females they definitely have to adopt of course, now Lady may not know if its half demon or full, but Trish does and she probably would help the kid when they get older since she knows about the demon body considering she has one, if its human Lady knows the most about the stuff going on when they get older and has I already planned out.

Now Lady has to be the protective mom because the shit happen with her dad she definitely doesn't want anything bad to happen to their kid, and Trish is like you do you kid if you get hurt you learn from it "its the demon way of raising" she says. Though she still will watch over them and make sure they don't get themselves severely hurt

They will buy their kid anything, and take them out shopping. It's like a spin the wheel of pay to see if they will pay for the stuff or put it under Dante's name for shits and giggles

Lady has to like keep her weapons locked up somewhere safe, unlike Dante, she's more careful with her weapons

If their kid is mad or something Trish will take them to some deserted area with some random stuff she found that isn't in use and have their kid throw it in the air so she can blow it up with her lighting, you know to blow steam off

Trish or Lady tell their kid the stupidest thing Dante has done or said, if they visit Dante please note one will scream if Dante says something about a soul, "I should have been the one to fill your dark soul with Light" and get the voice crack right too, he will look so embarrassed

Now Trish might not know anything about homework she'll support the best she can but Lady knows most of the stuff and will help.

Trish will tell their king everything about Hell, who's in charge, what creatures are there, the history of it all. Its a great learning experience until you tell them that the female demons kill the male after finishing mating

If they are out in public and some guy is hitting on their kid and their tell him no, protective mom mode is on. Mostly Lady has to stop Trish from frying thr guy, but Lady will give the man a price of her mind saying if he tries to do this shit again with her kid he will be going home with a foot straight up his ass. So now no man tries to hit on her

Definitely let the kids go venting to them, they give the best cuddled, some good advice, and shopping if they say someone's bullying them they will see that the parent deals with their kid.

They knew their kid was apart of lgbtq+, of course their supportive of who they are, they are dating of course. They will take them to a pride march in June

Kyrie

Look, LOOK, she is an amazing mom, so caring but also will put her foot down on somethings

Besides Nero she is a good cook and baker, while she doesn't want kids in the kitchen while she's cooking will will have them help with baking sweet

Reads bedtime stories and tucks her kids in and kiss goodnight (ugh my heart hurts I love this)

She will play video games with her kids mostly on the wii, she still the champion on Mario Kart and Just Dance no one has taken their spot yet, even Nero tries

Packs lunch for her kids and puts a note in it telling them that she loves them and hope they have the best day

She does worry about them from time to time when they go over a friends house, only because of what happened to her brother and then Nero she doesn't want anything to happen to her kids

Tells them not to climb the tree in their backyard, what does one of them do, they climb it and accidently falls down. She goes to them saying "You know I told you not to do it, and you did it anyways, you need to be more careful and listen to me. I'm not doing this because I'm being uptight I'm doing this for your safety I want you to be able to do the things you want in the future"

I feel like she's the same way with friends like Vergil, if she doesn't know the parents then you can't go out or over their house

She is really a good listener and help with advice, so venting to her is a really great idea also will ask about your feelings and how your doing someday, like she knows your in a sad mood

She also good with homework, I feel like she wanted to become a teacher as well as study for it, but instead stuck with taking care of orphans, so she probably homeschools her kids too

She also makes the kids clothes time to time, they have little sweaters or shirts that are soft and comfortable

She is so supportive of her kids if they come out lgbtq+, she doesn't care as long as their happy thats all that matters.

Nico

Now I love Nico amazing and pretty girl but don't leave a child with her, just like Dante it will be a disaster, but she probably would try to be a better parent than her since he technically wa this weird freaky man who experimented on demons or was weird.

Let's start with teaching the kid every swear word she knows and tells them to go up to Nero call him one of those names, she will hear her name being screamed and find an angry Nero going over to her as she burst into fits of laughter

Will be extra pair of arms when getting a tool they need for fixing the van, when Nero does understand what a Dohicky is

I think Nico can cook, its decent not bad or good, she did nearly burn the van down from trying to cook turkey.

She will try and cut back on smoking or at least not doing it when the kid is around because its bad for them, Nero scoffs because she nags him when he tells her to stop, but not her kids

Now her kids could bring homework to her, like he's good in math, engineering, and probably biology, but she'll act as if she never even seen the stuff in her life, because she wants to get her learn it and not her just giving them the answer. But if their kid is in a science fair I bet she will help make something totally child friendly(its not really), it kind of gets her and her kid ban from doing anymore science fairs.

She will teach then everything she knows about Demon, mostly the biology of it, and when Nero brings a demon part for his breakers, she goes in explain how she turns them into those.

Will tease her kids if they talk about their crush, she's a huge teaser so saying something about someone they really like or anything its a mistake, she will embarrass them in front of their crush, but she means well

If they try to change the channel of the radio she swats their hand saying the driver picks the music and the passenger has to sit and listen.

If she's busy with something she will let Nero and Kyrie babysit her kids, she trust them and the kids love Nero and Kyrie.

Tries to teach her kids how to drive when their of age to learn, but Nero and Kyrie won't let her considering how she drives and that the instructor is more legal to do it.

No but she will tease her kid a bit if they come out lgbtq+ too, of course she supportive I kind of see her being apart of lgbtq+ as well

*Bonus because it seemed reasonable to just put this one here like this*

Nero, Dante, Vergil, Lady, Trish, Nico

They will teach their kid self defense, and how to use a weapon. While they rather their kids have a normal life instead of a demon hunter for many reasons, they at least want their kid to take care of themselves if they find themselves in a situation where their life is on the line

[werewolf-witchboy]

Tokoyami Fumikage X Male Reader

Being A Witch Boy And Dating Tokoyami

WARNINGS: none uwu

Being a witch has nothing to do with your quirk, you just like practicing the dark arts and witchy things.

I'm not going to mention what your quirk is, so you can imagine that you have whatever quirk you want, or you can imagine yourself as someone without a quirk.

💀 Tokoyami had been fascinated with your hobby of witchcraft ever since he met you. He was most fascinated with the fact that your actual quirk has nothing to do with how your witchcraft works.

🕯 He had already thought you were cute before, and he had been in that time of his life where he was starting to question his sexuality a little- but after you showed him your witchy interests, he fell hard for you.

💀 He may be a dark and edgy birb boi, but he's also quite shy and awkward. He probably would have never confronted you about his crush if you hadn't told him your feelings for him first.

🕯 When y'all started dating, literally everyone was like "FINALLY!!" cuz it was super obvious that the two of you were meant for each other.

💀 When it comes to what type of witch you are, i'd say you're a witch of all traits.

-You love dark and spooky things, but you also love pastel colors and nature.

-Your room in the class 1A dorm is most likely full of plants, candels, a variety of antiques and trinkets, and shit that you can't buy at stores until it's around Halloween time.

🕯 Tokoyami likes to ask many questions about all of the different types of things you do, and he actually pays attention and is super interested. You'll even teach him some new things, and show him how to do them himself.

💀 You love Dark Shadow as much as you love Tokoyami himself. Though they're both very different in personality, you find them both charming and adorable (despite them both saying they're not "adorable," they're dark and spoopy lmao).

🕯 He also loves your animal familiar.

-Your familiar rarely comes out of your bedroom. Since you're dating Tokoyami, you allow him in your room (which means a lot more than he probably thinks it does, cuz spaces where witches do their magic and recharging are very sacred to them) so he gets to see your familiar quite often.

💀 It's rare for familiars to show affection to anyone that isn't their bonded witch, but your familiar absolutely loves Tokoyami.

-They'll hop onto his lap immediately as soon as he sits down in your room.

🕯 Both you and Tokoyami thrive in the darkness, so there are often times where you both hang around in your dimly lit room cuddled up together just talking all day (or even sometimes laying there in comfortable silence).

-You'll be in there together for so long that all of your friends will start questioning where you're both at, and not even realize that you're just in your room.

💀 He obviously likes you a whole lot, but he's super bad at saying it with words. He's just shy and bashful. BUT THEN DARK SHADOW EXPOSES HIM LMAO-

-You'll be standing there looking super cute, and Tokoyami will just stare at you and want to say something so badly. Then Dark Shadow appears and is all like "wOw yOu'Re sUpEr hOt" and Tokoyami just dies right there in the very spot he's standing cuz he can't believe that just happened.

🕯 That's another thing- Tokoyami stares at you a LOT. He even did it before y'all started dating, but now he doesn't even try to hide it.

-You barely noticed at first, but once you started noticing how often you catch him staring at you, you can't help but tease him a little.

-You'll stare at him back, directly in the eyes, and he'll get super flustered and embarrassed.

-Then to calm him down and make him feel less embarrassed, you'll giggle at his flustered-ness and give him a lil beak kiss...which just makes him even more flustered.

💀 He's definitely the type who wants to be a total romantic, and speak all poem-like to you, and shower you with praises, ect. BUT he gets so flustered when it comes to affection, and second-guesses himself when it comes to his ideas of showing affection.

-He's scared of coming off too strong, or seeming to clingy, or even not doing enough, so he never really gets the chance to act out any of how he wants to show affection- and to top it all off he can't help but be absolutely smitten every time you give him affection of any sort, and he'll not know how to react to it.

🕯 You never call him out on his shyness or how he reacts to your affection, you're not offended with any way he reacts to you. You think it's super cute how innocent he seems when it comes to all of this, and of course you encourage any time he gets a little bit of confidence to hold your hand or compliment you (without the help of Dark Shadow lol).

💀 His feathers get all ruffled when he's flustered, and OMFG it's too cute. 🥺😭

🕯 Something that he loves so much is when you borrow his clothes. Because for him, it's kind of a way to show affection towards you without being super direct about it.

-So him being like "you're cold? here, wear my sweatshirt" translates to "TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME, KEEP IT FOREVER, I LOVE YOU FJSKDJFHR-"

💀 Don't come @ me- Tokoyami listens to death metal, but he'd totally vibe with something like kpop if you introduced him to it.

-He's definitely a Loona stan.

🕯 Highkey though, now that I think of it- he probably also listens to Joji and Billie Eilish.

-Like, really moody sad boi hours indie music.

-He'd have Will He playing in his headphones, and he'd be all edgy and in his feelings, but he'd also be doing something like baking cookies at the same time lmfao.

-He'd have a playlist named "songs to cry to," but he'd be listening to it while knitting sweaters for puppies or something.

💀 No, you didn't ask me what kind of music that I think Tokoyami listens to, but you got it anyway. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

🕯 If he's at a store, and sees something kinda spooky looking that makes him think of you, he'd quickly get it and think all day of giving it to you, and he'd want to watch you add it to your collection of lil trinkets and antiques.

-....But he'd chicken out so hard I stg.

-This poor baby would rehearse how he'd give it to you in his head over and over again, and then when the time comes to give it to you, he'd get suddenly so tongue-tied and worried if you'd actually like it or not.

-But, of course, you love whatever he gets you every time. Your always super surprised when he gets you something, cuz it's not your birthday or any special day, and you never expect gifts from people.

-Every time you accept a gift from him, you always want to squeal, tackle him, and shower him with kisses- but you resist doing so with all of your being, cuz you know he'd malfunction.

-Instead you very profoundly thank him many times, and give him one especially loving kiss.

-Seeing your extra surprised and happy reaction always relieves him so much, and it makes him want to do it all over again and gift you a whole shop full of trinkets. His lack of hundreds of dollars is the only thing that stops him.

💀 You're the type of person who wears a lot of black, and scatters bright colors here and there within your look. Your style ranges from goth to pastel e-boy.

🕯 You don't like to change other people's styles or tell other people what to wear, but every once in a while, Tokoyami expresses an interest in dressing like you- which you go NUTS over.

-You'll let him borrow your pastel sweaters, and he'll let you put bright colored hairclips in his feathers.

-He now even owns some pastel colored clothing of his own, that you either gifted him or he secretly bought himself at some point.

💀 He used to be shy about changing up his style every once in a while at first. Whenever you'd take pictures of him wearing bright clothes, he'd softly ask you not to show them to any of the others.

-Eventually he became confident enough to go out in public those rare days he'd wear bright colors, and everyone is always super supportive of the different style.

🕯 He had never been in a relationship with another guy before he started dating you.

-He started questioning his sexuality around the time he started high school, but it was never a priority at first because he was more focused on working hard to get into U.A. and thinking about his future being a hero.

-aNd tHeN hE mEt yOu, and now we're here lol.

-ANYWAYS, y'all go to pride parades together.

-Something he isn't shy about is his sexuality, cuz as soon as he realized how he felt about you, he was all in and that was that.

-Y'all go all out for parades with face and body paint, and shirts with your flags on them, and even sometimes bringing signs and flags to hold up and wave around.

-Some of your friends will come with the two of you, whether they're there because they're also lgbtq+ or just because they support it.

-It's the most social the two of you are the entire year, cuz your both introverted lil emos that don't really talk to many people outside of class 1A.

💀 So yeah- I think Tokoyami is highly underrated and I'm extremely soft for him. He's an emo birb boi, what is not to love.

-I believe in emo birb boi supremacy.

-Rise all Tokoyami stans, we shall take over the entire anime world someday.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Desire

Pairing: orc!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: obsession, dubcon, Stockholm Syndrome, corruption, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, swearing, size kink.

Words: 1574.

Summary: A wife of an orc, you find yourself gradually submitting to your beast of a husband despite your desire to keep him away.

P.S. I'M SO SORRY! This is just pure filth 🙈 Please proceed carefully!

____________

"You're such a slut." Bucky growled in your ear lowly, abusing your tight and warm cunt as he pounded into you roughly, nearly making you scream. "You like orc cocks so much, huh? You like it when an orc breeds you, you fucking bitch? Yeah, you do... shit... haah." He bit your earlobe, drawing one more moan from you, and then thrusted even deeper. "My sweet human whore."

A thrill of pleasure ran the course of your body, causing you to arch into him, your eyes rolled back inside your skull as you cummed again, screaming his name. Fuck, Bucky was destroying your pussy so well you were opening your legs willingly each time he came back home. You could never even imagine you'd be getting off on him forcing himself on you, his pretty little wifey whom he claimed not so long ago. Bucky loved fucking you into submission with his monstrous cock, showing you your place over and over again. Despite you trying to tell yourself how gross and beast-like he was, you kept cumming beneath your orc with your legs spread wide, your cunt full of his thick sticky seed. He was going to knock you up real soon if he didn't do it already.

