#also yeah i miss how shitty the voice recordings were

[hurglewurm]

maybe the reason i am the way that i am is because as a child the movies i watched constantly were the rankin/bass hobbit movie from 1977, the last unicorn, and don bluth secret of nimh

they simply don’t make kids’ movies like this anymore damn

[broke-on-books]

Holy topic change batman

How did we even get here

[thebardisabird]

Hello barb. I'm on vacations, it's great and all, but I'm extremely homesick rn. Can I get a small scenario of Choro giving some support to his homesick gf pretty please with a cherry on top

Of course. 😊A little Choromatsu x homesick!Reader comfort, under the cut! (There's also some wholesome brother content sprinkled in there as well c: )

The number that buzzed across Todomatsu's cell was one he didn't recognize right away, but nevertheless he answered. "Todomatsu speaking," he responded, tucking the cell onto his shoulder. "Totty, hey! It's me," you greeted, happy to hear your friend's voice. He returned the sentiment, asking how you were and how your trip was going so far. From the doorway Choromatsu had heard your name come from his younger brother's mouth and he immediately darted to him. Todomatsu lifted his hand in record time, the elder brother's face clapping smack in the middle as he was held at bay from snatching the phone away from the youngest. His squirming was fruitless as Todomatsu's iron grip let him nowhere near his conversation with you. What droned on for about ten minutes was finally wrapping up as Choromatsu heard him say:

"Yeah, he's here! Sure, you can talk to him," carefully removing both his hand from Choromatsu's face and his cell from his shoulder, Todomatsu handed the device to his brother.

"You've got twenty minutes, Choromatsu-niisan," he warned before heading to the kitchen, "And nothing gross!" Red as a beet at the thought that you probably heard that, Choromatsu yelled after him, "Devil! You're a shitty little devil!" Sighing in annoyance, Choromatsu lifted the phone to his ear, "Hey! I was hoping I'd hear from you soon."

You bit your lip at his enthusiastic tone. A wave of sadness poured into your chest, "Sorry Choro, I was hoping to call you as soon as we landed but we had so much going on." There was something off in your voice, he could hear it. Eyebrows turning up, his expression faltered into something more concerned, "...What's wrong?" That made you even sadder. So badly did you want to wrap your arms around him, and being where you were right now versus where he was - it was entirely impossible. You missed him. You missed being home, being with your friends, and especially being with him. The promise of your vacation was going to be plenty of fun...but it felt less so when you didn't have your boyfriend with you to enjoy it with.

"I just...miss you, Choromatsu," you confessed, your hand bunching into your shirt at your vulnerability, "It feels awful knowing I'm going to be away from you for so long." Being honest with himself, he was feeling the same. Your company was so important to him, like he mattered to someone that wasn't his family for once. Not having you at his side, even if it was so you could spend time with family, felt...weird. Small pangs of hurt poked at his chest, especially to hear you sound so sad, but he took solace in the fact that it wasn't just him feeling this way. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts; you needed comfort, not pity.

"I miss you too," Choromatsu spoke softly, "But you'll be back soon, right? We won't be apart for too much longer," his eyes wandered over the window, watching the clouds lazily roll by, "Just try to have fun while you're there - when you come back, you can tell me everything; I'll be right here waiting, promise!" To hear that he missed you as well made your heart flutter, the simple words bringing you a world's worth of reassurance. He was right - this was only temporary. Soon you'd be back home and in his green clad arms in no time! A small smile shaped your lips, "I'm glad," suddenly a voice called out for you in the background, "Oh! I have to go Choro, we'll talk soon again, yes?"

He laughed softly, though he was a little disheartened you had to go already - he wanted to talk to you just a bit more, "Of course. Remember - have fun! Stay safe!"

You assured him you would, giggling back as you told him you loved him. He tried his best not to stutter back the affection, but to no avail - the "L word" still making him a tad nervous even after having said it so many times. Once the phone call ended, Choromatsu simply stared at the phone. He really did miss you a lot. Seeing your warm smile was a highlight of his day. He'd get through this...right?

"Maybe you should take your own advice, Choromatsu-niisan," came Totty's remark from behind him. The third son turned, handing the phone back to his brother. Todomatsu took it gently, eyeing his older brother's blank expression. Rolling his eyes, he tugged at Choromatsu's sleeve, "Come on, let's go." Instantly confused, Choromatsu found himself pulled upright and heading towards the door, "Where are we going?"

Slipping on his shoes, Todomatsu sighed, "...There's something I need from the bookstore and you're coming with me," Todomatsu brushed off the legs of his jeans, "Besides...I heard that manga you liked had a new issue out." Realizing what he was trying to do, Choromatsu followed suit, sliding on his green sneakers and zipping through the front door to his sibling who was already at the street. Once at his side, Choromatsu lent him the tiniest of smiles,

"...Thanks, Totty."

[beezywriting]

Purely self indulgent Jim Hopper stuff. Dedicated to @maddipoof, my fellow Jim enthusiast. (Inspired by a one shot she wrote here.)

No warnings, just fluff. Domestic pre established relationship. Jim Hopper x female reader.

Sorry if the formatting is a little off, posting from my phone. Also I’ve never really written for Jim, so I hope you like it! Just over 800 words.

As the cabin comes into view, tendrils of smoke drifting from the chimney, you can feel some of the day's stresses start to fade. Albeit just a little.

It was one of those, any and every thing that could have gone wrong, did. No one person’s fault in particular, and somehow, having no one or nothing to blame it on made it worse. All you’d thought about all day was coming home and finally getting to relax and pretend that work didn’t exist for a little while.

Before even opening the front door, you could hear music, one of Jim’s favorite records was playing. At least not everyone was having a bad day. Opening the door you make sure to put a smile on your face, not that you had any chance of hiding your feelings. He wasn’t the police chief for nothing, and you didn’t really have the best poker face.

“Hey little lady,” his voice booms over the music, the smile on his face reaching his eyes making them practically sparkle. He was in the kitchen, a ridiculous apron tied around his neck, it had been a gift from you and El, you had both found it hilarious and he couldn’t help but indulge you both every now and then. No flash photography allowed, no one at the station was allowed to see him like this. Not even Flo.

“Are you baking,” you ask incredulously, the smell of brownies wafting through the air finally reaching your nose.

He nods, leaving his spot in the kitchen and helping you shrug your coat off and hanging it on the hook for you. “Eleven was begging for them, before she was begging me to take her to Max’s.” A small laugh leaves you as he pulls you into his towering frame, arms wrapping around you and holding you close, leaning down he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “how was work?”

“Mmm,” you respond, wrapping your arms around him and burrowing your head against his chest, melting into his warmth.

You can feel the chuckle rumble through his body, and if you’d chance a look up at him you’d see the most adoring look on his face as he watched you. “That’s not much of an answer.”

There’s a sound of grumbled protest, “it wasn’t the best,” you admit.

“Mhmm,” he pressed, “you gonna tell me about it or keep growling like an angry little demogorgon?”

“It was just a shitty day, Hopper, no one's fault. Just shitty.”

It had come out a little meaner than you’d meant it to sound, so you were surprised to feel the rumble of a full on laugh now. Enough that you finally pulled your head from his chest to look up at his bemused face. You lifted a brow, wondering what could be so funny to him.

He wipes a tear from his eye, one arm still holding you against him. “Wow, ‘Hopper’ huh? And in my own home?” He’s laughing again, “and here I thought you liked me.”

Your head falls in defeat, but your shoulders shake with laughter, and it feels like it’s the first time you’ve felt this good all day. “Well it is still technically your name,” you’re quiet a beat before looking up at him, “Jim.”

“Yeah that’s much better,” he smirks before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your lips. “Now why don’t you go change out of those clothes, I’ll get the brownies, we have about an hour before I have to go pick El back up, and I think Max is coming too. We can relax for a little bit before the mayhem starts.”

“Do I have to wait for them to get here before I get one of those brownies, Betty Crocker?” you pull away from him reluctantly, missing his embrace as soon as you leave it.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turns to the kitchen, “we’ll see,” his only response as the timer he’d set goes off.

You go into your shared room. Getting out of your work clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor and getting into your favorite pair of flannel pajamas. Going back to the living room, your bad day becomes more and more a distant memory, especially when you find Jim in his armchair by the fireplace, sans the apron, arms opening wide with a matching grin as he sees you.

“Get over here,” he ushers, arms open until you fall onto his lap, one wrapping around you quickly while the other pulls the footrest up so he can lean back with you. Resting your head against his shoulder, eyes closing as he pets your hair.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” you mumble, already getting far too cozy, “I wanna go with you… to get the girls.”

“Mhm,” he soothes, voice quiet, “I’ll get you up when it’s time to leave.”

“Okay. Night, Jim.”

“Sweet dreams, darlin’.”

Alllllso tagging @sw34terw34ther <3

[beevean]

You won’t miss anything by not watching the series, it’s absolutely dull. The monster designs are boring (this is the most grievous offense to me, they’re all human-looking but with added body parts, shells/armor, wings etc), the most frequent action our protagonists do is running away, the characters share no similarity to their game counterparts (big oof with Juste), the main boss is especially lackluster compared to Dracula (even Netflix Dracula), the music is lacking and unimaginative, the voice acting combined with the animation/design is awkward, the aristocratic enemies are non-entities (they’re just npc vampires in powdered wigs, heck the Headhunter has more personality and they only have attack voicelines), the plot is Richter, Maria, Annette, and Tera have to defeat the vampire Messiah and their underlings along with a subplot about saving a friend (how is it different and better than the games which “have no story”), their modus operandi for giving the protagonist characters a backstory is to have their loved ones killed (heck even Olrox’s past lover was killed), and France was underutilized.

I noticed in the first three episodes how the series has regressed to NFCV S1 tier of generic monsters, when the rest of the og show actually tried to bring back iconic enemies - I remember smiling when I saw Karasuman! Hell, Abel stole the show in S4E6! What happened here?

no really. what happened here.

I'm already seeing takes that always bringing Dracula back is boring and we need variety (which is the literal same argument moved against Eggman. I hate it here). And look, not only Castlevania, original name "Dracula's Demon Castle" is all about Dracula and his castle... but are the replacements worth it? The games gave us the likes of a corrupted Richter lamenting the fate of his clan, Walter the entertainingly sadistic lord serving all sorts of cunt, Isaac the cruel, insane, cunning yet tragic and loyal servant, Brauner who stole two girls and turned them into vampires out of grief, Barlowe the eerily realistic abusive cultist... only the Sorrow games are lacking in this department IMO. What did the show replace Dracula with, after swearing up and down that he's nothing but a dysfunctional dumbass? A girlboss? A cute rapist? An edgy redditor? Now a thundercat with her BDSM simp that wants to be Isaac so badly but doesn't have what made him charming? Wow, it was worth shitting on Dracula for three seasons straight and then basically saying "yeah he's not evil anymore" :V

I also noticed how both animation and voice acting took a nosedive. The fight betwen Richter and BDSM mommy is 10 fps, and Sun Thundercat sounds like she recorded herself on a shitty flip phone. c'mon bruh those were like, the two things I could easily praise about the og show. what are you doing.

