#almost at 3k & i do intend to put some time into it

[lovrre]

Agreement Prt2

I wrote half of this to Need by pinegrove ♫

Art Donaldson x fem black reader

Prt1 here

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smuttt,unprotected sex, creampie,slight breeding kink if you squint. cursing (ofc) slightly domestic relationship (not with Art)and probably some other stuff.

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: I’m so glad I finished I was scared I wasn’t, but your comments gave gave me motivation. Thank you pookies 🫦 I like this one a lot more than the first one. Arts also very obsessed and in love in this one.

After twenty minutes, you finish your meal, alone. You decide to leave through a back exit to avoid the paparazzi waiting outside the hotel entrance. You stumble upon a narrow hallway and carefully make your way out, trying not to attract any attention. When you reach the entrance of the restaurant, you open the door and are greeted by a charming and seemingly empty establishment. The cozy yellow lighting, old pictures, and paintings on the walls, along with the white tablecloths and wooden woven chairs, remind you of an old Italian restaurant you and Art used to go to. You see moving in your peripheral and catch a glimpse of familiar golden locks.

You walk closer to see Art and Patrick sitting at a small square table with a vacant seat, you assume is reserved for you. Patrick with a full plate of food and Art without. "Patrick?" You question, your voice filled with suspicion as you creep towards the table. He looks back at the sound of your In voice, a smile forming on his face as he stands up, “What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, taken aback going in for a hug. Patrick returns it with a laugh before releasing from the hug slightly to look at Art.

“Ask him” You look between them confused. “I asked him to come here” Art states, adjusting in his seat. “Why?“ you ask clearly confused with the situation, “someone could see” you add your gripping the back of your chair almost afraid to sit down. “I bought the place out for an hour, it’s just us” Art reveals looking up at you. “You what?” you exclaim, a bit louder than you intended.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute, just sit” Art laughs, gesturing for you to sit down. You let out a sigh, reluctantly pulling out your chair. “Ok tell me what is going on” you say, slightly impatient. “We’ve got a plan for your marriage situation”, Patrick says, mixing his ice tea with his straw. “A plan?” you repeat, still confused. "Yes, a plan," Art confirms with a nod. Patrick takes a quick sip of his tea before opening a tan folder that he hadn't noticed before. “The private investigator dropped these off at the dorm the other day”, Patrick says, pushing the open folder towards you.

Inside were pictures of your fiancée , kissing all types of women. The worst part is, it was so obvious, he didn’t have a care in the world, every photo taken on different days in different settings. Outside, inside in the morning and at night, all different women.

You knew you shouldn't be upset, but you were, not because he was seeing other people behind your back, shit you were doing that same with Art, but it was the fact he acted holier than thou. That he continued to try and control you while actively putting your agreement at risk. “Wow…” you mutter.

Shuffling through the photos. “That’s not even all of them” Art says.

“Yeah… I accidentally left the other ones, but these are the most important ones. There’s also some paperwork underneath with names, time stamps and dates on stuff” Patrick ads. “How isn’t this everywhere?” You ask, furrowing your brow. “The investigator thinks he’s been paying them off,” Patrick says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not that I don't want you here, but couldn't you just have faxed these over?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah... but then I'd miss the match," Patrick says with a grin, taking a bite of his food. "Plus, I would never miss an opportunity to help my best buds."

"Okay, so what are we doing with these?" you ask, holding up the pictures in confusion.

"We're going to spin it," Patrick replies, still chewing his food. "My plan," Art reminds him, "my bad," Patrick laughs, still chewing his food. You couldn’t help but smile, you’d missed the three of you together.

"We're going to spin it," Art repeats, making you smile wider. "Is this why you're training with my father?" you interject . Art nods in response. "Why didn't you tell me any of this last night?"

Art didn't say anything, a knowing smile spread across his face. Patrick looks between the two of you "freaks," he jokes, "Anyway... how do you plan on spinning it?" You ask, ignoring his comment.

“We lean into the infidelity, take a couple of photos of you crying, the two of you arguing, or something like that release them”, Art explains confidently.

“But… I don’t see how this stops us from getting married, it’ll just look like I got cheated on,” you say, scrunching your brow.

“We’re hoping this, plus me winning today, will be enough to persuade the media against him?”

“You believe you can win?”

“I do,” he nodded.

“Okay… I’m down.”

“Told you,” Patrick added, still drinking his tea.

“Are you especially thirsty or something today?” you ask, tilting your head slightly watching him slurp down his tea. A second one untouched, waiting for him.

“I am actually, thank you for noticing,” Patrick says with a big smile before taking another sip.
You notice Art's eyes drop to Patrick’s plate for a second time while you two are talking.

“You should eat.”

“What?” Patrick says, looking between the two of you who seemed to be having your own conversation. 

“No, I’m okay,” Art says, shaking his head.

“Mike had French toast for breakfast, I think you could have-“ you cut yourself off, looking down at Patrick’s plate. “Egg and sausage.”

“You guys aren’t talking about my food?” Patrick asks, slightly disturbed by your conversation.

“Patrick, I can buy you some more damn eggs,” you assure him as Art pulls the plate from under him.

“What just happened?” Patrick asked, looking around confused with no food in front of him.

Your phone rings, and you look down to see who it is. “It’s my Dad,” you inform, excusing yourself you answering the phone as you walk out of earshot.

The two of them watch your backside as you walk away. “She still looks good”, Patrick bites his lip, leaning over to Art.


“Careful, ” Art warns.


“What? you guys can joke about but I can’t?”


“Exactly”, Art laughs, plucking him on the head.

~~~~

With a dig, the elevator door opens, releasing you to your floor. You walk to your room, opening the door with your key card. Mike is packing stuff away in his duffle bag, getting ready to see your father. You don’t acknowledge him walking past him into the bedroom,leaving the door open. You sit on the edge of the bed carefully taking off your heals, you stand up and unzip the back of your dress with ease. The dress gracefully falls into a pile at your feet leaving you in only your underwear. You step over your dress and begin looking through your suitcase located in the closet. The sound of footsteps causes you to look up to see Mike in the doorway watching you.


“Where are you going?” Mike asked, leaning on the door frame slightly. You don’t answer right away looking for your dress under your neatly folded clothes. “There’s a press meeting with Art Donaldson's team, My Dad thought it’d look good if I’d came ” you say, moving more clothes around. “You didn’t come to mine” Mike states still watching you search.

“You didn’t ask me to” you responded, pulling out a light pink dress from your suitcase. There’s a beat of silence as Mike watches your actions "and you need to change for this press meeting?” Mike asks, raising an eyebrow. "No, but I want to” you say, standing up. When you see mike's eyes roaming up and down your body, you suddenly remembered you were only in your underwear. 


“Can you turn around or something” you ask, scrunching your face up in disgust. “I’ve seen more than this” Mike chuckles before obliging and turning around. You roll your eyes by stepping into your dress. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning, I’m just stressed,” he admits.

" Really?," you hum, pulling up the straps of your dress.

"I don't want to be that guy," Mike responds, still facing away.

"But you are constantly being that guy..." you mumble, but Mike hears you. 

"I won't anymore. I want this marriage to work y/n, I.”


You release a heavy sigh at his word. “You can turn around now ” You announce zipping up the side of your dress. Mike turns around and watches as you sit back on the edge of the bed putting on your heels. “You’re still going to that thing?” Mike asks with a confused expression. “What about that conversation gave off the vibe that I was no longer going?” You say pulling your stiletto over your heel.


Mike goes silently for a moment watching you walk toward the bathroom. “Like you need more makeup?” Mike scoffs. “Be honest with me are you fucking him?” He asks from behind you in the doorway while you remove a bit of smudged lipstick. “are you serious right now?” You ask staring at him through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m not a fucking idiot, I saw the way you looked at each other, and I get the feeling that’s wasn’t your first time meeting” 


“Only god knows what you’re doing at that college” you can’t stop your self from laughing. “I think you’re projecting” you say walking past him towards the door, picking up your purse on the way. “Where the fuck are you going?” Mike calls out, following you. 

You swing the door open and step out into the hallway. Mike trails behind and tries to grab your arm to pull you back inside. “DONT TOUCH ME!” You yell yanking your arm back. “C’mon Don’t make a scene” Mike says looking around. 


“You have some fucking nerve, you know that? Your friend Isabel came up here earlier looking for you, I’m guessing you guys have a lot of fun In Detroit” you say with a smile. “When were you in Detroit again…my birthday? You ask rhetorically, Mike goes silent for a moment before responding.
 "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, trying to keep his voice down. "You don't?" you question. "What about Sarah, Kim, Kate, Alex? Do you not know them either?" Mike opens his mouth, then closes it. "Yeah…" you drawl, 


"they meant nothing to me... I just needed to get it out of my system before fully committing. I want this to work, I want this to be real, y/n," Mike says, trying to corner against the door in a situation similar to the one you were in with Art last night.

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard," you respond, attempting to push past him. He grabs you again using his strength. You had forgotten how strong he actually was. “Last warning” you say looking up at Mike. he can tell by the look in your eyes you’re serious, he doesn’t know exactly what you’re going to do but something in his gut said don’t test it. “Let. Go” you repeat one more time before a voice interrupts you.

“Is everything ok?” Patrick asked from the end of the hallway. "Yeah, everything's fine," Mike reassured with a smile, gently releasing his grip on him. "We'll continue this conversation later," Mike says, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he presses the elevator button. "No, we won't," you smile back with a wave, as the elevator door chimes and he leaves. "Are you okay?" Patrick asks, walking up to you. "Yeah, he wasn’t going to hit me, he knows better," you laugh. "I was actually more concerned about you hitting him," Patrick jokes.

“I got the picture though” he smiles, showing you a camera and clicking through the images of your altercation with Mike.”These are good, you should take them now, I’ll call Art and tell him I’m on the way” you say, pulling out your phone.

“I’ll miss the game” Patrick states with a slight pout.

“Not if you hurry.”

~~~~~

"I won't keep you much longer, just a few more questions," the female interviewer says, holding the microphone up to Art. "Was the training for this upcoming match particularly challenging?" Before the interviewer could finish her sentence, Art was shaking his head. "Not necessarily, different for sure, but not harder."

"As of now, can you confirm or deny the rumor that you have started working with Olympic Coach Dylan Y\L\N?" the interviewer asked, lifting the mic slightly closer to his mouth. "Ummm," Art hesitates, accompanied by a smile. "I think I can. Yes, Dylan is my new coach."

"So you and your opponent today have trained under the same coach?" the interviewer asks, scrunching her brow. "Yes, we have," Art nods. "One more question, is there any special woman in Art Donaldson's life right now?" the interviewer asks with a smile. The sound of camera clicking intensifies, catching Art's attention. Intrigued, the interviewer turns around as well. "She is beautiful," Art says absentmindedly, staring in the direction where you're coming from. You give small waves to friends as you walk in. "That's your opponent's fiancé... and I guess also your trainer's daughter?" the interviewer says, looking confused and turning back to face Art.

"Really?" Art asks, faking shock with a dazed expression. "Yes," the interviewer nods. "I mean.. I meant what I said, She is beautiful," Art said with a laugh, causing the interviewer to join in. His eyes never leaving you. "Does your coach know you have a crush on his daughter?" the interviewer joked, chuckling. "He might now," Art says with a laugh before giving a quiet , "Nice meeting you," as he walks away out of frame.

A short while later, you find yourself reaching for a bottle of water from a nearby table, inserting one of those adorable green straws they had. Just as you're about to take a sip, a voice catches you off guard from behind. "There you are," Art says, a smile lighting up his face as he jogs towards you. As he approaches, you can't help but notice how close he gets, almost too close.

"You're not exactly great at keeping secrets, huh?" you chuckle, taking a step back. Art smirks, "Can't two friends have a conversation?" Peeking over your shoulder at the ongoing interviews, you reply with a straw in your mouth, "We're not even supposed to be friends. You're supposed to be my Dad's client, or from what I heard your crush." You laugh, recalling a question from one of the interviewers. "You're going to get us caught," you whisper quietly into the straw.

"I understand. I can't stand next to my trainer's daughter," Art nods, "Orrr, my opponents, fiancé, but maybe can I stand close to my crush?" Art asks.

 “I think you could, yeah” you nod trying to keep the smile on your face. “Crush it is,” Art says with a smile taking a step forward, yet still maintaining a slight distance. “Did you get the pictures?” Art asks his eyes falling down to your lips. “Yeah, we got them," you confirm with a nod, unable to hide your smile when you notice his lingering gaze. “So we’re in the clear?” his eyes still fixated on your lips, as if he's ready to pounce. "Not yet," you laugh, taking a step back. "We have to wait for them to go to press." Art throws his head back with a strained laugh, and you can't help but watch his Adam's apple bobs up and down. You hadn’t realized until that moment how much you wanted him, it was an all consuming need.

“Just one day," you murmur, unsure if you're speaking to Art or yourself. "Just one day," Art echoes, his eyes now fixed on your neck, his finger brushing your curls away. You watch as he exhales shakily, looking at the fading hickeys on your shoulder, barely hidden by makeup. "Just one day," you remind, removing his hand from your chest. "Just one day," Art repeats, tearing his gaze away to look back up at you. "Your car is here, Mr. Donaldson," a man in black approaches and announces.

“One minute” Art says, gesturing for another second. The man nods in acknowledgment and walks away. “Come with me?” Art asked. “I don’t think that’ll look good.” You alluded to the countless people with cameras surrounding you.

“I couldn’t care less” Art says, shaking his head slightly. “I’d kiss you right here, if you’d let me ” Arts words catch you off guard, and you take a deep breath to try to steady your heart beat. 

“This planning stuff is more for you than me, so you can feel more comfortable. And I’m perfectly fine doing it,’s just …” he trails of his eyes falling back down to your lip. "Alright, I'll come," you rush out, convincing yourself it's to prevent him from kissing you right then. But deep down you knew you just wanted to be near him. You follow closely behind.

Art swiftly enters the car before you lean up, capturing you with a kiss. Before you could even fully step inside, his hand gently grasped your cheek, drawing you closer to his lips as he guided you into the vehicle. Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrender to the kiss. practically falling inside. The sound of the car door closing behind you brings you back to reality, but the kiss continues to deepen. Suddenly, the driver rolls up the partition, creating a sense of privacy.

A sense of responsibility tugs at you, and you reluctantly break the kiss when Art's hand starts to wander up your bare leg. "We can't," you whisper, "We don't even have a condom," you add, hoping the driver couldn’t overhear.


“You’re right” Art mumbles, sitting back against the seat trying to catch his breath. “ I lost myself for a second” Art laughs, attempting to slow his heartbreak. ”After the game I’ll come to your room” you nod, looking forward trying to gather yourself. “Don’t talk about that, talk about something else” Art says his voice coming out more strained. “Like what?” You turn around and ask. Your eyes landing on the strained erection in his pants. “Oh!” You say, snapping your head back forward. The familiar ache of your core comes back, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to control yourself.


Against your better judgment, you take another peak. His hard shaft still straining against the fabric, you could damn near see the veins on his dick. “Can I?” You ask in a voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yeah” Art replies with a nod agjusting in his seat. You rub your hand back and forth against the Arts bulge while listen as his breath becomes more and more ragged.


Art makes a low moan and that’s enough for you to begin unzipping his pants. Against his better judgment he stops you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you nod breathlessly, fumbling with his pants, pulling them down until his dick springs free. When you begin pumping his shaft, he takes in a sharp breath which causes you to smile. You savor the feeling of his heavy dick in your hand, trying to combat the thoughts of his thick long length inside you. When Art's hips buck into your hand, you fold. “I need you inside of me”, Art opens his mouth to protest and then closes, watching as you bunch up your dress around your waist, pull your panties to the side and straddle him. He grabs your waist with one hand and lines himself up with your entrance with the other. 


You sink onto him with a little too loudly of a moan and Art does the same. Opening his mouth for a sloppy kiss, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, moving you up and down his dick by your waist. ”shit I-“ Art groans out a wave of pleasure hitting him.
“-I can’t go back to condoms” he moaned, scrunching his brow in pleasure. You laugh and Art quickly retaliates by slamming you hard down on him. You let out a loud moan reflexively using your hand, trying to pull off slightly.

Art moves your hand out of the way, holding you down on him by your waist. “I’m serious”, Art grows leaning forward for another kiss while returning to his previous, rhythm. His words cause you to squeeze around him, and he lets out another low ground throwing his head back, breaking the kiss.



“I’m not going to last much longer” Art says breathlessly. “Just a little longer baby” you coo, leaving kisses on his Adam’s apple down his neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that” you moan feeling his pace fastest. “I do?” you feel Art smile against your cheek. You nod, falling into the crook of his neck enjoying the feeling of him fucking into you. “I want you to cum in me” you whisper, kissing the crook of his neck. “Fuck” Art groans, throwing his head back again. “You’re going to kill me” he states with a strained laugh.


You feel your release building so you decide to taunt him. ”you don’t want to fill me up?” You ask innocently, removing your head from the crook of his shoulder. Look down at him with lust, filled eyes. “Don’t” Art warns, his grip on your waist tightening, “you don’t want to give me a baby?” You huff out trying to keep your voice steady literally feeling him in your stomach. “Fuc- shit shit shitttt” Art moans holding you down onto him filling you up with his cum. His moans echoed through the car, the poor driver. 


“Fuck,” Art states after a minute. “Yea fuck,” you laugh, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “I think I might have a breeding kink”. Art laughs, “Me too,” you say with a smile, leaving another kiss on his head. You feel him twitch inside you, and knowing Art, you knew he would be ready for round two in a minute. You try to get off, but he holds you tighter, keeping you stationary. 

“I want it to stick” he smiles. Oh his smile, you rolled your eyes. You loved him, you knew it now, and you had a feeling he did too. You had been lying to yourself pretending you liked you didn’t care as much as he did. But at that moment you knew you never wanted anyone but him.



You glance out the window to see you were seconds away from the stadium, and then you notice your father standing on the sidewalk. “Oh my god! MY DAD HERE” you say, scurrying out of Art's lap. Art looks out the window, seeing your father standing on the sidewalk expectingly. “Shit” Art huffs, sitting up slightly, pulling up his pants, you take a wet rag next to the champagne and quickly wipe the inside of your leg. You quickly fix yourself before rushing to wipe off any remains of your lipstick off his mouth with your hand.

"Oh no, do I have lipstick on my mouth?" you ask frantically. "Nope, all clear," Art replies with a grin, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Art," you warn, settling back in your seat. "My bad," Art chuckles, getting ready to exit the car. The car come to stop and your dad Yanks open the door.

"Hurry up, we're late. Mike's already inside," your Dad urges, When he sees you, his expression turns puzzled.

"We were heading in the same direction, so we decided to ride together," you explain before he can say anything. Your dad eyed you both suspiciously. "Alright, let's go," he says, ushering Art into the building. You wanted to say goodbye or wish him luck, and you could sense Art wanted to as well but it would be just too obvious.

You step out of the car, rummaging through your wallet. You tap on the driver's window, and he rolls it down. "Sorry about that," you apologize, handing him a 100 dollar bill before heading into the building.

Once inside the stadium you sit next to your Dad’s team which was now also partially Arts team and somehow also Mikes. Your phone buzzes and look down to see a familiar unsaved number.

“I think your Dad on to us”

“What did he say?” you text back anxiously your fingers moving fast on the keys.

“Nothing really, but i think he knows”

“Did he seem mad?”

“Not really”

“That’s good” you send, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Good luck :)” you add before stuffing your phone in your purse . Almost immediately your phone dings and you pull it back out.

“You gave me enough of that in the car ; )” you can’t help but smile at his corniness.

“You’re nasty.”

“Not as nasty as you” you’re about to laugh at his message when you hear a voice directly behind you. “You guys are actually freaks” Patrick says with a laugh jumping over the seat so he was directly next to you. “I applaud you guys for staying consistent at least” Patrick says lightly hitting you on the shoulder. “Can you mind your business” you say rolling your eyes, stuffing your phone in your purse.

“Actually I’ve been minding you two’s business all day with no pay by the way” Patrick adds. “So I think I’ve earned the right to be a little nosy” Patrick says making a pinching gesture.

“So you delivered the pictures?”

“Yes” he responded with a nod

“Thank you” you express your appreciation, turning your attention back to the court.

“Do you think he’s gonna win” Patrick asks leaning in slightly, curious to your answer.

"I hope so, but I don't know. I haven't seen him play in a while," you admit with a weak smile, the reality of the situation sinking in. "I really hope he does win," you mumble.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[reiderwriter]

🌞 Just Hanging Out 🌞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

Warnings: reader is a tease, shy Spencer, sexual arousal (M and F) no physical smut (god I wish we still used the citrus system).

A/N: Here's my second entry to @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge! Thanks to everyone who helped my pick the plot for this one :) I was also intending for this to be a reply to one of my requests for more BAU reader, but unfortunately tumblr deleted that request so 🤡 I'm tagging the account below anyways, and I have three more BAU reader fics coming in the next two weeks-ish, including my new series That's What You Get, so I hope you like this fic and be sure to look out for the others! Enjoy~

Here's my masterlist and my requests are open!

It was mid-August, and thankfully, the serial killers of America had given up crime for one week of the year to allow you to enjoy some much needed vacation time. The entire team had been put on annual leave, and you were determined to enjoy it to the absolute capacity of your ability.

Despite being together year-round, you actually enjoyed the company of your coworkers, so when Rossi announced he was planning a summer barbeque at his place to kick off your vacation time, you were ecstatic. If Rossi’s barbecuing skills were anything like his pasta making skills, you were expecting to eat yourself into a food coma and not wake up for the next seven days.

“Not a single one of you will touch this grill, stand within a 1 foot radius of this grill or even dare to look at this grill, so help me God, are we understood?” Rossi announced as soon as you arrived, the last of the BAU team to gather in his self-proclaimed mansion. The gardens were beautiful, and the kids were already running riot on the slip and slide that he had set up for them, screaming and giggling in delight.

“Trust me, you’re not getting me near that thing today, Rossi,” you laugh as you pour yourself a glass of wine from the refreshments table. “Last time I was anywhere near a grill I almost died.”

“I don’t remember encountering any unsubs who used grills as their weapon of choice,” JJ laughed at you as she held out her own glass and you gladly filled it for her.

“That’s because it wasn’t on a case, it was a family barbeque when I was 17 and my grandfather thought I should learn some ‘practical skills,’” you shot a grin at her as she rolled her eyes at you and walked away.

You grabbed your glass and looked for somewhere to perch yourself while you took in the sun. Morgan and Prentiss had already grabbed the two sun-loungers on the patio and were both sitting shirtless (with a bikini top on in Prentiss’s case) taking in as much sun as they could. Garcia was similarly sprawled on the deck sofa, and JJ joined her their after grabbing her refreshment, Will stood by the edge of the deck watching over the kids. Hotch had the amazing foresight to bring his own camping chair, and was set up similarly with one eye on Jack and the other on a book in his hand.

And just where you were expecting him, Spencer Reid was stood awkwardly at the edge of the house, in the only spot of shade he could find, leaning slightly against the door, and squinting into the sun.

“Rossi, you got any other chairs I can grab for me and Reid?” you called out to your host.

“There should be some over by the shed, they might need a bit of a dusting down though.”

“Come on pretty boy, you can’t just be standing all day, you’re going to make me feel tired just watching you,” you laughed up at him and caught the flush of his cheeks as he finally caught that you meant him to follow you.

“I’m really fine here over in the shade, I don’t do too great in the sun, anyways. More of an autumnal person, really…”

“I’d feel bad seeing you stand all day, and besides, what if I need a big, strong man to help me carry my chair over?” As he gaped his mouth open and closed looking for a retort, you felt the small flash of victory spread warm your chest. It wasn’t that you liked messing with Reid, it’s that he was an easy target and actually you loved it.

Having joined the team only the year prior, you’d quickly found the genius incredibly endearing, loving to listen to his little monologues about whatever topic had popped into his head that day, often earning groans from your other colleagues as you encouraged him to keep going.

You’d discovered your love of making him squirm a few months into the job, when you had to interrogate a submissive partner of an unsub together. After theorising that the submissive personality had a thing for women who looked like you, especially ones that were pretty dominant and controlling, you’d decided to give him what he wanted. You’d popped the top button, walked into the room and given him your best shot before having to re-strategize.

“What if we send Reid in there with her?” Morgan was the one to suggest, “Have him act a bit touchy, show him something he’s missing out on. We already tried giving him what he wanted, let’s see how he reacts to someone he doesn’t view as a threat getting everything he thinks he’s entitled to.”

It was a good guess, and it worked. You’d walked into the room, and let Reid start asking the questions. He’d gently laid a hand on your thigh, just high enough for the suspect to notice, and you’d done nothing but quietly whisper directly into his ear, watching the entire time to see how the man in front of you would react. He’d cracked in ten minutes and started spewing misogynistic drivel, so angry that he accidentally confessed to the crime and gave away his partner’s location.

It seemed Reid had cracked just a bit too. He’d avoided eye-contact with you for an entire week after that, and whenever he talked to you in that time, it was like his brain short-circuited. You’d bought a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to his knees with a few whispers in his ear, and you loved the rush of power you felt remembering it. The memory of his strong hand on your thigh did nothing to quell your growing attraction towards the man.