Unable to speak from overstimulation, you were mewling with that “fucked-silly” expression on your face, and the orc smirked, his big calloused fingers pinching your sensitive nipples. He loved a sight of you, his lovely human bitch with his cum leaking down your thighs. Nothing was better than a thought of you completely ruined by him. You were so sweet, so innocent with that embarrassed face of yours when Bucky touched you for the first time, watching you look at him with disgust and fear. Corrupting you every damn night when he was pouring lots of his cum inside your tight little cunt was something he could never grow tired of.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart." He growled, and you obeyed, melting from the gentle pet name he gave you. Your mouth was so little compared to him, your tongue too as Bucky licked it, mimicking human kiss and sticking his huge tongue between you lips, his kiss so wet and sloppy as he practically ate you. "You like that, little slut? Who's better at kissing, an orc or your pathetic human boys?"

"You are." You managed to moan into his mouth, sucking his tongue and feeling your pussy twitching.

"Good girl." The orc purred as you licked his canines willingly and coiled your arms around his neck, your breasts pressed into his wide chest. "You gotta bear my kids, sweetheart. A whole lot of them, yeah?"

Knowing Bucky wanted you to answer, you kissed his jaw and mewled, "Yes, I'm gonna give birth to nice little orcs. I wanna be pregnant... mm... r-right now."

His eyes suddenly grew warm at your confession when you panted, licking his saliva from your lips. He made you say those words before, but your had never sounded as sincere as now with your eyes hazy from pleasure, your pussy still convulsing close to his cock that slowly became hard again.

"You humans are so damn fertile. I'm sure I knocked you up already." The orc hummed, his enormously huge hand caressing your lovely curves. "Happy to be an orc's whore, are you? Full with my dirty cum, pregnant, laying on top of me, some heathen... Shit, I love you so much, you bitch."

With that he had sank into your cunt again, molding it into the shape of his cock and groaning from the intense pleasure your warm human body was giving him. Your loud moan was music to his ears when you tried riding him, but you were too spent, almost breathless again, and Bucky quickly rolled over, getting on top of you. You smiled weakly at him when you reached out to touch his lips in a gentle, loving little kiss. Fuck, that along with a thought of you finally accepting him as your mate was almost enough to make Bucky cum.

Letting out a low gutteral sound, he pounded into you with ferocity, burying himself in your overworked cunt. The orc imagined you with a round belly, your full breasts leaking with milk, your little human body aching from carrying his heavy children. He'd be coming back home every day to find you complaining about babies moving and kicking inside you, and he'd be kissing your belly until you felt good, spreading your legs so Bucky would massage the walls of your pussy with his tongue. The thought of you, such beautiful, lovely human woman bearing his kids was making him fuck you relentlessly until you were crying softly beneath him, pressing your forehead to his solid shoulder as you clinged to him, your legs crossed behind his back to keep your mate closer.

With his stamina that could make him go for hours, Bucky kept fucking you until late night, soaking the new bed sheets you put today. He calmed down only when you milked his heavy balls dry, your swollen pussy a mess as the orc pumped more and more of his cum in your womb. You'd nearly pass out if he didn't stop at one moment.

Exhaling loudly, the orc brushed his dark disheveled hair - a nice present from his human grandmother - away from his face and gulped down the wine you left for him on the table. Coming back home had never been better with his wife waiting for him in his bed, her eyes pleading him to fuck her. Despite your stubbornness in the morning when you still refused to behave like a proper wife, Bucky knew you were falling for him, your pussy drenched every time he pulled your skirt up. Once you were growing heavy with his children inside your belly, you'd finally accept your place. Anyway, you'd become a wife of some weak human bastard, so why wasting away a chance to bear kids of someone way superior than a human man?

Leaning closer to you, Bucky did that filthy thing with his tongue you called "a kiss" again, loving the way your little wet mouth felt. Licking its insides and your kitten tongue made him feel warm and nice.

"You're so pretty, woman." Bucky said, and your face grew hot momentarily, making him chuckle. "What, didn't your people call you pretty? Then I will." You tried covering your face, ashamed, but he took your arm away and kept licking your mouth until you relaxed and started sucking his tongue. "Huh, I want my children to have your face, wifey. Bet half of the tribe gonna fell in love with them."

You clinged to him, both ashamed and pleased, and mewled as the orc stroked your back carefully despite having enough strength to smash you with just one hand. Becoming an orc's mate was something parents used as a means of scaring children into behaving, and at first you were utterly repulsed by the creature that called himself your husband. But now... it felt like you just took your place.

The more he was pleasing you in bed, the more you submitted, becoming more and more eager to appease your husband. It went as far as rushing to bed when you heard Bucky coming back home and spreading your legs wide to show him your leaking cunt. He made such a slut out of you, ready to ride him, suck him off, let him pump his seed into your womb while you orgasmed multiple times, moaning beneath him like a cheap whore. You could do nothing as you dreamed of your orc claiming you over and over again until he'd make you have his kids. Shit, you were corrupted to the point you wanted to give birth to lovely little orc kids so bad.

"Bucky, do you love me?" You suddenly whispered, drawing his attention as he stared at you, surprised.

It was the first time you asked. It didn't matter to you before what feelings the orc had for you.

"Of course I do." He said, his large warm hand on your belly as he kissed you loudly. "I can't stop cumming in you, you sweet little thing. I know you humans like serenades and poems and all this shit, but nothing proves orc's love better than a good fuck."

You were terribly embarrassed, but strangly relieved at his words as Bucky drew you closer, wrapping you in his arms. Getting up from his bed, he carried you like a bride across the room, moving to the little spring right at the back of the house. As the orc grabbed a handful of towels roughly, ruining a perfect pile you folded this morning, you rolled your eyes as he chuckled.

"Yeah, I get it, wifey. But let's have you all nice and clean before I'll put you to sleep."

"Put me to sleep? I hope you're not gonna sing me a lullaby. My ears gonna bleed." You grunted, causing the orc to laugh heartily.

"No, woman. I'm gonna fill your cunt and let you sleep in my arms, that's how we put our women to sleep."

"You're such a brute."

"That I am, wifey."

As he hummed, carrying you in his arms despite your protests, Bucky thought of all the goods things that were to happen once you would submit to him completely, and then smiled to himself.

_____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @iheartsebastianstan

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART SIX

:Masterlist:

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, angst (sorry <3)

A/N: this was definitely meant to be posted like a week ago but here it is! <3

---

August 1994

The florescent lights of the hospital waiting room were starting to give you a headache. 

They were way too bright and flickered every so often that it made you dizzy to look at them. But you needed something to focus on to stave off boredom, so you focused your attention on the clock on the wall.

It read just after midnight and you silently cursed yourself, quickly pulling out your flip phone and dialing your mom’s number.

She was probably asleep by now, but thinking about her possibly waiting up and worrying made your stomach turn. The line rang for a moment, but then the ending tone chirped and you were left with her answering machine.

“Hey, Mom. Uh, we had a little accident at practice. Luke was practicing his guitar throw and he kind of threw out his shoulder. I’m gonna drop him off at home and then I’ll probably just stay at the studio so I’m not biking home so late. Okay, love you. Bye.”

You hung up the phone and shoved it in your pocket just as Luke appeared from behind the door. The nurse said something to him that made his eyebrows furrow but he nodded. As you got closer, you realized that his right arm was wrapped in a sling.

“So, you’re not dying?” You joked.

“I might as well be.” Luke pouted, lacing his other arm through yours as you start to walk out of the building and into the parking lot. “They said I can’t play guitar for two weeks.”

You hummed sympathetically, knowing more than anyone how much that was going to drive him crazy. “This is what you get for trying to be all ‘Rockstar’”

“Excuse you.” Luke said. “I am a rockstar.”

“Uh-huh.” You sarcastically nodded.

“You’re a jerk.” Luke grumbled petulantly, resting his head on your shoulder. “Here I am, in unimaginable pain and you have no sympathy.”

“Here’s a tip for the future, if you want sympathy then don’t make me drive through Hollywood past midnight.” You teased, lightly shaking him to show that you weren’t actually serious.

“I’m still surprised that Bobby let you drive ‘Amber’.” He gestured to the car you were walking towards.

‘Amber’ was a present that Bobby had gotten for his birthday a few years earlier and it was his most prized possession. Normally, he never would’ve let you take it, but he didn’t feel like driving and taking Luke to the hospital in the basket on your bike seemed a little impractical. So he had handed over the keys reluctantly.

“You got something to say about my driving skills, Patterson?” You asked as you unlocked the car and settled into the driver's seat. Luke got comfortable in the passenger seat, and winced as he looked over at you.

“Don’t get me wrong, (Y/n). You are many things,” He said. “But a good driver isn’t one of them.”

You flipped him off as you started the car and started pulling out of the parking lot. It was quiet for a minute, but just as you turned back on the street, Luke turned on the radio and a familiar song filled your ears.

“Mmm, yeah!

Tonight, I want to give it all to you,”

“Oh no.” You laughed, knowing exactly what you were in for from the way that Luke’s eyes lit up. He grinned as he cranked up the volume and shifted in his seat as much as he could, ready to give you the performance of a lifetime.

‘In the darkness, there's so much I want to do

And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet

'Cause girl, I was made for you

And girl, you were made for me,’

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on the road, but it was hard when Luke was being so frustratingly cute.

His hair was still messy from rehearsal so it stuck up in different directions and he had a dorky smile on his face as he drummed his fingers against the center console. You pulled up to a red light and Luke looked at you expectantly.

You rolled your eyes, but gave in, taking one hand off the wheel to make a makeshift microphone. Luke grinned as you both began to sing.

‘I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?’

One song turned into two, then three, then before you knew it, you had pulled onto Luke's street.

Unlike the rest of the neighborhood, every light in the Patterson household was glowing bright yellow into the night and Luke let out a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for driving me." He said, his voice suddenly a little quiet. You looked up to the window to see the shadows of Luke's worried parents as they passed the curtains and suddenly the levity in the air was gone.

"Of course." You said.

You both knew what was about to happen.

Luke had told you all about the famous Emily Patterson meltdowns, and how they had been getting more and more frequent since he formed the band. Luke spraining his shoulder was only going to give his mom more reason to push Luke away from music.

From your music.

"Hey," You reached over and interlocked his pinky with yours, making Luke raise his eyes from his feet. "Don't let her get in your head, okay? Our music is important, and I know she'll realize that someday."

Luke’s eyes held yours for what seemed like an eternity before lightly squeezing his pinky around yours. “How do you always know what to say?”

You laughed. “’Cause I’m the greatest best friend ever.”

Luke smiled, his eyes slowly drifting from your still connected hands back up to your face. “Yeah, you are.”

The softness in his voice made your heart skip a beat. “I’m serious though. We’ll get into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame someday and you’ll prove her wrong.”

Luke learned a little closer, his voice practically a whisper, "Is this your way of admitting that I actually am a rockstar?"

"Oh, shut up." You groaned as you threw your head back. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"You love me." Luke retorted.

"Unfortunately." You deadpanned. "Now get out of the car, dork."

Luke fake pouted as he wiggled out of his seat and started walking towards the door, he gave you a quick grin and a wave before disappearing into his house.

Once he was out of sight, you let out a sigh and leaned back against the seats, trying to remember the way his hand felt in yours.

---

2020

"(Y/n)! Where have you been?"

Alex demanded the second you stepped into the studio, a worried expression on his face. As soon as you left the diner so late, you knew that a lecture from Alex was coming.

"I’m sorry, Al." You said. "I just lost track of time."

"Were you with that guy from the diner?" He asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow.

"Someone's in trouble." Reggie loudly whispered to Luke who was next to him on the couch. Just like usual, Luke barely spared you a glance before he glued his eyes back to his songbook.

"I don’t think you have any room to be teasing anyone about cute ghost boys.” You said, mirroring his position. “How was your afternoon with Willie?”

Across the room, you could’ve sworn Luke’s writing got heavier against the page. But when you looked over at him, he gave no other indication he was paying attention. 

“Don’t change the subject,” Alex's cheeks turned a little pink but he stood his ground. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Hey,” You walked up and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry I made you worry. But you don’t have to. I’m good.”

“Of course I’m gonna worry.” Alex said, finally dropping his grumpy face and nudging you. “What else are best friends for?”

This time it wasn’t your imagination, Luke’s writing was definitely getting harder, enough to where it was going to rip a hole in the paper. Reggie and Alex noticed this time too and you all exchanged confused looks but before anyone could say anything, Luke jumped up from the couch.

“So! We should get working on this song.” He puts the page on the piano for you all to read. “I could use your help on the bridge, (Y/n).”

Alex shot you one last confused look and you shrugged before shifting your focus to the song. It was mostly finished, and with Julie’s poem as a guide for the lyrics, you were confident that it would be one your best songs yet.

Next to you, Luke scanned the page with the edge of his pencil, pointing at things he wanted your opinion on. Even with all the tension surrounding the two of you lately, it was nice to know that you were still a great team when it came to music.

---

For someone who learned that ghosts exist, that four of them from the 90′s were living in her best friends garage, and that they were all in a band together in one afternoon,

Flynn took the news surprisingly well.

Which meant that once Julie agreed to join the band, Flynn immediately started coming up with T-shirt ideas and new band names. You weren’t surprised at all when Julie announced that Flynn had booked a gig at the school dance a few days later.

You had all decided on the setlist that morning and had been practicing all day. Which meant by mid-afternoon, you had everything memorized. Since it was the first performance with Julie as a part of the band, you figured that letting her take the lead with vocals would be a good idea.

During the second break of the day, Luke and Reggie were messing around up in the loft, leaving you and Julie with nothing to do. So she offered to teach you a little about piano. It was a slow-going process but you were slowly getting the hang of it. "Okay, so, like this?"

Julie watched carefully as your hand flew across the keys. You miraculously played all the right notes to the song that Julie had taught you over the past half-hour and she beamed.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” She said, “Play it again.”

Your finger was about to press down on the key, but then Alex phased through the doors. Ever since yesterday, you had been waiting for a moment to tease him about Willie. It was only fair since he just grilled you about being out all day.

“Hey, Al.” You greeted as you stepped away from the keyboard and wiggled your eyebrows at him. “And just where have you been?”

“Yeah, man, we gotta start practicing.” Luke said.

“For what?” Alex asked just as Flynn came strutting into the room. You noticed the colorful paper in her hand and nodded your head toward it with a grin. 