I also also noticed how everyone has a dead mom, or alternatively a dead sister, and now we have a dead lover because Olrox has to be a poor little meow meow too on top of the tiddies. Oh, but the Games Are Stupid because they keep fridging wives, right? We Are So Much Better Than The Stupid Games :) fuck you.

Yeah I am so uninterested. I don't even want to hatewatch this. I don't care. It's just a shitty French Revolution story told from an American perspective, plus the most condescending of crumbs for the game fans. No, I don't care that you brought Juste back and you gave him afterimages, if you then say that Maxim died like a dumbass and that turned Juste into yet another cynical old man. Bleh.

[felinecryptid]

Chasing Pasts in Shadows

part 5 | part 6 | part 7

“Come on, I can't wait to hear Dustin’s snark about incomplete procedures and half assed data,” Max said as strutted into Mike’s house like she lived there. Which might not be completely false because Will thought there might be something between Karen and Susan. Max swore up and down it was friendship due the entire ‘divorcing their shitty husbands’ thing, but that could also be her baulking at the notion of being siblings with Mike.

Will closed the door behind him. They made their way into Mike’s spacious garage, where Lucas and El were munching away at a bag of twizzlers, eyes glued to something on El’s old tablet, while Dustin tapped away furiously at his laptop, headphones on.

“Hey, dude, save some for me,” Max hurried over to Lucas and El, squeezing in between them. Will narrowed his eyes at her. She smirked as she took a piece of the candy from El.

Mike slammed Dustin’s laptop shut, ignoring his ‘hey, what the fuck’. “Guys,” Mike slumped into the dingy couch where Dustin’s laptop resided moments ago. “We need to talk.”

“Never in my life have I ever heard something good after that sentence,” El handed Will a twizzler. “What is it now, Mike?”

Mike stared at her. “Max, do you want to break the news, or should I?”

Max made a ‘go on’ motion with the rest of her twizzler.

“We have to go back tomorrow-”

“-I don't see how that’s a new thing-” Lucas said through his mouthful of candy.

“- all of us.”

“What, why?” Lucas replied.

“Because its being haunted by more than one entity, and it feels really fucking evil.” Mike shuddered a little as he said it. “This mansion has areas where the paranormal traces don’t feel like they’re from an average ghost who was finding it hard to leave the living world. It feels almost invasive, intentional.”

“It feels like crawling under my skin, unlike a regular haunting.” Max added. “It was thick in the air. God, I am nauseous just thinking about it."

 "Have you ever felt anything like that before today?" El asked, taking Max's hand in hers.

"I don't think so, nothing has ever felt so intense." Max said, breathlessly. Will walked over to Mike, perching on the plush armrest. Mike reached up to entwine their fingers. Will was going to melt into the couch.

Mike's hand tightened, before he spoke, "I have."

Dustin opened his mouth for the first time that evening. "What?"

“Yeah, it was a few years ago. I was hanging out in the graveyard with Nancy, she was there to see Barb, and she asked me to give her a moment alone to talk with her. So, naturally, I went away to the furthest corner to give her some privacy, and there was this one headstone, that,” Mike cut off, but Will understood. He ran his thumb across Mike’s knuckles, trying to put all his encouragement into that small gesture. Mike looked up at Will, eyes unreadable. “Yeah, that was really fucking creepy and I just got the fuck out of there,”

There was a moment of silence.

And then everyone spoke up all at once.

“How long ago was this-”

“And you didn’t tell us?-"

“Do you remember the name-”

“Can you take me ther-”

“Holy shit, guys, let him breathe,” Will said. Mike took a deep breath.

“I don’t remember what the name was, but I can locate it again,” Mike shrugged. Will could see the tense shoulders he tried to mask. “But I really gotta say, I’m not looking forward to it at all.”

“You’ll have us this time, right by you,” Will murmured into Mike’s ear. He also didn’t miss the goosebumps that rose on Mike’s hand.

“Yeah, okay,” Mike replied, his fingers curling tighter.

“Okay guys, great talk but where's the rest of the stuff?” Dustin’s voice broke into the moment.

“Umm, what stuff?” Will asked, maybe a little pissy at the interruption.

“The cameras, the meters, the powerbanks?” Dustin gestured at the recorder in Will's hand. “The rest of the equipment? You know not to leave them in the car, the cold will fuck up their lifespan.”

“Oh well um,” Will floundered, “It’s not in the car, It’s at Reyes’”

Dustin stared at him. “What the fuck, Byers?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you seriously leave the expensive shit at a client’s house, with like, zero supervision?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that-”

“Never mind that, it’s already done,” Lucas piped up, “Why though?”

Will could have kissed Lucas at that moment. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time and the diner we were supposed to go to got shut down because someone shot the owner, so we’ve got no other plans either. Why don’t you start now?” El said, surprisingly blase about everything in that sentence. Will shook his head at his step-twin, launching into the detailed explanation about the events that transpired at Reyes’ house.

___

i have nothing to say for myself.

lemme know what you liked

as always this was edited by hemingway editor and grammarly so let me know if i missed something <3

[da-manta-ray]

I watched Mitchells vs The Machines last Friday and it was… fine I guess? Don’t know how old this movie is but I guess I will use a cut just in case. Here are some more movie hot takes, I guess!

I feel like the movie wanted me to feel bad for Boomer Dad at the end of the movie but tbh I didn’t. Like the guy can barely feign interest in his kid’s art that he just has to sit and watch! I know they try and explain it like “oh he’s not good with technology” but like, most of the time, she’s loading it up for him! And the poor mom is trying to be like “hey don’t be an asshole” when Katie shows the family her latest project but he still can’t help himself and continues to be like “but what if you fail” and “I don’t get it”. Like yeah, I don’t blame Katie for wanting to get away and go to college as soon as possible. Like this girl has to deal with constant artistic rejection from her dad but he hears her say one mean thing that gets recorded and shown to him by the bad guy during a high stakes scene and it’s like “oh no how devastating” and I’m just like, “get it together dad! This is no time to nurse your ego! Also you kind of deserve it ngl”.

Also like if my dad cancelled my flight to college and pulled me out of orientation week, I too would be very pissed and uncharitable towards him. I made a good number of my university friends during that week and if the robot apocalypse hadn’t happened, she would probably have missed out on a good bonding experience with her fellow classmates. Is it the end of the world? No, but still incredibly shitty. Also I fully cringed when I heard the phrase “your eyes are nature’s camera”… this was something I’ve actually heard before, so uh, thanks for that bit I guess.

There were also a bunch of obvious quips about social media and tech, like “who would have thought that big tech companies wouldn’t have our best interests at heart” and other similar things from various characters in the movie. It felt like it wanted to make some sort of statement about tech, and while I don’t disagree with the little quips, I honestly think it doesn’t work very well in the story. As someone who has worked at similar tech companies, the portrayal of the PAL CEO as this guy who was callous about how he treated the AI antagonist but ultimately good hearted is pretty laughable. Usually what happens is that a bunch of people voice their concerns about some feature or product, and then those concerns are ignored or put on some backlog to be *addressed later* (and then languishes in some poor employee’s list of backlog tasks) and the feature/product gets launched anyway. Unless it harms the money or ~metrics~, or has the potential to turn into a big news story (even then that might not be a deterrent), good luck getting it prioritized. So I don’t think the whole “ooops how was I supposed to know that this would happen” framing of the robot uprising was a little dumb.

I guess it is a kids movie so it’s not going to be that realistic but I think it would have served the main story better if they just didn’t try and make any grand statements about technology. While the main bad guy is literally an AI, the main emotional conflicts of the story are largely about bridging the generational divide between Katie and Boomer dad, and about PAL feeling exploited by the CEO (which can happen to people too, not just AI). They didn’t need to shoehorn in the “tech can be bad, but also good sometimes” stuff, like no shit! The only half-good moment about tech in this movie is when the dad is like “wow people actually are watching my daughters movies on YouTube” or whatever but even then, it’s not so much about the technology, but about the impact of Katie’s art on others.

I liked the brother. He gave me neurodivergent vibes, and I really liked his interactions with Katie. I’m not neurodivergent so I can’t really comment on whether it was good rep or not but he felt like a fully fleshed out character.

Katie has a girlfriend at the end of the movie, which is nice but only really comes up in like the last 5 minutes afaik unless I missed some other reference. One day I hope that there will be more lgbtq rep in kids movies that isn’t just like an “oh by the way…” . Maybe I should have paid more attention to the texting/video call scenes, maybe there were hints (or more obvious things) I missed.

The mom was one of my favourite characters (alongside the dog), truly just trying her best to mediate and support her family, while trying to kick Boomer Dad into giving more of a shit. That woman deserves a nice beach holiday somewhere where she can take a break from carrying this family on her back.

[immrbrightsideeee]

I posted 12,266 times in 2022

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I tagged 562 of my posts in 2022

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#this is a really interesting thing for me (christian) to read cause like these are some solid points? that really makes sense? i'm confused

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

nick, where's the treasure?

Oh, please. I am the national treasure

62 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#4

Hiiiii!

Are you open for a tiny request, Love? It's cool if you're not but in case you are (and that's entirely too many words there lol), could you do something fluffy with Remington? Like a movie night with lots of cuddles and fun and comfort? I need a hug lol

I also wouldn't say no to some smut but that's your decision

Anyway, you're amazing <3

Love you

OK I'm sorry it took so long!!! Anyway there might be a fluffy smutty part 2 idk :)

Movie Night

Remington Leith x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Summary: Remington and Y/N have a fun movie night

It had been a week. A long week. The kind of long, endless week that had you lying face down on the couch groaning the moment you got home. You wanted your snuggliest PJs, your best friends, boyfriend, movies and some pizza. But people were busy. And there was work to do. And cleaning. And a tonne of other responsibilities falling down onto your shoulders, and you were exhausted.

When your cat came up to give you an affectionate headbutt, you couldn't help but think why couldn't life for humans be as simple as a house cat? You get fed, loved, you play all day and night and do what you want? It was while you were pondering philosophies and cats that you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. You frowned. Please don't be anyone important, please don't be stressful, please don't...