“If you wanted someone big and strong, you should’ve asked Morgan,” Reid snapped you out of your thoughts as he diligently followed you in the direction Rossi had pointed. It was a pretty secluded spot in the garden, a little bit away from the action and you were glad to be out of earshot so you could begin your teasing of the Good Doctor.

“I’m sure you’re big and strong in certain places, Spencer,” you smiled at him, and began looking at the chairs.

You spotted it in the corner, then, the perfect tool for your torment. It seemed relatively new, barely used but still pretty sturdy, and you knew this was it.

“Hey, Rossi, what about this hammock in the corner, can I set this up, too?” you shouted back over to the group and grinned up at Reid.

“Do you have a death wish? Because if so, go ahead and tangle with that devil.” Rossi shouted back, not even looking up from the miriad of sausages and burgers he was working on.

“That sounds like a challenge to me, Doc.” You say and you start pulling it out into the sunlight, Reid steps behind you sighing in defeat. He knew that once you had your mind set on something, you were pretty stubborn about completing it.

“Okay, can you give me a boost?” The bed of the hammock fell to about your chest height, and whilst you knew you were probably able to climb in by yourself, you were wearing a particularly short sundress, and as much as you teased Reid, you didn’t exactly want to give the rest of your team and their families an eyeful.

“You want me to try to lift you into this thing?” Reid squeaked out, a look of confusion passing over his features.

“Yeah, just grab my hips and give me a boost and I’ll swing my legs over and straddle it. Then we can see what’s it's like.” He moved cautiously up behind you, letting his hands graze your waist.

“Reid, you’re going to have to hold me a bit tighter than that if we’re actually going to get anywhere.” You placed your hands over his and pushed his grip down stronger; you could practically hear him gulp from behind you. He pushed you up, and you almost had it, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself up and into it.

After a few attempts, you realised it wasn’t going to work. Reluctantly pulling yourself out of Reid’s grip, you turned to face him.

“New plan, you get in first and pull me up.”

“What? I don’t want to go anywhere near that thing, didn’t you hear what Rossi said?”

“Come on Reid, just this once, for me? We have to try at least!” you pouted up at him now with pleading eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t have to resort to batting your eyelashes at him to get him to agree.

“One attempt, and then I’m grabbing a normal chair and leaving, okay?” He negotiated, but you didn’t care and excitedly wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug.

“Yay, thank you! I love you, Reid, you know that?” you pulled back slightly to deliver that last line, your arms still around his neck, watching the redness spread upto his cheeks.

He mumbled a quick whatever and pulled away to begin his attempts.

Perhaps it was his few extra inches of height or spindly frame, but Reid managed to climb up quite easily, not even rocking the hammock that much in his ascent.

He sat up pretty steadily, and you lifted your arms to him, and that’s when it all started going wrong. You’re combined weight wasn’t enough to break the hammock, but it was enough to set it off into an unsteady rocking that made your stomach lurch slightly. You swung your leg as best you could over Reid’s, already in the hammock, and as soon as you found some purchase there, he lowered one hand to pull your lower body up as well.

It was just unfortunate that the place his hand landed was directly over your ass, and you let out a sharp gasp as he grabbed it tightly and hauled you up to sit directly over him, chest to chest, practically straddling his entire body in the cramped space of the hammock bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I meant to grab your hip.” He tried to let go of you and push his hands up where you could see them, but the sudden movement made the hammock lurch dangerously so you snapped your hand over his and forced them back to their previous position.

“No sudden movements, Spencer, I don’t particularly want to be the butt of all jokes for the next year if we fall out of this thing.” You panicked slightly and squirmed a little in your position, trying to explore your range of movement.

“How are we going to get out of this if we can’t move?” he shot back at you, a look of mild discomfort on his face, and an I-told-you-so begging to escape his lips.

“If you just give me a minute to explore our options, maybe I would be able to figure that out.”

“If you keep squirming like that we’re going to have more problems than just how to get down,” he huffed under his breath, but he was so close that it was impossible for you to miss it.

It was your turn to blush now, as you caught his insinuation. With his hand firmly on your ass, and your legs either side of his, you could feel the entire length of his body below you. Each squirm you made the dampness between your legs pool a little bit more and then you in-turn squirmed even more in a vicious cycle.

After a few minutes, there was no denying that the thing prodding your core was Spencer’s sizable… appendage.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, it’s just a natural reaction,” he groaned out from below you when he realised you could feel it too, and you’d never heard anything so beautiful as the moans he was accidentally vocalising.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry for being so stubborn about this. Let me see if I can figure something else out,” you cautiously slid your hands up his chest, and he screwed his eyes shut. Pushing against his shoulders, you slowly pulled yourself up to a seated position, doing your best to not rock the hammock too much. The new position did nothing to dampen the friction the two of you were feeling, and you knew that you were a few seconds away from a point of no return. Your hips bucked slightly against him against your will, and you really hoped he hadn’t noticed that was totally not to the benefit of you getting out of the hammock.

You looked down to the ground so you could see how far the descent would be, and if you’d have to call for backup anytime soon. Luckily you thought you’d be able to make it if you just swung your legs over the side and got out as quickly as possible, but fate had other plans.

“Spencer, Y/N what are you two doing over here?” came Emily’s voice from behind you. Spencer’s eyes shot open and he pulled his head up slightly to look at her. However, his movement had rocked the hammock a little bit harder than before, so he had to grab your hip to steady the two of you, pushing you further down into him. You did your best to stifle the moan, biting down hard on your tongue as you did so.

“Oh you know, just hanging out,” he managed to get out in reply, his voice notably higher than it usually was.

“You sure you guys don’t need any help? That doesn’t look like the safest of chairs.” Emily’s questioning stare never lifted and you knew that if she caught wind of what was actually going on, you wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye for an entire year. You couldn’t accept the help.

“Yeah, we were just going to climb down in a second, we’re just checking to see how… sturdy it is right now.”

“Sturdy. Right. Well, Rossi said the food would be ready to start serving in a few minutes and asked me to call you guys over.”

“We’ll be right there, thanks Emily.” You smiled at her and she made to walk away, a suspicious look still on her face.

“What do you mean we’ll be right there, I can’t go over there like this!” Spencer whisper yelled into your ears.

“What else was I supposed to say to get her to go away,” you whisper yelled back. You ran a free hand through your hair, and shifted again, your legs beginning to cramp up a little in the awkward position.

“Okay you get down, I’ll make a break for the bathroom, say all this moving around made me need to pee or something, and then we meet up again on the patio and pretend this never happened?” he said and you nodded quickly.

You began to lift your body weight up and remove your legs from the tangle you were stuck in, and that’s when the hammock reared it’s ugly head for the final time. As you lifted your leg slowly, you accidedntally got your foot stuck in the side of the fabric, and pinned there but still moving, the hammock toppled and spat both of you out unceremoniously.

Reid landed ontop of you with a hard thud. You let out a sweet curse, just as Reid pushed his body weight onto his hands, taking some of the pressure off of you after the fall. You stared up into his eyes as you realised you’d found yourself in yet another compromising situation and you deepeded to a scarlet red as you realised your sundress had blown up completely in your descent, and he was now neatly nestled in between your legs, with your damp underwear on display for him.

Looking down at you, he took a beat too long to react, and you squirmed under his gaze, feeling appropriately trapped, before he sprung up and offered you a hand up.

You took his hand and rearranged your dress, thankful that the smell of the food had distracted everyone from your embarrassing fall.

“Okay, we’re out.” You were flustered and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yep, that was certainly one way to do it,” Reid replied, as you avoided his gaze. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and he made to do so similarly, trying his best to rearrange himself so the bulge in his pants wasn’t so noticeable.

“You should get to the bathroom.”

“You should get to the food.” He retorted and you finally made to move, but stopped yourself turning around quickly to face the man again.

“Before I go,” you said and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss into his mouth, feeling as giddy as a teenager braving her first kiss. You turned away just as fast and made your way back to the party, leaving a flustered and spluttering Reid behind as you made a beeline for the food.

“So, what’d you think of the hammock?” Rossi asked you as you began loading your plate up. You put on your best poker face and begged noone had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“You were right. That thing is dangerous,” was your only response, and you retreated into the corner to finish your food. You sat there waiting eagerly for Reid to return, not just so you could be in his presence again and see how he was reacting to your kiss, but also so you could get the image of him dealing with his situation out of your mind.

It seemed that being a tease and working him up hadn’t quite ended so well for you that day.

You blamed the hammock.

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

🏷️ @marylovesevanpeters @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @bluecandycake @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @reidmym1nd @oureternalbond @fandomscombine @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @simp4f1 @fandomscombine @ssa-spencerhotch @spidermonkey2423

((General PSA for tags - of you have your tumblr settings on to make it so you don't show up in searches, sometimes the tags do not work, of you want to be tagged, please change your settings! Alternatively, you can turn my notifications on for when I post :)))

[lunarsigh]

the alchemy of desire

I had an idea, and then my brain spit out like twice as many words of it than I originally planned. So here. have a Star Rail fic?

~*~

Honkai Star Rail - Jing Yuan x female reader - aphrodisiac

~3k words, mature

warnings: drugs (and lack of consent for), a vague hint of imagined sexual consent issues.

~

It takes Jing Yuan an abnormally long time to realize he’s been drugged.

Of course, he knows the merchant making small talk with him is part of the coup conspiracy - it’s the whole reason he came to this otherwise mind-numbing event. But he didn’t expect her to be bold (or stealthy) enough to spike his drink. He’s off his game, which irritates him, in the back of his mind where the alchemical concoction hasn’t taken hold. The rest of him feels the warmth spreading through him, the pleasant haze of sexual desire starting to direct his bloodstream to southern climes, so to speak.

Well. So that’s her play. He almost laughs aloud as he realizes what he’s been dosed with. An aphrodisiac. How … droll.

He turns a lazy smile towards the woman in front of him. Her body language is all seduction - so, she intends to get the General in a compromising position and then … kill him? Blackmail him? Set up some scandalous scenario? There are many options, none of them particularly pleasant beyond the vague promise of an orgasm. Not that he had any intention of leaving with her, even if he hadn’t noticed the effect. But she may have had a slightly better chance of getting something out of this if it wasn’t for one variable.

You.

You’re in his line of sight; he’d positioned himself for that very reason, even before he took that ill-timed drink. You’re halfway across the room, making pleasant small talk with someone he half-recognizes, wearing a red dress that clings to your curves in ways that had already given him at least seven different creative and lewd thoughts this evening. You’ve been dodging his lazy attempts at flirting with you for months now; for a while, he thought you disapproved, but lately he’s become sure that you don’t actually think he’s serious. He knows he’ll break through eventually, but tonight, that dress has made it particularly difficult to wait for his prey to flinch. And now, the drug is encouraging the predator to the surface, filling his loins with heat as he sees you laugh at another man’s words, lean closer to make yourself heard over the music playing above.

The woman next to him is a sorry excuse for a hunter. She can’t even keep his attention with a drug and a set of very ample … assets.

The man you’re speaking with lays a hand on your arm, and something inside Jing Yuan snaps. The drug, he thinks, must be more powerful than he first thought. But even as that thought occurs, he is bidding farewell to the woman, over her protestations. He knows who she is, his people can find her later, he has no doubt about that. Right now, his body will only let him pursue one goal.

Your conversational partner sees him before you do, and to his credit, the man recognizes a superior predator immediately. He has backed away from you before Jing Yuan even stands beside him, which earns him some points for smarts. “I require your assistance,” he tells you, taking your now free arm and maneuvering you away without a second glance.

“What? What are you -“ Your voice is a soft hiss, and even that sound dances across his skin like an electric arc.

“I need help,” Jing Yuan murmurs softly. “I’m compromised.”

Whatever you see on his face ensures your immediate cooperation. He does feel a bit flush, now that he thinks about it. Perhaps the heat is beginning to show.

He leads you out the side door before stopping. Your immediate response is to stand in front of him and put your hands on his cheeks. “General, what happened to you?”

“That bad, hmmm?” His hands are covering yours before he can consider the movement. You’re beautiful under the moonlight. And he may have said that aloud, because you immediately widen your eyes and try to pull away from him. His hands curl around yours. “Apparently the drug is working faster than I thought.”

“Drug??” Your voice is a little too loud, and he squeezes your hands in response. “General, if you’re drugged, then we need to find -“

“I need to get back to the office,” he interrupts. “It’s the closest safe place, and I can call for backup from there.”

“But there must be a physician here!”

“We can call for one from the office. Help me,” he says. “You’re the only one I can trust here.”

It’s true, in the ways that matter. Despite the fact that he knows half of the party attendees, you are the only person he trusts to see him in a weakened state. That shrinking part of his mind that remains clear knows this is dangerous, that the heat inside of him wants you close because it wants to devour you, but he’s not a pup - he can maintain his self control. He has centuries of experience with it.

Your face softens at his words, and you tug him towards the street. He releases one of your hands, but does not let you remove the other from his grasp.

You ask him about the drug, and he answers honestly. Your offense on his behalf is pleasant. “We need to catch her!”

“I know who she is, and can find out where she lives very easily tomorrow,” Jing Yuan tells you. “She does not entirely realize that I know her game. She may suspect, and will probably panic tonight, but putting a face to the conspiracy will break it open for us.”

“But she tried to …” Your free hand waves uselessly in the air, before you land on, “assault you!”

“Do you think I would have been led astray, my sweet?”

“The fact that you’re calling me ‘my sweet’ tells me you’re drugged to the gills,” you mutter. “So maybe.”

He laughs. You’re adorable when you’re angry. And when you’re embarrassed. And this time, he’s pretty sure he didn’t say that aloud. But the drug is definitely proving to be stronger than he anticipated. He cannot take his eyes off of you. The way your glossy lips seem to glow in the moonlight, the slight movement of your chest underneath the silky dress, the way one strap seems to be on the verge of slipping down your bare shoulder - there’s a howling voice in his mind telling him to push you into a shadow and mark you, taste you, make you his. Or prove to you that you’re already his. That you’ll never be anyone else’s - certainly not that bland specimen you were speaking with at the party.

And that’s definitely not his own thoughts. Not … entirely. He has nothing against the perfectly pleasant seeming stranger, and you were probably just speaking about some trivial entertainment, basic party chatter. But merciful aeons, this drug is erasing his hard-won control at a rapid pace.

It’s good that they targeted him, he thinks faintly, trying to concentrate on the violation instead of you. Had they given this to a lesser person - one without his training, his experience, his sheer amount of patience - someone would be hurt by now. He needs to alert someone when he gets to the office. Call Fu Xuan, get her to organize a search party, make sure no one else at the event was affected …

… he needs to taste your fucking skin, it’s a hunger he has no words for. Needs your legs wrapped around his hips, needs to feel you bucking beneath him, begging, gasping -

“General? Jing Yuan?”

Your voice is, as usual, completely alluring, but it’s undercut with a concern that shakes him briefly back to true lucidity. You’ve stopped in the middle of the path, no more than a block away from the office. You step closer to him, still holding his hand, looking up at his face as if you’re searching for something - a sign that things will be okay. He can faintly smell your perfume on the night breeze, and may the Reignbow Arbiter help him, he’s going to devour you if you move even an inch closer.

“I need to get inside,” he says, voice hoarse. He lets go of your hand - he feels empty now, like he let a prize slip through his grasp, but the contact is more than he can stand right now.

He walks faster, and can hear your heels clacking on the stones behind him. You’ll keep up. He just can’t look back at you right now, not feeling like this.

If whoever made this poison doesn’t already work for the Alchemy Commission, he thinks, then they should - just as soon as their century-long prison sentence is complete.

Inside, he manages to steel himself long enough to place a call to one of the guards on duty, telling him to fetch the Vidyadhara healer immediately. But his biggest problem is still here - his own fault, he brought you here, he wanted your company. He should be keeping you safe, not putting you in danger. And this? This is danger. This is a darkened office, free of its usual flow of people, just you and him and this maddening desire that wants to claw through his skin and take you for its own.

“Leave now,” he says, as he hears your steps approach.

“Of course I’m not leaving!” you protest. “This drug is making you ill, if something were to happen to you …”

You trail off as Jing Yuan turns around to face you. When takes a step toward you, you take an automatic half-step back. Ah, so you recognize when you’re being hunted, in some way. Under normal circumstances, he’d rather see you fling yourself enthusiastically into his arms, but in this condition, he takes no small pleasure in the nerves you’re beginning to show. “Ill is not the word I’d use to describe the effect,” he says in a soft voice. He takes another step, but this time, you hold your place. Both parts of his mind are unreasonably proud of you for it.

He places a hand on your shoulder, over that flimsy strap that had caught his attention on the street. One tug, and it would be out of his way, and he’d be able to finally taste your sweet skin. Or tug far enough, and the whole dress would come falling away, and he could finally lift you up and spread your legs and feel your heat pressed against him. You would let him, he knows, he can see that spark of lust in your gaze, even as it flashed against nerves and concern. He could make you forget the rest. Forget everything except what his cock feels like inside of you.

…. And that’s why you have to get out of this office.

When he speaks again, his voice is so soft as to be nearly inaudible, if he weren’t two inches away from your face. He can feel your breath quicken against his cheek, see every tiny shudder you make - fear or desire? He’s pretty sure you don’t even know at this point. “Leave.”

The first second passes by without movement, and he’s rarely felt more conflicted than he does right now. But just as the drug is threatening to win the battle, you take a large step backward. “I’ll be - I’ll go find - someone better -“ And then you’re gone. You don’t flee, you make yourself walk with forced slowness, and he can see you trembling as you go.

When he can no longer see you through the door, he finally lets himself stagger backward, feeling behind him for a chair. Without somewhere to focus his hormonal rush, the physical sensations wash through his body. “Someone better,” he breathes. If you mean someone he’s less likely to maul, then yes, literally anyone would be better. But otherwise … there’s no one better than you. Not to him.

It would be rude to masturbate in his public office, he tells himself silently - not to mention that the little doctor would sooner stop his heart with a bolt of light than deal with any of that when she arrives. Best to suffer, he tells himself. It won’t last long.

~

Several days later, Jing Yuan is still at home all day, “recovering.” He may have started feeling perfectly healthy yesterday, but he so rarely gets a perfectly valid excuse to avoid the paperwork piling on his desk, he can’t bear to let it go to waste yet. The only down side is that he hasn’t seen you since that night. He spotted you hovering in the doorway as the healer and a couple of Cloud Knights tended to him, but you were gone before they helped him get back home. His sources tell him that you’ve been overworking yourself ever since, which really won’t do.

There’s only one answer - you’ll have to come to him. So he sends a note to the Seat of Divine Foresight, requesting your presence.

And right on schedule, he hears your voice in the foyer. He feels a smile spread across his face, but he doesn’t stand until you’ve entered his sitting room. He’s missed seeing your face - and your blush, now in evidence again as you realize he’s wearing only his lounging robe here. “You’re feeling better, then?” you ask.

“Entirely. But shhh,” he says with a wink, “I wouldn’t want to lose out on a couple more days of leisure.”

You roll your eyes, and he laughs. Good, he can see the tension you were holding in your shoulders fade away with the familiar banter. “I’m glad,” you say, after a moment. “That you’re better. I was scared the other night, I’ve never seen anything affect you like that.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been careless enough to let myself get poisoned.” He steps closer to you, searches your face. “But my question is … were you scared for me, or of me?”

Your eyes widen, and you look him directly in the eye. “I wasn’t scared of you, Jing Yuan. I trust you.”

“Good.” Another half step forward; at this point, you’re forced to crane your neck to meet his gaze. “Because you were trembling quite a bit that night. I had to wonder.”

You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “No you didn’t,” you say, still holding his gaze. “You’re well aware of why - why I reacted the way I did.”

“Am I?”

You flinch first - as always - and take a step backward before pacing to the other side of the room. “The conspirators are rounded up, mostly. There are a few stragglers, but we have the woman who dosed you, as well as the person who made the drug.”

“I know. You’ve spent a lot of hours on this over the last few days.” You’re tired, he can see that much on your face. “I’m told you’ve barely left the office.”

You shrug, still avoiding his gaze. “There’s a lot to do. We need to make sure they’re not able to pull any more tricks.”

“They won’t be.” He may not have been able to see to it himself, but that’s why he surrounds himself with all the best people he can find. Including you. “You’ve done well. But it’s time for you to rest.”

Now your gaze cuts back to him. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of simply declaring our own leisure time.”

“You do if I declare it.” He grins. “How about this - you are now officially assigned as my personal aide until I recover.”

“You just admitted you’ve already recovered?”

“Did I? I have no memory of that.” Jing Yuan holds a hand out to you. “Come, spend time with me.”

You look at his extended hand, and he can see your own hand flexing, as if it wants to move of its own volition. But you take a deep breath and remain still. “Jing Yuan. Please.”

The soft word makes something stutter in his chest. “What do you need from me?”

You cast your eyes to the floor again, as your lips turn upward in a sad smile. “Mercy. Please stop teasing.”

Ah. You’re still there, are you? “What do you think I’m teasing about?”

“And stop answering me with a question. Especially ones with obvious answers.” Your shoulders square, and you look up at him again. “You know I have … feelings. For you. I’m sure it’s been obvious since we first met. And the other night - Lan help me, but even as I was scared for you and sick that someone would do that to you, I was also …” You close your eyes for a brief moment, before opening them again. “Pleased. That you were paying that kind of attention to me. Even though I knew it wasn’t really you, or about me at all. And I still feel really awful about that.”

So that’s how it is, inside your head? He certainly has some work to do. “You have no reason to feel bad,” he says. Now he steps into your space, reaches over to cup your cheek. “It was me. It was about you. Let me be absolutely clear - you are the entire reason that things were not worse that night.”

“How so?” Your voice is little more than a whisper.

“Because you were all I could see. When the concoction kicked in, you caught my eye, and that woman didn’t have a chance of getting my attention.” He leans down, close enough that his breath plays across your face. “Because all it did was magnify desires that already existed. Desire for you.”

Dark pupils have started to take over your eyes; your mouth forms the shape of his name, but no sound comes out. That won’t do - there are few better sounds in his world right now than your voice saying his name. He’s going to have to figure out all the ways he can make you sound while saying it. “Stay with me,” he murmurs. “Let me show you some of the lovely images that tormented me that night. I think they’ll be quite pleasant for both of us.”

When you speak again, the words aren’t exactly what he was expecting. Your hands finally come up, fisting in the edges of his robe. “Jing Yuan. Are … are you wearing anything underneath this thing?”

Perhaps the smile that comes across his face is still the smile of a predator - that’s okay, as long as the prey is willing to be caught. “There’s really only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

[nickfowlerrr]

Pwyc-valentine Drabble idea - reader works hard to do a cute vday eve for bucky after he’s been at work, she’s making him dinner/baking/wear his fave lingerie 😜 - she starts by hanging a cute banner in living room but the ladder falls and she can’t get down, dangling from the curtain rail until he gets home. The dinner burns and she’s upset that plans are ruined by time bucky comes- he’s charmed/amused to find her hanging and teases her and tells her it’s still perfect anyway

it's brighter now

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. no explicit smut. it's pretty fluffy. uhm engagement? i can't think rn sorry lol - if there's anything that should be tagged pls let me know.

words: 3k

notes: LOL this is so funny! i honestly don't see how it'd be possible for reader to hang onto a curtain railing for an extended period of time though hahaha so i kinda changed this idea a bit, i hope you don't mind! thank you for sending this in! <3

You pulled at the strap of the black lace set you'd ordered in preparation for today, adjusting it so it held your breasts up nicely before glancing to the clock to check the time.

Bucky should be home soon. Dinner was in the oven, his gift - along with a box of his favorite chocolates - left on the table, while you finished getting ready upstairs. All you had left to do was put up some of the decorations you'd picked up last night while you were shopping. Checking your reflection one last time in the mirror, making sure your lipstick looked right and your eyeliner wasn't smudging more than you intended, you smiled to yourself. This was gonna be good, it'd be a good night.

Some may say you were doing too much, and in all honesty, maybe you were, but you didn't care. Bucky was still a little... touchy about the whole not telling your family about him thing and you wanted to try and make it up to him, as trivial as this attempt might be. You wouldn't say things were tense between you, not in the slightest, but you could tell when certain things came up the shift in his attitude and demeanor. You had hurt him, and you knew it. You felt awful every time you thought about it, which was a lot this past month.

His Christmas Eve proposal had been met less than completely enthusiastic by you and though you had talked it out and come to the conclusion that you just needed time before you wanted to take things to the inevitable next stage, he was still clearly let down. So, two weeks later when he'd found out you never told your family about you and him, it was just another punch to the gut for him.

You'd spent the last month doing a lot of late night talking with him, working through things, trying to communicate your feelings to each other openly. It wasn't the easiest, you were both stubborn and hated taking blame for things you didn't feel you needed to, but once you set your egos aside and really listened to each other, there was a better understanding of where you both stood.

Though you'd apologized multiple times already, you still wanted to try and make things right, show him how much you loved him. Valentine's Day was coming up so you decided to plan the perfect night. Everything was going according to plan, and you couldn't wait for him to get home.