“For that.” 

Flynn set the paper down on the keyboard to Julie to see.

Alex whined as he looked it over. “Aw, man. We’re playing a dance?”

“Yeah, it’s how you build a following these days.” Luke said as he plopped down into a chair.

“Yeah, get with the program, Alex.” Julie said and Luke laughed.

The sound drew your eyes to his face and you can’t help but stare at him as you tried to remember the last time you and Luke had joked around like that. It used to come so naturally, but now even just being around Luke felt like a ticking time bomb of awkwardness. 

Luke’s eyes flitted up to yours for just a second and for the next few moments you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

Flynn shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The band is here?”

She then proceeds to wave to the wrong side of the room and you laughed as Julie gestured towards where you all were actually sitting. You all still waved back despite knowing she couldn’t see you.

“Okay, so now that Alex has graced us with his presence, we should get back to rehearsing.” Luke said and everyone nodded in agreement.

But before any of you could move, Carlos strolled in. “Hey, Julie, remember those orbs from dad’s pictures? I think they’re ghosts.”

Julie’s eyes went wide as she looked at the photos Carlos set on the keyboard right in front of her. She looked back and forth between all of you as Carlos rambled on.

“But don’t worry.” He said as he spun in a circle. “This room is clean, I’m not getting any ghost vibes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Carlos was exactly what you always pictured a little brother would be like. You had always wanted a sibling, but the closest you ever got was Reggie.

“If they come back, I’ll protect you.” Carlos puffed out his chest a little. “Because I’m the man of the house.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t dad supposed to be the man of the house?”

“There can be two.” He said as he pulled a salt shaker out of his pocket. “According to the internet, salt burns out their souls.” 

Your eyes all got wide and you backed up until you were almost against the wall. Reggie and Luke both yelped and jumped up as Carlos spun in another circle. Alex screamed as salt went right through his torso, but he straightened a second later with a sheepish smile.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” You snort as Alex flipped you off. Julie nodded at Flynn to distract Carlos and she led him out through the doors and back up to the house.

Once they had left, you turned to Julie with an excited smile. "Wait, before we start, I wanted to show you some old Sunset Curve songs."

"Ooh, okay!”

Luke opened his songbook and a page quickly fell out. You instantly recognized the cramped but neat handwriting and laughed at Reggie. "'Home Is Where My Horse Is'? Again, Reg?"

Reggie beamed. "It's a gift."

"Thanks, Buddy." Luke patted his shoulder before opening his songbook to a page in the middle and laying it across the piano for Julie to see. 'I think you’d kill this one."

Julie’s eyes scanned the page for a moment before flipping through the book. "Who's Emily?"

The color drained out of Luke's face as he scrambled for the journal. But Julie kept it just out of his reach. "And this another one, 'She Is Love’? Who knew you were such a romantic?"

You shared confused looks with Alex and Reggie. Of course, you all knew about ‘Unsaid Emily’. Luke always eagerly shared every part of his music with the band, even if it was just a few scribbled lines or a riff he thought of off the top of his head.

But it was clear from the guy’s faces that none of you had ever heard this song. Luke writing a love song was weird in itself, but him not telling anyone about it was even weirder.

"It's just something I tried." Luke said, a faint blush on his cheeks. "But you should flip to the next one. It's got a killer beat."

He played one of the first songs you had ever written for Sunset Curve 'Last Place' and Julie nodded along with a confused look. "So you wanna use a sample?"

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Sample someone else's music." She explained. "I've heard that riff a million times. It's a classic Trevor Wilson song."

"Who?"

With a couple of clicks on her computer, Julie pulled up a picture of a middle aged guy leaning up against a guitar and your head started spinning.

"Guys, is that...?" You trailed off, hoping that you were wrong.

"It's Bobby." Luke finished.

"Seriously? I just told you his name is Trevor." Julie said.

Alex ran his hands through his hair, a slight scowl settling on his face. "Okay well then he changed it. That's definitely Bobby, he was our rhythm guitarist."

"He looks so old." You said, resisting the urge to reach out and poke the screen.

"He looks like a substitute teacher." Alex added, producing a slight chuckle from Reggie. 

"Julie, what were his other songs?" You asked. You had a feeling the bad news was only beginning. 

"'Get Lost'." She said and your heart sank even further.

"I wrote that." Luke said as he tugged his strap over his head. You could tell he was getting angry beneath his calm exterior, and the same feelings were rising up inside you as Julie went on. 

"’Long Weekend'?' She continued. 

"That one too." Reggie said. "It took (Y/n) and Luke like a month to finish."

"This is freaking me out!" Julie rubbed her temples. "This whole time I thought you were connected to my mom. But you're actually connected to Carrie's dad?"

"Add it to our list of questions." Alex sighed, his leg bouncing as he sat in front of his drum set.

“We used to talk about music all the time.” Julie said sadly. “He never mentioned you guys.”

"Of course not." You scoffed and Luke walked across the room and threw a dart at the board with enough force to put a hole in the wall. “He takes all the credit and doesn’t even mention us.”

“And he’s rich.” Julie flipped her computer screen around to show a photo of a huge mansion. “He has his own helicopter.”

Luke abandons the darts and makes his way over to the screen as Alex jumps up. “Man, we live in a garage!”

“It’s not about the money.” Luke huffed. “It’s about the music!”

Reggie whined. “It’s a little bit about the money.”

“A little about the money.” Alex emphasized.

“He could have at least shared it with our families.” You said, thinking about your mom and how she used to work extra shifts to take care of the both of you. 

Reggie nodded in agreement. “Then maybe my parent’s house wouldn’t have gotten turned into a bike shack.”

Luke took a deep breath. ”What he did was steal our legacy.”

There was a moment of tense silence before he spoke up again.

“Where does he live?”

Julie hesitated. It was clear that all of you were angry, but Luke was on another level. His music was everything to him and being betrayed by Bobby was clearly getting under his skin. You gave her a pleading look and she sighed.

“Above the beach in Malibu.”

Luke glanced at the three of you, asking a silent question. You all nodded and Luke threw on his jacket, a look of determination on his face. “Let’s go teach him a lesson.”

Julie got up from the bench and tried to protest, but you all phased away.

-

As you walked into the front door of the mansion, a million memories raced through your head.

Of days when the five of you would go down to the pier or the park and play for hours, or take a drive around the city in Bobby’s car and talk about being famous one day. You used to joke about someone breaking off and starting a solo career, never actually thinking it would happen.

But clearly Bobby took it a little too seriously.

You and Alex walked to one side of the house while Luke and Reggie searched the other side. Every wall you could see was covered in awards and photos of his performances along with a giant portrait of his face right above the living room. From a little further down the hall, Alex shouted your name and you walked over to see him pointing at a display of shiny silver records.

“Have you seen these records? They’re Platinum.” He said.

“Platinum?” You repeated in disbelief. You ran your hands along the frame and were shocked that you could actually touch it. Across the room, Luke grumbled.

“He recorded ‘My Name Is Luke’.” He said. “My name is Luke!”

Suddenly, you heard the front door open and Bobby walked in.

“There he is!” Reggie called and you all turned to face him as he walked up the stairs. You snorted at his outfit choice and Reggie scoffed, clearly thinking the same thing. “He wears sunglasses indoors.”

Luke and Reggie started bouncing up the stairs after him but you and Alex hung back. 

“Wait!” Alex called. “You know, It’s my first time haunting someone. I want it to be special.”

You stifled a laugh as Luke and Reggie exchanged confused looks before continuing up the stairs.

“I made that weird, didn’t I?” Alex cringed and you patted his shoulder.

“Definitely.” You laughed as you nudged him forward. “Come on.”

You reached the top of the stairs just as Reggie and Luke phased through a door at the end of the hall. Alex was quick to follow but you found yourself stopped in front of what you assumed was Bobby’s office. 

It was a huge room with expensive guitars and fancy furniture. It looked like every other room in the house, but for some reason, you felt like you needed to look in there.

Alex noticed your hesitation and frowned. “You coming?”

“I think I’m gonna look around a little more.” You said.

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded.

Once he was gone, you walked into the room and spun around, taking in the sight of even more awards lining the walls. Your blood boiled thinking about all the hours you had spent writing them only for Bobby to take the credit.

You crossed to the desk to find the bottom drawer cracked open. You tried not to open it, but your curiosity won out. It slid open and you saw that it was completely empty except for an old shoebox that was pushed all the way to the back.

The lid was covered with a thin layer of dust like it hadn’t been opened for ages. It took a minute of pulling, but you finally got the lid off and peered inside.

The first thing you saw was a guitar strap. It was black with white skulls and flowers lining the sides. You recognized it instantly as the one Alex got Bobby for his 17th birthday.

The second was a picture of Sunset Curve playing at the winter formal freshman year. You cringed while looking back at your questionable fashion choices, but the memory still brought a smile to your face.

Finally, there were a few picks spread out across the bottom of the box, and a faded napkin from the diner. 

A wave of confusion and regret washed over you.

So Bobby hadn’t forgotten about all of you.

Maybe he was a music-stealing weasel that you wished you could deck in the nose. But why would he keep all of this stuff if he still didn’t care deep down? If that seemingly always grumpy but secretly dorky boy you had known wasn’t still in there somewhere?

Suddenly, you heard screaming down the hall and you quickly closed the drawer before following the noise. It led to the bathroom door, where Luke and Reggie leaned up against the wall as Alex held the door shut. Then he backed up and the door swung open.

Bobby stumbled out with a terrified look on his face, running down the stairs while he mumbled to himself. The boys laughed and high-fived, grinning at you before phasing out again. You groaned and started walking downstairs where Flynn was sitting on the couch rambling to Carrie as Julie snuck into the backyard.

You followed Julie cautiously, knowing that she would probably be mad at you for leaving earlier. When you walked through the screen door and heard her start to lecture the boys, you knew you were right.

“So, did you guys have fun?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“You would do the same if he stole your music.” Luke said defensively.

“But you guys have new music with me.” Julie added. “And the best way to get back at him is for this band to do great. First we have to play dances, then clubs.”

“Then tours. I know.” Luke said and Julie sighed.

“I’ll see you guys at the school. We go on at 9:00.” She frowned. “Please don’t be late.”

“We’ll be there.” Alex said reassuringly. “Don’t worry.”

Julie turned and walked back through the screen door, giving you a tight-lipped smile as she passed. 

“I don’t care what Julie says. I’m glad we scared Bobby.” Reggie said as he glared up at the mansion.

“I mean, maybe it was a little harsh.” You said and all of them stared at you in disbelief.

“Harsh?” Luke sputtered, like he couldn’t believe that just came out of your mouth.

“I found some stuff upstairs.” You tried to explain.

“What kind of stuff?” Reggie asked.

“The picture of us playing back in freshman year, some of our old picks, his old guitar strap.” You said, but the boys didn’t look convinced. “Guys, Bobby was our friend. We shouldn’t forget that.”

Alex and Reggie looked a little conflicted, but Luke didn’t budge. “How are you so cool with this?”

“I’m not!” You sighed, talking a little louder than you meant to. “God, of course I’m not okay with it, Luke. I put just as much of myself in those songs as you did. But I think we’ve done enough. Besides, it's not like we can even confront him anyway.”

“Maybe we can.” Alex said and you all turned to look at him. “I mean, Willie knows a lot about ghost stuff. Maybe he knows a way we could talk to him.”

“Let’s go find out.” Luke smiled mischievously.

You frowned but nodded. “You guys go. I’ll meet you at the dance.”

“(Y/n)-” Luke started but you had already disappeared in a flash of bright white.

-

If there was anything you didn’t miss about being alive, it was school dances.

You were always wrapped up in work or band stuff to be able to go, let alone ask anyone to be your date. Playing at the freshman winter formal was the first and only time you had ever set foot in a dance until tonight.

Your eyes scanned the gym in awe as you followed Julie through the dancing crowd. There were bright lights and balloons everywhere. There were a few kids dancing but it wasn’t very crowded, but it was still early and you hoped more people would be there to see you perform.

Once you and Julie reached the stage, Flynn grinned from behind her DJ booth and gestured to the backstage area. Julie fiddled with the bottom of her shirt nervously as you both walked behind the curtain.

Flynn gave Julie a hug and you laughed as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Are they here?”

“(Y/n) is.” Julie explained and Flynn waved in your general direction in response. “The boys will be here later. At least I hope.”

“I’m sure they will be.” You tried to reassure her. “They know how important this is.”

Flynn nudged Julie’s shoulder with a grin. “Well, let’s get your stuff set up then.”

-

By the time 11:00 rolled around, you were ready to track the boys down and kill them again.

The dance floor was twice as crowded as it was when you got there, and everyone was impatiently waiting for the main performance. You knew that wherever the boys were, they must’ve just lost track of time and didn’t know they were late. But that didn’t stop you from being angry. Especially when you saw the look on Julie’s face.

“Hey,” You sat on the floor next to her while she stared sadly at the projector. “I’m sorry they’re not here.”

Julie just shrugged. “I was really looking forward to playing tonight.”

Your eyes drifted to the crowd, then to the projector, then to Flynn and you got an idea. “Maybe we still can.”

She furrowed her eyebrows but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We can perform the songs. Just the two of us.” You started. “Flynn can play some backing tracks and we can still rock this place!”

Julie looked nervous and a little hesitant but she called for Flynn and the girl raced over immediately. She explained the plan quickly and Flynn grinned in approval and assured you that she would take care of the backup music.

A pit of butterflies opened in your stomach. You hadn’t performed without the boys for years, but with Julie to lean on, you were fairly confident that you could get through it without throwing up.

You went on with Julie as planned, pushing thoughts about what the boys must be doing off to the side so you could focus on the performance at hand. It wasn’t quite the same, but it didn’t seem like the audience could tell. You belted your hearts out as they danced along, and both yours and Julie’s nerves disappeared as you got lost in the music.

It ended with a thunderous round of applause and you and Julie taking a bow at center stage. You took your cue to phase away and there was another wave of cheering as Julie waved and joined you in the backstage area.

-

As the crowd of students began making their way home and the stage was being torn down, you sat on the gym floor beneath a colorful balloon arch with Julie. Flynn had made her way to the cafeteria, taking advantage of the fact that there were no adults to stop her. 

You watched the last few students leave, including the blonde boy you’d noticed staring at Julie all night. You turned to her with a playful smile. 

"So? When were you going to tell me about the cute boy who obviously likes you?" You teased and Julie sighed.