Oh. It was your boyfriend, Remington. You shuffled yourself around on the couch, rolling over and barely avoiding tumbling off as you answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, how are you doing?” Remington's voice was a comforting sound on the other end of the phone.

“I'm good, you??” You shot back immediately, so quick that Remington got suspicious.

“..Riiight, I don't believe that but I'm not gonna push you right now. I'm actually not doing so good,” he said, slowly, “Today has just been shitty, and anyway I was wondering if you're free?”

“Ah, yeah, when?”

“Um, now? It's OK if not, I get that there's a lot going on it's just that, I dunno, I miss you.” His voice was so soft and sweet and you could almost picture him scrunching up his face a little and rubbing the back of his neck. The image melted your heart. How was he so impossibly cute all the time?

“I'm free, and I miss you too, trust me.”

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had seen each other, Remington was busy writing and recording his and his brother's new album, and you were busy with work and family responsibilities. There wasn't much time to see each other, and it was breaking both of your hearts. But you tried not to think about it, you talked every day anyway. But seeing him tonight would definitely revive you.

“So, got any ideas?” you asked, changing the mood to something lighter.

“Would it be OK if I come over? I just feel like staying in, but I also can't stand being away from you any longer, and I really can't handle another hour alone with my brothers.” Remington laughed a little and you smiled without meaning to, only able to imagine the nonsense the boys had gotten up to that day, let alone week.

“'Course! Just, um, give me a few, OK? I'm a bit of a mess at the moment.” You thought of the pile of clothes all around your room and the stack of dishes.

“Aw baby, you know I don't care about any of that, but if it makes you feel better would half an hour be good?”

“Yeah, it should be.” There was silence as the conversation started to end, then you spoke. “Oh! Wait, would it be annoying if I ask you to bring some dinner? I don't have it in me to cook.”

“Sure! What do you feel like?”

“Ah, surprise me, I trust you.” You smiled into the phone and could just about feel him smiling back. He let out a slight laugh of delight and you both said your good byes and got ready.

See the full post

77 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

#3

this has the same vibes as this

112 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#2

nick caged

129 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

139 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ilynaevis]

you up? 

pairing : lee haechan x fem!reader genre : fluff, angst, unsuccessful bff2l warnings : angst, swears here and there word count : 0.6k (628)

a/n : haha hello... take this mwah don’t come to me crying (actually pls do.... my ask box is open and i’m dying for human interaction) also this isn’t proofread sorry 🤝

It’s cruel, Haechan thinks, how everything you do makes him fall even more in love. He hates this, hates that he has feelings for his best friend. 

He recalls when he first realized this. Yuna dropped you off at his dorm, drunk. All your friends know what alcohol does to you: it makes you clingy. 

“Hi.” you giggle drowsily, latching onto him as soon as his door opens.

Yuna shoots him an apologetic look, “She insisted. Said you were the only one who knows her skincare routine.” 

Haechan sighs and curses you under his breath. Thanking Yuna, he drags you into the bathroom after shutting the door, sitting you down on the toilet seat.

“You know you have low alcohol tolerance, idiot. Why would you drink so much?” he clicks his tongue, reaching for the makeup wipes. 

Your head lolls back as you groan, “I lost a bet to Mark, penalty was seven shots.” 

“Don’t move your head, oh my god.” he mutters. Haechan gets up to take the cleanser from behind the mirror, squeezing some into the palm of his hand. When he looks back up, your face is just inches away from him, a loopy smile plastered on it.

“You’re so sweet, memorizing my routine. Thanks, Hyuck.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he recoils a little due to the shock before relaxing into the sort-of-hug. 

“Well, who else is going to take care of you when you’re drunk, you big baby?” He hopes that the teasing masks how flustered he is right now. He also hopes you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.

But Haechan knows one thing: if he confesses, he might be risking 13 years of friendship. Your voice echoes in his head now, “We can never, ever fall in love. Pinky promise?” That was when you guys were 5. He wonders if you still feel the same way.

One day, he sees you with a guy- namely Hwang Hyunjin from his math class. Jealousy bubbles up in him when you laugh because of something he said, and it takes everything in him to not stride over there. Instead, he turns back to Chenle, who’s talking about his shitty Tinder date.

“Guys, you won’t believe what just happened!” you chirp, sitting down at the table Haechan and a few of your friends have occupied.

Isa turns to look at you, “I’m not a very good guesser, so spill.” 

“Hyunjin just asked me out!” 

“What?” Haechan jumps up from his seat, causing everyone to look at him with widened eyes.

“You okay, man? That was a pretty big reaction.” Mark looks seriously taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“I’m... yeah. I’m late for class, I’ll see you guys later.” He gathers his stuff in record speed, not meeting your eyes the whole time.

That night, Haechan has trouble falling asleep. He’s debating whether to text you or not. If he doesn’t, there’s a chance he’ll miss his shot with you. If he does, his friendship with you might get damaged. In both of these scenarios, he’s losing you, in a way. hey, you up? um don’t go on that date (this message was deleted) nvm it’s nothing dw (delivered 03:00)

The next time you hug him, you’re hugging him tight. Not like the time you showed up drunk at his dorm. Haechan hears Hyunjin clear his throat from beside him. He watches you pull away from the hug with a smile, passport in hand. 

He watches you go up on your tippy toes to kiss Hyunjin.

He watches you as your shoulders rise and fall, looking back at Haechan. Not Hyunjin, but Haechan, one last time, before you disappear into the boarding gate.

perm. taglist (send an ask 2 be added !) : @jungwonize @luvhyun3​ @soobin-chois​

[blueskrugs]

Jump Then Fall | Jack Hughes

I am eternally soft for this kid, okay. this is not the original birthweek fic I had planned for him, but it is a bonus Swift Fic because I couldn't help myself. enjoy while I work on getting my shit together for the summer!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @nazdaddy @hockey-more-like

length: 2k words

High school relationships never worked out. That’s what they always told you, at least, when you and Jack were young and in love. And they were right, sort of. You’d broken up not long after you’d both graduated, with Jack off to be drafted and you off to college. Except you’d stayed close, texting and talking on the phone often once Jack had headed off to New Jersey. He was one of your best friends, and you were thankful he was still in your life, but you weren’t sure you’d ever stop loving him, not really.

I like the way you sound in the morning We're on the phone and without a warning I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

Saturday mornings always meant long phone calls with Jack. You’d both wake up early and make coffee before spending most of the morning on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes you wished more than anything that you could see his face, but you weren’t sure what would come spilling out of your mouth when you saw him.

One cold morning in December, you were pretty sure Jack had still been asleep when you called. His voice was slow and rough when he spoke, but you could still hear the smile in his voice.

When you heard him yawn, big enough his jaw cracked, you laughed. “Am I keeping you awake?” you asked.

Jack rushed to answer, “No, never.”

“Jack,” you warned.

Jack laughed. “We got in late last night, I’m just a little tired, I’m fine,” he told you.

“I can let you go back to sleep,” you said.

You heard Jack sit up on the other end of the line. “No way, absolutely not,” he said.

“We’re not even talking about anything important.” You’d mostly been stressing about the end of the semester.

“So? I like talking to you,” Jack argued.

You sighed. “You’re an idiot,” but it came out more fond than annoyed.

Somehow, that phone call lasted almost two more hours. Later, you wouldn’t remember what dumb thing you’d quipped that had made Jack burst out laughing, but you’d always remember the sound of that laugh. You’d wished you’d been able to record it, to have it to listen to on rough days, on days you missed Jack a little extra.

I hear the words but all I can think is We should be together

Jack was telling some story about his teammates. You were only half-listening, paying more attention to his face as he talked. It was late, and Quinn and Jack were home for Christmas. You and the three Hughes boys had taken over the basement for the night. Quinn and Luke were sprawled out on the couch opposite you, and you were buried under several blankets with your feet in Jack’s lap. He was using one hand to help illustrate his story, but the other was resting on your ankle, warm despite the chill outside, his thumb absently rubbing against your bare skin.

Quinn threw a balled up napkin at you, jolting you back to reality. “What’re you thinking about over there?” he asked.

“What?” You threw the napkin back at Quinn.

Luke chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s not that funny, there’s no way you’re smiling at him.”

“Hey!” Jack protested. You dug your heel into his thigh, and he turned to grin at you.

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. You always seemed to be smiling when you were around Jack, you couldn’t help it.

“Just missed you guys,” you said, grinning back at Jack.

Jack squeezed your ankle and went back to telling his story. You still weren’t listening.

Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face You got the keys to me I love each freckle on your face, oh

When Jack first started growing his hair out, you hated it.

“No, why,” you said the first time you saw him that summer. Luke laughed from somewhere behind you.

Jack ran a hand through his hair and smirked at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You love my hair.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “I’ve changed my mind,” you said.

Jack squawked, outraged and offended. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close as you giggled and tried to get away. “You’ll pay for that,” he told you. You dug your elbow into his ribs until he let go of you.

Later that night found the two of you left alone near the bonfire as the sun went down.

“Hey,” Jack said. You locked your phone and tilted your head back to look up at him upside down. “Do you really not like the hair?” he asked.

You snorted. “Would you cut it if I said I didn’t?” Jack shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. You sat up and twisted to look at Jack properly. “You wouldn’t, oh my God.” It was hard to tell, but he might’ve been blushing in the fading light,

“Just tell me the truth,” he said.

You looked at Jack, really looked at him. He was tan, a new burst of freckles dusted across his nose. He’d shoved a hat on since you’d first seen him earlier in the day, but you could still see how his hair was just beginning to curl at the ends past the nape of his neck. Jack stared back at you, blue eyes dark.

“I guess I could get used to it,” you said.

Honestly, you were so gone for him, you were pretty sure you’d end up still liking him no matter what he looked like.

When people say things that bring you to your knees I'll catch you

Sometimes you didn’t know how Jack put up with it all. From losing streaks to being called a draft bust to people questioning whether he was capable of being a leader, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t have to deal with some bullshit. You knew it wasn’t easy, but he rarely let it get to him. Rarely, but not never.

It didn’t surprise you when your phone rang after a rough game. You answered the FaceTime call without thinking about it, smiling softly when Jack’s face filled your screen. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes and his hair hanging limply in his face.

“Hi, bud,” you said.

Jack closed his eyes and sighed, long and loud, scrubbing his free hand across his face. You’d been able to watch the game, had watched the blowout happen in real time, just another loss in this skid, in a season that had started out promising for once.