You were almost surprised yourself with how giddy you were. Before heading back downstairs, there was just one more thing you needed to do. Walking over to the dresser that your intimates were in, you pulled open the drawer, moving around your carefully folded sets until you felt the little black box you kept in there. You felt your heart racing and butterflies in your stomach as you stared at it. You'd thought long and hard about this decision from the moment he had asked you and now just felt right. You carefully opened the small box and once again your breath caught at the beauty of the ring he had picked for you. Carefully removing it from its rest, you gently slid the ring onto your ring finger, marveling at the way it glimmered in the light and exhaling delicately as you took in just how right it felt to have on. The beeping of the oven startled you, pulling you from your thoughts and had you suddenly racing down the stairs, making a beeline for the kitchen.

You stopped the timer as it blared and opened the door of the oven, frowning when you saw the food wasn't even done yet. You made a mental note to check it again in five minutes and hoped it'd be ready before Bucky got home.

Spotting the decorations you'd left on the counter, you grabbed them and hurried to get them up. You bought a cute heart banner that you wanted to hand in the entryway between the living room and kitchen but realized you would need to get the step ladder if you wanted any chance of reaching where you wanted it to go.

Carrying it in from the garage, you set it up right under the frame. You paused when it was wobbly as you stepped up, but convinced yourself it was fine, that's what ladders do, right? You had two tacks in one hand and the end of the banner in the other as you stepped up to the top of the ladder. You had to use nearly all your force to get the first tac in and squeaked a bit when the ladder threatened to topple from under you. You stilled as you caught your breath, quickly securing the one end of the banner up on the tac before leaning over to push the second one into the wall. As you forced the tac in, you heard the front door opening, the sound startling you as you hadn't even heard Bucky's car pull up. As you jolted a bit at the sound, the ladder shifted again under you but didn't settle this time as it essentially collapsed beneath you. You yelped again, louder this time as your eyes squeezed shut and you mentally prepared yourself for hitting, not only the floor, but the broken ladder beneath you.

You realized after a perilous second that you hadn't fallen, and suddenly became aware of the strong arms holding you bridal style. You opened your eyes and looked up at Bucky, your mouth parted slightly as your doe eyes looked into his. Fuck, you thought, his reactions and reflexes were always so startlingly fast.

"Hi," you breathed.

"Hi," he echoed, "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked staring down at you in concern and near bewilderment.

"I was trying to put up decorations," you said looking over at the banner half held up by the first tac you'd gotten in.

Bucky sniffed the air, his brows furrowing as he sniffed again. "What is that?"

"What's what?"

"Smells like something's burning,"

"Oh shit!" you cursed, trying to wiggle out of his hold until he set you down. You ran to the oven, pulling the door open to reveal the once promising dinner you'd spent most of the day preparing, now burnt to a crisp. "Fuck," you whined with a pout as you shut the oven off, pulling the dish out of it and placing it directly in the sink. There was no saving that thing now. You stood there disheartened and annoyed at yourself until you felt Bucky coming up behind you, his hands placed on your hips as his fingers played with the lace on your lingerie.

"What's all this?" he asked huskily, clearly already distracted from the burnt food and broken ladder by your choice of clothing. You knew he'd like it, but right now you were still upset by the epic failure that should have been dinner.

You leaned your head back against his chest as you continued to mop, pout permanent on your face as his arms circled you.

"For valentines," you muttered before sighing heavily, "I'm sorry. I was trying to make everything nice and now we have nothing for dinner and a broken fucking ladder."

He chuckled as he held you, "Sweetheart, that ladder's been broken, that's why I had it by the pile of scrap metal. And I thought we talked about you putting decorations up,"

"It was just a stupid banner," you defended, "and it was supposed to be a surprise."

"Well, I'm definitely surprised," he laughed.

"Whatever, it was stupid," you tried to get out of his hold, embarrassment eating at you now, but he wouldn't let you. Instead, he turned you around and pinned you against the counter as he towered over you. You avoided his eye until he gave you no other choice but to look at him as he held your chin in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

"It wasn't stupid, doll," he smiled crookedly, leaning in to kiss you gently once. "You really know how to make a guy feel special. Dinner, new lingerie," he simpered as he eyed your body, leaning down closer to you.

"I got you an actual gift, too," you said motioning to the table.

"I know, I'm looking at it,"

"I'm serious, Bucky," you huffed a laugh as you pushed him to turn around. He allowed you to shove him forward before you escorted him to the table, pulling the chair out for him to sit in. You were bummed about dinner, of course, but you could still make the most of the night.

He eyed you for a moment before taking his seat in front of the table.

"Comfy?" you asked.

He tongue darted out, quickly licking his lips before he smiled at you, "Sure."

"Good," you simpered before seating yourself in his lap, your left arm coming around his shoulders as your legs laid across his lap. "I wanted to do dinner first but we have nothing to eat now, so,"

"I don't know, I see something pretty tasty right here," he smirked as his metal hand ran up and down your thigh teasingly.

"Bucky, I'm trying to be romantic here," you chided playfully.

"So am I," he argued.

You rolled your eyes as you reached across the table to grab his present. Stifling a laugh as he groaned at the friction while you moved around on his lap. You handed him the gift after settling back down and watched him open the carefully wrapped box.

You smiled when he did upon revealing the watch he'd been talking about buying last week. He set it down on the table as his arms wrapped around you, leaning in to kiss you as he spoke. "Thank you, babe," he simpered against your lips.

"You're welcome," you replied softly as you leaned in for a kiss of your own, your hands coming to cup his face as he held you against him.

You pulled back, your thumbs stroking his cheeks as he happily closed his eyes for a brief moment, relishing in your attention before standing up unceremoniously with you still in his arms.

You yelped and clung to him as he chuckled, "I'm not gonna drop you,"

"Mhm," you said with narrowed eyes. His brilliant blues met yours and he stopped in his tracks as he gazed at you, the look in his eyes had you softening your own.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," he praised, coming in for another kiss. You were nose to nose as his lips brushed against yours, "and your makeup looks so hot," he smirked.

"Shut up," you laughed as you playfully hit his chest.

He grinned as he walked out of the kitchen. You absentmindedly played with his hair as he carried you upstairs. When he got to your room, he sat you down on the side of the bed as he took his jacket off, toeing off his boots before unbuckling his belt. You sat back, propping yourself up with your hands as you watched him.

"What about dinner?" you asked demurely as he shuffled off his jeans, discarding his shirt to the floor, feeling yourself get more and more excited with his rushed, near frenzied pace.

"I'm more in the mood for dessert right now," he simpered as he moved toward you. "Been thinking about you all day," he said as he pushed you to lay down, his lips descending on your exposed neck. An unbidden giggle rose from you as his lips attacked your skin.

"You say that everyday," you smiled as you wound your fingers in his hair.

"It's true everyday," he insisted, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke, hands feeling you up.

He pulled away, standing up as he admired you, his cock straining against the material of his boxer briefs. His tongue jutted out to lick his bottom lip.

"What?" you breathed as you watched him curiously.

"Stay right there, don't move," he instructed as he pulled his jacket off the floor, searching his pockets before dropping his jacket and grabbing his jeans. Again, his hands delved into the pockets but this time he pulled his phone out of one of them.

You raised a brow as you waited, getting a little self conscious when you thought he was pointing his phone directly at you. After a second you realized that he indeed was.

"Bucky, what the hell," you complained.

"You look fucking perfect like this, sweetheart, it'd be a crime to not get a picture."

You stuttered for a second before sitting up and swallowing hard. "Well, at least warn me first so I can try and look nice," you said before posing a bit for him.

"Fuuuuck," he nearly moaned as he took pictures of you, "you don't need to try to look nice, doll, you're fucking gorgeous." You preened at his admiration, the reassurances and praises tumbling from his lips making you more flustered than you were before. When he got down on one knee, continuing to take pictures, you burst out laughing at his adamancy. "Don't move angel, just look at the camera for me, just like that," he said seriously, so intent on his work.

"Okay, this isn't a photoshoot, Buck," you laughed, getting up and walking over to him.

"Should be," he simpered, looking up at you as you stood before him. You took his phone in one hand and walked closer to him, forcing him to sit on the floor before you turned around, moving to sit down between his spread legs. You leaned back into his chest as you held the phone up to take a picture or two of your own, Bucky readily obliged as his arms wrapped around you snuggly. After a few pics together, you tossed his phone gently onto his pile of discarded clothes and turned around to face him again.

"You were saying something about dessert?" you said, voice sultry. You were on your knees between his spread legs as he sat upright, holding himself up on his arms as he watched you intently, eyes dark and swimming with desire.

You ran your fingers delicately up and along his thighs before allowing your left hand to come up and graze his hard length that was threatening to pop out past the waistband of his boxers.

He hissed at the contact, looking down from your face to your hand teasing him through the material.

He spotted the ring the second he looked to your hand, wondering for a brief second how long you'd been wearing it and he hadn't noticed. He grabbed your hand off of him and pulled you down to lay on top of him as he let himself lay down on the ground.

You were confused until Bucky held your hand in his, examining it as his metal arm rested across your back, hand on your hip as he held you on top of him. You stayed quiet, waiting to see what he would say before wanting to speak yourself, instead just resting your head on his chest, looking up at him as he held your hand. He was playing with your fingers, his thumb rubbing along your hand as you watched him before he found himself fiddling with the ring.

"It looks good on you," he said quietly. The energy between you shifting quickly into something much softer, a longing growing between you, despite the fact you were nearly skin to skin, taking over the heady desire that had been swarming the both of you just moments before. "You didn't have to put it on, sweetheart."

"I know," you responded. "But I... I wanted to," you breathed as you squeezed his hand in yours.

"You wanted to...today?"

"Today," you nodded. "Everyday," you continued, voice a bit softer now.

His eyes left the ring, shooting to yours, the bright blues twinkling as you saw the question burning in them.

"I'm gonna keep it on. If that's okay with you," you trailed off, a small smile playing in your lips as you held his gaze.

You gasped as you were suddenly rolled over, Bucky on top of you, his hand coming to hold the back of your head so you didn't hit it on the floor as his lips pressed to yours fervently, smiling into the kiss.

"You're gonna marry me?" he asked, his lips quirking up into a crooked smile, making your heart flutter.

You nodded. "I'm gonna marry you," you leaned up to meet his lips again, pulling him down on top of you. "I wanna marry you."

"Best valentine's day I've ever had," he smiled, nuzzling into your neck, "best gift I've ever gotten," his lips softly kissed your neck, "You. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he breathed between loving kisses.

"I love you, Bucky," you murmured as you held him, one hand carding through his hair and the other rubbing up and down his back.

"I love you, doll. Happy Valentine's Day."

You tittered in response, "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Let's go out later for dinner. We can celebrate, too," he smiled softly, "I know you wanted to stay home tonight, but,"

"No, going out sounds good," you agreed, "I don't know how you'll find a table anywhere last minute on Valentine's Day, though," you mused.

"I'm not worried about it," he said nonchalantly, confidence evident in his words.

"Okay," you simpered in response. "Well, I should get dressed, then,"

Bucky stood up at that before picking you up off the ground effortlessly and walking you over to the bed. "You'll have plenty of time later," he assured you before dropping you gently on the mattress. "Right now, let's get back to dessert. "

[mellancholy-morose]

@puppys-teeth You said you wanted Au's and silly thoughts in this post. I'm finally getting around to responding like I wanted to. I made it it's own post cause it got long and this is basically just gonna be a list of my WIP's with some general information and thoughts with some links to some snippets I've shared previously.

Longfics:

Knowing Spirit Albarn is a Drag Current WC about 14k

This is the current longfic I'm trying working on. Spirit ends up doing drag at chupa cabras, Stein comes looking for Spirit and finds out his secret and is thoroughly amused. Stein keeps coming back cause he finds it entertaining and is trying to understand why Spirit's doing it. But Spirit's double life takes a toll on him.

A few snippets I've posted so far:

Here, Here, Here, and Here

Graves/Fountains (a Wip title) Current WC about 3k (not counting notes that are just dialog spread around my note taking locations)

Stein and Spirit go on a mission and things go wrong, they're both left unable to resonate with anyone, as they're both ignored their problems for so long their souls have gone into what is basically a perpetual state of self defense, so LD puts them both on mandatory leave until they can fix their shit. They end up working at Deathbucks to pay the bills when its been a while with no progress and LD is like 'we can't keep paying you'. They eventually are going to have to go into each others mindscapes and help each other deal with all these things they've buried deep. The wip title is in reference to the imagery in their respective mindscapes.

Pacts Writ in Flesh and Blood Current WC about 27k

A resbang I was unable to finish, as it got a bit too depressing at the time. I will come back to it eventually, but it might yet be awhile. It's present stein/marie and past stein/spirit. It's a supernatural horror au, that started from the idea of Faustian deals, if you know 'the magnus archives' there's also some inspiration taken from there for this one. The promo from resbang will give you a better idea what it's about and has some excerpts:

promo

P.I. AU Currently just notes

More like a very long fic. Its ensemble cast and its scope scares me, it'll probably be a while before I tackle this one, simply cause juggling an ensemble cast this large, and having to make sure the murder mystery makes sense is going to be a lot balls in the air. When it was first conceived it was intended to be Stein/Marie but I'm likely to pivot it slightly to make it still that to and extent but likely end game Stein/Spirit. Idk it's not currently very fleshed out besides some general beats I want to hit with things. Stein is Frank Stone (I think it's hilarious and this choice of mine will never stop amusing me) private investigator who's investigating his buddy Sid's death. also did I mention its the 1920's? cause its the 1920's.

Oneshots:

none of these titles are finalized and are more just ways for me to tell them apart from each other

Carnival Currently just notes

Based off that one ending image of Stein making Spirit puke on the teacups, Spirit is there to chaperone the kids, and asks Stein to come a long. Marie upon learning this implies its a date, which worms its way into Stein's head, leading to something of a disappointing experience when they go.

GD Current WC 2.5k

(I don't want to say the title of this one as it gives away something small that I haven't decided if I want the reader to go into the fic knowing about yet)

Current oneshot I'm working on, after a mission Spirit convinces Stein to visit his parents when he learns they're in the area. It is a bit awkward for all involved but Spirit is learning things about Stein he never knew.

A snippet of this one can be found here and here.

Two fucked up little guys Current WC 1.6K

This one admittedly is almost done, but I haven't felt up for finishing it. Set after Stein and Spirit stopped being partners and after Maka is born, but before the anime. Neither have good coping mechanisms for their stress and end up instinctually reaching out for each others wavelengths, and connect while half way across the city. It's angsty, there's some hurt/comfort but it's not got a happy end coming for it. Though this one is also one that after I post it and people are interested I might end up coming back to and expanding the story on later (and giving it a happier ending most likely)

Misc:

These are things that are minimally fleshed out and tend to be more prompts then actual Wips atm

Gay Pirates:

Spirit used to be steins first mate, now they both have their own crews, and spirit keeps boasting about his getting them into trouble. Maka mutinies her dad stranding him on an island but still kinda feels bad about it so sends Stein a letter addressed as if from Spirit for a duel to the death, and Stein ends up getting stranded on the island with him cause his crew get drove off while he's off board by the navy.

Road Trip:

Been sitting on this one for awhile, but @bcbdrums reminded me it was in my wips by mentioning her own road trip ideas on some posts. I was gonna work on this on the side of my long fic but it grew past oneshot territory and is likely gonna be a medium length fic so it went back on the backburner. It's normal world au and is a last road trip before Stein leaves for med school. But there's gonna be a time skip after the trip to after med school

Verbatim from my notes:

"You've got mail Au but with more dicks and its grindr, cause its 2022 my dude" (can you tell how long these idiots have been plaguing me? The ideas and wips are constantly stacking up)

Theater kids au:

Stein is a teacher, Spirit is parent who wont fucking go home

Some Stein/Spirit/Marie poly thing

Doesn't have much to it currently besides my thoughts about similarities between Marie and Spirit

Incubus Au

Likely to be a longish fic, Spirit is a incubus that's hanging around Stein for reasons (one of those not sure if i want readers to know going into it things) and Stein is a kind of John Constantine type

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Beyond the Four Leaves of Fortune

I actually wrote my @inklings-challenge (thank you to the runners for holding the challenge!) story on the 28th, intending to post it on the same day given the inspiration from Holy Innocents Day but, uh....didn't. Also, excuse some of the typos/clunkiness as I didn't really edit well because 3k words.

The most important thing to note here is that I took inspiration from Jeremiah 31: 16-17, the verse after the whole Rachel weeping thing. And also that it features the same characters from the previous challenge. With that, here it goes!

-

“I think…” Wynan began, side-eyeing the scene in front of her with the air of someone long-resigned to everything, “that it should be illegal for people who have read too many books for their own good to get wrapped up in adventures.”

Relani and Meryan glanced at each other, perhaps a little guiltily.

Or so Wynan chose to interpret, just for her sanity. They were, after all, hiding a rather overly large creature behind their backs and not very inconspicuously. She couldn’t identify the creature right away, not having the breadth of knowledge Meryan had on the nuances of other worlds nor Relani’s impressive mental encyclopedia of obscure creatures. But the important things was that it was dark blue, snake-like (or perhaps wyrm-like with its scales?), dripping an odd gray liquid on the living room carpet that was probably blood…and very, very visible.

“We readers know all too well how things go and end,” Wynan continued, abandoning the laptop she’d been writing something on. She leaned against the door to the kitchen (opposite to the entrance from the mudroom), crossing her arms and quirking an eyebrow. “There’s no stakes and no drama, so involving us in the plot really will be no fun because we’re gonna just make the most boringly safe choices.”

Like, for example, opposing the adoption—not healing, since it looked like it needed patching up—of a magical beast.

Meryan glanced at the wyrm-like creature half squished into the mudroom, then back to Wynan. “Um…he’s a wyrm from one of the fairy-tale-like worlds who almost got lost to the void,” she attempted, her voice robotically professional. “We’ve decided to name him Léf.”

At her words, the dark blue wyrm weakly floated into the room, able to fit due to magically decreasing his size. He made a huffing noise as he flopped on the floor, the gray liquid dribbling out of him staining the carpet.

Wynan made the mistake of looking into his eyes, black full of blue stars the same color as his scales.

Léf whimpered.

“…crap.”

…………

“After he’s all healed up, we do have to release Léf back into his world,” Relani admitted a few hours later, when they’d patched up the tragically compliant wyrm and put him into one of their emptier rooms.

Meryan turned around so swiftly that she almost spilled the pot of broth in her hands.

“What?? Why? What if Léf doesn’t want to go back?!” she half-heartedly protested.

Like Wynan, Meryan was also a reader and thus aware of how this story would play out.

Also like Wynan, though (or perhaps it was the reverse), Meryan had become captivated by the wyrm’s adorable eyes and his clear exhaustion of life. So despite knowing better, they decided that maybe this time they could let the story play out differently and keep the wyrm with them.

“I mean…this house does need a pet,” Wynan contemplated, far too innocently for someone who had said literal hours ago that she wouldn’t support any idea that came from this. “I know we have Meluan—”

“Meluan isn’t a pet,” Relani sighed, though she smiled at the banter thrown at the currently-absent fourth member of the house. “And do you really think she’ll allow this?”

All three of them flashed back to their various attempts to keep animals here at the edge of the universe.

“…she probably will, to be honest,” Wynan reminisced. “And then we’ll have to repair the walls again.”

“Or rebuild the roof,” Relani reminded.

“Or find an obscure chemical to remove sea monster mucus from the floorboards,” Meryan finished with a sigh, sitting down (bowl of broth and all).

It looked like the story wouldn’t play out differently this time, after all, Wynan thought. Well, she’d tried not to get attached…for all but two minutes, at least. But you couldn’t just give them a helpless animal and expect them not to get attached, so who’s fault was it, really?

But back to the matter at hand.

“Well…I wonder what led him here, anyway,” Wynan spoke up, frowning at the wyrm curled up on the fuzzy and currently blue carpet.

Right now, Léf was breathing easily and fast asleep, but there was something about its…everything that didn’t sit right with Wynan. Barring the fact that the Abode Before the Void rarely received animals—and, if they did, they were companions of (or remnants of) their owners who’d come to the void—there was just something about the wyrm that seemed…off. Clearly, he wasn’t a remnant of someone the sisters couldn’t save or they would have felt it but what was he?

Unaware of Wynan’s thoughts, Meryan easily supplied some of the information missing. “I can’t really tell what exactly the creature means to his world, but he comes from a fairy-tale-esque land…the ones where the myths and folk tales of other universes seem to come alive?” she explained, resting her arms on her knees with a fond look at the sleeping creature. “The unique point in this world is the way these fantastical creatures co-exist peacefully with a technologically advancing world. A modern fairy tale, to put it in other terms.”

Relani grimaced and crawled closer to the sleeping creature. “I can add a bit more.”

Fearlessly, she brushed asides the filmy light blue material that made up Léf’s mane. The wyrm slept on, affected by Wynan’s special power over dreams and rest to not wake unless necessary, and thus was unaware of the moment Relani revealed three white shapes on its forehead.

“Ah, I thought so,” Relani hummed. “He’s a familiar, or that world’s version of one, anyway. The shape on Léf’s forehead is a sign that he’s been claimed.”

She was about to edge away from the creature before Wynan stopped her.

“Hang on,” Wynan said, standing up and studying the marks.

“You sense anything?” Meryan remained where she was, simply resting her head on her arms as she observed her sister working.

Wynan nodded slowly, stepping back. “The mark is broken…I don’t know what exactly that means, but I can sense it was broken and that it wasn’t caused by either death or some…dramatic moment of sacrifice on the owner’s part.”

Wynan turned in time to catch the storms that were Meryan’s eyes narrow.

“Well, I do know what that means, and that means whoever Léf’s owner was, they broke their bond…crudely, too, if the mark is still there,” she explained, the professional tone she’d taken on again lined with fury. “No wonder Léf was driven here.”

“Broken bonds are no joke, between people but especially unequal ones like this,” Relani sighed deeply, stepping back as well. “I wonder what Léf’s story is.”

“I could try looking,” Wynan offered conversationally, sitting back down next to the creature. She absently scratched at the surface of the carpet. “I mean, there’s no guarantee on what he’ll dream about, but I could take a look in there and see what sorts of dreams he’s having. I’ve found that animals usually dream memories since they have more limited imaginations than those with souls.”

Relani scooted back a little, with a hand gesturing to, by all means, go ahead.

Followed by Meryan’s, “Oh, could you?” Wynan placed a warm hand gently on Léf’s neck. The touch wasn’t strictly necessary, but Wynan liked the thought of there being an action needed before invading the dreamspace of someone’s mind. Even if that someone was a less intelligent creature.

And, as it usually was with less intelligent but magic-touched creatures, the dreams she saw were more fragmented memories, coming from the limited perspective of a familiar clearly enslaved by the whims of his master or mistress.

Warm fires. Robotic pats that didn’t hold much affection but were appreciated nonetheless. Frustrated growls, not necessarily directed at him but terrifying nonetheless. Words of magic. Commands. Burning villages. Blood in the mouth. A prison he was banished into until called. A tattoo of a creature that looked like Léf.

And the clearest dream/memory?

It was of a figure in white smashing a glowing red crystal upon its head—its familiar mark, if Wynan had to hazard a guess. Pain soon followed, and Wynan instinctively let the warm blanket of her magic cover the terrible memory, soothing its sting as it passed like a video on a screen than a past reality lived.

She stayed in there for a while longer, knowing she had the full story but just in case Léf required more mental relief, but only felt his dull pain and exhaustion along with hints of relief in the darkness.

“Hmm,” Wynan commented upon exiting.

She was half aware of her sisters exchanging a look.

“Meaning?” Relani prompted soon after.

“I think he was bonded to an evil wizard or…whatever the magic people there are called,” Wynan slowly parsed, remembering the emotions.

Behind her, Meryan snorted. “No surprise there.”

At Wynan’s side, Relani’s lips thinned. Relani was also another reader, and the three knew way too many stories to hear that and not instantly conclude what happened.

“I mean, the story isn’t as smooth as that,” Wynan interrupted the silence, waving her hand in front of Léf’s covered mark. “His bond with his owner was severed, yes, but I don’t think it was done by them. I think they treated him…well enough. Perhaps not great, but there wasn’t any abuse to note of.” She thought about it a bit more. “But I think Léf was under the power of a storybook villain, if that’s anything.”

The fury in Meryan’s colorful eyes softened.

“I see…so Léf has his own stains,” she muttered, lifting her head up a little. “Things that stole his ability to claim his own innocence but wasn’t guilty of, not really.”

Wynan nodded. “That seems to be the story, yeah.”

“So, I’m supposing the hero of this story had to get rid of the villain’s steed before beating the actual villain once and for all?” Relani continued, lips twisting in a half-playful, half-regretful smile.

Again, Wynan bobbed her head in agreement, edging back to sit on Meryan’s side.

“I’m guessing lots of people had to bear the tragedy for the story to reach its happy ending,” Wynan concluded, looking at the poor wyrm driven to the edge of ever universe. “And we’re looking at one such innocent lost to the void.”

“Almost lost,” Relani corrected, stroking the wyrm.

At her comforting touch, Léf let out a deep sigh, as if relieved, as if trusting he was somewhere safe.

“Are you sure we can’t keep him?” Meryan half-heartedly attempted the question, not expecting anything from it. “Can we even let him return to his world when he was pretty brutally expelled from it?”