"Nick is Carrie's boyfriend." She said as her eyes drifted across the empty room and you smiled sympathetically. She elbowed the air next to your ribs, "When were you going to tell me about Luke?"

"What about Luke?" You asked, trying not to blush.

"Don't play dumb, (Y/n)." Julie smirked. "It's obvious."

You groaned, falling onto your back against the floor and Julie laughed. "How obvious?"

"(Y/n), you wear his jacket like everyday, and that song in his journal was one hundred percent about you." Julie laid down beside you.

You snapped your head sideways and Julie laughed again at your shocked expression. "What?"

"Come on." She said. "Who else could that be about?"

You thought back to earlier, when Luke looked like a deer in headlights as Julie read the title out loud.. But you knew there was no way that it was about you. I mean,  Luke never exactly had a shortage of girls that wanted his attention. 

Just as you were about to point this out to Julie, there was a series of bright lights and Alex, Luke and Reggie appeared in front of you. You and Julie stood up, wearing identical glares, the anger you both felt earlier returning in full force. But before you could say a word, Luke launched into an apology.

“We are so sorry that we bailed on you guys.”

“The night just got away from us.” Alex added, looking everywhere but your face.

“It was about Carrie’s dad, wasn’t it?” Julie asked and when none of the boys answered, she scoffed. “You know what? Save it. Bands don’t do this to each other, friends don’t do this to each other. This whole thing was a mistake.”

“You mean the dance, right?” Luke asked hopefully and Julie shook her head.

“I meant joining a band with you guys.” She said, trying to keep a straight face. You could tell she was holding back tears as she ran out of the gym.

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and faced them.

Alex immediately stepped forward, guilt etched on his face.”(Y/n), We’re so sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should worry about apologizing to.” You said, looking towards the doors where Julie left just a second ago. Alex followed your eyes and sighed, grabbing onto Reggie’s shoulder and steering him towards the door.

There was a moment of heaviness as you took another deep breath. You realized with a start that this was the first time you and Luke had been alone in months. Talking used to come so easily between the two of you, but now you found yourself struggling to find your words. 

“We really are sorry, (Y/n).” Luke said quietly. “We didn’t mean to hurt Julie. Or you.”

You scoffed, kicking your foot against the linoleum of the gym floor, “But you did, and for what? A chance for revenge?”

“No! Well, yeah. But there was something else that happened. You won’t believe-”

“What could’ve been more important than being here?” You asked, cutting him off. You forced yourself to look up and found him looking back at you intently. 

“If you just let me explain, I promise I would never purposely leave you hanging.” 

“But you have been leaving me hanging, Luke!” You fired back, your voice nearly echoing in the empty room. The second the words left your mouth, you felt nauseous. After months of keeping those words on the tip of your tongue, you had expected saying them to feel better.

Luke winced at your words, but kept your gaze, “Hey, I know I’ve been..” He paused, knitting his eyebrows together, “distracted”. 

“That’s one word for it.” You said and Luke took a cautious step closer.

“It’s just that everything has changed so much.” He said, and for the first time tonight, he looked away, “Even before we died.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off, seemingly unable to stop rambling.

“It’s like there’s so many things I’ve been trying to say, but I can’t make the words come out. And it all gets so tangled up in my head and I just end up saying nothing.”

You could see him getting more frustrated as he continued on. “I’m sorry for everything. For being late, for being such a shitty friend and being so far away lately. I just-”

He took another step forward, eyes never leaving your face. “I’m just afraid of losing everything.”

There was an edge to his voice, like it was hard for him to get the words out. As he inched a little closer, you reached out your hand, fingers inches away from his when suddenly he jumped back. A purple shock flashing in the middle of his chest.

Luke fell to the ground, groaning as he clutched his side. You crouched next to him and his eyes fluttered open slowly. “Ow.”

“What the hell was that?” You asked and Luke sat up.

“I don’t know.” He said, rolling his shoulders, “That’s never happened to me before.” 

Suddenly, Alex and Reggie phased back into the gym, both of them looking just as shocked. 

“Guys, something so weird just happened.” Reggie exclaimed. Alex took in the sight of you and Luke sitting so close to each other and cleared his throat.

“Should we come back later?”

You glared at him. “Let me guess, you guys also got shocked with creepy purple magic?”

“How’d you know?” Reggie asked, wide-eyed.

Alex sighed at him before he turned back to you. “We definitely need to figure out what the hell just happened.”

“Yeah, let’s go home.” You said and Luke cleared his throat, staring at Alex and Reggie.

“Uh, you guys go. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Alex gave you a questioning look and you nodded, and with another flash, they phased out.

It was quiet for a minute as you both processed everything that just happened. You and Luke hadn’t had a fight like that since you were kids, and that was the most he had said to you in over half a year. Your head was spinning with all the change.

Luke rubbed the back of his neck and you could almost feel how nervous he was. “So..”

“So…” You repeated.

Luke turned a little more towards you and quickly wrapped his pinky around yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he smiled.

“Truce?” Luke asked.

You nodded, smiling as you squeezed back. “Truce.”

-

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13​

Let me know if you want to be added!

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Cardigan (Wolfstar)

I sat down to write a teeny drabble with two lines from the song Cardigan by Taylor Swift. It quickly spiralled into this. (I really love it though).

Set in the cannon universe, cw for mentions of death, injuries and scars. (Nothing graphic though).

I knew you, dancing in your Levi’s drunk under a streetlight. 

“Shh! Pads. you’re gonna get us caught!” Remus half-whispered, his own voice a tad too loud for his own liking but his slightly tipsy state didn’t allow for a lower volume. Sirius spun into him smushing his fingers right up against Remus’ lips, both of them chest to chest under James’ cloak. It was hard to believe the four of them mused to fit under this - now it only just about covered Remus and Sirius even with Remus ducking down to Sirius’ height. 

“Come on Moony, you’re ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’,” He said, punctuating each word of the grand title with his index finger poking into Remus; chest. “Even if we do get caught, you can charm our way out of it.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but followed. The passage was dim and the ground was uneven and to be perfectly honest, they hadn’t yet discovered if this particular passage way had been caved in since they last explored it the previous year, but Sirius seemed sure of himself and that was enough for Remus. If Sirius was the one leading, he’d always follow. 

“Alright, but I’m late on a transfiguration essay, so if Minnie catches us, you’re on your own. I need to save my charm for that.” He said, his tone stern, but all his reserve melted when Sirius smiled up at him and pressed a victorious kiss to his cheek. 

“I take back your title.” Sirius said dramatically, looking at Remus with a smug righteousness. “Apparently ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’ isn’t so perfect after all.”

He pressed his mouth right up next to Remus’ ear just as they stepped out the little secret entrance, ducking under the ivy trellis that hid their little passageway. “It’s a good thing I like bad boys.” Sirius breathed, and Remus couldn’t wait any more, not caring whether the cloak revealed their ankles or not when he pulled Sirius in for a blazing kiss. 

“I love you, you know that, right?”

Sirius smirked and kissed him again. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

Remus laughed and took off walking again, tugging the cloak off as soon as they were far enough away from the school, catching hands and spinning under the soft glow of the lamplights illuminating the path to Hogsmeade. Sirius tilted his head back, still spinning, their hands acting as the axis that centred the entire universe. 

“I love you too.”

I knew you, hands under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better. 

“Sirius, if you don’t start being more careful, I’m gonna-”

“What?” Sirius teased, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, looking far too haughty for a man sitting on a countertop, his legs dangling in the air. “What’re you gonna do Re? You gonna punish me?”

Remus pursed his lips to try hide his smile, but gave in, kissing Sirius once briefly.

“No,” He said, pulling up Sirius’ jumper to get a proper look at the gash he had acquired after climbing a tree. Then subsequently falling out of said tree. “But I will send you to Madam Pomfrey and have you try to explain to her that you thought you’d be able to pull off a levitation charm if there was a ‘more extreme sense of urgency’.” He finished, mocking Sirius’ words from earlier. 

Sirius just scrunched up his face playfully in retaliation, before breathing in shakily as Remus coated the cut with a liberal amount of salve, watching in fascination as the skin knitted back together.

“There.” He said, straightening up to stand between Sirius’ legs, pulling down his jumper again. “Good as new.”

“Nah ah.” Sirius countered, shaking his head as his legs locked behind Remus’ back, binding them together. “Gotta kiss it better.”

Remus wet his lips, shaking his head in fond disbelief, but leaned in willingly, feeling the hot slide of Sirius’ mouth against his own cooler one. 

“All better?” Remus asked, panting slightly as they rested their foreheads together. 

Sirius shrugged, hooking his arm more firmly around Remus’ neck. “Close, but not quite better yet.”

Remus huffed a laugh through his nose, but gladly locked their lips together again, the pair fully intertwined as if they had been made for each other. 

(And maybe they had. For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite. 

“Sirius?” Re said softly, pushing the door to their dorm open slowly. “Are you here?”

“Yeah,” Came a muffled reply. “I’m here.”

Remus stepped into the room, looking first to Sirius’ bed to find it empty. Remus frowned, looking around to find Sirius curled up on Remus’ own bed, his favourite cardigan folded gently around him.

“Hi sweetheart,” Remus said, voice hushed as he climbed onto the bed next to the other boy, noting the red stained eyes and puffed lips. “What do you need?”

At the words, anything that seemed to be holding Sirius together until that point shattered, the raven haired boy collapsing into Sirius’ arms. 

“Re,” He gasped, between his sobs as Remus just pulled him closer. “Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Isn’t love supposed to be good? If it’s so great, then why the fuck does it hurt so much?”

Remus’ heart clenched. Regulus. 

“I don’t know sweetheart,” He murmured, holding Sirius close. “But it makes us who we are.” He cupped Sirius’ face so he could meet the raging stormy eyes. “It’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all.”

Sirius just blinked at him. 

“But for the record,” Remus said, touching their heads together. “I don’t think you’ve lost him. He’s just lost right now. But he’ll find his way back to you.”

Sirius nodded, and slumped against Remus’ chest, no longer crying, just breathing deeply. 

“You know Remus Lupin,” He whispered after a while. “I don’t care how long it takes, but I’m gonna marry you someday.”

To kiss in cars, and downtown bars, was all we needed.

“Oh Merlin, they’re snogging again.” Peter commented as he turned his head to spot James and Lily, leaning in for a kiss. Remus, currently with his tongue in Sirius’ mouth heard this, but let Peter discover the other couple in his own time.

“Christ, the pair of you are too. You’re all fuckin at it.” He grumbled. If Remus’ mouth wasn’t already a little preoccupied, he would have laughed. There it was.

“Right, I’m off to find humans capable of holding decent conversation.” Peter muttered and he might have left. He could have stayed and done a jig on the table for all Remus cared, but in this moment, he noticed none of it. What was the poem he had read somewhere? Stars and moths and rinds slanting around fruit. This moment.

You drew stars around my scars and now I’m bleeding. 

“Hey, look at this.” Sirius said somewhat excitedly, rolling away from Remus momentarily and returning with a quill and a jar of ink. 

Remus eyed him skeptically, his arm tucked under his head as they lounged on his bed, the curtains drawn to create the illusion of their own little oasis. 

“I bet I could draw stars on your chest and then your scars could connect them, like in astronomy.”

Remus bit his lip, looking at Sirius’ appraised expression. “I feel like I should say no,” He said slowly, even as he unscrewed the ink. “But go for it.”

Sirius grinned triumphantly and studied Remus for a minute, brushing the quill over his lips as he concentrated. Remus couldn’t help but muse that if Sirius put half as much effort into his schoolwork as he was doing here, he would be top of the class. Finally, Sirius ditched the quill, dipping a finger into the ink directly. 

“I don’t want the point of the quill to scratch you.” He explained, after noticing Remus’ raised eyebrow. Something warmed inside Remus’ chest while something cold trickled over the outside. Remus closed his eyes and let himself focus on the slightly ticklish, but mostly soothing sensation of Sirius tracing patterns over his skin. 

“Done.” Sirius muttered after a while and Remus opened his eyes, raising his head a little to peer down at himself. He looked like some abstract piece of art, covered in black and blue and red and green, scars shining silver between it all. 

“Woah,” He breathed, “That’s pretty cool.”

Sirius grinned, then pointed to a star just over Remus; appendix. “That’s Sirius right there.”

Remus hummed, pursing his lips together, then grabbed a jar of ink, tracing a star a little messily, right over his heart. 

“Nah,” He countered, “Sirius is there.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but came up to press their lips together. In the morning, they both looked like works of art.

But I knew you, stepping on the last train, marked me like a blood stain. 

“I can’t believe this is the last time we’ll be taking this train.” James said, the four of them standing in a row on the platform, not yet ready to get on. 

“We’ll be back.” Remus said. “Someday, we’ll be back.”

Sirius linked their fingers together. As one, the marauders stepped onto the train. 

Mischief Managed.

I knew you, tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.

Remus just stared at the auror. 

“Mr Lupin,” The man said gently, playing his hand tenderly on Remus’ arm. Remus didn’t know what his name was. It was probable the man had said it but Remus wasn’t listening. Everything had gone dark. “I realise this must come as a shock.”

Remus wrenched his arm back, shaking his head. “A shock?” He laughed a little manically. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Mr Lupin, we have evidence that Sirius Black was the one to-”

“Well you’re wrong!” Remus yelled. Or maybe he had whispered. It was possible he hadn’t even spoken at all, but the words swirled around and around in his head. “I don’t know how, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong, this isn’t right, you have it all wrong, he would never-”

Remus gasped, pressing a hand to his cracking heart as if it would hold him together. “He would never.” He repeated, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. When they had gotten there, he didn’t know, but their presence was suddenly noticeable with the cold rush against Remus’ skin. 

“I’m so sorry.” The auror said and then he was gone. And Remus was alone. 

Had it always been this way? Remus alone. Remus with friends. Remus with Sirius. Remus alone. 

Maybe he had made the entire thing up. 

But dreams didn’t leave you feeling like the last kiss you’d ever had was from a  dementor, not your true love. 

It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. He had said that to Sirius once. 

What a fool he had been. 

I knew you, leaving like a father, running like water, when you are young they assume you know nothing. 

“It is believed this was a plan Mr Black had been staging for quite some time now.” A newspaper read. Remus snorted and threw it in the fire. Sirius couldn’t even plan a week in advance. What they fuck did these people know. 

But then, what did Remus know? His love was long lost, Rapunzel in a tower. Remus was no knight. 