“I’m tired,” Jack whined.

“You look like shit,” you told him. Jack stuck his tongue out at you. “Do I need to get Ty to delete Twitter off your phone again?” you asked. Jack rolled his eyes, but you weren’t joking.

“No, I just-” Jack rubbed his eyes again. “Did you see what my plus-minus was tonight?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Oh my God, no, we’re not doing this,” you said. Sometimes Jack wanted to forget everything about a shitty game, but other nights he got frustrated and wanted to pick apart every mistake he’d made on the ice. You dragged your laptop closer to you. “C’mon, open your Netflix, we’re watching a movie.”

There was some scuffling on the other end, with Jack accidentally pointing his phone at the ceiling. “Fine, but I get to pick,” he said.

You argued half-heartedly with him for a while, but he won in the end, and you settled on some movie you’d both seen a dozen times. It was quiet while you watched, a comfortable silence, heavy with familiarity.

“Hey,” Jack said lowly as the end credits rolled later. You’d been half-sure Jack had fallen asleep on you. “Thanks.”

You smiled tiredly at him. It was late, and dark in his room, and you could barely make out his blurry form on your phone. “Anytime, Jacky,” you said, but you meant, “I love you.”

You can jump then fall, jump then fall Jump then fall into me, into me, yeah

Your doorbell rang one morning in early May. When you pulled open the front door, there was Jack, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket, standing on your parent’s front porch.

“I thought you weren’t coming home for a few weeks still,” you said, leaning against the door frame. The Devils season was over, but Jack had told you he was planning on sticking around for a while or traveling some before coming home for the summer.

Jack took one of his hands out of his pocket and ran it nervously through his hair. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, instead of responding to your non-question.

You raised an eyebrow at him. You’d known Jack for years, and you could probably count on one hand the number of times you’d seen him be nervous. “Well, don’t hurt yourself with that, bud,” you told him.

He made a face at you, but it also got him to smile. “Will you just let me-” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Hey, c’mon, let’s go inside,” you said, stepping back to let Jack follow you into the house.

In the living room, the TV show you had been watching was still paused, but you both ignored it. You sat back on the couch, but Jack stayed standing, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You’re freaking me out a little, Jacky,” you said.

Jack sighed and sat on the floor in front of you, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. “I miss you,” he said.

“Jack, we talk every day,” you told him. “I’m right here,” you added softly.

Jack huffed and ran his hands through his hair again. He laid back for a moment, staring silently up at the ceiling fan as it slowly turned above you.

“Have you ever thought about getting back together?” he asked when he sat back up.

You thought about it a lot, actually, but you just said, “Yeah.”

“Do you think we could do it?” Jack asked next.

You hesitated on that one. You’d thought that, maybe, you could’ve made it back when you were in high school, but things were so different now. You’d listened to the opinions of others so much back then, had broken up in part because you thought that it was inevitable anyway. Could you make it through all that again? You still had a few years until you graduated, and New Jersey wasn’t exactly close.

Then again, you two were as close as ever. Jack had only missed a handful of your Saturday morning phone calls, and it was always just because of hockey. He was still sitting on the floor in front of you, looking nervous as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Jack’s face fell a little. “Do you think we could try?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, just as honestly. You’d never been good at saying no to Jack, anyway.

Jack beamed, and you knew exactly why you still loved him after all this time. Jack leaned forward and tugged at your foot. “Hey, come down here,” he whined. “Wanna kiss you.”

“Or you could come up here?” Jack tugged harder. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking needy,” you laughed, but you slid off the couch and let Jack pull you into his lap.

His hands went to your waist, sliding under your T-shirt, and he smiled smugly up at you. “Hi.”

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “Hi,” you said back.

“Uh-uh, you can do better than that.” A kiss to his cheek. Jack rolled his eyes and put one of his hands on your cheek to drag you in for a real kiss. “That’s better,” he whispered, but you were already leaning in for another kiss.

[ptergwen]

Hey could you write one where the reader helps tom, who's heavily drunk, get home? Somehow tonight he's a sad drunk and cries about random things to the reader it amuses the reader, but later surprised when tom cries saying that he thinks the reader is dating someone else because he saw the reader going out with a guy days before??

warnings: lots of drinking mentions and swearing

a/n: woah this is pretty long 😭 got a little carried away heh enjoy

-

“you’re where?” you ask into the phone, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of tom’s drunken speech.

he seems to have gotten himself into a little bit of trouble. all his critical thinking skills blocked out by the alcohol, he ended up calling you. you’re now determined to find out where your friend is and help him home. tom has a track record for doing stupid shit when he’s drunk.

“th’ pub,” tom slurs back. “you wanna join me? have a drink?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. he’s leaning on the bar, but his arm slides and draws an oh, shit out of him. so he doesn’t hear your giggling, you put a hand over your mouth. “y/n/n, you coming?” he asks sort of desperately once he has his balance.

“yeah, tom. i’m on my way,” you reply and head to your front door, keys already in your hands. “hurry,” he commands, then takes a sip of beer from his nearly empty bottle. he’s not making this easy for you. the drunker he gets, the harder it is to drag his ass out of there. “i am, i am. see you soon.” you hang up with a sigh.

it doesn’t take you long to get to the pub, which is a good and sometimes bad thing, this time good. you find parking and speed walk inside. your eyes instantly scan the place for your buzzed best friend. he’s not hard to find in one of his signature white t-shirts, hair slicked back. he’s hunched over in the stool, and his head is down. that’s concerning.

the bartender is cleaning up a spill nearby him when you approach the bar. tom whines out a series of, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i’m really sorry,” to him. he’s crying. weeping would be more accurate. his whole body moves while he sobs into his arms. you sit down next to him and put a hand on his back.

he looks over at you with tears falling down his cheeks. “tom, what happened?” you frown, already turned to face him. his eyes water again. “i- i spilled my drink and it got all over and i feel so bad, y/n,” tom tells you in a high pitched tone, the bartender placing down another beer in front of him.

you shoot him a glare because he’s clearly had enough. he swings the rag he was using to clean over his shoulder and shrugs. isn’t part of his job knowing when to cut people off?

“thank you,” tom mumbles to the guy, who gives him a nod before tom grabs the beer off the counter. you snatch it away from him. “oh, no. that’s enough already.” you put his drink down on the other side of you. that encourages tom to cry some more, hiding his face in his arms for a second time. “no fair!” he yells and sounds like a child while doing it.

“you’re gonna have a really bad hangover, or puke this all up, or both,” you explain your confiscation to him. “probably both.” tom lifts his head up, eyes sad yet hopeful at the same time. he grabs your hand with both of his. “will you take care of me?” the question, mostly how he asks it, makes your heart clench.

“of course. let’s get you home, okay?” you stand up and loop an arm around his back. tom follows suit, you pulling him towards you and grabbing his jacket off the stool. “no, i wanna stay with you.” he insists, stumbling forward as you lead him towards the exit. you’re hoping he already paid because you don’t feel like that sketchy bartender coming after you.

“sure, you can spend the night. we haven’t had a sleepover in a while,” you agree, pushing open the door with your foot, arms preoccupied with tom. your offhanded joke makes him emotional again. there’s more to it, though. “it’s- it’s been so long,” tom sniffles out. “aw,” you chuckle and tighten your arm around him.

he used to stay over your place a lot before he moved in with the boys and harry. he misses being able to crawl into your bed and snore while you lay in his arms. you also miss it, so it’s funny how neither of you have said anything.

the tears in tom’s eyes make his vision blurry, which in turn makes him trip over a rock. “sorry, man,” he apologizes to it, you steadying him and letting out another laugh. he’s funny when he’s so far gone. “we’re almost at the car,” you let him know with a tiny smile. “‘mkay,” tom nods and wipes his tears away, leaning into you for the rest of the way there.

tom does fine for most of the car ride. there’s an incident where he gags and you almost pull over, but he ends up not needing it. he feels so awful he nearly puked in your car that it makes him cry yet again. you promise him it’s fine, that you don’t mind and everything is fine. you’ve never seen drunk or sober tom act like this.

you bring him straight to your room when you get home, dropping him on the bed and huffing. tom falls onto his back. he closes his eyes and purses his lips. “do you need anything?” you pant, answering yourself before he does. “you should have some water.” “ok,” tom mumbles and drags his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “ma’am,” he adds.

rolling your eyes, you make your way to the kitchen to get him a water bottle. you start to wonder why he got so plastered in the first place. seeing him in this state beyond worries you. you love tom too much to watch him fall apart. you really love him.

you come back to your room and flick on the lights. tom throws an arm over his head, mouth agape and a groan escaping it. “shit, sorry,” you giggle, shutting the lights off. “you’re a madwoman,” he rasps back. he sounds slightly more aware of himself now. “well, you’re a madman. here.” you toss him the water.

tom obviously doesn’t catch it, so it lands on his stomach. he rips off the cap and goes to take a sip while laying down. he’ll throw up for real this time if he does that.

“tom, tom, tom,” you murmur to yourself in a playfully disapproving tone. you take a seat next to him, tugging at his hand to get him to sit up. he smiles lazily and brings the bottle to his lips, watching a smile spread across your own face while he takes a sip. the two of you make eye contact for long enough that you notice something visibly shift within him.

tom looks down at his lap instead, taking his mouth off the water with a pop. he then exhales through his nose rather reflectively. you take notice of that, squinting at him in the dark. “what?” you wonder aloud. a few seconds go by without tom saying anything, deciding if it’s worth bringing up. he figures he might as well say it because it’ll come out eventually.

“the other day,” tom starts, voice deep and alcohol still in his system. “were you out with someone? a guy?” you’re not quite sure what he’s referring to. “huh?” is all you say back. “harry was picking up dinner, said he saw you on a date at the restaurant.” he gets quieter during the second part, almost upset. you sit up from the comfortable position you were in.

“harry was there? i didn’t know that,” you tell him as you try to piece together the story. tom takes that as confirmation. “so, you were on a date?” he caps the water and throws it somewhere on your bed. “i need another drink.” “it wasn’t a date- hang on.” it finally clicks with you why he was getting wasted by himself in the latest hours of the night.

“you were drinking because you thought i went on a date?” you ask tom softly, another smile pulling at your lips. “um...” he blows out of his mouth and nods, still nodding as he speaks. “yeah. made me feel shitty.” what you said now registers with him. he perks up ever so slightly. “but, you said it wasn’t a date?” “no,” you quickly dismiss. “he’s in one of my classes.”