Continuing to pet the wyrm’s smooth scaled, Relani laughed quietly. “I’m sure Léf will be fine back there once he heals. We can only hope that he’ll find a better wizard or mage to bond with, if he ever allows himself to be caught again.”

Yep…as expected.

That was how the story always went. One of them found a helpless animal somewhere (not usually near the universe’s edge, though), they contemplated keeping it, a story of their appearance there was revealed, either mayhem or a realization that it had to return to its world followed, and then all of them went back to their lives missing the animal.

Still…it wasn’t so bad to get attached and maybe try to shift the story just a little, right?

Maybe that’s part of the story, Wynan thought, laughing a little to herself. Tell them we won’t get attached, get attached anyway, learn to let go. And with our life out here, it’s not like we won’t ever see them again.

“YO!”

Following the muffled shout, the door to the empty room housing Léf burst open, revealing a rather frazzled Meluan panting heavily and shouldering a rather large bag. She barely gave a second glance at the large wyrm taking up half of the space and waved her arms frantically at the other women.

“First of all, I’m back. Secondly, I am in need of support,” she gasped out between heavy breaths.

Unfazed, Wynan dryly sighed, “Stop panting. You literally cannot physically get tired in this house.”

At the same time, Relani chuffed and asked, “What did you do, Mel?”

“I’m emotionally tired! And need emotional support!” Meluan protested, her gaze bouncing from Wynan to Relani. “Also, I did nothing! You’re all the ones who forced me to make the library run this time, and unfortunately, the Librarian decided she wanted to tag along so someone please give me emotional support!”

Meryan, who had been laughing at the exchange, hopped up. “I’ll go,” she giggled, taking the large pot of broth with her. “You guys stay here and watch over Léf.”

“Have fun,” Relani saluted, the hand over her mouth not at all covering her mirth.

“And leave the bag behind,” Wynan added, knowing it likely contained the books they’d sent Meluan out to borrow.

Instinctively, Wynan caught the heavy bag immediately thrown at her, smiling at their usually unperturbed housemate looking so clearly bothered. “I’d wish you luck, but you’re just being dramatic,” Wynan called out as Meryan closed the door.

Incensed despite allowing herself to be dragged by Meryan, Meluan grumbled, “The Librarian is in my house! That’s not dramatic at all!”

“She’s not going to bite you in our house,” Wynan heard Meryan reply.

“Uh huh, anyway. What do you mean by having named the wyrm I saw? Or did he come prepacked with one?”

“…well, it hasn’t been long, but…”

Their voices faded away, leaving Relani and Wynan alone with the wyrm who had once been a familiar.

Léf’s quiet presence in the room reminded Wynan of a time long ago when she’d just been Wynan instead of…whatever she was now. That individual had loved dragons and had badly wished her world had them, to keep as a pet or simply just to ride. She’d seen a lot of dragons and creatures in the same genus since that particular Wynan’s childhood fantasy, but she’d hardly ever been able to exist in a room this peacefully with one.

“…it’s always gotta be the pets who can’t stay,” Wynan swore, though she smiled in spite of herself. “I hope Léf has a better story when he returns, at least.” Léf couldn’t be happy here, not with the limited space within their home and such nearness to the end of the universe.

Sending a smile her way, Relani laughed her agreement. “I hope so, too.”

“Kind of a shame his story had to end so tragically, though,” Wynan sighed, thinking idly back on the small tale they’d managed to piece together based on their collective knowledge of narratives and longtime experience. “It seems that in the fights between heroes and villains, there will always be innocents on both sides who will have to die.”

Relani’s brows furrowed in response, but Wynan wasn’t offended, knowing that her sister was merely thinking.

“But,” Wynan continued anyway, chuckling ruefully, “I guess it was like that for all of us, too…the way so many ‘faceless’ characters had to die for our story to continue, right?”

It made her wonder if one day they’d be those in the “faceless crowd” fated to die to advance the story and spur the hero to glory. She hoped not…she was content being the lost story that she was. But if there was one thing she as a reader knew about lost stories, is that there was always someone out there who wanted them found.

“Well, Léf’s story isn’t over yet, is it?” Relani suddenly interrupted Wynan’s musing, her eyes twinkling like veiled stars. “After all, there was someone before the edge to find him and help him recover so he could go back.”

Wynan almost rolled her eyes but found that she couldn’t really contest that statement. “Okay, not wrong. Of course you’d see it like that, though.”

“Oi,” Relani protested, leaning back on her arms, though her lips were still stretched with amusement. “It’s not optimism when it’s just the truth, Wynan. We know better than anyone how even those who have wandered off the edge, those actually lost within the void, have been found. No one is faceless in the end, even if it is true that to each other we can sometimes be mere side characters fated to die.”

Relani sighed, shuffling while still seated to throw an arm around Wynan, who leaned into the warmth offered as they both gazed at Léf’s sleeping form.

“Look…there are people who are mourning for the faceless who had to die to continue the story, aren’t there?” Relani insisted. “And there are going to be people who want to rescue them, too, like we do. But that’d be another story—their story, not the current protagonist’s—to tell.”

The only response Wynan had was to snuggle closer into Relani, suddenly feeling sleepy herself as happened with her (it had nearly given Meryan a heart attack once when she’d found Wynan sleeping inside a closet). Memories burst within her mind from Relani’s words, refutations and arguments as well as evidence and agreements to what her sister had said. How there was always someone in this multiverse that would know of a tragedy and mourn the people lost—that was why they were there for, too—and try and reach out to save them.

Well, Relani’s usually right when in these things, Wynan conceded, feeling her eyes shut. And she’s right in that we’ve always been there to fetch people driven to this point, aren’t we? But I’ll tell her she’s right when I wake up, though. I want to sleep…

The story would still be there when she opened her eyes.

[junekissed]

boo to you, too

member — seungkwan x gn reader genre — fluff to angst/comfort to hurt, period piece, royal!au, ghost!au, mystery (kinda) word count — 3k warnings — mention of suicide (but it didn’t actually happen !!), implied murder by poison, reader wears a gown and makeup but no gendered terms are used, mingyu murderer conspiracy theory confirmed (sorry gyuldaengies) notes — lowercase intended, i’ve never written an angsty ending like this before ?? i'm not good with angst actually so this is pretty tame, very much inspired by bad clue/ego, the plot is kinda like haunted mansion, this is longer than i intended but it’s a genre i've never written before so i'm pretty proud of how this turned out. if you liked this and want to see more, consider leaving a reblog! it shows me what kinds of things people are interested in :) enjoy!

this fic is part of a collab with @svthub! check out our other talented authors' works here! *not all fics in the collab are sfw, minors dni with nsfw fics or you will be blocked*

one reblog = one spooky haunted candle

“excuse me, my dear, do you… need some help with that?”

the sound of a low voice appears suddenly next to you, startling you as you fumble with your purse. the intricate beading of your bag had become entangled in the intricate beading of your ball gown, making a complete mess of your costume you spent so much time putting together. you’re almost wishing you never even came to this damned masquerade ball.

you spin around, purse still dangling precariously from your dress, and find yourself face to face with a man in a black suit, velvet floral patterns embossed into the sleek silk fabric and perfectly tailored to his proportions. a glittery black mask sits perched on his nose, highlighting his features, somehow soft yet sharp at the same time. black and white feathers sprout from the top of the mask and seem to float above him, held in place by an array of gleaming black jewels and lace.

you’re so caught off guard by the gorgeous man in front of you that you stand there for a solid few seconds, jaw hanging open before you realize you’re embarrassing yourself further.

you stand up straight, clearing your throat. “hello. um, yes, some assistance would be wonderful,” you say, gesturing at the knotted beading as you feel your face heat.

he leans closer, enough to touch you but far enough to maintain your personal space. he picks up the top layer of fabric and holds it gingerly, studying it; almost in awe of its very existence. after a moment he begins working on untangling it, slender fingers moving gracefully across the material. and before you can blink, your clutch is separated from your dress and the man is carefully holding it out to you.

you reach out and take it, your fingers accidentally brushing against his for a split second, and he jumps, his eyes jerking up to your face. you swear you see disbelief in his expression, but you write it off; it’s hard to tell behind his mask.

you stand, both staring at each other, for what feels like years. finally the man offers his hand out, and you take it lightly. “i’m… boo,” he says, almost as if he’s uncertain of the words. “nice to meet you, uh-”

you cut in, telling him your name breathlessly. he smiles, and though you can’t see his whole face, you can see his smile light up. you hope this won’t be the last you see of him at the masquerade. but before you can express the sentiment, he brings it up himself.

“would- would you like to sit and eat with me?” he asks timidly, but there’s an air of rising confidence in his voice that doesn’t escape you.

“that would be lovely, mr. boo.”

you follow him to one of the round tables at the edge of the ballroom floor, careful to hold your purse away from the front of your gown so it doesn’t tangle again. like a perfect gentleman, he pulls your seat out for you, his hands lingering on the back of the chair for just a second too long.

“so, mr. boo, what brings you here tonight? do you know the family?” you ask, taking small sips from your water glass.

his gaze shifts. “i… suppose you could say that,” he says, a faraway look suddenly ghosting across his eyes. if you had to describe it, you’d say he looks… lonely. recognizing it may be a sensitive subject for him, you try to steer the conversation away.

“what do you think of the masquerade?” you say, looking around at the ballroom, lavishly decorated in black and deep red. “it’s an odd theme for a party, i must admit. hallow’s eve isn’t usually something i would see people celebrating elaborately like this.”

he glances back at you, eyes wandering over your face. “well, i… i don’t get to attend many parties anymore. i’m glad to be here tonight.”

oh god, you’ve made it even worse. you rush to apologize for making him uncomfortable, but thankfully a waiter arrives at your table with heaping plates of food, distracting you both from the conversation at hand.

you begin moving the food around on your plate, consciously trying to make yourself look graceful as you eat.

boo watches you for a minute, then seems to realize something. “oh! my apologies, my dear, i’ve been wearing my mask this whole evening. it’s terribly rude of me,” he says, and reaches up to slip the mask from his eyes. when his face is finally revealed to you, you have to hold back your gasp: he’s truly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. his features even seem to shimmer under the chandelier light, as if he’s not really there.

“it’s… it’s alright,” you say distractedly, still struggling to process how a man as pretty as him is sitting at a table alone with you when he could easily have his pick of anyone in the mansion.

the clinking of a knife against glass calls both your attention to another man at the front of the ballroom. heads quietly swivel in his direction, a hush falling over the room as the band stops playing. you feel boo tense next to you, but your attention stays on the new figure.

“good evening everyone, and we thank you for being here tonight to celebrate hallow’s eve with us. my name is count mingyu, and i’m here on behalf of the royal family to welcome you to tonight’s masquerade.” his gaze sweeps over the crowd, brushing past you for just a moment. 

“as they say, the magic is much stronger on this night, so don’t be alarmed if you run into any ghosts.” he chuckles at his own joke, and a light laughter bubbles up from the assembly in response. boo stays noticeably quiet.

“i'm very honored to have been able to step up and work so closely with our beloved royal family on some large projects these past few years, especially after such tragedies have befallen their name. however, we have much to celebrate this season, myself included," he continues, flashing a grin that sends an involuntary chill down your spine. "we hope you enjoy the festivities."

followed by polite applause, the count disappears behind a curtain, and the music and chatter resumes all at once. boo is still silent next to you, and you can practically see the waves of emotion radiating off of him. having learned from your previous blunders, you settle not to inquire about his relationship with mingyu. although your curiosity lingers, you decide it best not to bring it up.

eventually boo relaxes back into his seat, and you gradually resume your conversation, becoming more comfortable around each other as the night goes on. before you realize how late it’s become, you’ve spent hours at the table in the corner of the room, talking with him. you’re grateful for his company, and you’re more than a little interested in him; the way his cheeks puff out as he talks about things he enjoys, and the jokes he makes that have you covering your mouth to hide your smile.

you don’t miss the fact that his plate of food sits untouched the whole night. but you’re having such a wonderful time talking with him, you can’t bring yourself to care or ask why.

as the party begins to wind down, you’re dreading the moment you have to leave him. you’ve had more fun tonight than you’ve had in years, and you tell him as much.

“it was so lovely meeting you, mr. boo,” you say, walking slowly towards the ballroom doors at his side. “i had such a fantastic evening, i hope to see you again, someday soon.”

“as do i to you, too, my dear, but i’m afraid it won’t be possible.”

you frown. “are- are you sure? is it something about your family? i know it’s terribly forward of me to ask, but i really would like to see you again, boo.”

his eyes cloud with sadness. “it’s alright. but it just isn’t possible. for reasons out of my control, and i cannot explain to you. i’m afraid all i have to offer you is a thousand of my sincerest regrets.” his hand quavers at his side, showing his conflicting inner thoughts, but finally he reaches out and gently takes your hand. it’s much colder than you expect it to be, and you hold back a shudder, physically having to stop yourself from letting it show in your face. “i’m sorry.”

your gaze falls to the floor, feeling a lump building in your throat. how has this man you’ve only just met today managed to make you so enamored with him, that the thought of never seeing him again has you at the brink of tears?

you swallow, forcing your voice to steady. “i… i understand,” you say, your words coming out barely above a whisper. “i had a delightful evening with you, boo. i’m very thankful to have met you.”

“to you, too, my dear.” he sighs and tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket, inhaling slowly. “goodbye.” and in a second, he’s gone.

~

back in your guest room long after the party is over, feeling a bit like cinderella in the absence of your gown and masquerade makeup, you sit at the edge of the bed, hugging a cushion to your chest. no matter how you try, you can’t seem to drag your thoughts away from mr. boo and the night you shared. it was a moment unlike any other before in your life, and you know you’ll never forget it; you’re already replaying each scene over and over again in your mind, wishing you’d spent a little longer studying his soft features and the way the light gently touched his hair, the feeling of his cool hand in yours.

feeling restless, you grab a small candle and light it from the lamp in your room. you decide to roam the halls of the mansion for a while, thinking perhaps it’ll make you tired enough to want to fall asleep. but deep down you know the real reason is because you’re hoping you might run into mr. boo again. despite what he said, you’re hoping it won’t be the last time you see him.

as you trek down the dark corridors, shadows dancing on the walls from the light of the candle, an eerie feeling starts to overtake you. he never told you anything about himself; where he’s from, what he does, the kind of general small talk patrons of an event like tonight usually would’ve had. in fact, the more you think about it, the more you realize how cryptic and vague he was.

but before you can think too much about it, you find yourself in a long hallway, the walls completely bare excluding one massive painting. its gold gilding seems to give off an unearthly glow in the candlelight. like a moth to a flame you feel yourself gravitate towards it, needing to see what lies behind the frame.

as you move closer to it you gasp, suddenly recognizing a figure in the painting. a man in a suit with a distinct floral pattern you’ve seen before, a pattern you’ve seen recently.

it couldn’t be him. but even in the dim light his features are unmistakable, his eyes almost boring into you. it must be him.

your mr. boo must be someone quite important, you surmise, to have such a gorgeous portrait hanging in such a central spot in the mansion. you feel a sudden pang of guilt, realizing you took so much of his time tonight when he probably had many other guests to greet, guests more prestigious than you. no, you push the thought away; you enjoyed his company, and he seemed to enjoy yours. it may be selfish, but you’re glad you kept with him all night.

you stand silent, eyes transfixed on the mysterious man in the painting when you hear a soft scuff against the floor panels down the corridor. you tear your gaze away from the painting just in time to see count mingyu darting across the hall, keeping his head low.

“oh, pardon me, mingyu!” you call out, gathering up the folds of your nightgown with one hand to rush towards him, using your body to shield the candle’s flame from the wind. 

the man spins around at the sound of his name, and for a split second you think you see a flash of guilt in his eyes, but it disappears before you have time to think about it.

you catch up to him, slightly out of breath. you let go of your gown, smoothing it down before clearing your throat. “count, might i ask, who is the man in the painting over there? he seems, um… familiar.”

“ah, the portrait in the great hall.” he exhales, a look creeping across his features that you can’t quite place in the dark. “it’s been many moons since lord seungkwan walked these halls. rather tragic, what happened.”

you pause, confused. this hadn’t been the answer you’d been expecting, not in the slightest. “if i may inquire… what happened?” you ask, leaning forward almost imperceptibly, as if you weren’t sure you’d heard his words correctly the first time.

“he took his own life, right here in this very house.” 

you hold back a gasp, your eyes widening. “how… how did he-”

“poison.” mingyu answers immediately, and you notice, the words flowing too easily out of his mouth. “in his own cup.” you’re shocked at how he says the words so nonchalantly, how he could speak so freely of the dead without paying proper respects, especially to someone of a lord’s status. instantly the candle flame flares, growing bigger than twice its size and enveloping the room in a menacing yellow as it flickers wildly.

“such a great loss to the country. my lord was so young, too.” the count tsks and shakes his head. “but i suppose we’ll never understand why some people do the things they do.” he suddenly stands straighter and turns quickly, a little too quickly for your liking. “you must excuse me, counselor, i have a great many tasks to finish before the night is done. i must bid you adieu.”

you’re barely able to squeak out a parting goodbye before mingyu disappears around the corridor, gone in a flash. the second he leaves, the flame stops flickering and dies down, immediately restored to its gentle glow.

it’s blatantly obvious there’s something the count isn’t telling you, and a feeling in your gut tells you that something isn’t a good thing.

instantly you feel a weight on your shoulder, as if someone’s gently placed their hand there. you whip around to meet them, unaware you hadn’t been alone, but to your shock no one’s there. the dancing flame in your hand extinguishes suddenly, shrouding you in darkness. the room is pitch black, save for light of the moon that spills through cracks in the curtains, casting eerie patterns on the floor.

you shiver, pulling your shawl tighter around you and begin walking back to your room, no longer feeling safe in the mansion at night. the flame had been lit just moments ago and should still be warm to the touch, but now the weight is cold and dead in your hand.

if this was the man you’d gotten to know over the course of the masquerade ball, talked with, laughed with… no. he was real. you’d touched his sleeve, you’d even held his hand. he was as real as any other person in the room. you couldn’t even begin to fathom that the man you’d spent all night with had only been in your imagination, let alone that he could’ve taken his own life. you had only met him tonight, you couldn’t really know him, but something in your gut knew he wouldn’t have done that. no, if he really was dead as count mingyu had said, it wouldn’t have been by his own hand.

something ominous hides behind the mansion’s lavishly decorated walls, you know it, but if you decide to pursue the truth, you have a feeling that the secrets you dig up are dead set on staying buried, even if it means taking you with them.

placing your hand on the doorknob of your room, you begin turning it slightly, feeling a chill rush down your spine at the contact. a gust of cold air blows softly past your ear, as if someone is breathing beside you.

you scream and jump as the grandfather clock in the hall bongs, announcing the twelfth hour of the night. the chill in the air instantly dissipates, and the still candle in your hand suddenly flickers back to life, the comforting flame returning to normal and bathing the room in a warm glow. you swear you hear a voice whisper, its tone filled with longing, “goodbye…”

gasping, you shove the bedroom door open and fling it back shut behind you as fast as you can. your heart races as the slam reverberates down the halls, echoing into the dark before settling back into silence. whatever, whoever, is out there, you can deal with in the morning. the night must be playing tricks on you, the story you heard from mingyu warping your reality, and you prefer to deal with these kinds of things in the daytime with the comfort of the light.

as you slip off your slippers and climb under the bed sheets, your mind can’t help but wander back to your friend mr. boo once again. it must be a coincidence; it couldn’t have been anything else. this “lord seungkwan” must have a twin brother, or perhaps a cousin with similar features, right? it couldn’t have been seungkwan himself… right?

thank you for reading!

general taglist | @foxdaisy @tinkerbell460 @spookyeomie @huiranghaes @just-here-to-read-01 @ny0sang @noraehey @squiishymeow @matilde111

spookteen taglist | @pandorashbox @shualicious @lenireads @woozis-wife @allthtyazz @skzzooyaaa @just-here-to-read-01 @wonwoothinker @sun-moonandstars @iliana26 @choilee @m1nghaos @aliceu @vanishingboots @heavenly-mobo @favehoshiposts @skzoo-keeper @misssugarlips @xxluckydreamsxx @carrietwrites @yeosayang @tinkerbell460 @noraehey @jihoonliker @soonhoonietrash @scanalan @lcvejordyn @fr0g-filez @yourgffnadii @baldi-2 @hayreads @ik4t @aikyubi @taybabylovesyou @enha-choo @wonuwonslvr

[axperjan]

I’ve been sitting on about ~3k worth of a scene so it’s Ilya being forced to have a chat with a suit that doesn’t at all go wrong (according to them)

---

Ilya’s mind is clouded, distracted and prickly after the last run demanded they nab something out of the matrix. They tried to section off the gnawing irrational itch in the back of their head until they got out, and they and Maksim dropped the paydata at its intended destination together. But Ilya couldn’t go home after that yet, and Maksim probably wouldn’t have appreciated their choice of refuge; a rowdy dive bar that’s primarily a hot spot for shady dealings and sulking, with a building sense of hostility in the air. The last part might be part imagined, but something about that makes it harder for anyone to eavesdrop. And it’s the intensity Ilya needs to tether themself back down.

Now there’s still something nagging at them. The ghost of something trying to get their attention, prickling at the back of their neck, but they tune it out until the ambiance overpowers it. Eyes in front, the bartender beyond the counter they’re leaning on moving around their periphery. The speakers aren’t loud enough tonight to drown out the voices, simply adding to the disjointed white noise. For a moment they focus on that… and then they do cast a cursory look behind them… nothing. Just handfuls of runners occupying the space, either minding their own business or loudly carrying conversations with each other.

Except…

Something, someone, draws their attention. Not because he seems distinct, an elf in a casual suit that’s only slightly more civilian than everyone else gathered tonight, but because the way he moves around… he’s observing. Searching. It’s not subtle at all, and most are too busy with their own dealings to notice or care as he weaves his way through the room. It doesn’t answer what he’s looking for though, or maybe who… черт. Like some kind of spell that’s when he seems to notice the bar, and Ilya shifts their attention back in front of them before they can make contact. If they’re lucky it’s not them, and it wouldn’t take much to scare some suit off, but they’re not in the mood for any of it.

When they hear approaching footsteps, they hazard a guess and warn him with a “fuck off.”

“I di-”

“You’re not a regular, extremely sloppy about your jandering around, and are currently disturbing my free time.” They pause, take a pull from their beer and hold a finger up before the stranger speaks again. “Unless you’ve got a paycheck I should chase you off on principle.”

Ilya keeps their eyes straight, silently hoping it’ll make the stranger’s attention slide off of them and make him disappear. Of course… he doesn’t, and they’re not sure whether that makes him an idiot or a threat. When he speaks his tone is calm, not smooth but plain enough it doesn’t feel distinct nor does it betray any emotions yet. Something about it is almost… familiar, too rehearsed to feel casual. “That… might depend, but if you’re willing to hear me out I won’t need much of your time.”

His words hang between them for one more beat, Ilya pursing their lips and then aiming a glare at him. They honestly doubt it’s a job offer, and they’re not really planning on listening but they’re tired and it might give them an opening if they need it. “I’m giving you until I finish this,” they lightly shake their bottle “no longer.”

If the suit feels pressured he doesn’t show it, simply nodding and leaning toward the bartop. “I’m in the market for… directions, let’s say.” When Ilya doesn’t interrupt him or spare him another look, he continues, although they suppress the urge to put more distance between them. “Some people have been chasing after an issue for a minute now, and they’d like to resolve it.” That should mean his employers, but something feels… off. “I’ll spare you the details, it’s honestly been a tedious amount of work to arrange for a chat let alone track this down to this city,” his tone turns a little more conversational, as if to assure them of the following. “And you won’t have to deal with any of that yourself, even if you choose to help out.”

Ilya arches a brow in response. A regular Mr. Johnson wouldn’t show up like this, at least if they know better, and he doesn’t strike them as a fixer either… so he might be more directly involved. That would make him rather bold for showing up in person, and he doesn’t seem bothered enough to be new to this. A brief stab of paranoia even whispers corp to them… but they doubt NeoNET would bother with that kind of subtlety anymore. “The good thing is that they’ve got an opportunity right now, but the problem is that they still haven’t managed to find him.”

Him.

Ilya sits a little straighter, playing it off as rolling their shoulders, but something in them sharpens like a little barb looking for a target. Something else has creeped through in his voice too, a subtle but distinct accent that would be more at place on the east coast. It figures he would ask for directions if that’s the case, but Ilya pointedly takes another sip from their beer and cuts off his speech. “That’s a lot of talking that still doesn’t have anything to do with me.” At the same time a suspicion starts to form itself and sneaks up their shoulder to listen closely, if it’s accurate… it would make him a threat.

They look back at the suit to notice a twitch in his eyes, one corner of his mouth slightly twisting up as if he was anticipating their interruption. “Perhaps it won’t surprise you that I mean another shadowrunner, a certain… Avos,” he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to stab. “And I have reason to believe you might not have the highest opinion of him.”

The barb clicks, twitching and adjusting for the target in front of them.

“But if you could point him out, maybe that won’t have to be a concern for you.”