But he knew in his heart, none of this was true. He knew. He didn't care what anyone else said, they may have known his thoughts, but Remus knew his heart. 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss. 

Sirius’ leather jacket still hung in the cupboard under the stairs. His hair potion, still in the shower. Remus couldn’t bear to see them. He could never throw them away. 

I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s.

Remus should have fought harder for Harry. 

He should have, he should have, he should have, he should have. 

He should have known better.

What if.

A smirking smile and stormy eyes. Hair held up with a wand. Those same dark strands coiled around Remus’ fingers. 

The smell of smoke would hang around this long. Cause I knew everything when I was young. 

Remus woke up to James’ scream. Except it couldn’t be James. Unless… Had this all been a dream?

James opened his eyes and suddenly there was Lily. Lily and James and they didn’t know who Remus was. 

(Remus had been the first one to hold baby Harry. Before even Sirius. And now he didn’t even know him)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time. 

Remus hated Sirius. Not for being the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. But for leaving him alone.

Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Remus wanted to laugh. His question to Sirius now would be this; Why couldn’t he stop loving someone he should hate.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line.

The students all murmured about the Grimm. The paintings gossiped about little else. Even the staff room had a few words on the subject matter. Remus tried not to let his heart flutter. 

(But his boy was free. And there was a grim on the loose).

I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.

Walking down to Hagrid's hut, Remus thought he saw something rustle in the bushes. He stepped off the path and looked closer, barely even breathing as his heart thundered, but the shadows that had lurked were gone. 

And you’d be standing in my front porch light.

“Lie low at Lupins.”

For the first time in twelve years, amber met grey. 

“Re,” Sirius croaked, and Remus shattered. He pulled Sirius inside the door quickly, shutting it and reinforcing all of the charms around his little cottage, drawing all the blinds shut and placing a charm around the area so he would know if anyone approached the house before he finally turned, and there he was. 

And I knew you’d come back to me.

Not Mass Murderer Sirius Black. 

Not even Padfoot. 

But Sirius. Remus’ Sirius. 

“Re,” Sirius said again, “It’s not true, it’s not true.” He said, repeating the words as he shook his head, eyes filling. “It’s not true, I would never.”

He would never.

Remus shook his head too, pulling Sirius into the tightest hug they ever might have shared. 

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

You’d come back to me.

Sirius after a few weeks of good food and warmth looked a lot more like the boy Remus had once known, but there was no denying the person with his was now a man. Remus supposed they both were. 

You’d come back.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered one night as they were curled under a blanket, Remus reading as Sirius lay on his chest, the position comforting and oh so familiar. 

“Do you think you could ever love me again?”

Remus’ heart cracked as he set down his book and curled his fingers gently around Sirius’ jaw, tilting his head so Remus could look into that swirling sea. 

“Love you again?” He said, his voice nearly cracking in disbelief. “Pads, how could I love you again when I never stopped?”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite. 

“I can’t believe you still have this.” Sirius whispered, pulling the same cardigan he always stole out of the back of Remus’ drawer. 

“It used to smell like you.” Remus admitted. “But I wore it too much, I missed you too much.”

Sirius smiled, shrugging it on, it curling around his shoulders the way he curled into Remus, tilting his head up and pressing his lips against Remus’. 

“I can fix that.” He whispered and Remus held him close, taking his time. 

(For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

[holylulusworld]

The taming of the shrew (5)

Summary: You and your alpha live your life the way you want to. 

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Mary Winchester, John Winchester, OFC's

Warnings: pregnant reader, nesting, scenting, protective Dean/angry Dean, cuddling & snuggling, annoying mother-in-law, daddy!Dean feels, light smut, unprotected sex

Y/M/N = your mother's name

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

The taming of the shrew masterlist

“Y/N, maybe you should place the pillows over there. This way Dean could-“ your mother growls low in her throat, glares at Mary who dared to nag about the nest you made on the bed Dean built for you and his growing family. “Why didn’t Dean buy a bed? This is so – raw.”

“My mate built the bed with his hands. It’s beautiful, comfortable, and large enough for us and the pups. My alpha wants our children to sleep with us after I gave birth,” you quip, ignoring Mary doesn’t like the bed. “Look he carved our names into the headboard.”

“Dean did a great job! I sent pictures to my husband and he said that he never saw a better bed. He’s so talented,” your mother swoons. “You must be proud of your son. He’s such a good mate, caring boyfriend and I know he’ll be a wonderful father.”

Mary is not used to people praising her son or that she doesn’t get to have the last word. She looks around the bedroom Dean created for you, not missing her son put a lot of effort and love into it.

“It’s nice, I guess,” Mary says, watching you place a few shirts and plaids onto the bed. You had to remove your nest in the bedroom and Dean still has some scratches as you fought him with tooth and nails. “Maybe you need more blankets.”

“Mom,” Dean snarls, stepping inside your bedroom. “I think Y/N needs some time alone in our bedroom. She wants to make a nest. Do not disturb my omega.” Chest puffed Dean waltzes toward you to stand close to you.

“Dean is right,” your mother coos, grasping for Mary’s hand. “We should leave the young people alone. He’s such a caring alpha.” your mother snickers, watching Mary’s face fall. “We will give you time, Y/N.”

“Why don’t you use something else, omega?” Dean whines, watching you steal more clothes out of his wardrobe. “You’ve got all my favorite shirts and plaids. I only got no matching socks left and now you want my last plaid.”

“I love it, alpha,” humming Dean longingly looks at the nest you created. “It’s soft and look,” pointing at Dean’s side of the nest you purr low in your throat. “I placed it on your side of the bed, along with your socks.”

“My socks,” Dean laughs, glancing at the socks framing the nest on his side of the bed. “Your nest looks like art.”

“Ours, Dean,” grasping for Dean’s hand you place it onto your belly. “This is for you, me and the pups, not just me,” nodding Dean closes his eyes when he feels your babies kick. “How about we test it when our mothers are gone?”

“Did my mom annoy you again?” moving his arms around you Dean purrs when you rest your head against his chest. “I can set her straight again. If you want me to, I can use my alpha voice.”

“I used my omega voice last time. Mary and I talked things out. I made her see she’s not going to decide anything involving you, me, or our children. She still struggles and needs help,” giggling you run your hand over Dean’s chest. “But my mom volunteers to help Mary adapt.”

“God, I love you and your mom,” looking up at Dean you fist his shirt. “I love you more, I swear. You will always come first, you and our kids.”

“I know you do,” pecking Dean’s lips you smirk when his hands become brave. He moves his fingers over your back, tickles your skin before he gropes a handful of your ass. “Dean!”

“Baby girl,“ whining you lick into Dean’s mouth. “I need you, sweetheart, omega…my love,” your hands fist his shirt, drag him toward the nest you prepared. “On your nest?”

“Our nest, alpha,“ you nuzzle his cheek, moaning when you catch his scent. “Lock the door and we can test it, Dean. I want to see if we feel comfortable on our nest.” giggling you watch your alpha stumble toward the door, already fighting to get his pants open. “Hurry, alpha. I’m waiting for you.”

“I’m on it, Y/N. Lemme just lock the door and-“ his pants drop to the ground, followed by his shoes and shirt. Your alpha snickers, watching you wiggle your ass on the bed, sticking it out to lure him toward your nest. “Fuck, baby girl don’t do this to me.“

“Come here, lover boy,“ you smirk when Dean almost trips over the carpet to get to your nest. He snarls, watching you bury your face into his plaids on your nest. “We don’t have all day, alpha.”

“Patience, sweetheart. I need to check if you are ready for me,” moving behind you Dean looks at you on your nest. He purrs, enjoying the sight of his pregnant mate waiting for him while he runs his fingers through your folds. “You’re so wet, naughty girl.”

“I’m a pregnant omega, Winchester. Now get ready, I’m on the edge for two days,” you whine, looking over your shoulder. “Give me what I need, Dean.”

“Naughty girl,” he carefully nudges at your entrance, watching you throw your head back when he inches his way inside your body. “Taking my cock so good.”

“So good,” pushing back onto Dean’s length you giggle when he grips your thighs carefully. Usually, he would roughly let you feel his dominance but since you are having his pups, he’s gentle and afraid to hurt you.

“I know I’m damn good, sweetheart,” you giggle at Dean’s words, slowly start to rock your body with your mate. “Do you want to shock our moms? I could make you scream.”

“DEAN, don’t you dare to shock my mom,” your alpha hums, grinning when you start to moan his name. He thrusts slowly, drags his thick cock along your walls to bring you over the edge before your mothers start to wonder what takes you so long.

“Love seeing you all stretched out on my fat dick,” you groan. “Do you know how tight your little pussy feels around me when I knot you? I could write poems about it.”

“Fucking pervert,” Dean snorts, not giving away he tried to make you laugh. “But don’t stop now, Baby. I’m so close.”

“Already?” speeding up Dean growls when you clench tightly around him after only a few more thrusts. “Damnit, sweetheart, I wanted to go for longer,” he whines, filling you seconds later. Dean carefully pulls out, admiring your sweat-slicked skin for a moment.

“I needed that,” you grin, rolling to your side to make space for Dean. “I guess, we’ll need to change the sheets later.”

“Smells like us,” purring low in his throat Dean lies behind you, moving closer enough to scent you. “Maybe we should have a shower and join our mothers. I don’t want them to walk in on us butt-naked.”

“Aw, you’re such a prude,” you giggle. “Don’t you want your mommy to see you’re a grown man who likes to have sex with his mate? I bet you want her to believe you’re still her good boy.”

“I never was a good boy,” pecking your neck, nibbling at your skin Dean grunts. “I was a rebel and good with the ladies before you came along.”

“You’re lucky I came along, or you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone up here. Grumpy alpha,” humming your mate kisses along your shoulder. “Now let’s have a shower…”

“Why does the nest look so – chaotic?” Mary watches you drape another plaid over Dean’s side of the bed. “Wasn’t the red plaid on the other side and why are the socks on the ground?”

“I like it messy,” Dean says, grinning at you. If he could, he would tell his mother your nest looks messy as you fucked on it not half an hour ago, but he bites his tongue. “And we don’t need socks on the nest but our feet.”

“I see,” your mother chuckles, knowing you too well. “I guess our children know best. I think they love the new nest without a doubt,” giving you a wink your mother walks out of the bedroom. “How about we focus on dinner? My husband and yours will be here soon.”

“Right,” gritting her teeth Mary looks at the nest, wondering why you let Dean remove the socks. “Food is ready soon, Dean. You better hurry up and help Y/N down the stairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean smirks, holding out his hand. “I will make sure my omega walks down the stairs safely. Nothing will happen to her on my watch.”

“What if she goes into labor? Wouldn’t it be safer to find a house closer to ours, in an actual town? Not out here in the middle of nowhere,” Mary still didn’t give up the dream to have her son, you, and her grandchildren close enough to see you every day.

“Mom, a midwife lives down the road. Her husband is a doctor and if I call an ambulance, they’ll be here in no time,” grunting Dean wraps his arm around your waistline. “Y/N loves the house, just like me. It’s not even an hour away. Other kids move to another state or county, mom.”

“Fine, fine,” Mary sighs, wringing her hands. “I just want my family as close as possible. We don’t want to miss a moment in your life.”

“Oh, I think you want to miss a few moments,” grinning Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “And I can tell, those moments are not that rare.”

“DEAN WINCHESTER,” his mother scolds your alpha. “We have guests! Don’t talk about-,” she struggles to say the word, so you whisper ‘sex’ and she nods, sighing deeply. “I raised you better.”

“Still, I became a dirty boy,” you love the way Dean tries to rile his mother up. “Come on, mom. I know you and dad do it more than once a month.”

“Dean!” this time you scold your alpha seeing Mary’s face turn crimson. “We don’t talk about our parents' love life within these walls. Now help me get the dishes ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” giggling you walk toward the kitchen, Dean hot on your heels.

“They are perfect together,” your mother swoons, watching Dean kiss your hair softly when you try to grab a plate. “Look at them, young love.”

“Can you not talk them into moving to town?” Mary watches Dean whisper something in your ear, making you giggle. “I did a great job bringing them together, Y/M/N. Now we need to stick together and get our kids back.”

“Not so loud, Mary,” your mother shushes. “Y/N can never know I helped you find her true mate. She would still be sad and lonely. I saw it in her eyes anytime one of her friends got mated.”

“We will talk about this later, Y/M/N. I want my Dean and your daughter to move into the house I bought at the end of the street. It’s safe, large, and-,” Mary sighs when you tell Dean how much you love your home. “They won’t move in…”

“No, they won’t,” your mother smiles when you check on Dean’s neck, soothing the scratches you left with a soft kiss. “Look at them, Mary. Do I wish they live right next to me? Of course, but Y/N and Dean are adults, mated and expecting their babies. Let’s just be on the sideline and watch them.”

“We are almost done,” you coo, looking at your mother. “Something wrong, mom?” While John and your father talked about the bed Dean built for you, your mother and Mary watched you and your mate.

“No, no,” your mother sniffles. “You’re just glowing since you are expecting, sweetheart,” you whine, rushing toward your mom to hug her tightly. “My little girl will have her own babies soon and I’m just a little emotional.”

“Must be an omega thing,” Dean grumbles, watching you cry with your mom. “Last week Y/N cried as the snowflakes are too pretty and the hot chocolate I made for her was too delicious.”

“It was Dean,” you sniffle, turning your attention toward your alpha. “You put tiny marshmallow hearts inside,” Dean groans, rolling his eyes when you hide your face in his chest. “How could I be mad you ate the last slice of pie if you do such a cute thing.”

“I’m not doing cute things,” not wanting to let John, Sam, and your father know he’s weak for you, Dean tries to act tough. “I just need to make sure my omega is safe and happy,” John laughs when Dean tries to lie about all the sweet things he does for you.

“Son, save it. We all had to give up our rough façade to please our omegas. I had to write a fucking poem to earn my mark on her neck,” John grumbles. “Mary was a wild and feisty omega, just like your Y/N. I guess that’s the reason she likes her so much.”

“John, that’s a secret,” Mary tuts. “Don’t tell anyone I was a wild child when we were young,” swooning John pecks Mary’s lips, remembering their first dates.

“How about dinner?” Dean tries to not think about his parents having sex. He shudders, scrunching up his nose. “I’m hungry…”

“Finally, alone,” you crawl on top of your alpha to snuggle into his chest. “I love my parents and your family, but they are exhausting.”