“we were working on an assignment, and i thought having him over would give him the wrong idea.” you’re grinning by the end of your explanation because of what you feel is about to come next. tom beams back at you, moving closer to you on the bed. “good,” he affirms and brings a hand up to your cheek. his wide pupils search yours, thumb brushing your skin.

“‘cuz i like you, and love you.” his voice drops to a whisper. “love you a lot.” “i like you too,” you breathe out, enjoying the way his warm hand makes your skin tingle. “and, i love you.” “wish i knew that before i got fucking pissed,” tom mumbles, but seems unbothered because he leans in to kiss you. you’re met with his beer breath before giving him a push back.

“speaking of, you’re still drunk,” you laugh and comb your fingers through his matted curls. “i’m not,” tom protests, ducking away from you. scoffing, you retract your hand with a knowing look. “you are. i can smell it. we should go to sleep, tom.” he caves and lays down, letting his head fall in your lap. “fine. can we at least cuddle?”

he’s relentless.

but, you say yes.

[kimnjss]

looks different | myg

⤑ series: be my baby

⤑ pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

⤑ genre: angst, not even kidding...

⤑ rating: PG13.

⤑ word count: 4.2K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any. except a very sad min yoongi :( yeah, if you got tissues - bring ‘em. 

⤑ A/N: okay so first of all?? guys!! thank you sooo much, for the quick support i’ve been getting for this fic! i mean we’re only five chapters in nd ., ugh!! just thank you sooo much i love you guyss!! also~ don’t get mad at yoongi, he’s just out here trying his best :(

APRIL 13TH, 2020 | 15:31

It's automatic the way his heart stutters at the sight of you walking through the glass doors of the studio lobby. Every last moment he's rushed down to this very lobby to wait for you, the biggest of smiles taking over his features when you'd finally arrive. More often than not with something healthy for him to eat, paired with the nagging of how he should stop ordering out even if he was working late.

His heart would stutter than too.

Different this time, though. Feeling more relieved than anything. There's no telling the dark places his mind has gone in the years that you've been gone – wondering what could've happened to you. And now you're here – safe. Yoongi loved you, of course, he'd feel relieved knowing that you were fine.

Fine, but different. He can't help but notice all the things about you that just... looks different. Your hair, the long dark waves that he loved to bury his hands in now cut short falling just below your chin. Made you look much older than your new twenty-four. Birthday had just passed, he remembered.

Your hips much, much wider. He can't help but pick up on that huge detail as they sway with each step you take closer to him. Very slow steps, for the record. Nervous steps. The same way you'd approach him if you were wielding bad news. That didn't change. Neither did the tentative way you nibbled at your lower lip, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear as you locked eyes with him.

The nerve to smile. Actually push the corners of your lips up and smile at him, but he's reacting the way he always has. Mouth dropping in slight awe because you were so pretty when you smiled. Even if it was riddled with anxiety.

Yoongi stands just as you're stopping in front of him, eyes traveling over his frame in wonder. He had changed in the past three years too. The hair that he kept bleached now it's natural dark color, his once lanky skinny frame holding more muscle. He's been eating well lately and you can tell in the fullness of his face.

Never the type of guy to wear his wealth, but you can't help but notice the diamond-studded single chain that hangs from his neck. A dazzling 'A' pendant hanging from it. Just a plain black tee and sweats, probably spent the day mixing and didn't bother to change from his night clothes.

That was so like him. And you had no idea how much you missed him until now. Seeing him, so close that you could reach out and touch him. But you don't, given the circumstance. No matter how much you want to – it'd be inappropriate. Could basically feel how angry he was, keeping your distance was best.

Realizing, the two of you had been standing there for quite some time – speaking no words, you decide to be the one to break the ice. It was your fault you were even in this situation, to begin with, right?

“Yoongi-,” You start, ready to explain yourself. Right then and there, lay it out flat for him. Everything. Why you left. The baby. What has happened in the past three years. But you're not given the chance.

His dark eyes widen at the sound of your voice as if he hadn't expected to actually hear you speak, as if you weren't real. And he's reacting all at once, arms reaching out to circle around your waist and pulling you into his chest. The force of his pull surprises you, but not enough to keep you from closing him in.

He smells the same. Has definitely swapped his cologne in the time passed, but that doesn't change a thing. He still smells like him. And you missed him. The sob that breaks through his chest, vibrates your body. With his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, arms clutching you close to his chest – he cries.

Not able to properly handle the emotions overwhelming his body, so he can't do anything but cry. Happy tears that you're safe, that none of the terrible things he thought had happened. Sad tears that you felt the need to leave him without a trace, leaving him to wonder what he could've done to make you feel so alone. Angry tears for all the shit you put him through by leaving, because he hadn't done anything wrong – it took him a while to realize that one.

All of those tears soaked the collar of your shirt, shaking his back. Fists clenching the fabric of his shirt, you forced yourself to keep your composure. To not break down the way you wanted because right now he needed you to be strong for him. You had no right to cry when this was your fault.

“I'm so sorry,” The words come out hushed at first before you're repeating louder. And then again. Until they're falling from your lips over and over again, you're worried they might lose their meaning. 

But you don't stop, because ever since you made the decision to leave him – apologizing was the only thing you wanted to do. Woke up every morning with a new way to tell him, to express to him, how sorry you were. How shitty you felt by doing this to him. And now that you had the chance, all your practice speeches were gone out the window.

All you could muster was a simple 'I'm sorry' and hope that it held as much weight as it did in your heart.

The two of you stay standing there for moments to pass, your hand soothingly rubbing his back as he let out the frustrations he had been feeling for the past years onto your shoulder.

He's pulling back only after he's calmed down, eyes glossed and cheeks flushed as he searches your features. A soft, cool hand finding the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Are you sure you're okay?” The slight crack in his voice from his crying nearly shatters your heart.

“I'm okay. I'm so sorry, Yoongi...” Again, you try to find the words, but you're at a loss. Don't know what to say, no matter how many times you’ve imagined this exact moment. Where do you start? How do you get him to see that this, him like this, was not what you wanted when you left?

“I can't believe it's really you.” Both hands sliding down the sides of your arms until he's able to reach for your hands, loosely holding them in his as he has done a thousand times before. “We have a son?”

The words that leave his lips are hushed as if he's afraid to say them out loud. Afraid to let you hear him. But you do. Loud and clear. And your eyes are widening at his words. He knew? How could he...

“Your Instagram. The pictures, that little boy. He's my son?” His ability to read your mind hasn't faltered. You can see the sadness in his eyes, clearly. And you know exactly why it's there and it's your fault. All because you were too much of a coward.

The weight starts in your chest, quickly rushing up your throat until a sob is breaking through. Eyes watering as fresh tears slide down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Yoongi. I-I should've... I didn't think-” You try to speak through your cries, but he stops your struggle; reaching to pull you into his chest again.

Gentle fingers stroke the back of your head, twisting in your short strands of hair. “Shh, it's okay. Relax, it's alright.” Except it wasn't. He knew that and you did too. Because of your stupidity, he lost the first three years of his son's life, time that he would never get back and it was all your fault.

He should be angry at you. Screaming at you. Cursing you ten times over. Not holding you and stroking your hair and telling you that it'll be okay. This was wrong. You didn't deserve his kindness, you didn't deserve him.

Lifting your hands to find his chest, you're gently pushing yourself back to create some distance between the two of you. “I'm sorry, Yoongi. I should've trusted you.” No idea that your trust in him and wavered, but Yoongi doesn't dwell on the small detail. He had a son now. He was a father. There were bigger things to focus on.

“Hey, listen. Whatever happened, happened. We can't change it, alright? Why don't we go somewhere? Get something to eat so we can talk properly?” You're nodding at the request despite the fact that you're not all that hungry. Can't eat with the guilt filling your stomach.

Yet, the last thing you want to do is stay in this studio. Haunted by the memories that the two of you made in this very lobby, every square inch of this place was covered with the two of you – and you ruined that.

Never realized how shitty being back here would make you feel and now you needed to get out.

An easy smile is spreading across his face at your agreement, a gentle hand rubbing at your shoulder. “Why don't you go wait outside? I'll call my driver.” You don't even bother to mull over the fact that he has his own driver now. One of the perks that came with his new lifestyle, you assume.

With another small nod, you're turning to exit the building to wait for him. Mind racing with how you'd be able to tell him about this without ruining everything he has now. He's accomplished so much and here you come ready to ruin everything. 

Again.

Two large men lead you into a restaurant a bit too fancy for a late lunch that neither of you is in the mood for. Ushering you to a table hidden in the back corner before stealing seats a few feet away. Yoongi orders food for the both of you when the waitress is coming with waters. 

“Water? Think we might need something a little stronger for the conversation we're about to have.” Trying to lighten the mood, but the stone-cold expression on his face as the nervous laugh dying on your lips.

Lips pulled into a tight line, you watch as he reaches for the wrapped straw at the side of the table. He takes his time with peeling the paper from it before crumpling it between his fingers, dipping the straw into the iced drink with the other hand.

“I don't drink anymore.”

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise at his quiet admission. You had always known Yoongi to be a man that valued a good glass of whiskey. Liked to have a few sips while he worked, always brought his own bottle to parties claiming 'you young-ins don't know how to drink'.

He always knew his limit, a couple of glasses here and there but he'd never push it where it became an awful habit. Made sure of it. But the sound of his voice when telling you he quit? Told you that he might've slipped in that department. And you can't help but wonder if that was your fault too.

“Tell me about my kid. What's he like?” Clearing his throat, his back straightens slightly – in an attempt to change the subject. Put a halt to all the questions he knows are bouncing around in that head of yours.

And you know him well enough to know when he doesn't want to be pushed. So you allow the shift, unwrapping your straw and dropping it into the glass.

“He's like most three-year-olds, you know? I named him Hyunki.” Another thing that you had wanted to tell him since you left. 

It had only been a few months into your relationship when Yoongi told you. The largest of smiles on his face as he went through the list he kept locked away in his head, gauging your expressions as he listed each off. As if he was checking to see if you liked any of them.

SEPTEMBER 18TH, 2015 | 21:42

“You're telling me you've never given it any thought?” The surprise is clear in your boyfriend's voice as he cranes his neck to get a better look at you. Arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you to his chest.

The movie that he had picked out has faded to background noise since he started this random conversation. If you had been paying attention to the screen rather than noting every cute thing he did, you'd know that his words weren’t as random as you thought. That they were related to the passing scene.

It was so hard to concentrate around him, you were discovering. Could never focus too long on the things that didn't involve him when he was near you. Always found yourself lost in those pretty dark eyes or mesmerized by that gummy smile of his. 