Ilya isn’t sure what spikes up first; anger, insult, or… concern, a little. Did the suit time this just so to catch them off balance? Why did he think to ask them? And why would he be asking about Maksim? They try to diffuse it, taking a deep breath and another sip as if they’re trying to process it. Cooling the building tension down… at least long enough for one question. “And what are you… were you gonna chat with him? Once you find him?”

The suit doesn’t seem to react to the glare Ilya aims at him, simply shrugging. “Nothing you’d have to worry about, I would compensate you for this after all.” They don’t catch the rest of the words when they do a quick scan of the crowd again, checking if anyone else is interested in their conversation… eavesdroppers or backup. They’re not sure if they would recognize the second, but they are that the suit is naming a price that could only be an additional insult instead of an incentive.

“If you need a moment to mull it over I’m willing to keep the offer open a bit longer.” He finished his sales pitch with a smile that raises their hackles, some mixture between smug and almost corp but it means he’s leaving the next move up to them. They’re getting an opening after all.

Tipping the bottle backward they empty it in one gulp, let out a sigh, and for a moment the suit seems to lower his guard in favor of watching them. Anticipating a yes, an ‘I’ll think about it’, something to confirm the transaction with…

Instead Ilya turns in their seat and decks him across the face, a loud crack and a curse leaving his lips and he’s disoriented enough for them to get up and drive a knee into his stomach to make him stumble, pinning him down against the counter before he recovers. He does try to retaliate, clumsily reaching for whatever weapon they assume he concealed but they free up a hand to break their empty bottle against the ledge. He freezes once he realizes the broken end is pointed at his throat, the blood dripping from his nose and mouth making its way down to stain his collar. Ilya shoots a quick glance at the bartender somewhere at the other end of the bar, who responds with an angry glare back but leaves them to their business.

“You’re funny,” they regard the suit with a bored stare, but they can feel the indignation crawling under their skin and looking for something to bleed out of. “You interrupt my evening just to ask me to snitch.” 

He bristles somewhat at that. “I’m offering you a deal! That’s-”

“Oh come on, you should know better around here.” A grin slips through their facade, “don’t you know it’s bad business to sell out?”

“Please, plenty of these people would know good business when they see it.” The suit rolls his eyes but his attention immediately snaps back when Ilya presses the glass closer to his throat. A small red bead wells up around one of the broken points. “You don’t have any reason to defend him, and the nuyen could easily save you a job, maybe two.”

I do. We’re a team. The answer gets stuck in their throat, Ilya suddenly aware he might be fishing for that kind of intel. Instead they say with a shrug, “I can find plenty of jobs.” He tries to glare at them, but his eyes widen with surprise when they back up a few steps and set the broken bottle down on the counter, holding their hands up in sight. “But you know what… maybe I should mull it over first.”

The suit keeps watching their movements closely, tentatively trying to lean on the counter. But Ilya does the same and only lets him regain his footing a little, and when he makes a second attempt to grab his weapon they aim a punch at his jaw. It jolts through the rest of his body, some of his spit coming out red, and after a few staggered steps he goes limp.

“Hey!” Just as the fool hits the ground with a heavy thud Ilya’s attention snaps to the bartender, angrier this time and pointing a finger at them. “I told you we don’t do that shit here.”

“He’s just out cold!” They gesture at the body and shoot their hands back up, slightly insulted. “I’m pretty sure he was gonna pull a gun so I did you a favor.”

The bartender follows Ilya’s hands for a closer inspection, leaning over the counter and pursing her lips for a moment before looking back up at them. Then she gives a nod to someone she scopes out behind them. “Prop him up outside, before he becomes an eyesore.” Ilya steps aside to let a bouncer hoist the suit up and out of the bar through the entrance, briefly assessing him again as they pass. They only just recognize the manhunter hidden on his belt before they make it outside. And looking around the room again it doesn’t seem like the confrontation fazed that many people, if anyone at all. 

Then Ilya turns back to the bartender, simply asking “you seen him here before?”

The ork takes another moment to glare at them, but it slides off of them in thought and she settles for shaking her head and shrugging. The lack of elaboration is enough of a sign she’s done dealing with the encounter, and Ilya lets out a sigh as they turn towards the entrance as well.

They make it one step outside and only have a second to narrowly avoid another man angrily rushing past them, muttering a hushed “shit” and when Ilya follows his gaze they find the bouncer on their way to find a place for the suit. Another barb sharpens as they think… if the suit was some kind of face, this might be the backup. They can’t help but feel slightly offended they didn’t spot him inside, as if they didn’t expect Ilya to put up any resistance. But they can work with this… if they’re correct.

Before he can run after the bouncer Ilya raises their voice, “you know him?”

The presumed bodyguard snaps his attention to Ilya, and now they can make out the annoyance barely hidden on his face. “Don’t worry, they’ve got a no dust policy in there.” Clearly they didn’t expect this encounter to end up with a knockout, Ilya smiling a little while cutting his attempt at a response off. They need to keep his attention somehow. “Out here however I’m free to finish the job.”

At that they think they can see some kind of calculation… or maybe recognition pass behind his eyes, conceding his attention to them more fully. “So you’re the lucky son of a… what kind of answer is that?” He jerks his head to the side, at the bouncer behind them both returning alone and slipping through the entrance. That’s fine, they won’t need backup. Hopefully.

Ilya simply answers with a shrug. “He got on my nerves. Are you going to as we-”

They see the guard raising a fist a second too late before a crack reverberates through their skull, settling in the back of their neck and followed by the taste of blood in their mouth. Not a lot, but they press a hand to their jaw with a groan. The blooming pain tells them that the swing should have knocked them out, possibly because of some modded strength behind it. Thanks to their own mods it should only leave a bruise and a headache, but it still makes them stumble and they let themself sway just enough the bodyguard’s gaze sharpens as if expecting them to fall over and-

With another step Ilya uses the momentum and pushes a shoulder right into his ribs, and he stumbles back enough they can follow up with a punch across his cheek. They think they can hear a tooth crack satisfyingly, answering a grunt with “your mistake.” He makes a blind grab in an attempt to regain his balance, so they yank his wrist and pull it further outward. Then they turn on their feet and twist his arm behind his back, hard enough they hear a yelp. If they put more weight behind it they’re sure his shoulder would dislocate.

“This is… more a mistake on your part,” the guard has the audacity to try for a chuckle, getting a groan out of Ilya even though he can’t see them rolling their eyes. He tries to square his shoulders and pull his arm out of their grasp but they increase the pressure on it with a shove.

“Заткнись стражник-” блядь, they almost miss him pitching forward and lunging back skull first, narrowly dodging and letting go of his arm out of reflex. The swing doesn’t throw him off balance enough, but it does give them a better angle to kick his knees out from under him. They’re a little more relieved than they should be when he hits the pavement and leans forward. 

There is a brief pause as he holds an arm out to brace himself and get up… only to try and fail to swallow a grunt when a kick connects with his ribs, making him collapse on his side.

Then another harder kick to be safe, this time hitting him a little beneath his ribs and drawing a yelp out of him.

When it looks like he doesn’t try to get up again Ilya closes the distance, kneels in front of him and grabs him by the collar. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you get to your suit in a minute… but listen.” The last word is a calm but clear command, and the guard makes the smart decision to give a wordless nod. They can tell he’s gritting his teeth, with a bruise starting to form on his cheek. He even jolts a little when their words come out in a hiss. “I don’t appreciate this shit, so get your boss to reconsider.” He does manage to brace himself a little when they drop him and stand back up again, putting a pointed distance between them. “Whoever the fuck it is…” it’s more muttered to themself. They’d rather be done with this while they can.

The exchange of glares makes it feel like they’re having a standoff, Ilya unable to tell if the guard is about to retaliate or betting on them leaving, maybe silently wishing them away if he stares hard enough. At the same time they consider going back to scope out the suit, see if he has anything worth pocketing… but the lull makes way for a throbbing in their head, their jaw, even their hands feel a little unsteady although they refuse to look away just yet.

And then… the guard concedes, interrupted by an uncomfortable cough that makes him clutch his ribs. It’s as good a cue as any to leave, not too fast to look like they’re running but they’re rapidly losing interest in loitering. Thankfully they can’t hear any scrambling or following footsteps… except for something that might be an insult out of earshot.

The further Ilya walks the more the ache settles over them like static. A few steps past the entrance they do spot the suit sat up against the wall, briefly getting the urge to kick him for good measure, but that would mean taking longer to get away. It might even give the guard an opportunity… and there’s still a tangled thread worth pulling apart.

The whole encounter was… strange, more so than the usual opportunistic cowards that might try to slip them a deal or get in the way of a job. Ilya isn’t sure what to make of it nor how much they like it except for the brief distraction it provided. A little current beneath the static also hopes it was nothing more than that… but maybe it’s best saved for later, when they’ll at least have something to share with Maksim.

[myfairstarlight]

A Joyous Fair

AO3 Link.

Rating: G

Pairings: Susato Mikotoba/Haori Murasame (Rei Membami). Side Kazuma Asogi/Ryunosuke Naruhodo + mentioned Gina Lestrade/Maria Gorey

Written for Susahao Week 2022. Day 3: AU/Modern Day

Word count: 3k

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Susato finds herself almost longing for the time when Kazuma was not very fond of parties or outings, too focused on his studies and her to even care about making friends. Then he went to college and started his internship at Wright Anything Agency where he met the boss’ younger cousin who, Susato has to assume, developed an instant crush and kept inviting Kazuma to various outings over the months.

Her brother is, like always, completely oblivious to the whole ordeal and Susato almost feels bad for Ryunosuke. But she mostly feels bad for herself because she finds herself to be the one person the guy decides to confide his unsuccessful attempts at dates to.

“I’ve tried every trick in the books!” Ryunosuke complains that day, once again, while Susato is trying to do her homework on the stairs leading towards the Asogi residence, waiting for Kazuma to show up. After starting university, Kazuma moved out to move into his parents’ old house that he still owned as per Genshin Asogi’s will, since the house was closer to Ivy University but also his internship and he wanted some independence, Susato supposes, even if he’s close enough that she and their father can visit often.

The Mikotoba house sure is much quieter now that Kazuma isn’t there every day, though.

“Crazy idea but have you considered telling him you’re taking him on dates?”

"You can give me lessons when you finally figure out what’s going on with you and Haori, alright?” Ryunosuke replies.

Susato’s pen slips, creating a hard line across a complicated equation she just figured out in her head and now everything has vanished from her mind. Haori may be her one weakness. She met the girl only at the beginning of the year since their lockers were next to each other, and Haori single-handedly put a dent in Susato’s study-focused mind with a simple smile and a gentle “hi”. Before she could understand it, Susato found herself drawn to her and slowly, but surely, she found her way into the friend group Haori already had, befriending Gina and then Gina’s girlfriend Maria with relative ease.

It took a few weeks and a lot of teasing from her family to realise that what she was feeling was a crush. She can’t be blamed, she thought she’d never meet anyone who could elicit the passionate feelings she reads in novels.

“That’s completely different!” she objects. “Pretty sure she’s straight anyway. My brother is not and he does not hide it.”

“Uh uh,” Ryunosuke says, thoroughly unconvinced.

Susato sighs. “Listen, there’s a fair next weekend. Go to the haunted house with him or the Ferris Wheel!”

“Susato, I am terrified of both.”

“Even more perfect, you’ll have an excuse to cling to him!” Susato counters and to her merit, Ryunosuke actually considers the option. “Or you can try to win him one of those giant stuffed animals, he loves those. Don’t tell him I told you that though.”

“They’re rigged though.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that. It’s the effort that counts though?”

Ryunosuke doesn’t get to reply because Kazuma suddenly appears, his shadow looming over them as he looks over Susato’s homework.

“Your second answer is wrong,” her brother says and she promptly closes her notebook. One thing she didn’t miss is Kazuma monitoring her work, she has enough to catch up to when she intends on pursuing the same career as him, already.

“Took you long enough, Kazuma,” Ryunosuke says as he stands up.

“Lost my binder somewhere and all my other ones were in the wash,” Kazuma replies with a shrug. “So, what were you talking about?”

“The fair next weekend,” Susato promptly answers. “I was telling Ryunosuke it would be a nice break. It’s after your exams too, isn’t it? And it would be the beginning of my break.”

Kazuma hums. “You think I can manage to drag Barok to it? Dude really needs to loosen up but he’s allergic to parties.”

Susato catches Ryunosuke pouting at the mention of the TA in Kazuma’s criminal justice course. The man is a social recluse and yet apparently Kazuma has bothered him enough to become some sort of friends. From what Susato understands, Kazuma’s late father and Barok’s late brother used to know each other. Susato met him one afternoon as she visited Kazuma and Barok was there, helping her brother with an assignment. Never mind that the assignment was not about criminal justice whatsoever but she didn’t exactly dare make a remark under the intimidating gaze of the British man.

They’re not dating, as far as Susato is aware, and Barok seems too emotionally constipated for that anyway. She is rooting for Ryunosuke, but she struggles to understand if her brother is even interested in either of them.

“Should we invite Herlock too then?” Ryunosuke says, the TA in his English Literature class.

“No way! Then dad will want to come, I love him but I don’t need him over my shoulder the whole day,” Susato protests. “I can bring Gina, Maria and Haori though.”

“Wait no, we need to invite Herlock, so Iris will be there and she can convince Barok to come!” Kazuma counters. “He’d never miss the opportunity to see his niece.”

“But dad will embarrass us!” Susato does not whine. “And why are you so hellbent on bringing Barok anyway?”

“Have you seen him? He looks like a vampire, I want to drag him to the haunted house and see if he’d scare them. Or if anything fazes him. Really, I just want to get a reaction out of him outside of annoyance.”

“I— You know what, I’m curious too now.”

Ryunosuke sends her a betrayed look.

“I know! We must do this. Oh, and I’ve heard there will be a love tunnel this year…” Kazuma trails off suggestively. “I know who to trap in there.”

“You can’t really force people on rides though…” Ryunosuke comments. “Also Barok would kill you.”

“Who said he’s the one I wanna trap there?” Kazuma grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Come on partner, your deductions are usually better than that.”

“Um…”

Susato tunes them out for the rest of the way to the library as she texts Haori the plan for next weekend.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

In the end, Kazuma drags both Barok and Ryunosuke to the haunted house first — he’s holding their hands for god’s sake — and Susato watches them with a bemused smile on her lips. It seems her brother’s obliviousness has reached such an absurd level, he isn’t even aware of how his actions look to the outsider and how both Ryunosuke and Barok follow him like docile puppies.

“Should we go to the haunted house too?” Susato asks Haori who stiffens. She chuckles. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’d hate to accidentally hurt an actor, you know my first instinct is to punch when I’m scared…” Haori says and yeah, Susato knows, she does that while watching scary movies too. She just punches the air before hiding behind her sleeves, which is greatly endearing. “And— wait, where are Gina and Maria?”

A look around gives them the answer. Maria is dragging a reluctant Gina towards the haunted house as well. Maria might as well have stars in her eyes as she stares up at the attraction before going in, Gina’s arm firmly in her hands.

“Guess everyone went in,” Susato comments and now she actually is curious to know if it is worth the hype. She hardly ever is scared herself.

“Your dad, Iris and Herlock decided on the Ferris Wheel instead, I’d rather go there.”

Susato looks at her sceptically. She knows Haori handles heights as much as Ryunosuke, which means not at all.

“Let’s go try to win some prizes,” Susato decides instead.

Haori frowns. “But they’re rigged.” Wow, she and Ryunosuke really would get on well if they spent more time together.

“And I’m determined.”

“Susato… don’t,” her friend sighs.

“Now I’m taking it as a challenge.”

Haori smiles, fond and exasperated. “In those moments I realise how much alike you and your brother are.”

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

So they go through every stand, Haori convincing Susato to only try each game once so they don’t waste too much money. Susato manages to win multiple small plushies from claw machines, a bubble-making thingy from the ring tosser game that Susato suspects won’t last more than a week, nothing from the basketball one — Haori had to physically drag her away — and by the time they reach the shooting range game, Kazuma and Ryunosuke have exited the haunted house and joined them.

“Where’s Barok?” Susato asks, deciding to ignore how pale Ryunosuke looks and how he’s clinging to Kazuma’s headband as if his life depended on it.

“With Iris. She and I may have pushed dad and Herlock into the queue for the love tunnel, so,” Kazuma answers, oh so that’s who he wanted to trap there. “I had promised her and Barok to find a way to get them out of the way for a bit.”

“Ryunosuke, are you okay…?” Haori eventually asks.

Ryunosuke shakily nods. “F-Fine.”

“He accidentally punched an actor in an attempt to protect me and he still feels bad about it,” Kazuma says, looking fond. “But anyway, have you managed to win anything interesting? I’ve been eyeing that huge teddy bear over there…”

“Hah! No way, I will be winning that one for Haori!” Susato exclaims.

Before Haori or Kazuma could respond to that, Ryunosuke suddenly seems to regain his senses and steps forward, facing Susato head-on. “Absolutely not, I will.”

“What?” Both Haori and Kazuma ask, thoroughly confused.

“This is a shooting range, Ryunosuke,” she reminds him. “We both know who has the advantage here with a gun.”

“But I have a better aim than you as an archer.”

“Guns and bows are very different weapons though,” Kazuma points out but Ryunosuke cuts him off with a hand on his mouth.

“Shush partner, I’m doing this for you.”

And Susato is momentarily distracted when she sees her brother falter and blush. She chances a glance at Haori who is equally stunned at the sight. Her eyes meet her friend’s and a silent conversation ensues.

You don’t mind if I let him win right?

Absolutely not.

I’ll win you another teddy bear later.

Oh, Susato you don’t need to.

I insist!

Ryunosuke clears his throat, handing her a rifle. “So?”

Susato smiles. “You’re on.”

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

“You think he noticed you purposely missed the targets?” Haori inquires later, now carrying a medium-sized teddy bear Susato ended up winning instead of the giant one.

Susato huffs as she tries to rearrange her hair without a mirror. A few rogue strands had fallen off during her friendly competition with Ryunosuke at the shooting range. Sure, she let him win but purposely missing targets was surprisingly difficult, ok?

“Probably not. Kazuma did, though.”

“Hey, let me…” Haori starts, handing her the teddy bear before standing behind her. Susato frowns, about to ask her what she is doing, when she feels careful fingers tread through her hair, undoing the knots and taking away her hair ties.

Soon enough, long bangs fall over her eyes and she blows on them to regain some kind of vision.

“I constantly forget your hair is longer than mine,” Haori muses.

“I probably should get a haircut soon…” Susato replies. Or ask Kazuma when he has the time.

“Are you ever gonna cut it short?”

Mm. Susato thought about it but she likes being able to try so many different hairstyles. “Don’t think so,” she settles for saying.

She feels a pin being secured at the back of her head as Haori continues to carefully comb her hair with idle fingers.

“Watching Ryunosuke and Kazuma… it made me wonder…” Susato starts tentatively, earning an inquisitive hum from her friend. “Have you ever thought of dating?”

The fingers pause in her hair. “Have you? You’ve always been so focused on school…”

“That’s not answering my question.”

A beat passes before Haori resumes putting Susato’s hair up, another pin being secured on the side of her head, carefully removing one big strand that was obscuring Susato’s view.

“I have,” Haori answers eventually. Yeah, Susato suspected as much, out of the two of them, Haori has always been the most vocal about the crushes she gets. “But it wouldn’t amount to anything.”

“How can you be sure?”

Haori doesn’t reply for a while, opting to focus instead on finishing Susato’s hair in silence. Susato indulges her, instinctively clutching the teddy bear in her arms a bit more strongly than needed. In the distance, she can still see their friends go about around the fair. The sun is starting to set and yet, no one seems preoccupied with it, or tired from a whole day running around.

Susato hasn’t felt this much bliss in a long time since Kazuma moved out.

Finally, the last pin is secured and Haori walks back in front of her, prying the teddy bear away from her arms with gentle, if not a little trembling hands. Susato takes a steady breath as she lifts her eyes to meet the grey of her friend’s.

“So… who is it?” Susato asks then.

Haori falters, smile a bit more uncertain as her cheeks turn pink. “Susato…” Susato nods and waits. A beat passes. Haori sighs. “… You’re as oblivious as your brother.”

“I—!”

“That was my answer, it’s you,” Haori confesses. “But, ah, I know it made you uncomfortable that one time I actually tried to be more straightforward and flirt with you so. Honestly, I’m just happy to be your friend.” Susato stares, the words not computing in her mind, apparently. “Uh… I broke you. I’m just gonna—”

“Wait!” Susato panics, grabbing Haori’s hand before she could walk away. “I just— needed to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. When was that?”

Haori frowns, now holding the teddy bear in one arm. “Uh, I don’t know, sometime last month? Oh! It was after our English class while we were reading from Romeo and Juliet.”

“Wait, really?” She remembers that day, she had decided to dress more masculine as an experiment after Kazuma had encouraged her and lent her some of his clothes that surprisingly fit — which made her feel giddy. It just happened that that day they also had to study Romeo and Juliet in class and she volunteered to read as Romeo while Haori joyfully volunteered for Juliet.

And she does remember Haori being a little more flirty after the class but she had wrongfully assumed it was because she decided to be more masculine that day and she was staying somewhat in character—

Haori clears her throat. “Listen I’m embarrassed enough—”

“Can I kiss you?” Susato blurts out.

Silence. They stare at each other, the two of them breathless, somehow, and Susato feels like her heart is about to burst.

“Alright I feel like we jumped a hundred steps here,” Haori chuckles, looking away and half-hiding behind the teddy bear.

She gotta stop being so cute.

“I’d like to think of it as catching up,” Susato counters, tightening her hold on her friend’s hand. “I thought you only liked guys.”

“Wow, you’ve really been oblivious, huh.”

“Hey!”

Haori laughs, this time more from a genuine feeling of joy than out of nervousness. “I guess I can’t fault you, I only talked about my silly boy crushes with you but every time I was actually talking about you. I thought you would have connected the dots eventually, but turns out that’s one subject where you don’t excel.”

There’s this guy… always has his nose in a book. We don’t share a lot of classes but he always makes sure to greet me and ask me if I’ve done all the work.

Oh, this other guy always holds the door for me and he bows when I thank him! I mean it’s a little much but it’s cute.

This boy is so smart but he never makes me feel like I’m dumb either, you know? He helps me with homework and stuff and it’s nice.

Maria and Gina are getting so tired of hearing me talk about this boy, but I can’t help it! He just has the sweetest smile and is always so confident, God, I wonder what it must feel like, to have his undivided attention. I’d feel like the luckiest girl on earth!

Haori was talking about her all these times?

“You could have told me…” she whispers, full of wonder and relief.

Haori smiles. “Well, you never showed any interest in any of this romance stuff and I didn’t want to impose, I don’t know. I did ask Kazuma for advice once and he just sighed. Like!” She huffs. “One question and he looked like he wanted to die from exasperation! Rude. Your brother is rude.”

“Yeah, that’s probably my fault,” Susato groans, fighting the urge to hide behind her hands now. “I’ve bothered him about my crush on you ever since I met you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

A pause. Susato suddenly laughs. “We’re kind of idiots.”

Haori smiles, her hand turning in Susato’s so their fingers interlock. “I guess we are.”

“So… what now?”

“I’ve never seen you so unsure of yourself, it’s almost refreshing,” Haori teases gently. “Well now, let me thank you for today and all the gifts you won for me.”

And perhaps it is always meant to be this simple, Susato thinks idly, as she lets herself be pulled forward and gentle lips meet her own in a chaste kiss. Haori’s floral scent envelops her senses, wrapping around her heart like a luring spell. Susato smiles against her lips, bringing her free hand to the other girl’s cheek, cradling her face closer.

“Does this count as our first date, then?” Haori asks eventually when they pull away.

“If it is I definitely need to win you a real giant teddy bear now!” she replies.

“Susato…”

But Susato only grins, leading the both of them back to the shooting range stand.

In the end, this whole outing was kind of a quadruple date. Next time, I want us to be alone though.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

[pjisskullourful]

The lyrics of mammamia reminded me of stained sheets 👀

oooowoooohoooohooo- i wonder why😝 definitely the bit about limits made me think of corruption daddy dom dami

[audrawrites]

After Hours

Pairing: Hotch x reader 

Warnings: rough sex, oral sex, office sex, slight gun kink, cockwarming, breeding kink, choking, spanking, degradation, spitting, dom!aaron, dirty talk, ownership, daddy kink

WC: 3k-ish 

Summary: You feel in need of some relief after a stressful case, and Hotch gives you exactly what you need after the team goes home.

It was a long day for the BAU team who had just returned to Quantico after a three day case in Milwaukee. Seven pairs of tired feet shuffled into the bullpen where everyone settled down at their desks to finish up whatever parts of their reports weren’t done on the jet. You still had a fair bit to do, since you spent most of the flight sleeping. At least you had a second wind now, whereas everyone else was practically falling asleep in their chairs.

Hotch was locked away in his office, oblivious to the goings on downstairs. He was always the last to leave, anyways. The rest of the team lasted for about thirty minutes before they all collectively decided to head home and get some rest, leaving just you and Hotch behind.

For the last few months this was the normal routine for you guys. Hang behind until the rest of the team leaves, then get together in his office or at either one of your apartments, though it was almost always the office. It was purely a transaction of pleasure and nothing more, the two of you were very compatible in the bedroom and didn't want anything getting in the way of that.