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you anything? Maybe a late-night snack?” Dean snickers when you pat his chest.

“I could have some chicken and dessert. Maybe you should get something too?” you smirk when Dean pecks your cheek before he carefully helps you sit on your nest. “Get two plates, alpha.” Running your hands over your swollen belly you purr. “Your son is kicking me! This means he wants more pie. Don’t let him wake your daughter.”

“I’ll get him some pie,” giggling you watch Dean run toward the door. “Give me a minute, Y/N. Your alpha will get you your food…”

“That’s perfect,” your back rests against Dean’s chest. He placed a bamboo tray with fold-away legs in front of you. While you relax against his warm chest, Dean feeds you with your favorite food. “I could get used to letting you feed me.”

“I like to pamper you, sweetheart. How about I rub your back later? Or your belly,” yawning you pat Dean’s thigh.

“We will eat the food and sleep later. You need your rest too, Dean. In not three months there will be two crying babies keeping us awake. Let’s enjoy the silence for a while,” Dean hums, hiding he can’t wait to hear his babies cry for the first time.

“I’ll rub your belly later,” he decides, pecking your hair before he stuffs more food into your mouth. “Now let me have some pie.”

>> Part 6

SPN Forever Tags

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[astranva]

Heather.

Word Count: 2k

Category: Angst

Warning: Language? idk

Request: pls write an angst based on Heather by Conan gray i love ur writings sm

Summary: In which Harry is the Heather of his own story.

this won’t have a second part, let’s keep it sad 💀

thanks for requesting, anon! hope you like it and thank you sm🤍

// masterlist //

..

You were there for as long as Harry could remember, and that was so many years.

He was convinced that many scriptwriters and directors heard of your friendship’s story and that was how most rom-coms were made.

But the rom-coms had something that Harry was yet to have – the happy ending he kept wishing for.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Sure, you were a little oblivious but it was also a little unfair saying that was the only reason why Harry hadn’t gotten his happy ending because he knew that at the end of the day, it was him not making a move and admitting his feelings for you throughout all these years.

Harry remembered how for his 16th birthday, you had saved up to get him and yourself tickets to see Coldplay live.

He remembered how you cried as you hugged him after his X Factor audition as you all stood backstage.

He remembered how excited he was when he first introduced you to the rest of the boys when they were put in a band. Hell, you slept over with them at Robin’s for a couple of days.

He remembered how you flew out for the weekend when Zayn had left the band, knowing that Harry needed your presence.

He remembered how you were the first person he went to when he decided to make a debut solo record.

He remembered waking up to your singing in Jamaica, munching on honey toast as your face would light up the moment he came to view – “Good morning, H! I squeezed some fresh oranges for you.”

He also remembered how his face would heat up when he was just a kid whenever his family would mention that you and him were bound to end up together.

He remembered how his first heartbreak wasn’t from a relationship of his own, but it was when you got into one at 16. He hated it.

He remembered helping you with your dates, reacting to how you thought a new crush was, holding you as you cried.

Harry remembered how despite being in love with you since he was a teenager, he didn’t take a step towards having you more than a best friend.

And God, his journals were proof of that love; the love songs, all those ones about unrequited love, the short poems he wrote in the dead of the night.

He had cringed when he told you that he was seeing someone, only to have you become excited and genuinely happy for him.

If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

He was staying over at yours, a normal occurrence for when he was home. He could’ve as well just sold his house at that point.

“Have anything I can wear? This isn’t too comfortable.” He had asked you as the both of you lounged, watching a stand-up comedy.

“Yeah, just choose whatever you want.” You nonchalantly said, not caring if he went through your clothes – not like this was anything but normal for the both of you.

“Too lazy to move.” He mumbled, looking up at you from where he was; his head resting on your lap as you played with his hair.

The smile that came to your face was one Harry mirrored without knowing, staring at you as you continued to watch the show. “I’m not moving.” You stated.

He groaned, standing up, “Will you still play with my hair when I come back?”

At that, your eyes moved to him, “Yes, you baby.”

That was all the assurance he needed before he walked to your room and opened your wardrobe, going through your clothes without messing anything up; you liked your clothes neatly folded at all times.

Reaching one lilac sweater, Harry took it out before holding it over his upper body, finding that it would probably perfectly fit.

Taking off his own top and putting on yours, Harry’s breath instantly hitched in his throat, stomach tied up in knots.

It smelled like you.

It smelled like fresh vanilla detergent and the coconut scent he adored so much.

Running his hand slowly across his body, Harry turned to look at the mirror, eyes falling on the item that screamed your name louder than the beaded necklace you had made him months ago that decorated his neck – “Golden, because that’s what I think you are” you had said.

He gulped, fingertips grazing the material.

“Harry! You’re missing all the good bits!”

“Coming!” He shouted back, hoping you didn’t catch the crack in his voice.

After one final look, Harry had walked back to you, placing his head on your lap.

“Good choice.” You had commented softly.

“Yeah?” Harry almost whispered, “Feels comfortable. What material is that?”

“Just polyester,” you shrugged, “Hate how it looks better on you though.” You had joked, giving him a gentle tug to his hair.

Harry had giggled, closing his eyes as you scratched his scalp softly, “Thanks.”

After that day, it was like Harry claimed the sweater. He’d beeline to it the moment he stepped a foot in your house, frowning at you on some days when you told him that it was getting washed.

Days turned to weeks, and before Harry could do as much as blink, you were back from your work with a smile brighter than usual.

He was sitting on your couch that day, in the lilac sweater, a smile drawn to his face as soon as his saw yours, pausing the music that was playing from his laptop. “You look happy.”

And you were, because you had given his cheek a soundly smooch of greeting, unaware of Harry’s cheeks reddening.

You hummed with a nod, “I have a date tonight with, quite possibly, the cutest person I have ever met.”

He wasn’t expecting that.

Harry was not expecting that.

His smile faltered, only staring at you.

“They’re just,” you sighed, staring at the ceiling with a hand to your heart, “A dream, you know? Hey, wait! You know them!”

“I do?”

“Yeah,” you nodded eagerly, “Chelsea introduced them when we went to that pub 2 weeks ago, remember? Charlie?”

“Oh.”

And he did. He remembered how pretty Charlie was, how they seemed to keep conversations going and made sure everyone was listened to, how Charlie’s style stood out in the pub, how their jokes made everyone laugh – including him. He remembered how Charlie’s eyes lingered on you when you talked, how the both of you seemed dived into a conversation of common interests. He hated it.

Charlie really was a dream. Yeah, he hated that, too.

Harry had helped you decide on an outfit, his chest feeling as if it clenched around his heart to a point where his cage would combust.

He helped you with your hair, spraying the back of it for you because you had always complained about not reaching that part well.

Fuck, he even painted your nails that night – they were in lilac.

And he was there when Charlie picked you up, a genuine smile on their face that looked nothing like the petty one he wore.

“Do you need us to bring you anything, mate? We’re having Italian.” Charlie had offered.

Why did Charlie have to be kind and polite? What happened to the assholes they portrayed in rom-coms?

“No, thanks, Y/N made me lasagna earlier.” Harry had chuckled, watching you smile at the interaction.

“Go to sleep by 9, Mr.” You had joked as you left, Charlie’s hand on your back.

“You know it.” Harry had mumbled with a weak smile, giving you a nod.

By 7, Harry was almost sure he yanked all his hair out, despite the mirrors assuring him that he didn’t.

By 8, he tried to eat, but the nauseous feeling that ran through his body at the thought of you with someone else made him put the casserole back in the fridge.

By 9, Harry had called Mitch to break the news of your newest date, only to hang up so soon when Mitch was beginning to tell him how he still might have a chance.

By 10, he wrote a song. One full song.

By 11, he had the tune for it.

By 12, Harry watched you kiss someone who wasn’t him and he had no one to blame.

“How was it?” He managed to utter, watching you stand against the door with the widest smile.

“Perfect.”

That was the beginning of everything but what Harry wished upon a constellation for, because by the second month of you seeing Charlie, you had made it official.

Charlie was perfect in all aspects; hell, even Gemma liked them when she met them as the 4 of you had brunch one day.

But then Charlie was around your house more that Harry just wasn’t that comfortable to sleep over anymore.

He remembered how the three of you were watching a movie one night, Charlie having been wanting to get to know Harry more since he was “someone Y/N talks about and loves so much” – Charlie said that with no drop of pettiness, Harry wondered how they did it – when Harry just couldn’t take any more of you cuddling someone who wasn’t him and before you and Charlie could process it, Harry was out with an empty excuse – “I forgot my guitar at Mitch’s.”

His guitar was resting against the very couch he was sitting on.

But nothing prepared him for that one moment.

Charlie had invited him for the barbecue party they were hosting and if it weren’t for your puppy eyes, Harry would’ve been sulking in the comfort of his house and not in his car while he was on the way to oh-so-perfect Charlie’s.

He heard Lizzo playing the moment he got out of his car, and it was how he knew that it was your playlist playing.

He had brought cake with him, walking cautiously with the boxed dessert in his hands.

The door was opened, a few smiling people passing by him before he was met with yours, only as always, your face lit up once you saw him.

“You’re here!” You didn’t care that he was holding anything in his hands that restrained him from hugging you back because you threw your arms around him, leaving a kiss to his cheek, “Everyone’s been asking for you. Something about how it was weird seeing me without you.” You giggled.

“Partners in crime, eh?” He smiled at you, referring to the phrase you have been using with one another since school.

“You bet,” you wiggled your eyebrows, “Oh, shoot, sorry, didn’t notice you had this. Um, come, let’s put it in the kitchen.”

You were comfortable in Charlie’s house, Harry noticed. It was no surprise; he would’ve been more worried if you weren’t seen as you had been together for 6 months.

Placing the cake in the fridge, you and Harry then walked to where everyone was.

And that was when he saw it.

Charlie lied on a lounge chair, laughing and looking all attractive, in the very lilac, polyester sweater Harry had found comfort in.

He watched as you walked over, Charlie instantly putting a hand to your waist as they smiled up at you before you leaned down, pressing your lips against one another.

“Act natural, would you?” He heard Chelsea’s, a mutual friend, voice beside him.

“What?”

“If you can’t be happy for Y/N, try to act natural around them,” Chelsea sighed, her heart breaking for her friend as she looked at Harry who was yet to move his eyes from the couple, “Charlie’s great, you know?”

“Yeah,” he gave her a dry chuckle, “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why aren’t you happy that at least they’re not an asshole?”

“Just,” Harry looked at his friend, a defeated look on his face before the sound of you squealing gleefully grabbed his attention, watching as Charlie had their arms wrapped around you from behind, the both of you laughing as your friends all smiled in awe, “Just wish I were Charlie.”

[spencers-renaissance]

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p2

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Part One // Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She posted part two yesterday and just posted part three! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

“Oh, God,” Derek cries as soon as he’s rushed over to sit next to Spencer, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “baby, I was so worried. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you come back to me but I just couldn’t do it. I had to get Pen to track your phone in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Der,” Spencer says, pulling away and blinking tearily at the anxiety mixed with relief written across his boyfriend’s face. Guilt floods his stomach as he thinks about the terror he’s just put Derek through: the exact same feeling he’s been lamenting over Derek inflicting upon him. How is he any better? If anything, he’s only worse; Derek does what he does to serve others, Spencer’s been nothing but selfish all evening.

“No, baby,” Derek protests, lifting a hand to his face and brushing away a falling tear, “you don’t need to apologise, just… talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer doesn’t waste any time in agreeing. It’s the least his boyfriend deserves. “Can we go home? I want to eat that Thai food in bed while I tell you. I’ve already cried one too many times in a church for the day”

Derek chuckles at that. “Of course, pretty boy. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He takes Spencer’s hand gently and leads him towards the exit, and when Spencer turns back briefly before walking out of the building, he doesn’t miss the smiling priest lingering near the altar.

⭐️

Derek doesn’t let go of his hand the whole drive home, clinging tightly even on the elevator up to their apartment, and it only serves to make Spencer feel guiltier. How had this not clicked earlier? He never stopped to think about the worry his boyfriend was going through back home, only prioritising himself and his own selfish feelings.

He starts to wonder whether he should actually tell Derek after all. His boyfriend is so endlessly kind and selfless and wonderful and Spencer wants to point out his one flaw? After he’s left him panicked and concerned for his well being all evening?

He anxiously gnaws on his bottom lip as Derek tucks him into bed, seemingly oblivious to his distress as he kisses his head gently before making light work of reheating the take out he’d ordered earlier. Spencer’s stomach spins and turns with anxiety as he burrows himself under the covers, desperate to hide from all that’s to come, unable to escape the helter-skelter of emotions consuming his mind.

Soon enough, Derek makes his way into the bedroom, turning off the main light in favour of their various cosy lamps and flicks on the TV, setting it on reruns of Fawlty Towers with the volume turned down before arranging the takeout on trays before finally slipping under the duvet himself.

“Baby, I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on,” Derek says softly, turning Spencer’s chin to face him and gazing imploringly into his eyes, “that poor lip of yours will be bitten off by the morning. But I want you to know you can trust me with whatever this is. I promise that there is no problem, no issue, no stressor that we couldn’t overcome together. Me and you, we’re a dream team, aren’t we? We can solve this, but not if you’re not completely honest with me.”

Damn it, now Spencer’s going to feel guilty no matter what path he chooses. He either lies and breaks Derek’s trust, or he tells the truth and breaks his heart.

But the priest’s words from earlier flash through his mind, and he takes a deep breath, knowing what he has to do. “I’m scared,” he admits, tentatively. It feels like a good place to start.

“Okay,” Derek replies soothingly, eyebrows knitted in concern as his thumb traces the side of Spencer’s face. “What are you scared of, Spence?”

“I’m scared… I’m scared of losing you,” he whispers, casting his eyes downward.

He feels Derek tense next to him, but he doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s confused or something worse. “Baby boy, you have to understand that you’re it for me, I’m never going anywhere—”

“No,” Spencer interrupts, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, “not like that. I know you love me, I’ve never doubted that for a second. I’m scared of losing you to something worse than another person. I’m scared of losing you to a gunshot, a stab wound, a bomb blast. I’m scared of losing you to the job, Derek.”

“Oh.” His thumb falters in its soothing movements against Spencer’s cheek before it retracts completely.

“You’re a hero, Der,” he says tearily, not bothering to try and fight them this time, “you’re an inspiration. You’re strong and powerful and the kindest, most selfless man I’ve ever met, but I— I’m gonna need you to start being a little more selfish.”