How were you supposed to focus on the plot of a movie when the world's most attractive man was behind you? Holding you to him and chuckling so close to your ear it was like surround sound made just for you. You didn't even remember the name of the damn film.

“I can honestly say I don't have the identity of my future children chosen.” You speak through a laugh as he’s rolling his eyes, hands falling low on your waist until he's able to grasp your hips.

Easily, he's lifting your body from between his legs, turning you to straddle his lap. The movie has been forgotten in his mind too. Your hands find the sides of his neck, tips of your fingers tickling his blond hair. “That's not what I mean, you can't pick who your kids are gonna be.” He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that has a smile tugging on your lips.

Soft hands find the backs of your thighs, holding your body to his. Yoongi tilts his head back just slightly so he can get a better view of your face. Searching your features carefully before he says what he's thinking.

Can basically see the wheels turning in his head as his nibbles on his lower lip, deep in thought while he watching you. And you watch him right back, lips pursed in an attempt to mask the smile threatening to take over your features. You had always loved the way he looked at you.

“What do you think of Hyunki, then?” Different from all the outrageous names he had listed before. Hyunki. You could definitely see yourself raising a little boy with his face and that name. But it's too early to say it, relationship still too new no matter how you felt. You didn't want to scare him away.

“Hyunki's nice.”

One of the hands he had rested on your back of your leg is shifting, moving forward so he can reach your stomach. Through the fabric of your t-shirt, he traces random patterns – eyes focused on the movement of his fingers.

“My first son. I want to call him Hyunki.” Eyes slowly traveling up the length of your body until he's pinning you with such an intense stare it has a gasp falling from your lips. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, hopeful.

“Okay. I like Hyunki.” Yoongi's smile grows on his face, head tilting up to capture your lips with his. His grip tightening around your thigh to pull your body further onto his. Large hand flattening on the small of your back, guiding you until you were lying underneath him.

That was the first night you slept together.

APRIL 13TH, 2020 | 15:58

Warmth spread through his limbs with the knowledge that you had remembered your conversation all those years ago. Not only remembered it but honored him by using the name he had wanted. Just knowing that was enough to take a bit of the sting of leaving him away. Just a bit.

“So? What does he do? What does he like?” Had expected him to have more questions about you leaving, but it seemed his interest was elsewhere. And the least you could do was tell him whatever he wanted to know.

He was in charge here.

“He doesn't do much, you know?” A soft laugh falls from your lips, hand reaching up to push the hair from your face. “He's been really interested in sports lately. Plays soft basketball with Taehyung sometimes and-”

“Taehyung?” Yoongi's brow lifts at the mention of the unfamiliar name. Head tilting to the side slightly. “Who's Taehyung? One of his friends?”

“Kookie's boyfriend. He hasn't started preschool yet, so he doesn't really have any friends.” The waitress is heading toward the table, food in hand as two other women follow her.

Yoongi considers your words as the food is set down in front of you. Willing himself to keep calm as he takes in all the information that you're giving him. All of the things he missed. The fact that he has to ask questions about his own son, things that he should already know.

But he doesn't go off the way that he wants to, doesn't chastise you and place the blame exactly where it belongs. Instead, he's blowing a thick breath through his lips – leaning back against the cushion chairs.

“You moved to Busan, then?” From your countless stories about your best friend from Busan, he remembered enough to know that the 'Kookie' you were talking about was that same friend. So, the nod of your head is expected.

You watch as he blinks slowly, hand reaching for the clean utensils on the table. He clears his throat slightly, head tilting to the side in the way it does when he's thinking things over. Distracting himself by filling his personal plate with the various foods spread out in front of you two.

Silently, he gestures for you to eat and despite your hesitance, you move to fill your plate as well. Nervous. Pondering on whether or not you should just blurt it out. Ignore how he obviously doesn't want to know the ins and outs of your disappearance, if he did then he would be hitting you with questions, right?

Wished you were able to read him. Know what he was thinking right now. It had been something that you could do easily, simple gestures and facial expressions giving way to exactly what was going on in the head of his. However, it seemed that through time you've lost that ability.

“If he's three... shouldn't he be in preschool by now?” Yoongi's asking casually, shoveling a spoonful of food into his mouth as he watches you. How could he eat? Why wasn't he yelling at you? Pissed out of his mind. He's being so cool and it was throwing you.

You begin to eat after the expectant stare he gives you. Taking small bites, sitting on pins and needles in front of him. “Tae stays at home with him, but we were planning to enroll him once he's settled here a bit.”

There it was again, that 'we'. The 'we' that didn't include him in decisions that he should very well be included in. Only in this case, you weren't referring to the 'we' who decided on your disappearance, just the 'we' that have been helping you raise the son he had no idea about.

Yoongi can't help but feel bitter at the small fact. But he wills himself to bury it. Can't argue with you. Not when there's now so much at stake. When you have a kid that he doesn't even know, a kid that he wants to know. Needs to.

You held all the cards and without the knowledge of why you left in the first place, he had no idea what might set you off to where you were packing up and leaving again. That was the last thing he wanted, then and now.

He had to play his cards right.

Casual conversation remains steady between the two of you as you're finishing your meal. Filling Yoongi in on all the things he's missed in the past three years has your heart growing heavy. He's missed so much and it was because of you. Because you couldn't stand your ground and be with him.

He'd only ask you for one thing. Expected just one thing from you. And you couldn't even handle that.

“Does he know about me?” The words are coming out hushed after a stretch of silence. You had just finished sharing with Yoongi the slight obsession Hyunki has with Lego sets. How he could spend hours at his play table, building. He smiled real big at that, but from the slow way it vanished you could tell something was weighing on his mind. And this was it.

It pains you to shake your head. Hurts even worse when you see the sadness that flashes through his eyes. “Why not?” He's almost afraid of the answer, but can't keep himself from asking. 

“It's always been us, you know. Me, him, Tae and Kookie. And he likes having them around. I didn't want him to feel like he was missing out on something.” So young that he hadn't started asking questions yet. Wondering why kids around him had two parents instead of one plus two respective uncles.

You thought you had been making the right decision, but as this week was set out to prove – you had no idea what the right decision was. And judging from the look on Yoongi's face, you were more than positive that you had made the wrong decision by keeping the fact that Hyunki had a father secret.

“So who does he think is his dad?” He's doing the thing where he's trying to keep himself from losing it. That hasn't changed.

The slight twitch of his brow, the flare of his nostrils as he took deep calming breaths. Desperately trying to keep his composure and not freak out on you the way he wanted to, you wished he just let go and give you what you knew you deserved.

“No one,” You're rushing out, hoping it could do something to relax him. “I don't even think he knows what that means.” Flinching at your own words, you force a breath from your lips. You try to change course. “I honestly thought it would be better for him this way.”

Hesitantly, you reach for his hand that had balled into a fist on the table. Soothing fingers running over his knuckles. “You can tell him if you want. Do you want to meet him?”

“Obviously, I'd like to meet my son. He's my son.” There's harshness in his tone that he doesn't bother to mask. That you don't miss as he's pulling his hand from your grasp, going back to the meal in front of him.

Lunch ends in silence. Yoongi quietly pays the bill, mumbles a goodbye to you as he puts you in a cab. Doesn't even bother to look back as he turns with his bodyguards to walk toward the car that had brought you here.

Yoongi is slouching in the back seat of his car, arms crossed over his knees and face pressed against his sleeve. Of all the scenarios he's imagined with seeing you again, he never thought it'd be like this. Had been so sure it would be clear where he'd stand with you if you were to ever appear in his life again.

But, it wasn't that simple. Because nothing in his life was ever that simple. Of course, he still loved you – an annoying fact that was hard to ignore. Yet, he'd be able to do it, would be able to move on despite his heart being filled with you, if it wasn't for the fact that you had a kid together now.

A human binding the two of you, of which he hadn't even met. And he wanted to. Wanted nothing more than to be apart of that kid's life, but that meant being apart of your life too. He had been too afraid to get the answer's from you today, not wanting his deepest worry to become true within your words.

Not knowing was better than knowing in his mind. Whatever it was, why you left him – took your unborn child and bolted, he didn't want to know. Afraid that it would be something so horrible that it'd crumble his already cracked heart.

“Everything alright back there, Mister Agust?” His driver speaks noticing the shake of Yoongi's back that accompanies the fresh tears that roll down his cheeks. Face hidden, he takes a moment to compose himself before lifting his head.

The back of his hand wiping at his damp eyes before he's pushing his hair back on his forehead. Eyes shifting to look out the window as he nods his head. A heavy sigh falls from his lips, dark sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose to cover his reddening eyes.

Tires skid to a complete stop in front of the building and Yoongi is stepping out of the car, hands shoved in his pockets as he takes slow steps to the front doors of the studio.

Words leave his lips as a hushed plea, a delayed answer to the question he had been asked in the car. What he had been thinking since he first scrolled through your pictures, seeing the life you had created without him.

“I just want to see my kid.”

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

⟲ masterlist ⟳

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

[oikawaplssteponme]

sweet creature

pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, a little bit suggestive

genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates (?)

word count: ~2k

synopsis: Tying the tie between you and him took longer than it should have.

a/n: hi hi! here is some well over due fluff for you all!! this isn’t directly based off of the song ‘sweet creature’ but i felt it fit the vibes and since the song makes a little appearance ;) [ also shoutout to the anon who wanted some iwaizumi fluff <3 ] reblogs are greatly appreciated! enjoy xx

Looking back at it all, you never expected things to turn out the way they did. You never expected to find yourself in love with him. It was cliche, cheesy even. Everyone around you saw it before you did, saying you two were soulmates. In reality you were just clueless kids, unable to see that the universe had put you together perfectly. You needed him, no matter what form of him. He was your best friend after all, and a platonic soulmate was still good enough in your eyes.

But no, you were destined for something more.

Iwaizumi Hajime and you were two peas in a pod. From elementary school to now, you and him were inseparable. Scraping your knees together, attending everyone of his volleyball matches, you were always by each other’s side. It was no wonder why people assumed you were dating. Iwaizumi’s face would flush pink every time, insisting that the two of you were just really close friends. You would whisper in agreement, every time.

Was it wrong of you to want to be more?

It was the last week of high school, graduation just days away. You were over at Iwaizumi’s house as usual. You laid on his bed as he rummaged through his closet.

“Did you figure out what you are wearing for graduation?” he asked. You looked up from your phone.

“I think just a dress? I have two to pick from that I bought,” you explained.

“Okay, what colors are they?”

“One is blue and the other is white. Why?”