You took your time finishing your reports, knowing that Hotch would be busy for a while. You could sort of see him through his office window, which was all it took for your mind to start reeling. The case you had just worked on was tough although it ended well, but you just needed some release for all of the pent up stress it caused you. It was easy to tell that Hotch needed the same thing, he was brooding and clearly not focused because he was no longer writing, just staring blankly ahead. 

On this case you’d been back at the station helping to take care of a baby, something that you never thought you’d be any good at, or even enjoy. However, you responded in unexpected ways to the small taste of motherhood you were allotted. It almost made you want to have that for yourself which was completely irrational, since motherhood wasn’t something you’d planned for yourself. You were taking it in stride though, just waiting for the feeling to pass which it no doubt would in a few days. It was just a little case of baby fever.

You took a deep breath and stood up from your desk, unnecessarily smoothing out your clothes, before going up to Hotch’s office. You knocked on his door, not bothering to wait for an answer before going in.

“Hey,” he said, putting down his pen as you shut the blinds and locked the door.

“Hi.” You made your day over to sit on the edge of his desk.

“You doing okay?” He looked at you inquisitively, sensing that something was off with you. Damn profilers. It’s not that something was wrong per se, you were just thrown off.

“Yeah, just thinking about the case. And I just need you right now.” When you said that out loud, it sounded much more… relationship-y…than you intended. You pushed yourself up off of his desk to get closer to him.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about this all day,” he said, pushing his chair out enough to pull you onto his lap. “Mmmm.” His hands were smoothing over your hips, his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

“Aaron,” you whispered, kissing him softly.

“What do you need,” he grumbled, as your hips began rocking against him. You could feel his hardening length through his slacks. He worked to loosen his tie and pull it off, tossing it somewhere to the side.

“I… I just wanna feel you.” As soon as those words left your mouth he stood up with you wrapped tightly around him, cleared space on his desk with one sweep of his arm, knocking things to the floor, and gently laying you down. You whimpered, knowing you’d have to wait to get exactly what you had in mind, though that wasn’t really a bad thing at all.

“I need to taste you first.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down with your underwear in one swift motion; you lifted your hips off of the desk to help him.

He was kneeling in front of you now, eye level with your pussy. He was taking his time with you, enjoying the control he could exercise over you in these moments. His rough hands were kneading your thighs as he placed soft kisses on your skin starting from your knee. He had hardly done anything to you yet and you were already dripping. When he finally reached your core he softly flicked his tongue over your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Look at you. Dripping for me already.” He spread you open, collecting some of your slick on his fingers. He put them to his mouth and sucked your juices off, letting out an absolutely filthy moan. Seeing him do that made you buck your hips into the open air, yearning for any sort of attention on your needy cunt. “God, you’re so fucking desperate.” His words only served to spur you on.

“Yes,” you breathed out as he licked a broad stripe over your folds. He then devoured you, bringing you to the edge embarrassingly fast. When you felt two of his fingers enter you with ease, you nearly came right then and there. He continued whispering dirty things every once and awhile between licking and sucking you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, pulling what you could, knowing he liked that. “Fuck, I’m close.” The hands in his hair also served to hold him in place as you tried desperately to grind  against his face.

“Don’t. Move,” He growled. His free arm was draped across your hips to pin you down so he could have his way with you. He slowed his pace to keep you right on the edge, not ready to let you come yet. Your hands were scrabbling uselessly against the wood of his desk as you whined, “please just let me cum, please, I- fuck. I need to cum. I’ll do anything,” you begged.

He lifted his mouth off of you to grumble, “of course you will, whore. Go ahead. Cum.” He latched his mouth over your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking and swirling his tongue.

“Oh my- oh fuck, Aaron!” you practically screamed out as you came, thanking the universe that you guys were the only ones around.

He stood up and shoved his soaked fingers into your mouth. “Suck.” He commanded. You didn’t need to be told twice. You swirled your tongue around his digits, moaning at the taste. You pulled them out of your mouth with a pop, and propped yourself up on your elbows, still weak from your orgasm.

“So you’ll do anything, huh?” He teased you with your words of desperation.

“Yes sir,” you smiled slyly at him.

“Get on your knees.” You obeyed him, settling on the rough carpet and stripping off your shirt. You had one hand splayed on his thigh, the other was moving up to palm him a little before you undid his belt and pants.

You pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock. You pumped him a few times, looking up at him through your lashes. He sucked in a breath at your contact, placing a hand in your hair, establishing that he was still in control. You teased his head with your thumb, smearing the precum that had gathered there, and he bucked his hips into your hand.

He pulled sharply on your hair, tilting your head back so you were looking up at him, into his eyes which were nearly black with lust. “Open.” You did so, sticking your tongue out slightly. He leaned down to spit in your mouth, his other hand closing your jaw when he was done, silently telling you to swallow as he growled, “I own you.” He used the hand in your hair to pull you closer to his weeping cock, desperate for the heat of your mouth.

When you wrapped your lips around the tip he let out a groan, shallowly thrusting up.

You lifted off of him, “I want you to use me. I can take it,” you said. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip before asking, “and you know what to do if it's too much, right?” He was talking about the tap-out system which the two of you used for nonverbal communication. You nodded your head vigorously. “Good girl.”

He pulled on your hair again, this time turning your head. “Go sit over on the couch.” He gave you a little shove in that direction.

You were kneeling on the cool leather of the sofa with your hands on your lap. He shucked off his pants and boxers, stalking towards you while lazily pumping his length and looking at you darkly.

“Little slut, waiting so patiently for me to fuck that pretty face.” He swiped his tip over your bottom lip. You opened and relaxed your jaw for him.

Though he was in a rough mood he still took care not to hurt you. He started out thrusting shallowly into your mouth, slowly breaching your throat inch by inch. He trained you well, so you were able to take all of him without any issues. You breathed in sharply through your nose when you could, his masculine scent invading your senses. Your hands were moving up and down his chest, feeling the vibrations of his moans. Normally he would tie your hands behind your back, but he was giving you this small treat today.

He picked up his pace and the tears that were pricking your eyes were starting to roll down your cheeks. “Oh fuck. You’re taking me so well,” he groaned. “So fucking good.” You swallowed around him, the sudden tightness made him twitch in your throat.

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth and you're gonna swallow every last drop.” He pushed your head down so your nose was pressed against the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. You reached your hands up his chest to pinch and roll his nipples between your fingers, which was the last push for him to fall over the edge.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. ” Hot ropes of cum filled your mouth, salty and bitter, but his. When he pulled out of your mouth, you obeyed his command and swallowed every last drop.

“You look like a wreck.” He plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing you a bottle of water from the side table.

“Thanks.” Your voice was coarse and your throat was raw, so you took a sip of water to soothe the ache. “I loved that…” you said, resting your head on his shoulder, running your fingers through his chest hair.

“Me too. Grab me a blanket?” He asked, pointing you to the wicker basket where you knew them to be, for the many long nights spent in the office. “And don’t think I’m done with you.”

“Good. I still haven’t gotten everything I want yet.” You tossed him the blanket which he draped over his lap.

“Hmmmm. Come sit on daddy's lap.” He moved the blanket, wrapping it around both of you once you were seated comfortably.

“Daddy…” you trailed off, brushing a hand through his hair. You grabbed one of his hands, bringing it to your neck, then dragging it slowly down to your chest. “I want you.” You had recovered from your first orgasm by now, and felt your need beginning to rise once more. You pressed your hips down on him, feeling his cock start to stiffen slightly.

“You’re just gonna have to wait, sweetheart,” he said in a slightly patronizing voice. You let out a sigh of disappointment. “You’re a greedy girl. I just made you cum and you want more already?” He sucked his teeth disapprovingly. “I’ve still got stuff to do. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll let you sit on my cock.” His hands were on your ass, squeezing lightly.

“Oh, thank you sir.” You continued grinding down on him, shifting forward to lick and suck on his neck. It wasn't long until he was fully hard again.

What he meant by ‘still having stuff to do’ was that he needed to clean his gun. He picked it up from the side table, the muscles in his arm flexing beautifully as he did so. He inspected it carefully, turning about in his hands.You were still rolling your hips against him. He was showing no hints of pleasure on his face, but his hips were shifting up to meet yours. You reached a hand between the two of you to touch him. Sitting up on your knees, you lined him up with your entrance, ready to sink down on him.

The first time you saw Hotch handle a gun, it awakened something in you that you never knew was there. It was his control, the way he held so much power in his hands and always remained calm. He set it down on the arm of the couch, groaning as your velvet heat enveloped his entire length. The only sounds were of him groaning and your shaky breaths as he stretched you out. You were pulsing around him, desperately wanting to move, even though you knew you’d get reprimanded. He didn’t want you doing anything without his command.

That thought didn’t stop you from desperately grinding and circling your hips, catching him off guard. He slapped your ass hard before grabbing your hips to still them and buck hard into you. He let go of your ass, instead grabbing your jaw. “You wanna act like that? I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a week and kick you out of here before you can even beg me to let you cum.” You clenched hard around him. “You like that, huh?” He patted your cheek lightly. “Be a good girl. Sit still and wait for daddy to be done.” You nodded your head.

He continued cleaning his gun, and you started talking to him to distract yourself from your needs. It was hard not to get distracted though, you were constantly clenching around him as you watched him. If he noticed he didn't say anything, but you thought you saw a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“This was a good case,” you said. Your voice was higher and more breathy than normal.

“It was.” He didn't even look up at you. He was wiping along the barrel of the gun, slowly, tantalizingly.

“It made me feel… things.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It made me think, and want,” you were fighting hard not to rock your hips, but you shifted on him  with the pretense of getting more comfortable.

“And what was that,” he said, paying full attention to you now.

This sudden attention was almost making you nervous. “It made me think about having babies, being pregnant…” something in his expression darkened. He hastily flipped you onto your back without breaking your connection.

“Are you saying you want me to fill you full of my cum?” He thrust sharply into you.

“Please, Aaron,” you begged. Thankfully he embraced your needs and desires, rather than pushing you away this time. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” He pulled out of you to let you move. He placed one hand between your shoulder blades to angle you properly, the other hand was splayed across your stomach. You felt the heat of his cock on your ass as he  unhooked your bra, letting your breasts free. He grabbed one hungrily, pinching your nipple. “I’m gonna pump you full of babies, little slut. Everyone will know you’re mine.” He slid his cock into you easily and started thrusting into you at a bruising pace. 

“Fuck, Hotch.” The way he was holding your hips would surely leave bruises the next day. He threaded a hand through your hair, pulling your head back.

“Youre so fucking sexy, squeezing me so tight. Let me hear those pretty moans.” He was fucking you like his life depended on it, desperate to cum in you. You stopped trying to be quiet now, the way he was driving into you was incredible.

“Fucking hell, Aaron. Yes-  you feel so good.” You cried out. He started to circle your clit,  sending your body fully into the throes of pleasure. His other hand which was no longer in your hair was smacking your ass, the heat of the blows quickly turning to something pleasant.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded.

“You! I belong to you, Aaron. Fuck I’m already getting close,” you moaned out. He grasped your neck and pulled you up against his chest, squeezing just hard enough to restrict your airflow.

His breath was hot against your skin, “that's right. ‘M gonna cum so deep in you, make everyone know you’re mine ,” he growled right into your ear. “I want you to come on my cock. Now.”

“Mmmmmh. Fuck yes!” The intensity of your orgasm nearly made you black out. He thrust a few more times before stilling his hips and spilling his seed deep inside of you while you kept contracting around him, milking every last drop.

He pulled out of you and set you gently down, taking a minute to catch his breath before getting up to grab both of your guys clothes. “That was incredible,” he said, looking back at you. You smiled at him, blissed out.

“Yes, yes it was.” You took in the details of his post-fucking appearance… the way he was flushed from his cheeks down to his chest, the way his hair was messed up on one side, his heavy breathing…

“So… that was new.” He tossed you your clothes while he got dressed.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t bad, right?”

“No. Definitely not bad,” he chuckled. “Quite the opposite of bad. But we should discuss…”

“Oh. Shit. Hotch, I’m on birth control… remember?”

He looked embarrassed. “Right. Right, I forgot. Sorry.” He was dressed now, sitting down beside you on the couch.

“Hotch, don’t be sorry.” You leaned over to kiss his cheek, wondering if the two of you could ever share anything more than just hooking up.

“You know, if there's something you want, you should ask. Okay? I’m a simple girl.” He contemplated that for a moment, afraid to make the wrong move.

“Well, in that case, would you ever maybe consider going to dinner with me? Or grabbing drinks?” Your heart fluttered at his nervousness in asking you out.

“Hotch, you were just balls deep in me making me cum like no man has ever done.” His face turned beet red at your brash statement. “I would love to go out with you.” You leaned over to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the last second, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. 

[foreverindreamlandd]

Happy Birthday, Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

WC: 3k

Summary: Reader decides to spend a year celebrating all of the birthdays Bucky missed over the last 70+ years.

A/N: Fluff! So much fluff! This is written for the 9k Writing Challenge hosted by the wonderful @wkemeup. This is my first time taking part in a writing challenge and I’m so excited! If you haven’t read any of her stuff, I highly highly recommend. They are my favorite fics to read. Here is her masterlist. My prompt was:

“Character A reaches out to wipe away something at the edge of Character B’s lip and their thumb lingers longer than intended. Slowly, they lift their gaze to meet [B]’s. They suddenly realize how quiet it is.” 

Enjoy :)

------

“Happy Birthday, Buck!” you exclaim, grinning from ear to ear as you stand in the hallway.

Bucky chuckles, leaning against the doorframe to his room. “Doll, I truly appreciate all of the effort you have been putting into this, but it really isn’t necessary. My birthday is next week. You don’t need to put in all of this work for me.”

Your smile turns into a pout. “What, are you sick of hanging out with me?”

“Not at all, Y/n! I just don’t want it to be something you feel pressure to do every week. I mean, birthdays are only supposed to be celebrated once a year.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Do we really need to go over this again, Bucky? Or are you going to stop whining and let me do my thing?”

Bucky sighs, looking down at the ground and then back at you, the corners of his mouth turning up. You take that as an acceptance and grin, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of his room.

Almost a year ago, the day after Bucky’s actual birthday, you had pitched him this ridiculous idea of “The Year of Birthdays.” It broke your heart thinking about the fact that Bucky had lost 70 years of his life to Hydra, plus a few extra after escaping from their hold and spending all that time recovering, on the run from everyone and then putting himself back together in Wakanda. All those years and he didn’t have a single birthday celebration. So you decided that you would make up for lost time.

Every week for one year, the two of you would celebrate Bucky’s birthday. 

At first, he rolled his eyes at you, not believing that you would actually commit to a whole year of this for him. But that following Friday, you knocked on his door holding a card and a cupcake with a candle lit in the middle. You had this childish grin on your face, bouncing up and down with excitement, and extended the cupcake to him.

“Happy Birthday, Buck,” you said, and Bucky’s heart swelled. He chuckled at you in disbelief before blowing out the candle. The two of you spent the rest of the night hanging out in his room, watching movies. He had been a little overwhelmed during his actual birthday celebration last week with the whole gang, so you wanted this week to be a small, casual thing. He loved it.

Bucky opened the card after you left. The front of it had a photo of a lion wearing a party hat. The inside read ‘Hope your birthday is aMANEzing!’ with a smiley face and your name written at the bottom. Bucky smiled, laughing as he shook his head.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” he muttered to himself.

And each week, you continued to knock one his door with a card and some sort of birthday dessert item (donuts, cookie cake, a deep fried oreo one time that took some convincing for Bucky to eat), always a big grin on your face as you said the same thing again and again.

“Happy Birthday, Buck.” And then the ‘birthday’ would begin. You took him on all sorts of adventures. Arcades, movie theaters, ice-skating, the zoo, even bowling. So many corny activities that Bucky would groan at but secretly love more than you could ever know.

As always, those adventures were spread out between casual days spent at the compound, whether it involved watching Bucky’s favorite movies from the 40s, making your own pizzas in the kitchen, playing board games, or going on walks outside and sharing some of your favorite memories together. The last one was one of Bucky’s favorite things to do with you. He loved the way you would light up when he laughed while reminiscing about the mischief he and Steve would get in and past birthdays he celebrated with his family as a kid, or the small smile on your face as you told him stories about your childhood, and all of the crazy adventures you and your family would go on. Some of which were inspirations for your Friday plans.

And at the end of the day, Bucky was left with those ridiculous cards you got him. Some of his favorites included two old women drinking wine on the couch (you said that that was going to be the two of you in 50 years), a monkey riding a tractor that played music if you pushed a button found on one of the tires of the tractor (he complained that the music was obnoxious but could never successfully fight back the laugh that would escape him whenever it played), and the one you drew yourself of you and Bucky ice skating in the winter (you joked that your drawing skills were on par with a five year old’s but Bucky thought it was a true work of art).

There were so many Fridays where Bucky thought you might call it quits, and yet you never did. Even when Christmas fell on a Friday this year, you showed up at his door on Thursday, card and a gingerbread cookie wearing a birthday hat in hand. Your persistence was absolutely ridiculous and Bucky found that his heart swelled every time he opened his door to find you standing there with that breathtaking smile.

And every week, Bucky fell more and more hopelessly in love with you.

Not that he would tell you. He was too much of a coward and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Next to Steve, you were his closest friend and he didn’t want to throw that away because of his inability to control his feelings.

But how could he not fall in love with you? You had brought so much joy and light into his life well before “The Year of Birthdays,” your laugh and smile chipping away at the walls he had spent 70 years building around his heart. And now to have you consistently showing how special you thought Bucky was week after week. It was overwhelming in the best way. 

Now, it was almost one year later and one week before Bucky’s actual birthday, and you were dragging him down the hallways of the compound for his final surprise. You had made it through a whole year of making up for the time he had lost. And your smile never faltered. If anything, it seemed to have grown as each week passed, just as the pile of cards in the box underneath Bucky’s bed had. 

Next week the gang was going to have a party for Bucky’s birthday, so this was unfortunately going to be your last celebration with just the two of you. 

The thought causes Bucky’s heart to sink. He spent all this time groaning and complaining about how much of a show you put on every week, but he was going to miss it when it was over. He had grown to love celebrating his birthday. You had made him feel more appreciated than he had in over 70 years, and he didn’t know how he could ever return the favor.

He was going to make sure your birthday and every birthday after was fucking amazing. That one thing was for sure. 

The two of you make your way outside of the compound and down to the patio. Normally it’s lit with tiki torches and lanterns but is now covered with string lights, and the table in the middle of the space is covered with dozens upon dozens of mini cupcakes. 

Bucky barks out a laugh at the sight of it, still somehow surprised yet again at your work. His reaction causes your smile to brighten even more and you guide him to the table. 

“I ordered 100 of them,” you say, and Bucky narrows his eyes at you. “I know, I know, you only missed like 80 birthdays, but I figured you should collect interest for lost time.”

“Interest in the form of cupcakes?”

“That, and I got a better deal for the larger order.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head at the display. The table was littered with so many colors, so many flavors of cupcakes. He didn’t even know where to start. 

“Doll, you don’t seriously think that we’re going to be able to eat all of these, do you?”

You shake your head. “Definitely not. But the rest of the gang will help with that later. We’ll do as much damage as we can until then.” You wink at him and Bucky can’t help but smile. 

In the middle of the field of cupcakes lies a card. Seeing it fills Bucky with so much dread thinking about the idea of this year coming to an end. As much as he hated to admit it, he was going to miss all of your ridiculous cards, all of the adventures you came up with. 

He was going to miss spending so much time with you. 

Taking him away from his thoughts, you grab two of the cupcakes in front of you and hand one to Bucky. You extend yours to him and he gently taps his against it.

“Cheers to you, Buck,” you say, eyes locked on his. “I know this has been a long year for you, but I appreciate you putting up with me to see it through to the end.” You toss the whole cupcake in your mouth, grinning at him.

Bucky smiles back. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy myself, Y/n.” He brings the cupcake up to his lips, then pauses, looking back to you. “Seriously, though. I know I grumbled and rolled my eyes at pretty much everything we did this past year, but it has been the best time of my life. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am that you did all of this. It means more than you know.”

You beam at him, the smile on your face turning into one of wonder. Bucky winks at you and finally eats his cupcake. 

You spend the next hour eating as many as you can, reminiscing on your birthday adventures. The time you went ice-skating and how Bucky felt like you were going to break his arm with how tightly you were gripping onto it. The two-hour road trip you took upstate to a small shop that had ‘the best damn maple donuts you’ll ever try in your life, Buck.’  

“Be honest, Buck, which one was your favorite?” you ask, picking up a red velvet cupcake. “Was it the time we went to Texas Roadhouse?”

Bucky grimaces. “You mean the one where you made them sing me a happy birthday in front of everyone in the restaurant? I’m going to have to say no to that one, sweetheart.”

His favorite weekend was the one when you both went out dancing. You had found a bar that had different themes each weekend, including a 40s-themed night. You wore a green peplum dress and somehow nailed styling your hair in victory rolls and hot damn that red lipstick you wore…You took his breath away.

You barely knew the dances, but Bucky tried to teach you the best he could, and laughed every time you accidentally stepped on his toes or stumbled into a couple next to you. 

Then when the slow songs came on, Bucky would take you in his arms and you would rest your head on his chest, and he swears those were the happiest moments of his entire life.

He’s about to bring up that weekend but is too distracted by your giggle as you’re biting into one of the red velvet cupcakes, a piece of buttercream frosting hitting the corner of your mouth. Without thinking, Bucky extends his right hand and wipes it away with his thumb. Your eyes widen and he freezes, realizing how forward of a gesture it was.

He knows he should pull away, but the feeling of your lips under his thumb sends a ripple of heat down his whole body. It’s a sensation that he never wants to end. And by the look in your eyes, the shade of pink emerging from your cheeks, the way your lips part ever so slightly, Bucky can’t help but think you might feel the same.

A sense of boldness takes over as he rubs his thumb along your bottom lip, a surface you both know is clear of frosting. You let out the softest moan that Bucky is sure he wouldn’t have heard if he didn’t have super soldier hearing. 

Then, your hand finds its way up to Bucky’s cheek and he feels as if his heart is going to burst out of his chest.

And when your eyes flicker from his piercing blue eyes to his lips, Bucky musters up every last bit of courage he can and leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. 

A louder moan escapes you as your body sinks into his, and it makes Bucky’s head dizzy. Your lips taste like buttercream and vanilla, and so much more. They taste like his dreams coming to life, sunshine in the midst of darkness. 

They taste like home.

Bucky’s eyes flutter open as he pulls away, heart melting at the dreamy look on your face as you give him a soft smile. 

“Damn, Bucky,” you whisper, face close enough for him to feel your breath on his skin as you speak. “Had I known that this was all it took for you to kiss me, I would have been a lot messier when eating all those damn birthday desserts.”

Bucky lets out a low, grizzly chuckle that makes your toes curl. He strokes your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you with complete adoration. 

“Well, doll,” he says, pulling away and grabbing another cupcake, holding it up to your mouth and rubbing some of the frosting on your top lip, “good thing we have enough of these to make up for lost time.” He leans forward again, taking your top lip between his and using his tonight to lick up the frosting. He smiles into your lips as a soft whimper escapes you. 

The two of you continue this pattern, one person grabbing a cupcake and putting frosting on one part of the other’s (lips, cheeks, nose, neck) and kissing it away, both giggling at the pure bliss of it all. 

After the tenth or so cupcake, Bucky takes your face in his hands and bares his eyes into yours. “This one,” he says and you furrow your brows at him questioningly. “This has to be my favorite birthday.”

You laugh, head tilting up to the sky as you roll your eyes. “Really? You sure?”

Bucky smiles. “Yep. This one definitely takes the cake.”

“Oh god,” you groan, this time throwing your face into your hands and Bucky laughs. “I can’t believe you just made such a terrible old man joke, Bucky.”

He shrugs. “What can I say, Y/n?” He waves his arm over at all of the cupcakes in front of you. “We just spent all this time celebrating over 70 years of missed birthdays. I am an old man.”

He cuts off your laugh with another kiss.

“Is it crazy to say I’m going to miss this?” you ask, leaning the crown of your head against his chest. “I’ve had so much fun going on all these adventures. Taking the time to show you how much you matter. How much you mean to me.”

Bucky’s arms wrap around you. “You know, we don’t have to stop going on these adventures together, Y/n. It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. We just don’t need to have it be all about me. Hell, I’d love to take you out. Like, on a date.” 

You lift your head up and look at him, a sparkle in your eyes that makes Bucky’s heart flutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Of course, doll. Some of the places you took us were a lot of fun, and I’d love to go again with you. We’re never going to Texas Roadhouse again, though.” You laugh. “But going out dancing? I would take you out dancing every night for the rest of my life if I could.”

“As long as you’re okay with me making a fool of myself.”

Bucky grins. “A damn gorgeous fool.”

You smile. “I’d love that, Buck.”

“Great, what are you doing next Friday?”

“Bucky! Next Friday is your actual birthday!”

Bucky groans. “Can’t we skip that one?”

You glare at him with such intensity and Bucky clears his throat. “Fine,” he concedes, “Friday after that?”

Your glare turns into his favorite grin.

“I’m all yours.”