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Remember back in 2007 when that woman was trapped in her car with a bomb under her seat? You stayed right next to her the whole time, even though you knew that if that bomb went off, it was taking you with it. Because in that moment, looking after that woman was all that mattered.”

Derek nods hesitantly, his brows knit even tighter.

“Well, I could deal with that. I accepted it. We were newly in a relationship, and I knew the kind of man you were when I started dating you. I didn’t think you’d give that up for me so soon. But, Derek, it’s been seven years now. We’ve been together for almost a decade, and you’re still the same man. You run headlong into danger with no regard for how it will affect you. And I love your selflessness and generosity, I really do, but I need you to know how that makes me feel.

“It makes me feel like I’m not important to you, Der.”

“Oh, baby, no,” Derek says, distraught as he wraps Spencer in a tight, urgent hug, hand flying to run his fingers through his curls.

“But, no, it does, Derek. Because it feels like one of these days, you won’t be as lucky as you always have been, and I’ll be alone again. You’re all I have, and I can’t lose you, I just can’t.” The tears are joined by heaving, desperate sobs as he cries into Derek’s shoulder, both of them holding onto one another with clawing fingers, impossibly close as emotions fill the room.

When Spencer finally calms down enough, he pulls away to find Derek’s eyes red and his cheeks wet, too. “I— I had no idea you felt like this, baby boy,” he says earnestly, looking deeply into his eyes as his devastated emotions play across his open expression. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were anything less than the most important person in the whole world to me, because you are, Spencer.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers sadly. “You didn’t know.”

“No, but I do now. I never stopped to think how this was affecting you, and I’m so deeply sorry for that.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as they fall against one another, both accepting that the Thai is going to go cold again and they’ll probably end up with a greasy 2am pizza instead.

“It’s because of my dad,” Derek admits eventually, breaking the silence. “When I watched him bleed out in front of me, I swore I would never let that happen to another person. I would never let another person die on my watch, not unless I was going down with them. And that was an easy principle to live by when I was a cop, it translated well to the FBI, and it worked great when I was single. But now… I have you. And you’re more important than a promise I made to myself when I was ten.

“The thing is, though, that I don’t know how to override an instinct that I’ve built and enforced for my entire career. Spencer, you’re everything to me, and you’re more important than this, but I… I don’t know how to change.”

Another tear slides down Spencer’s tired, puffy face at Derek’s words, mostly because they were exactly what he was expecting. The only reason he’s kept this to himself for so long is because he knew that no possible resolution could make this okay.

“It’s okay, Der,” he says sadly, “I get it—”

“I think I should leave the BAU.”

Spencer sits bolt upright at that, turning to his boyfriend with shock written in every line of his face. “What?”

“Listen, I’m 43. I’ve been on the job for twenty-one years, and I’m getting tired, Spencer. I was planning to bring this up at a much better moment, but I’ve just finished that house on the Mount Pleasant border, and I think we should move in there. I’m ready for a quieter life, Spencer. I want to do things that make me happy, focus on the future of our family, me, you, and Clooney — kids, too, if we decide that’s the way we want to go — and leave this life revolving around death and crime and the bad in the world behind.”

“You’re serious?” Spencer asks, completely in disbelief as he stares at Derek like he’s grown an extra head. This was never a possibility he considered. Not even a little bit.

“I am,” Derek promises. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and this just seals the deal, really. I don’t want you to be feeling this scared all the time, especially not if it’s set off even by a couple of bruised ribs. Diving in front of a bullet when wearing a vest is hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done.”

Derek chuckles but Spencer just smiles sadly at just how true that statement is. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’d love to focus on the property business full time, renovate more houses and really make a career out of it. Build a proper business, live in the suburbs, be happy and safe and alive with the love of my life for as long as possible,” Derek says, eyes warm and serious as he brushes his hand against Spencer’s face again. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

Spencer’s heart melts and he presses into Derek’s side, burying in as close as he can get. The tears that leak from his eyes this time are at least happy ones. “If you leave,” he says, after considering it for a moment, “I think I want to leave, too.”

“Really? You don’t have to, Spencer. You can stay at the BAU if you want to.”

“I know. But I’ve given over a third of my life to this job, and it’s given me all it can, I think. Before Gideon recruited me, I always thought I’d end up teaching, and I always knew I’d love it. Researching and teaching others what I’ve found out for a living sounds like a dream, and the thought of coming home to you, knowing that you’re safe every night as we sit down for dinner and chat about our normal, civilian lives… well, it’s everything I didn’t know I’d been longing for.”

A kind of peace that Spencer hasn’t felt in years settles over his chest as he basks in the thought of a safe and happy future with Derek, one not plagued by the trauma they’ve faced willingly for far too vast proportions of their lives, and he knows it’s the right decision.

“Wow,” Derek says, and woven in with the shock in his voice is relief, clear as day, “we’re leaving the BAU.”

“We’re leaving the BAU.”

Spencer eventually packs the Thai away and orders an extra large pepperoni pizza for delivery, letting Derek rest in bed as he takes over the beavering around. Fawlty Towers continues to play across the TV screen throughout the course of the night, Spencer resting his head on the top of Derek’s chest, careful to avoid his injuries. In that moment, with his favourite TV show playing, and an empty pizza box on the floor of their bedroom, cuddled up safely with the man he knows he’s going to spend forever with, Spencer thanks a God he’s not sure he believes in that Derek, right now, is soft, happy, and most importantly, his.

Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

— Please, let him be happy.

If you haven't already - check out Emily's post, and give some love to the original poem source here!

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic@strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

I can see us Lost in the Memory

Summary: Caring is not an advantage. To Mycroft, this was a belief he found through the calculated logic that ruled his life. If was analytical and detached and certainly had nothing to do with Sherlock or the childhood neighbor.

Love You to the Moon and to Saturn

A/N: In a break from my regularly scheduled SVU writing, here’s a four part Folklore inspired Mycroft Holmes thing.

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

When the Holmes parents invited Ruth on their vacation to start the summer, she couldn’t resist the chance. Her mom would be busy, and the family would be staying on a beach in a little house for a week. You’re just so good with both my boys Mrs. Holmes had said with a soft smile as she pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Since Christmas, she’d had late night phone calls with Mycroft regularly, sneaking the handset for the phone to her room and staying up to happily listen to the minutiae of his day and tell him about her own. To help calm his worries, she took to dropping by to visit Sherlock. But this trip in May would be their first time together save a stolen weekend after midterms where she’d made it to Oxford.

When she arrived at their usual home, not the country house she was so used to, Sherlock darted out, wrapping around her as she laughed. He was almost not a little boy anymore, though she was certain he’d find something broken that they’d try to rebuild together.  She could see Mycroft’s frame in the doorway, and her breath caught. He’d only gotten stuffier since going to Oxford, always in a suit. It worked for him or she’d have teased him mercilessly for it. There was also the fact that she was simply overjoyed to see him. 

“Missed you,” she said softly, looking up at him as Sherlock watched them suspiciously before going back into the house.

“And I missed you, Ruth.”

“Mummy, I think Mycroft and Ruth are going to start snogging.” The youngest Holmes ran to the kitchen, and Ruth flushed a deep pink and giggled as the very tips of Mycroft’s ears changed color.

“Do you care if she knows?” Ruth asked, and Mycroft was acutely aware of the power he had to hurt Ruth in that moment. He would never dream of it, but this would potentially be over in three years, at which point hurting her would be inevitable. But still he held out hope he could balance both.

“Not at all,” he said softly, the same dignified air he always carried. But instead of staying away as he led her in, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her into the house. His mother and father had the kindness to leave them be, and the drive went smoothly. When Sherlock became antsy, Ruth watched as Mycroft told him about people he’d encountered at university, problems in the dorms. It was a game the pair had always played when Sherlock had to be kept still too long. The younger Holmes would tell Mycroft how obvious it was his roommate's girlfriend had been eating all the food from the common area, and Mycroft would pretend he hadn’t figured it out with the same reasoning.

“Ruth, come here,” Mrs. Holmes had said, calling her to the kitchen as she left the boys to unload bags from the car. “Are you dating my son?”

“I love him very much.”

“The boys are in the last room on the left. You’ll be the first on the right. Behave yourselves, allright?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The evening found them watching Sherlock as Mr. and Mrs. Holmes went to dinner, and since Christmas, he’d discovered documentaries again, sprawling on the couch to watch one on pirates. It was good to see some things didn’t change. What had changed was that Mycroft was willing to give him a little more space. They cooked dinner together, and Ruth was rewarded with soft brushes of his hand over her back as he passed. She suspected he’d always be himself, not one for casual affection when someone could see. But when his brother was tucked into bed, there were soft kisses that grew more desperate and whispered confirmation they were both sure. She stole the Oxford sweatshirt from his bag after, determined not to let his mother find them anything but decent but wanting to keep everything on her as some extension of him.

“I don’t know why they got you a sweatshirt anyway,” she teased lightly, watching him smoke in the dark. “I’ve never seen you in a shirt without a collar.”

“I suppose mummy thought I might wear it to sleep. I don’t think she expected it to be worn by someone else during a post-coital cigarette.” He wore cotton pajama pants and a plain t-shirt, though she expected he had sets with collared shirts for when he was at school. The wind blew in from the water, and she wished she’d grabbed pants instead of letting the crewneck serve as a dress. He noticed her shiver, holding out an arm as he exhaled smoke. She pressed against his side and his arm wrapped around her. 

“Just someone?” she teased. “You know, I think I might be your girlfriend.”

“How is that any different than we’ve always been?”

“It means we build a future together. Don’t date other people. Communicate regularly.”

“I suppose you are my girlfriend,” he said, though she could tell he didn’t particularly care for the word. 

“So you think about a future with me?”

“Constantly,” he admitted, choosing to omit how much of that was grappling with the danger Rudy’s position could put her in when he took over. That he’d have to eventually tell her about Eurus. But he was young and selfish and certain he could separate it.

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Ruth had never been able to get Mycroft to the beach in anything but a polo shirt, but it seemed the way the last of his baby fat had melted off at university meant he was willing to join his brother and Ruth in the water. He still wore a polo shirt and boat shoes with his swim shorts, but he slipped both off and followed when Sherlock beckoned he and Ruth to join him in finding the sandbar. He almost said no until he saw how giddy Ruth looked as she peeled the other unworn bit of Oxford merchandise he’d acquired: a t-shirt that would have fit had he not lost weight. He liked seeing it on Ruth; it made him realize he was getting territorial.

“C’mon,” Sherlock called to them from the water’s edge. 

“We’re coming, Sherlock,” Mycroft scolded gently. “You must wait so we can be sure the tide doesn’t whisk you away.”

“Don’t scare him,” Ruth said, swatting his arm before she hurried and ruffled his brother’s hair. “We’ll find the sandbar, but then Mycroft and I are going to come back to land. I think you ought to see how big of a sandcastle you can make. Maybe even big enough you can hide in it.”

“Do you think there are artifacts in the sand, Ruth?”

“Probably not ones we’ll want to keep. But maybe bottles or keys.” The tide was low enough when they waded to the sandbar that Ruth and Mycroft could sit on it and watch as Sherlock ran along. He could dig as well, finding shells and loading them into the pockets of his swim shorts.

“Why must we be in this wet sand instead of on the towels on land?” Mycroft huffed, and Ruth poked his side.

“Your brother missed you. He likes you being close, even if you aren’t a part of his excavation. He’ll want to build soon, and since shells aren’t restorable like a trowel, he’ll go back to land for a sandcastle.”

“He only yells when I call him.”

“And what does he yell about?” Ruth had heard Sherlock during one of these calls. One of the calls where Sherlock yelled at Mycroft for leaving. But this would pass. She always promised Mycroft that it would pass, and Sherlock would understand his big brother would always come home. 

“Don’t look so proud,” Mycroft huffed.

“It’s not often I’m the one who’s right.”

“You’re often right when it comes to feelings.”

“I love you. My big brained robot.”

“I love you, my darling.”

“That sounds way more romantic than big brained robot. But god, I like hearing you say it. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” He had a glint in his eye as he looked down at her, and she smiled broadly up at him, delight apparent.

“You read Jane Austen?”

“Everyone does.”

“You only store things you want, Mycroft.”

“When I read it, I thought of you. I was fifteen. I was a fool and didn’t process what that meant for another year. But whenever I read a poem or a novel and they talk about ardent love, your face is my first thought. I wish I were someone who spoke so eloquently of his own feelings. But I do not understand why I love you. It honestly perplexes me. You are wild and hard headed and love the most mindless things. But I would gladly listen to you describe popular music or the intricacies of a flower crown for hours because of the way your smile and laugh sound more melodic than any symphony. What is unbearable in others only serves to make affection blossom when it is in you. Perhaps it’s because I feel I understand you like I can’t understand most, and I feel that you see me not just as some big brained robot but as who I am. And I am grateful for that, even if it perplexes me to no end.”

 “God, you really can be sappy,” she said, tearing up as she wrapped around his middle. Without his parents or peers there, he was more comfortable to stay sitting as perfectly upright as ever, but slip an arm around Ruth and press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “You’ll keep calling when you go back to school, right?”

“I will. And we’ll figure how to see each other. I know it hasn’t been easy. Uncle Rudy has so much for me to do on top of my course work.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Mycroft. It’s four to six years we have to get through. We can do that.”

“Have you thought about university?”

“Cambridge or Oxford. The latter, while a delightful institution, is due to a bias for a certain student.”

“What do you want to study?”

“I think I’d be a good teacher. Kids Sherlock’s age.”

“You’ve always done well keeping him engaged. That’s a feat in and of itself. But, I always expected that you’d pursue English. Write.”

“I need a job.”

“Writing is a job. You could work in editing too. But, you write so beautifully. And it makes you so happy. I’m certain you would flourish. It may be harder, but you’re intelligent enough to parallel plan and work until you’re published.”

“You really think so?”

“I know. And I’m always right.”

“Cambridge is about as far as London from you. Or maybe I’ll go to Oxford.”

“I just want you to select the institution you wish to learn from. I’m sure we can find a halfway point. If not, we can alternate visiting each other.”

“You wouldn’t feel weird if I showed up in your daily life?”

“You’re a part of my daily life. It would be a perpetual summer. Who wouldn’t wish for that?”

“We’ve just only ever had the summer.”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? I suspect you’ll tire of me when you realize I’m relaxed in the summers.”