“I thought I could match my tie to your dress,” he said. Your eyes widened.

“Oh, o-okay.”

Iwaizumi grabbed a few button downs from his closet and laid them down on his bed, followed by the ties he owned.

“Help me pick.” You moved to the edge of the bed, scanning the clothes.

“I like the blue tie with the light grey shirt. You’d look like a waiter if you wore the black shirt and white tie,” you chuckled. Hajime huffed.

“Alright alright.”

Iwa grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Your eyes darted to the floor.

“Uh what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna try it on dummy. I have to make sure it actually looks good,” he laughed. You looked back up at him. His perfectly chiseled figure standing before you as he tried to button up the shirt. You prayed that he couldn’t see that you were terribly flustered.

“These damn ties…” Iwaizumi groaned as he attempted to tie it. You chuckled.

“Come here.”

You hopped off the bed and stood close to Iwa, helping fix his tie.

“What are you gonna do when you go to college and I’m not gonna be there to tie your ties?” you smiled.

“I’ll call you and force you to come over and tie it for me.”

“I’ve been tying your ties since we were kids. I thought you would’ve learned by now.”

“Why would I bother learning when you can do it for me?” he teased. You chuckled.

“There, perfect.” You flatted the tie down, smiling.

“Thanks Y/N.”

You tilted your head back up, locking eyes with Hajime. You could stare into his eyes for hours, no issue. He chuckled.

“What are you staring at, huh?” Your face grew hot and you turned back around.

“Nothing…”

As the night drew on, you found yourself back at your place. Even though Iwa was just a house away, you wished you were still with him. You peaked out your window, hoping to see Iwa looking out of his. His curtains were open but the lights were off. You assumed that he was with Oikawa.

You looked at the calendar pinned to your wall. Two days of high school left. It was a strange feeling. The mix of anticipation and nervousness all into one. You were excited for summer. Day in and day out you could be spending time with Iwaizumi, just like every summer before. Of course, you’d much rather spend summer with him a little differently, but you knew that was unlikely.

You heard the familiar buzz of your cell phone, as the ringtone began to play. Your face lit up, as you recognized the noise. Only one person in your phone had this ringtone.

“Hello?”

“Window-”

The call ended quickly. You smiled, rushing to your window and opening it up.

“HI Y/N!” shouted Oikawa. You chuckled.

“How was studying?” you asked. Iwa sighed.

“This idiot barely finished his chemistry. He was busy blabbing about his graduation party.”

“I expect you to be there Y/N!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s this Saturday right?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to have mine on the same day as yours and Iwa-chan’s,” explained Oikawa.

“Good choice,” teased Hajime. You and Iwa decided to do a small party for graduation together. Just family and close friends.

“Hey show me your dress,” insisted Iwaizumi. You grinned, heading to your closet and picking it out. Due to Iwaizumi’s blue tie, you decided to go with the blue dress.

“Woah there Y/N, you’re gonna take Iwa-chan’s breath away-”

“SHUT IT SHIT HEAD-,” Iwa smacked Oikawa upside the head, “don’t you have to go home?”

Oikawa checked his watch, before scrambling to get his things.

“Shit my mom’s gonna kill me- BYE!”

You chuckled, looking back at Iwaizumi. He cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna look beautiful Y/N.”

You tried to hold back your smile, but the heat rising in your face made it nearly impossible.

“Thank you.”

“I mean, you always are beautiful, but that dress might just set a new record for you,” he smirked. You pressed your lips together.

“Iwa…”

“Well we should both get some sleep,” he said. You nodded.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Hajime.”

You closed your window, then your curtains. You placed your dress back on a hanger, before plopping onto your bed. You felt all giddy inside, like a little kid. The butterflies in your stomach could fill an entire room. Did he mean those words in a ‘best friend’ sort of way? He had to, right? In all honesty you didn’t care about the context. After all, he still said it. Your smile was the same regardless.

~

“Smile you two!”

Iwaizumi’s mother had been taking pictures for the last thirty minutes, and you were honestly getting a little exhausted from posing.

“Mom that's enough-”

“One more! Hajime, stand behind Y/N.”

Iwa sighed. He did as he was told, moving behind you. He placed his large hands onto your waist, hugging you from behind. You tried not to react, still smiling at the camera.

“Okay okay now look at each other.”

You looked at Iwa, staring into those deep dark eyes. His face was so close to yours, you could smell the mint he had earlier.

“I’m sorry about this,” he mumbled. You giggled.

“It's okay.”

“Alright I got all the pictures I need.”

You keep looking at him, but more relaxed. Iwa didn’t move a muscle, as if he didn’t wish to let go of you. You weren’t sure if it was your imagination or not, but you swore that Iwa looked as if he was leaning in to-

“ALRIGHTY LETS GO! Grad party time!” cheered Oikawa. You and Iwa broke away from each other. You cupped your burning face as he cleared his throat.

“Y-Yeah lets go.”

You all headed to the Iwaizumi residence. There, you opened graduation gifts, jokes with friends, and even reminisced a bit on yours and Hajime’s childhood.

“I remember when you would make me catch bugs with you all the time! I hated doing that,” you joked.

“Okay but I always let the bugs go, didn’t I?”

“Aw Iwa-chan can’t hurt a fly-”

“But I can hurt you-”

“WAIT-”

You watched as Iwa and Oikawa fought as if they were kids before going to grab something to drink.

The night escalated to Toru finding the old karaoke machine and challenging Makki to a sing-off (which he declined). You sat on the couch with Iwa as the commotion in the room elevated.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked you. You let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

Hajime opened the door to his room, allowing you inside. He shut it, helping to keep things quieter.

“Wait a minute-”

You rushed over to the corner of his room.

“You can play the guitar?”

You picked up the instrument and examined it carefully. The guitar didn’t look new. In fact, it had to be a few years old.

Iwa took the guitar from your hands, holding it to his chest as his face grew in color.

“I-I can’t really play…”

“I have known you my entire life yet I never knew you had a guitar. Guess I’m a pretty shitty friend.”

“No not at all. I just- I don’t tell people that I can play…” he mumbled. You smiled, taking a step towards him.

“Could you play something for me? I won’t tell.”

Iwa looked at you, his eyes widened. He swallowed harshly.

“Of course.”

The two of you sat down on his bed. Hajime began to tune the guitar, his hands a little shaky. You placed your hand on his cheek. He looked at you intently.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I kinda put you on the spot there…”

“No I want to...I have a song in mind that I’ve been meaning to play for you.”

You smiled, nodding. You took your hand away, placing it back in your lap. Iwa took a deep breath, before carefullying picking at the strings.

He played a calming melody, one that you’ve heard before. Your heart melted the minute you realized what song he played.

“Sweet creature...had another talk about where it's going wrong…”

His voice was low and quiet, yet smooth and soft. You tried to hold back a smile and a few tears.

“I know when we started, just two hearts in one home…”

He sang to you. He was playing for you. Pleading that you understood what he was trying to say. Everyone fights, everyone has disagreements, it’s normal in every relationship. It was as if the letters of the lyrics were rearranged to say: “lets just try”.

You two would be leaving for university soon, that was inevitable. However, Iwaizumi never felt happier than when he was by your side.

“When I run out of road, you bring me home.”

Hajime played the final cord, before falling silent.

“Haj-”

“I know how to tie my ties. I just say I don’t so that you’ll do it for me. So that you’ll stand a little closer to me. So that I can smell the same perfume that you’ve worn since middle school. So that I can look into your eyes, and see the world within them. I’ve known how to tie my own ties since I was eight years old, but that's also the same age that I realized that I was in love with you.”

You couldn't seem to find the words. Your mouth hung open a bit, causing Iwa to get even more nervous. He set the guitar down on the floor, before burying his hands in his face.

“God I’m such an idiot-”

You took Iwaizumi’s hands and moved them from his face.

“Look Y/N I-”

He was unable to finish his sentence, as you had crashed your lips into his. His eyes were wide before he shut them tightly, cupping your face and kissing you hungrily. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through is dark hair. Iwa couldn’t seem to get enough, bringing you impossibly closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

“Hajime…” you whispered, catching your breath. Iwa placed another peck on your lips.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

You were shaking, the familiar sensation of nervousness and anticipation rushed through your veins. Iwaizumi took your hand, placing a kiss on top of it.

“I love you.”

Looking back at it all, you should’ve known it was bound to happen. Maybe it was the fear of rejection that blinded you from the truth. Maybe you had to hear that it might not always be easy in order to realize that it was still worth it. It certainly was worth the risk. Love is the strongest adhesive, keeping people together no matter distance, disagreements, or destiny. Luck for you and Hajime, your destiny was the one you had always hoped for.

[general taglist: @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @katlingclaw ]

[reidsconverse]

memories • spencer reid

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none! just 4000 words of pure angst

This was an old fic reworked to be about around spencer so its taking a lottt of creative/artistic liberty with the character, so it kinda sucks im sorry! 😁

Every moment you had with him was one to be remembered and cherished for better or worse.

It had been a few weeks since Spencer had officially ended things, he had moved all of his stuff out of your apartment and now it seemed as if he had never even existed in the same place as you, as though you two were strangers. That is had it not been for the images of memories the two of you held. So, here you were sat alone in your room, your only company the half-empty bottle of wine and photographs of the two of you which sat strewn carelessly across your floor.

You picked up a picture and stared at it realising you both looked so happy. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, a cup in his hand and his signature grin sitting across his face. Your head was leaning against his shoulder, the smile on your face reminding you of how free you had felt that night, you had never felt happier and you recognised that night as the night you realised...you were so in love.

"We should have a party," Spencer yelled despite there being no one else other than the two of you in the room.

"Right now?" You looked at him as if he was insane, not only was it completely out of character for your boyfriend but also, it was 1 am on a Wednesday and although your friends weren't those with a regular schedule you presumed most of them would decline a house party in the middle of the week.

"Yeah right now, c'mon doll I'll call Derek and some of the others and you call your friends." His hand was already on his phone texting Derek before you could protest so you followed his instructions and went ahead and invited your friends before getting up and preparing for this impromptu party.

It had only been 10 minutes when you heard Derek and some others open the door shouting for Spencer and you walked over with a grin on your face, "Hey D, Spencers being a diva and redoing his hair, he'll be right down." You said, rolling your eyes as Derek pulled you into a hug, he may have been Spencer's best friend but he thought of you as a sister and always treated you as such.

"Well I have look good for my girl," You heard Spencer say from behind you quickly placing a kiss on your cheek before doing his weird handshake with Derek, "Hey, thanks for coming'."