----------

Bucky walks into his room after kissing you goodnight, the final card in his hands. He takes it out of the envelope and smiles for what feels like the millionth time this evening. You had printed a custom card with a photo of the two of you from the 40s night celebration. His arm is wrapped around you and your head is tucked into the crook of his shoulder, both of you with the biggest smiles on your face.

He opens the card.

Happy Birthday to my favorite old man.

The best guy I know. 

Who doesn’t look a day over 100. 

Can’t wait to celebrate the next 100 with you. 

...or until you get sick of me. 

Fingers crossed that doesn’t happen anytime soon. ;)  

<3 Y/n

(p.s. TECHNICALLY we only celebrated 52 out of 70-something missed birthdays. So, if you want, we could do this all again for another year. Sure it’ll end up being 104 birthdays, but let’s just say we’re counting interest to make up for lost time…..)

------

Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me through my kofi account!

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katuski bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n : y’all this was gonna be for kirishima bc i love possessive kiri but like it works so well with bakugou. first part will be from third pov, following parts will be from second pov (reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3)

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: uhh idk a lil bit teeny-weeny dash of angst i guess 

warnings: mild cursing, possessive bakugou, mutual pining, jealousy, aged-up to third year, possessive y/n, love triangle (square?), implied manga spoilers but not directly stated, tiny bitta tokage slander (sorry lol), slow burn romance (like SLOWWW SLOW BURN), lowkey enemies to lovers, like a lotta tension between bakugou and y/n 

word count: 3k

UNEDITED w/ minimal or no typos. i shoved it into grammarly’s ass and prayed for the best okay 

here’s pt 2 loves <3

- - - 

y/n was used to picking and their skin, irritated at the girls fawning over bakugou. they were always on the sidelines, watching from afar, jealousy warping their heart. could these stupid girls not see that bakugou didn’t even care for their attention? 

this time it was setsuna tokage who was begging for his eyes on her. y/n assumed it started in their first year when they’d been put against one another when the classes still had a clashing rivalry. (they still did, much more tame now, however.) 

she leaned forwards, tugging on his short sleeve. bakugou’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder. he’d lost a lot of his angry demeanor from when he was younger, however it was easy to tell when he was pissed. it was inevitable he wasn’t going to lose his temper entirely. 

it was easy to ignore the girls—most of the time, at least. what was ticking y/n off the most was the fact that bakugou didn’t seem pissed at all. his face was neutral, almost like the perfect mirror of todoroki on a daily basis. his eyes were not fired up in his usual ‘get the hell off of me’ manner. he was relaxed. 

it didn’t seem like he reciprocated tokage’s feelings, however he wasn’t doing anything to get her off him and it was pissing y/n off to no end. 

her sensuous lips were pushed into a slight pucker as she spoke, arching her back in a manner that made it appear much more provocative than she probably intended. 

bakugou stood there, eyes flicking from her grasp on his sleeve and back up to her eyes. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only kept looking her up and down. not in a romantic way, of course. right? 

y/n scoffed at themselves. they swallowed the lump in their throat, shoving down the pinging envy in their chest with it. why wasn’t he reacting? 

heat rushed to y/n’s cheeks. why do i care? 

tokage was nearing his face. she didn’t have any intent to press her lips to his, which y/n was more than glad for. 

y/n had come to the conclusion they had feelings for the explosive boy weeks ago. perhaps they always had, but now that they were fully conscious of them... gosh, it was frustrating. 

“you’re staring again.” 

y/n turned to see kirishima, the only other person who knew about their feelings for bakugou. he’d lost the twinkle in his eyes after first year. he’d picked up a dominating sneer and a withering glare reserved for anyone who desired to cross his friends. everyone at UA had after what went down. it was a shock most of them survived anything. 

“so?” y/n snapped, shoving their hands away and kicking a pebble before them. kirishima and y/n continued their walk through the courtyard. 

“so it makes you look creepy.” 

“no, it doesn’t. he didn’t even notice me.” 

kirishima snapped his fingers. “partially my point here. that’s bakugou katsuki, you really think he’s going to notice you?” 

“excuse me?” 

kirishima pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. “i didn’t mean it like that, y/n. it’s just...well, he has so much to work for.” 

y/n raised a brow, questioning his nervous antics. 

he continued. “bakugou works hard. probably the hardest worker in UA aside from midoriya. and it’s bakugou. he doesn’t really see a point in relationships. you know that.” 

“it’s not like i’m looking for anything with him, though. gosh, kirishima, you’re acting like this is some school girl crush.” 

he tilted his head, giving y/n a look that screamed, are you really sure it’s not though? 

y/n huffed out a breath, crossing their arms. they’d already vomited up their feelings, why all of a sudden call it a crush? sure, it was a tiny crush that was no larger than the brain of a dinosaur. 

“i can swear that it isn’t, kirishima. you’re looking too deep into things,” y/n defended once again. 

the red-head held his hands up in surrender, sucking his lips in to avoid another snarky comment slipping out. 

the two looked up at the towering building that had been home to them for the past three years: Heights Alliance. 

during their second year, the teachers had settled with having the dorms set up in a way that allowed the students’ rooms to be set up in a gender-neutral fashion. they’d been able to select new dorms beside whomever they wished. rooming next to kirishima was a blast, but the only person bakugou wanted to room next to was him. 

mina had moved in next to you, and kaminari to her right, and sero right across from y/n. 

y/n had no issue being squished between a group notorious for their goofiness and ability to never take anything seriously, however (especially on weekends) they were exceptionally loud to the point they were sure China could hear the blaring music. 

friday was finally going to be over in a few hours. y/n felt a giddiness well up inside them, anticipating the weekend. it’d been a rough few days, for everyone, not just them. 

class 1A had been bombarded with assignments and pop quizzes. y/n was lucky they finished it all in class. some of the homework was finished when they’d sacrificed their precious free time to get it done, but in the end, it was worth it all. 

y/n let their bag sag down their arms as they entered Heights Alliance. 

- 

bakugou had just been asked out on a date. for the third time. first time, he’d denied. second time, he had to shove tokage off him. third time, he’d calmly accepted her offer, and she’d skipped away with more than a smile. 

she’d squeezed his bicep, gave him a wink and an unnecessary peck on the cheek that bakugou had wiped off the moment she turned her back. he was now in his bathroom and, despite her not wearing any lipstick, he was scrubbing his cheek raw so that the skin was a blotchy red. 

the date was tonight, and he found himself wanting to go, and questioning why he accepted in the first place. 

bakugou forgot about tokage the second he won that match his first year and tossed her in the cage. he only noticed her when she and her group of friends giggled and passed by. (it was mostly her chortling, but whatever.) 

he continued rubbing his cheek aggressively with a scratchy towel. he was repulsed by how he had stood there without bothering to snap at her to leave him alone for the third time. 

instead, bakugou’s mind had buffered, and if he was in a video game, he had surely glitched. he should probably just tell tokage he didn’t want to go anymore. in fact, he never wanted to go in the first place and wants to jump out his window and escape. 

it was almost comedic. the thought of him going out on a date? goodness, he wanted to throw up. 

as he continued scrubbing the cloth along his cheek, bakugou found himself more than grateful for how much his quirk made him sweat. if it wasn’t for the nitroglycerin-like substance he produced, his skin would be scratched and dried up. 

a knock sounded at his door. silence came, until the knock found its way to his ears. a set of three knocks, then five, then it was a needy banging. 

whoever was on the other side heard his audible groan and shuffling feet dragging across the floor, because they knocked a lot harder. 

he swung the door open, hinges crying out. 

bakugou’s upper lip curled in disgust. tokage twirled her hair around a finger, eyelashes sticking together with mascara. “katsuki,’ she greeted. 

his eyes narrowed on her. “don’t call me that.” 

“what should I be calling you, then? baby? or honey?” 

oh yes, bakugou wanted to vomit. what even was her name again? whatever, it didn’t matter. “lizard teeth, listen. i-” 

“lizard teeth? why would you address me like that?” 

“because i don’t know your damn name, alright? i don’t-” 

“tokage. need me to spell it out for you?” 

“no. shut up. i need to-” 

“you should remember it, because i was one of the few who got in through recommendations, remember?” 

“and yet here you are in class 1B. can you shut the hell up now?” 

“well, you’re just being shitty.” 

“why are you here, tokage.” more of a demand than a question, as bakugou’s questions always came across if he ever bothered to ask them. 

“because, for our date tonight, I need to pick up some things and I really hope you’re up for coming with me.” 

“no.” 

“please?” 

“no. stop pushing. and I don’t want to-” 

“come on, grouchy.” tokage activated her quirk, one scale slipping into his dorm and pushing him towards her. she gripped the collar of his shirt and grinned. “come with me for a short bit, and I’ll count that as our date, m’kay?” 

bakugou opened his mouth once more to protest, but tokage silenced him by pressing one slender finger to his lips. 

“I’m fully aware you don’t want to go on this date with me.” 

he relaxed, shoulders slumping. if bakugou was younger, if he was even just a little bit more stubborn as he had been before, perhaps he’d be out of this mess already, or never in it in the first place. 

tokage let her hand fall back to her side—both of them. the scale returned to her lower calf; the jet-black leggings she wore now had a perfect hole in them.

“do you think i’m dense, bakugou?” 

“then why ask me out?” bakugou felt himself leaning back. 

“because if i can get under the skin of that stupid little...what do you like to call them? stupid little extras? yeah, that stupid extra who can’t stop fluttering googly-eyes at you every minute, then i’ll be perfectly content.” 

“who the hell are you talking about?” 

“alright, so you are oblivious.” tokage took a step back and crossed her arms. “are you both unaware of how you’ve both been pining for each other’s attention? y/n, that classmate of yours.” 

“...y/n?” 

“do you know their name or do i have to describe in excruciating detail what they look like?” 

“no, no i know who you’re talking about. but you’ve got to be shitting me, alright? there’s nothing there.” 

“i’m from 1B, and if there’s something going on in 1A, monoma is going to tell us.” 

“shithead, get out of my face.” 

“you still have to go out with me.” 

“why the f-” 

“because, bakugou. if you don’t, i’ll be sure to make sure y/n knows about your feelings, whether they’re real or not.” 

“why would they care? more importantly, why would you care?” 

- 

y/n kicked their feet up and down, a lollipop in their left hand, phone in their other. kirishima was in his bathroom while y/n was playing a game on their phone. they’d stashed away a bunch of candy back in their dorm and had snatched a handful for the two of them to share while hanging out in kirishima’s. 

he was currently combing a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to rummage through his cabinets. 

kirishima emerged with his lips puckered. “want to come to the  drug mart with me?” he stuck a thumb to his door. 

“what for?” y/n didn’t take a glance away from their phone. 

“this.” he chuckled softly. when y/n looked up, kirishima had two fingers parting his hair. the roots were a jet black, just growing long enough to become the slightest bit visible. 

“you’re going to fry your hair.” they were already shoving their phone away and tossing their sucker into the trash bin. 

“it’s a monthly tradition to do this, y/n. it would be fried by now if i was bad at it,” he joked, tapping his roots once more. 

y/n laughed alongside him as they exited the room. 

-

it was late, and the lights made everything feel like it was set in a world of backrooms. when the rest of the world is sleeping, it is more than quiet, and nothing feels real―possibly in the best ways. 

kirishima scratched at his chin, staring intensely at the hair-dye boxes lined neatly on the shelf before them. 

y/n tapped their foot, not out of impatience, but because of the creep staring at them through the aisle. yes, through. 

between the boxes of hair dye and scattered makeup products, the beady eyes of setsuna tokage could be seen. she smirked when she tugged her hostage closer. 

bakugou’s height had shot up to around six feet in the past two years, so all that was visible was his chest and the black sweatshirt loosely hanging off it, however his grumbling and stream of colorful language was unmistakable. it was him. 

“you okay?” 

y/n’s head snapped to their friend. “what?” 

“you seem on edge. is something wrong?” 

“nothing. nothing is wrong.” 

“you sure? if you need to talk, i’m here.” 

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. don’t worry.” 

“alright.” kirishima held up a box, wiggling it in one hand. “got it.” he gave y/n a toothy grin. 

“good.” y/n snatched his arm up and dragged him along. 

“woah,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle, tugging his arm back. “what’s got you in a hurry?” 

“nothing,” y/n said, shrugging. “just wanna get home.” 

gosh, kirishima knew them too well. his eyes squinted just a bit, and there was that playful grin lingering on his lips, just ghosting over his face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know him. instead of pointing out the obvious, which was standing just a few aisles behind, kirishima decided to play around. “goodness, honey, the kids are going to be fine back home.” 

heat raced to y/n’s face. “what?” 

kirishima winked. “it’s nice that you care about them, but care about me a little, would’ya? i miss you, too,” he said a tad louder. 

this caught bakugou’s attention. his eyes clashed with y/n’s, and he didn’t look away until y/n did. even a few seconds after, y/n still felt the blaring heat of his gaze upon them.

kirishima slung an arm around his friend, enjoying their flustered image. of course, he would never even think about pushing boundaries. the thought never crossed his mind, but he knew they’d let him know if they were uncomfortable. 

when y/n looked back as kirishima led them away, bakugou’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were alight with jealousy. 

of course, y/n didn’t notice the emotion flaring. 

tokage smirked, clutching his loose sleeve. 

y/n looked back to their friend, and kirishima flashed them another knowing smile. bakugou was getting antsy with his best friends’ hands all over y/n. well, not all over, but a tap on the shoulder was enough. 

despite the way kirishima’s face dropped, y/n swiped his arm away and wandered over to tokage a bit more angrily than intended. they glanced up to bakugou, who was reaching up to retrieve something for tokage. 

“what brings you guys here? didn’t expect to see you.” inside, y/n was screaming. gosh, their heart was angry. 

“just running errands together.” 

bakugou? going for errands? with tokage? 

“cool, cool,” y/n said, nodding. “i was doing the same with kirishima.” they paused, awkward silence filling the space. 

impatient as ever, bakugou tossed the item into tokage’s basket and clicked his tongue. 

y/n didn’t know why. why were they being so stubborn? despite their protesting thoughts and their entire body screaming to hold back, y/n wrapped their fingers around bakugou’s wrist. 

“actually, bakugou, i have something to ask you. i need your opinion on it. you’re smart, right?” y/n’s voice lifted at the end. although they couldn’t see the, what the hell are you doing face kirishima was making behind them as subtly as possible, they could definitely feel the glare burning into their back. 

“tch, of course i’m smart, shithead.” 

“good.” 

“we’re actually kind of in a rush,” tokage spat out, snappier than usual. 

“do you think i fight okay? i need someone  with a perspective like yours to know if i do.” 

“what kind of question is that, dumbass? i don’t care if you can fight well or not, just so long as i can beat the shit outta ya.” 

tokage let out a low growl. 

y/n smirked, hand still around bakugou’s wrist. “i’d like to know if i can beat you, then, so you can tell me if i’m good or not.” 

ohgoshohgoshohgosh where was this coming from? 

bakugou squinted. he leaned in closer, like he didn’t hear them. “speak up.” 

y/n knew he heard them correctly, but he got awfully close. 

feeling a little sneaky themselves, y/n ghosted their fingers over his strong jaw, tilting his head closer so they could speak clearly into his ear. “let’s train together,” y/n said, staring tokage dead in the eyes. 

it was a stupid rivalry, really. they’d both been accepted through recommendations. they’d been friends all throughout middle school, and yet when y/n made it into 1A, tokage felt it a necessity to excel at everything and rub it in their face. no way was y/n letting them get away with this. 

“i want to see how strong i am.” y/n let their voice drop just a bit. “you’re strong, right?” 

“are you taunting me?” bakugou said, voice nearly a whisper. he still hadn’t moved from leaning down and hadn’t bothered to move y/n’s fingertips from his jaw. 

“absolutely not.” y/n sent a small grin in the direction of their rival. “let’s just see who can beat who. we’ve never been against one another like this.” 

tokage huffed, tugging bakugou back. his eyes were softened when they met y/n’s, and there was simmering, small grin on his face. 

tokage, however, looked less intrigued. “he’s not your boyfriend.” 

y/n shrugged, already backing away. they spread their arms in a mockery of surrender. “he’s not yours, either.” 

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[suddencolds]

Untrustworthy | Genshin Impact

This is a 3k word commission for anon! (I admittedly wrote over the commissioned word count).

Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your kind message 😭This fic was surprisingly very challenging to write, so I’m sorry for the wait; I hope you enjoy! 

Requested prompt: 

I want Diluc completely miserable with a cold. As much mess as you're ok with. Still trying to function. Until Kaeya can't stand watching anymore and inserts himself as caregiver.

—

It’s subtle at first. Diluc turns away from making a drink to cough tightly into an elbow. Diluc’s gaze pulls uneven as he ducks forward with a barely stifled sneeze into a handkerchief he’s been keeping in his coat pocket. Diluc—when he thinks no one is watching—leans a bit too heavily against the countertop, bracing himself with one arm, and lifts the other hand to massage his temples. as if he’s attempting to drive away a headache that he’s had all afternoon.

It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya pays more attention than people give him credit for. It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya is aware that a cold has been making its rounds through the Knights, many of which frequent the tavern—one severe enough to prompt Jean to actually take a sick day, for once, one that seems especially severe this winter and—judging by the absences in his ranks this last week—difficult to avoid.

Diluc doesn’t fall ill often, Kaeya knows. Even now he barely looks unwell, save for the faint flush of his cheeks, the exhaustion disrupting his usually-perfect posture, the sneezes that he keeps stifling into almost-silence.

Either he’s at the start of his cold—before it’s had a chance to get really bad—or he’s putting in an inordinate amount of effort to hide it.

Kaeya suspects it might be both.

“Master Diluc,” he says, when Diluc conveniently stops by one of the tables next to him with drinks. “When does your shift end?”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffen, though he doesn’t turn around to address Kaeya properly. “Three hours from now.” he says, frowning. “if you intend to involve me in one of your late-night arrangements…”

“Oh? Not this time,“ Kaeya says. He lifts his wine to take a sip. “Even if I were, I think perhaps I would have reconsidered.”

“And why is that?”

Diluc says it flatly—unaffectedly—but he only has the luxury of keeping up that act for a few seconds before he’s ducking into his shoulder with a perfectly silenced stifle. It’s such a seamless performance, neatly contained and expertly quiet—really, Kaeya deems himself unworthy.

“Bless you,” he says, though Diluc scoffs, swipes the empty glasses from the table he’s serving, and starts off toward his usual spot behind the counter. “I do hope you are not falling ill, master Diluc.”

Diluc sets the glasses down on the countertop, diligently averting his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” At Diluc’s silence, he presses on. “Perhaps you should close up early, just in case. You look like you could use some rest.”

“No need,” Diluc says. “It’s just— “Hiih… hiIIH-nGK-t! Hiih… HIiIH…-!!.... hiIIh-GKt!” The sneezes snap him forward, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He straightens with an almost imperceptible shiver. “—just dust, snf. Perhaps the Knights would be more efficient if you put more time into work instead of investigating less…” Diluc looks to him at last, his jaw tightly set. “...pressing matters.”

“Ah.” Kaeya laughs. “So eager to get rid of me?”

“Your concern is unnecessary. I already intend to close up earlier than usual.”

That’s surprising, to say the least—Diluc usually never cancels plans to suit himself. “So you really aren’t feeling well,” Kaeya says, suddenly worried. If it’s so bad that even Diluc is closing up early...

He must not be doing a good job keeping the concern off his face, because Diluc just scoffs dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not that.” He coughs softly into his raised elbow. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Hmm, to think you said no late night excursions...”

“There’s a banquet tomorrow that I’m expected to attend.”

And yet he won't be closing up for another few hours. And yet he’s here, with the start of a cold, looking exhausted and unwell, and still—for reasons Kaeya can’t fathom—he intends to work late into the night and then spend the entire day tomorrow at some pretentious social event. Kaeya knows that having to entertain strangers is exhausting to Diluc even on regular occasions. He also knows that whatever Diluc is coming down with is unlikely to resolve itself in just a night’s rest.

“For the winery?” he asks. “My, such impressive dedication to the business… surely you can send Elzer on your behalf?”

Diluc’s shoulders tense in a way that suggests that he is as reluctant about attending as Kaeya expected. “I can’t. The host requested my presence.”

“At the very least,” Kaeya says, “You should close up a bit earlier.” He glances over his shoulder to peer through the first floor windows. It’s dark outside—too dark to come to any conclusions, but earlier today, the sky had been too heavy, the air prickling with humidity, the clouds overhead sprawling and dark. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get caught up in the rain.”

“The rain is of no consequence to me,” Diluc says, in the kind of tone that suggests that he doesn’t intend to close up early at all.

“Even with a cold?” “I don’t have a cold.”

Kaeya shrugs.  “Well, if you’re certain.” He pushes his mug forward so that it rests on the countertop, right within Diluc’s reach, and counts the mora out beside it. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

He turns on his heels. Years ago, he might’ve stayed longer. He might’ve insisted for Diluc to take care of himself and not left his side until he had.

But it’s been years. Diluc left, and Kaeya tried to muster up the pieces of himself that had existed independent of him—he’d taught himself how to lie, tricked himself into believing that the person he’d trusted most hadn’t left him—and now even though Diluc is back, sometimes it feels as if Kaeya barely knows him at all.

If Diluc won’t take care of himself, then that’s his prerogative. It’s stopped being Kaeya’s problem a long time ago.

—

Kaeya has every intention of leaving Diluc alone.

That is, until he’s at the Knights’ headquarters, listening in on a conversation that he doesn’t quite mean to eavesdrop on but hasn’t gone out of his way not to avoid.

“He keeps taking our work,” one of the Knights says. “It’s awful. Last time we spent all our time finding this one domain—Fatui territory, alright? We had a whole expedition team ready to scout out the domain the next day. Then the next day, we get there and the place is abandoned. Everything’s been scorched. Must’ve been a pyro user.” “How do you know it was him?”

“Trust me, you’d know. How many pyro visions are there in Teyvat? It’s like the legends say. He doesn’t leave any room unturned. He’s more thorough than a team of our men put together.”

“Gentlemen,” Kaeya says loudly, smiling when they startle and turn to look at him in synchronicity. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darknight Hero,” one of the knights offers haltingly. “Last night he took down one of the Fatui strongholds we were planning to deal with. Talk about an annoyance, huh?”

“Oh? How heroic. It seems he lives up to his title,” Kaeya says. His mind is reeling. Diluc? But last night, Diluc had been working late. He’d gone home right after, hadn’t he? It wouldn’t make sense for him to be out last night. Unless, of course...

He would really, really like to believe that Diluc’s self-preservation instincts are better than that.

“I’ve been saying,” says another knight. “We were supposed to be scouting out the area right now. Chances are, there will be nothing left there that’s of any use to us.”

“Seeing as we have nothing to do today,” the first knight says, his expression hardening, “maybe we can conduct a search party for the Darknight Hero instead. See what he has to say about withholding information from the Knights.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here,” Kaeya cuts in, before the other Knights have a chance to offer their assent. “It’s unlikely that the Darknight Hero would be out during the day, isn’t it? Rest assured, I’ll make sure that it’s looked into. In the meantime, have you asked the Acting Grandmaster for a new assignment?”

The knight in question falters. “No, but…”

Kaeya smiles pointedly at him—the kind of vicious smile that, around knights and strangers alike, never fails to intimidate. “Then perhaps you should get to it, don’t you think?”

He waits until he’s sure they’ll be busy with something else. Maybe they’re mistaken. Maybe Diluc had gone to scout out the area on some previous occasion, and the Knights are only now paying witness to his usual efficiency.

Or maybe Diluc has forgone a night of rest in lieu of playing hero to Mondstadt in the pouring rain. And now he’s at a banquet somewhere, with a miserable cold that he’s most likely intent on telling himself he doesn’t have.

It’s been awhile since Kaeya’s been to a banquet. He misses the alcohol, the music, the extravagant decorations. It’s easy enough to tell himself that that’s the reason why he’s going.

—

It’s not difficult to get in. Kaeya is well-acquainted with having to sweet talk his way into lowering someone’s defenses.

Inside the banquet hall, it’s crowded. It is as pretentious a setup as it gets—visitors wearing suits and ballroom gowns, walls adorned with streamers and gold plaques, tables laid out with refreshments of all sorts. The building it’s being held in has at least two floors and too many side rooms to count.

He spots Diluc from across the room—red hair is rare enough that he’s not easy to miss. Diluc is currently engaging in conversation with someone Kaeya hasn’t seen before.

It’s likely that Diluc has found the person who explicitly requested his presence—probably someone with a business deal that he thinks warrants a personal talk with the owner of Dawn Winery. If Kaeya interrupts Diluc while he’s negotiating some sort of once-in-a-lifetime deal, Diluc will never let him live it down. So instead, he grabs a drink as an excuse to get closer and stands a few tables away to listen in.

Up close, Diluc’s cold is practically impossible to miss. His clothes look freshly ironed, but his hair is still damp at the tips—he’s changed into dry clothes, then, but his wet hair seems to only confirm the hypothesis that he was, in fact, scouting out domains last night in the rain instead of getting a wink of sleep. Diluc has always been pale, but now there’s a flush high on his cheeks that Kaeya thinks could only be a result of an impending fever. He is standing with his arms crossed—a last attempt to keep warm, perhaps—with a handkerchief gripped loosely in one hand. Faint shivers break the line of his shoulders.