“I imagine you wear suits everyday. And your socks, tie, and pocket square all match.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I don’t wear a tie every day.”

“Oh, there are pictures of  Mycroft in a suit with no tie. Is the top button undone? This is simply scandalous.”

She stretched herself up to kiss him, no hesitation now and fingers brushing through auburn hair. Only the screeched order to Stop being so gross from Sherlock convinced them to pull apart, and Ruth was quite sure he was grinning down at her.

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all

“Are we going to have to chase the two of you from each other's rooms all summer?”

“Mummy, she is my girlfriend. Is it the worst thing if I sleep beside her?”

“You’ll do more than sleep.”

“Yes, Violet, because a bed is the only place teenagers will shag. Never a field or a car or the storeroom at their job. They’re good kids. Leave them be.”

“Siger, this is the third time in a week! Do you want to deal with her mother when we return? She’ll be chasing our boy from her house night after night.”

“Since when does Ruth sleep in her own home? She’s in our guest room most nights. We can feign propriety if it is of such importance and say ‘Oh! I didn’t know he’d snuck into her room’ if for whatever reason Debora learns.”

Ruth was by Mycroft’s side, cheeks pink as she watched his parents. They’d tried to be careful, but she never woke up in time to hurry to her own room. She wanted to tell them her own mother wouldn’t notice anyway, so she should be able to climb into bed with Mycroft. They were talking about flats at Oxford, little ones they would stuff full of books and she’d ensure were always stocked with flowers. She’d made up her mind she’d go there. Mycroft was ready to tell Rudy he was in love, and it didn’t matter what the job entailed; Mycroft could balance it if it meant he’d have Ruth. For once, he was hopeful.

“Both of you, listen to me,” he said firmly, arm around Ruth. “Where do you think she stayed when she visited me at Oxford? This began at Christmas, so I hardly believe it to be a phase. I love her, and upon her graduation, we intend to get a flat near the university. Accept it now, or accept it later. It does not matter to me. This is the reality.”

“You’re following him to Oxford?” Violet seemed to be appraising her now. 

“Yes.”

“You really do love him?”

“Yes.”

“Just don’t make me a grandmother any time soon,” she said finally, obviously acquiescing as her husband followed her to the kitchen again with quiet assurances they’d be fine. Ruth’s cheeks were pink, but she wrapped around Mycroft and kissed him.

“What is that for?”

“You professed your love for me to your parents? You finally put your foot down over something and it's me?”

“I wish to maximize every moment I have you by my side between now and August.”

“I’ll miss you so much.”

“We’ll sort it out. Two terms. Then you’ll follow me to Oxford.” 

“Ruth will leave too?” The soft voice of Sherlock came from the hall, and she pulled away from Mycroft to kneel by him. 

“It’ll be just like the end of summer,” she promised. “It was harder with your brother because he lives with you. But, you usually only see me in the summer, and I’ll still be here for every summer. Who else will help me excavate the garden?”

“Why does everyone go to Oxford?”

“They don’t. But lots of people go to uni, and you will too one day. You’ll get a degree to be a detective or an archaeologist or marine biologist.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s a whole year away. You’ll be a teenager.”

“I guess that’s an okay time for you to go to Oxford.” He bent to look around her to his brother. “You could do well to learn from her, Mycroft.”

“You need to stop being so rude. He’s getting a degree so he can afford to keep you out of trouble forever and ever, kiddo.”

“I’m never in trouble.” 

“Mhm. Never, ever have I scooped you up before mummy could catch you performing experiments.”

“Shh!”

Ruth simply laughed, moving to stand again, Sherlock’s gaze again fluctuating between bored and curious about the world around him as she moved to sit in the arm chair beside the one Mycroft had settled into with his book. She opened her own, feet tucked under her, reaching towards him and resting her hand on the small table between them. He looked at it before resting his hand in hers.

“I like this,” she said softly. He made a noise of agreement, legs crossed. “I could get used to it.”

“We’ve a whole summer ahead, dear.”

That night found them tangled in bedsheets, not bothering to pretend he was going to be sleeping in the room with Sherlock. He rather liked sleeping by her, and he was grateful she was so content to lay against his side, close enough it was intimate and safe, but not requiring their bodies to be tangled. But she did like to play with his hands, especially in the afterglow. She would trace the lines of his palms or the veins on the back of his hand, watching her own actions in the moonlight. He stopped her tonight, letting his fingers slip between hers. She smile down at him, her hair a curtain as she leaned to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Get some sleep, Ruth.”

“Does anyone ever take care of you, Mycroft?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Everyone does. And I’m going to from here on out, okay?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“How often do you sit in the sun and read for pleasure at Oxford?”

“There isn’t time.”

“I’ll make sure there is when I’m there. You need to give yourself breaks.” He didn’t agree, but instead of arguing, he pulled her to his side, deciding he could tangle himself with her awhile, savoring the closeness. 

“You are too gentle for this world, darling. Please never change.”

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (8)

Warnings: hoo boi.

Word Count: 2k 

"Y/n?" Chan gently shook your shoulder. "Come on baby, you've got to wake up."

You peeled your eyes open, cheeks flushing as you noticed how close Chan's face was to yours.

"Good, you're awake. Listen...I've got to go to the airport and pick up my parents, and your mom was blowing up your phone just a few minutes ago." The corner of his lips twitched in amusement as your phone started vibrating. "Well, there she goes again. Sounds important, you should answer." He straightened up, handing you your phone and heading to the kitchen. "I’ll be making breakfast."

You smiled as he left, expression dropping as you answered your phone.

"Yes, mom...?"

"Oh! My baby! Thank god you answered, finally...I'm so sorry about last night, darling..."

"It's oka-"

"No it wasn't! I'm a terrible mother. I'm sorry, it's just, he was so hot, and I was super intoxicated. We're going to go on a second date! Whose place did you stay at, by the way? A boy answered the phone earlier." She asked, her tone dripping with suggestiveness. You could almost see her wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ew, gross, mom! He's just a friend." You said as Chan came back into the room with a plate of waffles, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, darling, whatever you say. Although I'm certainly not opposed to you getting laid, it was long overdue anyw-"

"Haha okay, bye mom!" You cut the call, shuddering as Chan giggled, passing you the plate.

"Just a friend? Do friends kiss each other the way we did last night?"

"Shut up." You smiled, digging into your waffles.

***

You watched Chan's car leave as he left for the airport, standing there until he became a speck in the distance before turning around to enter your house.

You found your mom sitting on the couch...but this time, she wasn't passed out with drool running down her chin and clutching a bottle of beer- she was sitting with an odd sense of poise, wearing a pretty summer dress and a huge smile.

"Y/n! You're home! How was your night?" She grinned, winking. You narrowed your eyes, her cheerfulness catching you off guard. Your gaze drifted to the table, on which rested some plates and two empty wine glasses.

"Nowhere near as good as yours." You said pointedly, tearing your gaze away from the table as you moved to go upstairs.

Flopping on your bed, you scrolled through your text messages. Nothing new from Chan. You sighed, reminding yourself that there was probably no Wi-Fi at the airport.

Suddenly your phone dinged with a new text message. Oh. A response to your tutor ad. You'd put it up a long while ago and had honestly forgotten all about it. Well, you definitely needed the extra money. You replied affirmatively to the text and tossed your phone next to you on the mattress.

***

It had been a while since Chan had had dinner with the boys. The conversation was light, and he had missed his friends..however he found himself missing you more, despite having seen you that morning.

"Minho, I don't know how you get away with making out with her in the hallway. I can barely hold hands with my girlfriend without some teacher giving us detention-"

Chan looked up as Felix shoved Changbin's arm, making him stop mid-sentence. Changbin raised an eyebrow, realization dawning on him.

"Ah sorry, Chan. I didn't mean to rub it in."

"Seriously, though." Jisung rolled his eyes. "It's been weeks, and you aren't any closer to getting that book. I hate to say it bro, but I don't think Miyoung would want to be with you even if Minho breaks up with her."

Hyunjin nodded, glancing up from his phone. "I've noticed her and Y/n are really buddying it up. It's girl code not to date your friend's ex."

"Of course, you're the expert on girl code, Hyunjin."

A small squabble broke out and Chan wanted to slither onto the floor and just...stay there. He glared at his plate, deciding he’d had enough.

"Stop it!”

Jisung and Hyunjin stopped talking, staring at Chan in surprise.

"I will get that book soon. I love Miyoung, and I'll make sure she's mine, through any means possible. I don’t care about your opinions, so you guys can just shut the fuck up." He hated lying through his teeth, but there was no way he was going to tell these judgmental burdens he called his friends that he loved you- at least not yet.

Chan relished the silence as he continued eating, trying his best to ignore Minho's burning, inquisitive gaze directed right at him.

***

You sat in bed, clutching your blue book as you tapped your pencil, your head filled with thoughts of Chan. In all your 17 years of life, you'd never known what love felt like...but now you did. And as a result, you were completely consumed with the burning need to tell Chan exactly how you felt.

When you'd moved to this town, you really hadn't expected for it to one day feel like home. But it did, and you were sure it was all because of Chan. His presence somehow made you feel safe, and protected, and you hadn't felt this secure since your dad left you.

You wanted- no, you needed to know if Chan felt the same way about you. You pushed the self-doubt deep inside as you imagined telling him.

You turned red just thinking about it. Fuck it, you were too shy. You'd be a blubbering mess two words in.

Sighing, you looked back down at your book...when an idea struck in your head.

Uncapping your pen with your teeth, you placed the nib on the paper and inhaled, letting all your feelings flow out onto the page. It felt kind of cliché, writing a love letter like this, but you always did have a tendency to over-romanticize everything.

Besides; it was more of a love poem. Gah, was that worse? You hoped to god he wouldn't find it cheesy, especially since you'd bared your heart to him with these words. As you finished, your eyes ran over the last sentence. 

"If you feel the same, please meet me behind the tree near the lake, where we had our first conversation, and where I started falling for you."

You shut the book and placed it on your bedside table, flicking the lamp off and rolling over. You nuzzled your pillow, your mind drifting to last night, the memory of Chan's lips and body pressed against yours still fresh.

***

It was a bit early to be having an ice cream date, but neither of you could honestly care less. As soon as you'd woken up in the morning, Chan had texted you to meet him at the ice cream parlour near his house.

"I can't believe you like salted caramel. Its such an old person flavor." He laughed, staring at you fondly.

"Like mint chocolate is any better." You rolled your eyes.

"Fine fine, let's just accept we have different tastes in ice cream."

You smiled. "That I can get on board with."

There was a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. You glanced up from time to time, your heart pounding as you psyched yourself up. Come on, this was the moment. You can do it, Y/n.

"Hey, Chan...?"

"Mm?" He asked, pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Uh...are you free tonight?"

"Tonight? Oh, I'm playing soccer with the guys. You could come watch, though."

"Oh no, I have a tutoring appointment in the evening." You muttered.

Chan quirked his eyebrow. "Why'd you ask in the first place, then?"

"Uh, I just wanted to know. I mean-" You groaned, letting out an exasperated sigh. Bending down, you grabbed your bag from the floor and put it on your lap.

Confused, Chan watched as you pulled out your book, the book, swallowing. Slowly, you slid it over to him.

"I...what's this?" Chan asked as nonchalantly as he could, running a hand through his hair.

"It's...kind of my diary. I just-" you inhaled. "Look, I've bookmarked a page. When you go home- and please don't open it before then- read what I've written." You gulped, as Chan didn't make any move to take the book.

"Look, Y/n, I-"

"Please, just take it. Don't ask any questions." You looked down, trying to hide your flushed cheeks, trying to calm the beating of your heart.

Chan sighed, fingers reaching out and slowly curling over the book as he took it into his hands, tucking it into his pocket as you let yourself smile.

"Thank you."

***

Huh. This was definitely not what you'd been expecting. The house was a lot smaller than you'd imagined it to be, especially knowing how much you were charging.

You breathed in and came forward, knocking on the door and waiting. A few minutes later, a young girl opened it.

"Hi! Are you Dea?"

"How do you know that?" She asks, scrunching her nose, her hand gripping the handle tightly. "Mom says not to talk to strangers."

You shook your head quickly before she could close the door. "Sweetheart, I'm your tutor."

"Prove it."

You sighed, straightening and looking past her. "Is your mom here?"

The girl paused for a second before shaking her head, moving to slam the door closed, when a woman showed up from behind the corner.

"Oh good, it's the tutor!" The woman placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smiling at you. "Come in, Y/n. I've actually got someplace to be, but I'll be back in two hours. I assume you'll be done by then?"

"Yeah, most probably." You smiled and let her take you in, leading you to Dea's bedroom. The girl herself followed cautiously, and you found yourself a little amused.

"Right, this is her desk." The mom ran a hand through her hair, gesturing to the table. She glanced at her watch and swore, shooting you an apologetic glance.

"In sorry Y/n, I've got to get going soon- please focus on her maths, it's really bad. We'll discuss your fees and other logistics when I get back, okay?" She smiled at you, waving at her daughter before hurrying out the door.

You watched her leave, frowning slowly as she walked away. Something was niggling away at the back of your mind. Why did she look so familiar?

Turning back to the girl, you sighed inwardly at her knitted eyebrows and scowl. She was avoiding your stare, fiddling with her pencil and muttering under her breath.

This was going to be tough.

***

Minho sighed, watching Miyoung wave from the bleachers. Fuck, it was like she was physically incapable of giving him some fucking space.

He glanced over to Chan, clad in his uniform as he chugged water from the bottle Felix handed to him. When was this asshole going to get that fucking book? He couldn't stand having to date Miyoung any longer.

As the girl blew him an exaggerated kiss, Minho decided he had had enough. Needing to be alone, he turned around and went to the locker room. Just a moment to breathe, that was all he was asking for.

As Minho entered the cool, air-conditioned locker room, he let out a sigh of relief. He went over to sit one of the benches, planning to rest in solitude for just a few minutes... until he noticed Chan's clothing lying on one.

His shirt and jeans were carelessly strewn on the seat, and Minho narrowed his eyes as a flash of blue caught his eye, almost immediately.

Peeking out from the pocket was a very familiar looking little blue book.

He came closer, slowly pulling the book out and inspecting it. Could it be? The bastard had your book all along? Opening it, he flipped through the pages with a smirk slowly growing on his face. Yup, it was yours.

It was like the gods were smiling down on him, finally.