Kaeya feels a pang in his chest. Diluc looks…

Kaeya watches as Diluc twists away with a soft apology and a wrenching sneeze that snaps him forward at the waist.

...miserable.

“That was merely my expectation,” the man says. “Crepus and I were business partners, do you know that? You don’t seem like the type of person who would choose this profession. I am sure your priorities lie elsewhere.”

Diluc clears his throat. “I have no qualms against upholding the family business.” His voice—though usually smooth and mellifluous—has taken on a rough edge to it, as if from overuse.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” the man says. “I am sure you’re aware of your options, no? You could make a fortune selling off the winery if you so desired.”

“If you are...” Diluc starts, though his sentence is punctuated by a soft, desperate gasp, and he turns away just in time, ducking into his handkerchief. “hiIh…. Hiih… hiih’GKt—CHhiiew! Snf-!” His eyes stay shut in anticipation, the grip tightening around the handkerchief as his shoulders jerk with another sharp intake of breath.  “Hiih… Hiiih… Iiih’DZsshh-iu! haAHH’iIKTch-iIIew!” he sniffles wetly, barely suppressing a violent shiver.

“If you are here to gauge whether or not I intend to sell the winery, I can assure you that I do not,” he says, quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course, just a question.” The man leans forward, lowers his voice. “Truthfully, I am more interested in a partnership. It’s come to my attention that you have an excess of wine sitting in the winery’s cellars. If you can get me the amount of Dandelion Wine I need at a discounted price, I can sell it down in Liyue for a profit.”

“I have no interest in expanding the business any further,” Diluc says. “The excess will sell out easily in the spring when demand rises for Windblume.”

“I urge you to give it some consideration. Dandelion Wine is a specialty to Mondstadt. Think about the profitability of expanding to somewhere where dandelions are hard to come by,“ the man says. “You could stand to double or even triple the prices per bottle. I am only asking to take a fraction of your stock, see? Ten percent would be enough.”

He says it as if ten percent isn’t anything substantial, but Kaeya can’t help but think that there’s something wrong here—both with the presentation of the offer and with its suddenness. From here, Diluc’s expression is unreadable—it betrays only slight discomfort when he turns to the side, muffling harsh, forceful coughs into his suit sleeve, and murmurs a reflexive apology. No hesitation—not the slightest hint of wariness—even though the Diluc Kaeya remembers wouldn’t agree to raising prices so drastically without good reason.

“I can handle all transportation and deliver the profits to you in a few months,” the man presses on, interpreting Diluc’s untelling silence as interest. “My associates have done research on the market in Liyue and where it would be best to sell. You wouldn’t have to do anything differently from your end. All that I ask is for you to trust me with the first shipment and compensate me fairly after I handle the marketing and transportation.”

Diluc sniffles. “Forgive me,” he says, bracing himself with one hand against the table behind him as he ducks forward violently into a raised arm.  “hiIh’nGKT-chhiEW! HIih… I do n-not… hhH… Hiih-! hiIH’iiikT-CHhiew! Sdf-! Ugh… hiIIH’NGKT-CHhiew!” He leans slightly into his side, and though the gesture is well-disguised, Kaeya can tell just how much he’s bracing his weight on the table. It’s concerning, to say the least. Is he really too tired to stand upright? “...I do not expect to give out so much wine without a proper assessment of the risk. If you believe the model to be profitable, you are free to… t-to… hh-! to purchase…. hiIH… haAA’iiKTT-CHh!-u! hiIh’iiiTSSHhh’uh! snf-!” The congestion in his voice is evident in all of his consonants, and his gaze flickers down to his handkerchief in unspoken desperation, though Kaeya suspects he’s too polite to blow his nose in front of a business partner.

“...You are free to purchase wine at the same rate as I offer other corporate partners. I cannot - coughcough - I cannot offer such a large first-time shipment for free based on only an assumption that it will be successful.”

Kaeya can see the exact moment the smugness drops off of the man’s face. His eyes harden at Diluc’s hesitation, his practiced smile shifting into the approximation of a sneer.

“An assumption? You don’t trust my ability to see the operation through to the end?” He says, still in the same polite, haughty tone of his. “As a long-time associate of your father, I would have thought I would have earned your trust as well. Unless, of course, you simply don’t agree with Crepus’s assessments?”

Kaeya can see the way Diluc’s jaw tightens at the query. He clears his throat softly, though the brief wince that follows suggests that the action is far from painless.  

“His vision for the company is - snf - very important to me,” he says simply.

The man waves a flippant hand. “Or perhaps once he left, you decided you knew better? I mean, you have grown up so much, so I’m sure you feel more than capable of handling his affairs, regardless of whether or not you’re doing it his way. I don’t blame you.”

As the man turns around to pour himself a drink, Kaeya sees a flash of blue and gold tucked into his suit pocket. It takes him another moment to realize what it is.

A Fatui sergeant’s insignia—for identification purposes, or just a habit, likely.

This man isn’t a business partner of Crepus’s at all.

Now, the man wheels around, holding one drink in each hand. Alcohol, clearly—though it sparkles, faintly red. “Ah, well. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but your decisions are understandable. A friend of mine has been working on a drink that mixes certain Liyuen specialties and Dandelion Wine—would you give it a try?”

“I don’t drink,” Diluc says haltingly.

“Just a sip wouldn’t hurt,” the man says, raising an eyebrow. “If you are anything like Crepus, you must have developed quite the refined taste when it comes to wine. Perhaps you could speak for the quality?”

“I’m sorry,” Diluc says quietly. “I am… Hiih… f-feeling… hH…. hiIih’iIKT-chHIew! Sdf!... slightly under the weather.” Kaeya blinks at him, disbelieving. Such an outright admission is practically unheard of, when it comes to Diluc—but then again, it’s a convenient excuse, and Kaeya is not under the impression that he really knows him. Diluc lifts a hand to his face, sniffling hard. “I’m afraid I would not be able to taste it.”

“You state the obvious,” the man drawls, and Diluc’s shoulders hunch slightly as he turns his face away, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I recommended this drink. It’s made with Jueyun chilis. Should be good for clearing up a cold.”

“Is that so?” Diluc says, still frowning.

“Perhaps you could speak to its efficacy?”

Slowly—hesitantly—Diluc lifts the glass. The man watches him like a hawk—too eagerly, if anything. Kaeya presumes that he either wants Diluc poisoned or too intoxicated not to be swayed, and hauling home a Diluc who can’t hold his own sounds like more than he’s signed up for, so now would be a good time to interfere. Diluc can be mad at him later.

Kaeya, for all he’s attempted over the years, has plenty of practice making his entrances as obnoxiously showy as possible.

“My, my,” he says, striding in with a drink in hand to settle right next to Diluc. “The esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery.” Just for the way Diluc grimaces at the title, his eyebrows furrowing, he decides this intervention has been worth it. “And… who’s this?”

Diluc veers away from Kaeya to stifle—a soft, near-silent stifle that must be exhausting to suppress.

“A business partner,” the man answers through gritted teeth.

“Must be a busy job,” Kaeya says, snatching Diluc’s drink out of his hand and setting it down on the table behind him. “Given, of course, that you have two.” He takes an efficient step forward and swipes the insignia out of the so-called business partner’s pocket.

“I do wonder why the Fatui would be so interested in the Dawn Winery,” he says calmly, ignoring the man’s indignant yelp of protest. He turns the insignia over in his hands, contemplative. “Did you really think the owner of the largest wine business in Mondstadt would be so easy to scam?”

The sergeant swears. “You asshole—!”

Kaeya reaches for the sword tucked into his belt. He knows it wouldn’t be a fair fight, seeing that the man seems very much unarmed, but it’s as good as anything as a threat. “I don’t suppose you’ll try this again?” he says. “I can’t claim to be the best swordsman in Mondstadt—that title goes to the previous cavalry captain, but maybe tonight I can come in second.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh? Do you want to find out if I am?”

“No,” the agent says. “I wasn’t finished having my conversation.”

“Well, what a shame.” Kaeya doesn’t wait for him to think of a response. He takes Diluc’s arm and turns abruptly to haul Diluc towards the exit.

Diluc goes along easily enough. It’s only when they get outside that the frustration—from watching Diluc push himself, stubbornly, to this extent—boils over.

“Diluc,” he says, turning on his heels. “Really? After a late night shift at the tavern, your first thought was to forgo rest to spend all night scouting out a Fatui domain? In the rain, for that matter?”

Diluc turns away, his expression unchanging. “That’s not worth mentioning.”

“Perhaps you’d claim that attending a banquet directly afterwards is not worth mentioning, either? Your hair’s still wet. And that encounter with the Fatui sergeant—what’s gotten into you? Since when have you been so careless?”

He’s almost certain Diluc can hear the unspoken accusation behind it. This isn’t like you. Diluc is hasty—he has a tendency to overestimate himself and involve himself in situations he knows will be dangerous—but he isn’t careless.

“—I knew he wasn’t one of Crepus’s associates.” Diluc explains, with a soft, liquid sniffle. He turns away, lifting an arm to his face. “I would’ve - hhihH-!! - snf, I would’ve recognized him if he were, sdf.” his eyes drift shut; he buries his face into his suit sleeve, sniffling. “Crepus made it a point to… hiIh…-! hIIIh… to introduce him to everyone he - HIiIIih… sdf-!! ...Everyone he worked closely with.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya says, but it’s not enough. “Then why did you entertain him?”

Diluc is quiet for a moment. When Kaeya looks over, it’s to a dazed, bleary expression before he ducks harshly into his raised elbow with a forceful, “hiIh’nNGKT-chHIEw! hiIH’IITCHh-chhUU!! Snf-!”

He doesn’t lift his elbow from his face. “I w-wanted… snf-! more -  hiIh-!...information,” he says. “If I were to know more about what he was planning, it would make it easier for me to find any fraudulent - hiIih-!! Snf-! - transactions in the company’s history if I knew what to - hIih-hiIh’iIKTch-IIiu! Excuse me… snf-! -to look for.”

“Bless you. There are better ways to do that,” Kaeya says. “No need to do it when you’re evidently unwell.”

Diluc peeks out from behind his arm, which he still hasn’t lowered from his face. His face is flushed up to his ears—easy enough to dismiss as fever, though Kaeya knows that’s not all there is to it.

Diluc has always been embarrassed about admitting weakness. Kaeya sighs, fishes through his own pockets for a spare handkerchief.

“I have to say, Diluc,” he says, holding out the handkerchief — which Diluc accepts hurriedly, turning away to clean up whatever mess he’s made of his sleeve - “My weekends would be much less eventful -”

“hiiihh’GKTTt-CHh’yyew! snf-!”

“- if I could trust you to look after yourself,” Kaeya finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Bless you, by the way.”

“I know my limits,” Diluc says.

Kaeya huffs a sigh. “But you don’t honor them, do you?”

Diluc frowns, looking away. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t showed up.”

Kaeya stares at him. It’s half in disbelief, half in exasperation—but Diluc has always been like this, hasn’t he? Insistent on his own self-sufficiency. Hesitant to admit he might, in any way, be infallible.

I would’ve been fine.

“You always are,” he says finally, with a smile that he doesn’t mean.

If Diluc so diligently insists on refusing his help, perhaps Kaeya should take a hint. Mondstadt is a half hour away—less, if he hurries. He quickens his pace. It’s fortunate, he thinks, that the rain stopped early this morning, after—

Diluc grabs his arm.

Kaeya wheels around, suddenly worried that Diluc might be feeling much worse than he’d let on, but Diluc’s expression betrays nothing as he lowers his hand to his side.

“Thank you,” he says—a soft, private admission.

Kaeya clears his throat, waves a dismissive hand. “I assure you, I have plenty more handkerchiefs.”

“No,” Diluc says quietly, looking away. “Not just for that.”

[poguesofthebau]

paranoia

summary: meeting dylan einstein, a genius forensic scientist from indianapolis, musters up some unknown insecurities about your relationship with reid. however, morgan-- and reid, once he figures it out-- isn’t willing to let you think that way. warnings: mentions of bombings (as pertaining to the case)

word count: 3k pairing: spencer reid x female!bau!reader

a/n: set in season 10, episode 14, this one was requested by @koc-help! as per usual, it took me forever to write, so i hope you can forgive me for that and enjoy what i came up with!! 

bombing cases were stressful. it always seemed harder for you; figuring out a motive, pushing down the overwhelming sympathy for the victims, convincing yourself that all of your team members were safe. because of your unshakable paranoia in the wake of those cases, you were already on edge by the time the team was boarding the jet to indianapolis. and, of course, spencer caught on to the way you were feeling almost immediately.

with the limited information the team had at that point, conversation about the case was reasonably brief. the file was reviewed and discussed, and hotch delegated a role for everyone to take when the jet landed. when the conversation came to a lull, you slid out of your seat, tossing the manilla folder onto the leather before moving to the back of the jet to make a cup of coffee. jj and derek’s voices were audible as they continued to spitball off of each other, masking the sound of spencer approaching where you stood. “hey,” he called to you as he neared. having been enveloped in the chatter your other friends were creating, you jumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. when you looked up at him, his eyebrows were raised in concern at your reaction, immediately making you recoil into yourself. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathed, pulling the coffee pot out of its place to pour the liquid into your empty cup. “i’m fine.”

“that’s not very convincing, you know.” you turned to face him then, sighing and internally shaking the dread away. “what is it?”

“i’m not a huge fan of bombings,” you said sarcastically. spencer scoffed a laugh at that, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as you continued with a bit more seriousness. “just a little worried. it’s nothing, spence.”

“i’m not used to seeing you worried in this way. are you sure you’re okay? i mean, do you want to talk about it?”

the soft-spoken concern in spencer’s tone along with the expression he was looking at you with warmed your heart. if there was one thing that could take your mind off of a murderous bomber, it was spencer. your eyes flickered over to the rest of the team, making sure no one was paying any attention to you and your boyfriend huddled up in the back of the jet, before you leaned up and pressed your mouth to spencer’s. the kiss was quick, but it was also just the reassurance that you both needed. “i promise, i’ll tell you if i need to talk. for now, i just want to get this son of a bitch and go back home.”

being present for the disarming of the second bomb only worsened your initial paranoia. the thought of an explosive device made you anxious enough; having to stand your ground and comfort an intended victim while a bomb was armed less than a foot from you was a whole new feeling. you trusted morgan to clip a wire without killing you, but the adrenaline in the heat of the moment was hard to shake. it had been a few hours since the scene had unfolded, but you still felt like your heart could possibly jump out of your chest at any moment the morning after the disarming. despite the underlying terror running through your veins, you were critically analyzing everything going on around you. your focus was completely dedicated to the case unfolding around you, because the sooner you cracked it, the sooner your thinly veiled fear would dissipate.

you were digging around in the bed of the pickup truck while einstein, the local forensic scientist, examined the bomb itself. out of your peripherals you saw reid and morgan approaching, but the bulk of your energy was going into analyzing the scene as best you could. your boyfriend’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds as he neared, immediately gauging the nerves you were trying so hard to conceal. reid made a mental note to address that as soon as he could get you alone, but fought the urge to do so right then. spencer knew you well enough to know that, no matter how freaked out you currently were, your mind was concentrating on the scene before you, and anything else would simply be considered a distraction. he swallowed down the lump in his throat that formed at the thought of not being able to help you before tuning in to the comment einstein began to make. “he really went for a bigger boom this time.”

the short conversation that ensued between the two following that comment was something that shouldn’t have bothered you. you knew it meant nothing; reid wasn’t the only genius in the world who memorized excerpts from anarchy cookbooks or mathematical theories. just because some young, brilliant, beautiful girl knew the same book as spencer didn’t mean you had anything to worry about.

nonetheless, you became very worried about it.

you strolled around to the passenger side of the truck, sliding into the empty seat with a quizzical look on your face. “you know, it’s a wonder that he even realized he triggered the bomb.”

opening the driver’s side door as he spoke, reid slid into the truck next to you. “maybe he heard something when he stepped on the pedal.”

“and knew not to move? i mean, what’s this guy got, an ex-paramilitary background we don’t know about?”

the back and forth continued a few more times, and within a minute you and reid had developed the idea that allen archer, the bomb’s target, could potentially be your unsub. upon this conclusion, einstein spoke up again. “that’s what you guys do. you just talk a lot.” her voice was joking as the words left her lips, and a bright smile graced her face as she spoke. regardless of the playful tone you immediately identified, the words triggered something in you.

“well, there’s also a lot of kicking down doors involved,” morgan interjected from outside the passenger door, shaking you out of your internally-mortified state. you watched as einstein announced her departure then, mustering up a measly close-lipped smile in return to the courteous and friendly glance she offered you before leaving.

as she walked away, her words repeated in your mind. it was so simple for her to summarize; you just talk a lot. a woman so young and so intelligent had just condensed your entire career into a five-word sentence so simple that you couldn’t even disagree. was that truly all you were capable of? talking? bouncing ideas off of your coworkers’ ideas and hoping you’d end up catching the killer that way?

you spent the rest of the day arguing with yourself. in all honesty, your own inner monologue was starting to get on your nerves. despite your most sincere attempts to focus on the case in front of you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that  einstein was right. and maybe she was-- maybe your job was nothing compared to hers, and maybe she was a better match for spencer than you could ever dream of being.

this new uncertainty of your career and relationship definitely didn’t help to settle your previously established fear of being blown up at any given moment.

given the circumstances, it was only a matter of time until someone on your team noticed how uneasy you were steadily growing. they knew you. you were y/n-- sometimes stubborn, oftentimes overprotective, and always capable. sure, you had off days at work, just like everyone else. you weren’t always the one to solve the case, but you were always present and attentive, engaged in the investigation with your mind and body. however, right now, your mind was in two places at once. for that reason, you weren’t surprised in the slightest when morgan approached you at the station.

as you walked toward the conference room to find hotch, you were stopped by the familiar voice calling out. “hey, hold on little lady.”

“what’s up, morgan?”

morgan shook his head at that, a knowing look crossing his features as he began to speak. “nuh-uh. what up with you, y/l/n?” you threw him a falsely quizzical look, trying (and failing) to get him off your back by playing dumb. sadly for you, morgan was too good of a profiler and friend to fall for it. “don’t play with me, girl. i know cases like this always get to you a little, but i also know how badass you are. normally you would’ve bounced back from our brush with death by now, so what’s the problem?”

you squinted at him as your face morphed into dismay. of course you couldn’t fool morgan. your mind flickered to penelope, suddenly relating to one of her more commonly made complaints: damn profilers. “my first problem is that you might know me a little too well.” derek scoffed at that, waiting for you to continue. “my second problem? well, my second problem might be that i’m not smart enough, or maybe that spencer is too good for me, or maybe that our job is too easy, or maybe--”

“woah, woah, woah. slow your roll, little missy. ‘spencer is too good for me?’ where’s that coming from?” you blinked slowly in response, not quite willing to give up any more information than you already had. “fine-- i’ll figure it out myself. let’s see: you’ve been acting weird since we got this case, but that’s not what this is about. i’ve seen you on bombing cases before, and this ain’t that. so... oh, i know. is this about a forensic scientist, maybe? maybe one who has the same name as a very smart, very famous--”

“okay, morgan. i get it. you’re a great profiler, and you know my thoughts better than i do. that doesn’t really change the way i’m feeling right now.” your tone was a little sharp, but the look in your eyes was a mixture of sadness and contempt. “and, in case you needed me to put it simply, i’m feeling like shit.”

a look of pity overtook morgan for a moment. he knew what you were going through. sure, he wasn’t dating a genius with an iq of 187, but he knew how it felt to doubt yourself, and especially how it felt to feel belittled for your work. “y/n,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching a little to get on eye-level with you. “don’t do that to yourself, kid. don’t forget how hard what we do is, and how important it is. you save lives every day. no matter how you do it, or how much brainpower it takes, there are people all around this world who are alive because of your work. whether they admit it or not, everyone has respect for that. especially our resident pretty boy.”

“i know, morgan,” you sighed. his hands slid from your shoulders as you finally gave in, looking him straight in the eye as you spoke. “sometimes it just feels like he deserves better.”

“just because it feels that way doesn’t mean it’s true. and i can promise you, reid has never felt that way. not about you.” after giving a comforting pat on the arm to go along with his final words, morgan was walking away.

damn profilers, you thought again. why are we always right?

before you got the chance to speak with reid, the team was off again. instead of splitting up this time, you were simply spreading out; hotch and rossi were scouring the crowd of civilians and news crews at the staged ceremony for allen archer, and the rest of you were divided into two suvs with morgan and kate in one and you, jj, and spencer in the other. your talk with morgan had lifted your spirits a bit, but there was still a tightness in the air as you sat beside your seemingly clueless boyfriend.

unbeknownst to you, spencer wasn’t all that clueless. not only had he caught on to your behavior long before anyone else on the team, but he’d also spotted you and morgan’s secretive moment from across the police station. (and, yes, morgan may have whispered “check on your girl” to spencer when you weren’t paying attention. he just wanted to help.) so, while you thought he was in the dark about your current insecurities, reid was very much aware of what was going on in your head. as much as he hated it, though, he was hesitant to acknowledge it with jj in the backseat and the rest of the team on comms. so, like the considerate boyfriend he was, he waited.

it wasn’t until you got back to the police station that spencer got the chance to catch you alone. everyone else was busy preparing to leave for the jet, the bustle of having solved yet another case causing an uplifting distraction for the team. while your friends were distracted, spencer grabbed you by the hand and pulled you into a nearby empty conference room. the surprise on your face was evident when he looked at you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you laughed nervously at his expression, not completely sure what he had taken you aside for. “hi, spence. you okay?”

“i was actually going to ask you the same thing,” he admitted. “except, i already asked you that once during this case, and you weren’t very willing to share, so i was going to approach it in a more insistent way.” although you were amused by this mysterious behavior of his, you were still confused about what exactly spencer was implying that he knew. “did you really think i wouldn’t notice that you were upset?”

“no,” you said unconvincingly.

“y/n, why won’t you just talk to me?” the desperation in his voice almost shattered your heart. the whole time that you’d been in your own head, spencer had been in his. all because you were scared to talk to the one person you trusted more than anyone in the world.

“i’m sorry,” you breathed, taking a step toward him. spencer’s right hand slid around your waist once you got close enough, and your forehead dropped onto his chest as you sighed. when you looked back up to him, spencer was already anticipating eye contact. “i’m sorry i didn’t say anything. i just didn’t want to worry you, or to make you feel like you’d done anything wrong, because it’s not your fault, i just-- i don’t ever want to feel like i’m holding you back.”

“holding me back from what? you could never hold me back.”

“i could, though! you’re this amazingly brilliant genius, and there are so many people out there who are so much smarter than me, and i--”

“is that what this is about? you think you’re not smart?” you felt his hand tense from its place on your lower back, his disbelief clear in his voice.

“no, no-- i mean, i know i’m smart enough. but sometimes when we have cases like this we meet some really, really smart people, and i can’t help but wonder if you would be better off with someone on your intellectual level. someone like einstein.”

“y/n,” spencer seemed stunned at this revelation, and you realized then that morgan had been right. the idea of you not being enough had never crossed spencer’s mind. “you are the person that i’m better off with. you. i don’t-- i’ve never even thought of anyone else as a possibility since i met you. there isn’t anyone else. i mean, before i knew you, i wasn’t even sure that i believed in love at all. the only reason that i know it’s real now is because of you. i can’t think of any statistics of mathematical theories or scientific discoveries to explain or defend it, but i have always known that there isn’t anything for me aside from you. i mean that. no matter how smart anyone else is, or how cool anyone else is, or how compatible anyone else’s intellect is with mine. i love you, y/n.”

and, just like that, your fears were gone. your inner monologue went silent, and the serenity that spencer’s words brought you washed over your entire body. spencer’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. his free hand moved to the side of your face, brushing back your hair as he waited for you to reply. the anticipation on his face sent another rush of absolute love through you, and you quickly closed the gap between you. as your mouth met his, your hands found their way to the sides of his neck, slowly wrapping around until they were laced together behind his head. for what could’ve been an hour, you stood there, melting into spencer as his words of reassurance replaced the chants of uncertainty that had filled your head hours prior. you were forced to pull back from him eventually, but even then your hands remained around his neck and the distance between your faces was minimal as you reopened your eyes. “i love you.”

a knock on the door suddenly interrupted the moment, causing you to release each other as a third party entered the room: morgan. “hey, lovebirds,” he grinned. “nice to see that you’re back to normal. it’s time to head home.” you smiled knowingly at the man, lacing your fingers through reid’s as you followed morgan out of the room. grabbing your belongings on the way out, the three of you headed toward your designated suv, where jj was waiting patiently in the driver’s seat. “so, you finally confessed, huh?”

“of course i did,” you laughed. “no secrets in this relationship.”

“yeah, and i would’ve figured it out eventually anyway.” at spencer’s interjection, it was morgan’s turn to laugh.

“oh, yeah, 187?”

“he is a genius, you know,” you added smugly.

“well, apparently so am i, because i figured it out before he did. oh, and by the way, pretty girl, i told you.” and with that, morgan was jogging off (in a fit of giggles) to the suv, hopping in the passenger seat before you had a chance to jokingly scold him.

damn profilers.