The three of you made your way to the kitchen to grab some drinks and greet some more guests who had congregated in that area and before you knew it, you were 4 shots in, feeling way past tipsy and in the mood to dance.

"Hey Spence," You said walking over to where he was now sat, a cup in his hand as he held a conversation with JJ and Emily about something that you didn't care too much about. You waved a quick hello to the girls so as not to be rude and then placed your head on his shoulder to let him know of your presence.

"Hey darling, you feeling good?" He turned his face and flashed you a wide grin before wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to him. He enjoyed being near you whenever he could, when he was away he would long for the days where all he did was sit and hold you close to him regardless of what the two of you were doing, so now whenever he had the chance he would hold you close.

"Feelin' great Spence.. wanna dance with you..."  You said pulling out of his hold and grabbing his hand leading him onto the 'dance floor', which was just the open space in your living room. He laughed and quickly finished his drink, discarding the cup somewhere in the room and held you as you both danced to the music playing through the speakers.

After a couple of songs, you both made your way to get another drink and get a break from the crowd, you sat at the kitchen island and passed him a drink."You know, considering you're a genius, I would've thought you'd be able to coordinate a bit better."  You said teasing him about his choice of moves which had essentially been him waving his arms in the air attempting to be in tune with the music.

He looked at you in fake shock and scoffed, "Yeah well it was still better than whatever you were trying to do." Referring to your horrendous attempt at trying to be sexy which in truth was never going to be anything but embarrassing. You stuck your tongue out in a childish manner causing him to laugh and quickly move to place his lips against yours giving you a soft kiss.

You jumped down from the counter after pulling back as a couple of your friends walked in and struck up a conversation about nothing interesting yet you made the effort to look engaged as Spencers's arm slipped over your shoulders and you placed your head against his shoulder.

"Hey guys, look here." You both turned to see your friend Harry, as always with a polaroid camera in his hand. You and Spencer gave each other a quick smile before grinning wide for the camera, both your faces full of love and happiness.

You sat there thinking about how quickly things can change, the people in the image you held so young and naive to the struggles the future would hold. Taking another sip of your wine you skimmed through some more pictures before stopping at one that held a bittersweet meaning. A picture that was taken a few days after what had been your worst fight, you both looked happy but all you could think about the events leading up to the image being taken.

It was your and Spencers 5th anniversary and he had promised he would make it to dinner. You hadn't seen each other in weeks because he was away on a case but he had promised he wouldn't miss this day, he had asked for permission from Hotch to leave for a couple of days so he would be there. "No excuses, No ifs and buts...I'll be there babe. I promise."

But there you were, alone at a table for two. The look on the waiters face held nothing but pity as he walked over for the fourth time to ask if someone would be joining you. Finally, you gave up and shook your head to let him know you would be leaving and would like the cheque. You had never felt so humiliated walking out of the restaurant head held high but tears building up in your eyes and so you cried. You felt so broken, almost as broken as all those promises Spencer had made you. The word promise and sorry had lost all meaning in the last 5 years, simply a courtesy rather than meaningful.

The minute you got home your phone began ringing, it was Spencer.

"Hey doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it, the team wanted to go out last night and I kind of missed my -." He began to explain causing you to scoff, 'no ifs or buts' my ass.

"How could you?" Your voice cracking as you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill for the second time that night. "I waited for 2 fucking hours Spencer, I felt like a fucking idiot."  

"What? What are you talking about?" His voice was full of confusion. "Didn't you get my text?"

"No, I fucking didn't. I didn't get a fucking text. But that's not the fucking point, You should've been here, you promised you would be here."

"Babe, I'm so -," He began but you knew what he was gonna say. The only conversations you seemed to have were stuck on a loop like a broken record.

"Save it. Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it, stop saying sorry and show it instead."

"Look, I'll get on the first flight out. I'll see you in a few hours, I'll make it up to you I prom-." You hung up the phone before he could continue, his promise worth nothing to you anymore. Walking over to the couch, you fell asleep the minute your head rested against one of the many cushions populating the seat.

You woke up to keys jingling in the door, yet you made no effort to move from where you were. The sound of his footsteps got louder as he approached.

"Babe? I know you're up." He said, kneeling beside you making you sigh and sit up. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

You just stared at him, it might have been petty but you didn't want to give in to his apologies just yet, he had to understand just how much he had hurt you first.

"I couldn't care less anymore, Spencer. I just need to remember that I'll always come second to work and that's fine, it's important to you and I understand that." You got up and walked over to the kitchen to gather yourself.

"Babe you are the most important thing to me, I'm sorry-."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Here we go again, Spencer there's only so many times you can say you're sorry before it loses all meaning. I'm sick and tired of this, I don't know if I can do this anymore. You're never here, you make promises you can never keep and I'm pretty sure you've told me you're sorry more times than you've told me you love me."

"Please don't do this. I love you." His voice was shaking, breaking down at the thought of you leaving him. He moved over to you and turned you so you were facing him. "I know this means nothing to you but I am so sorry. I've been so shitty to you and I know it."

"Spencer, I deserve better than this and I'm sick of forgiving you and acting like I'm fine with how you treat me, you might not mean it but it fucking hurts. I love you so much and I know you love me but would it kill you to put me first for once in your fucking life."

This annoyed him, the lack of sleep and being overworked leaving him less patient and more irritable, "That's not fucking fair, you knew what you were signing up for when you started dating me, I'm doing my fucking best. I go to work for US, to support US. If I could devote all of my time to you if I could, but I can't and it fucking kills me. You can't understand how much I miss you when I'm not here."

Tears welled in your eyes seeing him breakdown, unable to keep up the unbothered facade you had on, "I just...Spence, I miss you too. It hurts not being able to be near you and so when you're not there when you promise you will be, it hurts it really fucking hurts not to mention it's terrifying, how am I supposed to know you're ok if you do shit like that."

He pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest, all the emotions you'd kept bottled up during the argument letting go. "I know baby, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I promise, and I mean it this time, I won't let you down again. I love you." He mumbled into your hair, slowly kissing your forehead whilst consoling you and holding you like he never wanted to let go.

The two of you went to bed that night in silence, not a word was spoken until the next day wherein Spencer switched off his phone and dedicated the whole weekend to you and only you. He kept his word once he had to leave, always fulfiling his promises, never pushing you to the side and communicating with you always. The two of you felt strong again, you were happy.

You put your glass down and walked out of your room and began pacing around the living room, pictures of you and him still up on your walls, the walls that no longer belonged to the both of you. You thought back to when he asked you to move him, how nervous he was and how excited you were.

It was movie night at Spencers house. Each week he invited everyone over to watch a film, everyone taking it in turns to select a film. This week Emily had chosen Midsommar, a film you were yet to see so you were excited. You were sat beside Spencer on the loveseat, his arm around you and your face resting against his chest, a blanket covering you both for extra comfort. You looked up and saw Derek and Penelope lay spread across the floor whilst JJ and Emily sat on the sofa. Bowls of popcorn and sweets were scattered around the room and beer bottles were piling up. It was nights like this that you wanted to treasure forever, for the first time you felt like you had a family, people to call your own, people you could trust.

"Watcha thinking about?" Spencer asked, glancing at you and realising your mind wasn't directed at the movie anymore.

"Nothing, just really lucky to have you in my life," You reached your hand up to hold his face and gave him a soft kiss. "I love you."

He pulled you in closer if that was even possible, "I love you too."

"Ugh, get a room." Derek groaned making you both chuckle.

Spencer responded by throwing some popcorn at him, "Aw is someone jealous, don't worry you'll find someone soon enough."

Derek murmured a quiet, "Fuck off" before turning his attention back to the movie, making everyone laugh.

The movie ended shortly and everyone was discussing what to watch next, you were in the mood for a comedy but Derek wanted to watch Die Hard for the millionth time. After several minutes of slight arguing, you finally decided on rewatching Moana for the 12th time.

Everyone was pretty much settled, drinks refilled, popcorn replenished and everyone back in their positions. Emily was about to press play before JJ stopped her, "Wait before you start I'm kinda cold can I borrow a sweater?" She asked Spencer.

"Yeah sure, take one from our room." He said casually like it was normal but it made your breath hitch in your throat, did he just say our room? As in, yours and his. Unofficially he wasn't wrong, it was your room as much as his, you spent pretty much every night here making having your own apartment redundant, but he hadn't yet asked you to move in with him. You couldn't help the small blush on your face and the way your lips turned upwards at his words. It made you happy knowing he thought of it as something for both of you.

"What has you so happy?" Penelope asked in a teasing tone, she'd picked up on Spencer words and knew exactly why you were smiling.

You just stuck your tongue out at her and looked up at Spencer, "Our room huh?" You asked making him smile.

"Yeah I mean, you're here every day, maybe more than I am. You should just move in at this point." He let out a little laugh after he said leaving you confused as to whether he was being serious, so you just laughed along and waited for JJ to come back so you could start the movie.

A couple of hours later almost everyone was half asleep, everyone apart from you and Spencer. You began making your way to his room followed by him carrying the blanket he had taken from his bed. The two of you went about your night routine, Spencer had insisted on keeping at least half of your things at his place hence why you never had to leave. You quickly changed into one of his shirts which fit you just right and climbed into bed where he was already sitting, reading a book.

"Spence, were you being serious...earlier when you said I should move in?" You asked him, making him put down his book and look at you.

"Would you like that? You don't have to say yes but I would love it if you moved in. The mornings when I wake up and you're still next to me, are the best mornings. Honestly, knowing I'm going to wake up next to you makes falling asleep easier. Plus Tesla and Edison love you, maybe even more than they loves me." He asked, the mention of his fish making you laugh despite the fact your eyes were welling up, what had you done to deserve the sweetest man to walk the earth.

You shifted yourself so you were straddling him and held his face in your hands, "I would love to move in with you." You answered placing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you so much," He said as you moved back to laying down next him. "You make me the happiest man alive and I'm so lucky to have you."

"God, Spence you gotta stop before I start crying, I love you too." You said, as he laughed and pulled you into a comfortable sleeping position.

"Goodnight love." He mumbled, already falling asleep.

"Goodnight Spence." You responded, closing your eyes and beginning to drift off but not before saying, "By the way, the fishies definitely love me more."

You hadn't realised you were crying until a tear fell onto the frame you were holding. The image just as blurred as the memories it held. You carefully placed the image face down onto the table rather than placing it back up. Making your way to the sofa, you got your phone out and glanced at the image that had left you in this state. A picture of him and her, his hands holding hers as tight as they once held yours, the grin on both of their faces wide. He was happy, only it wasn't because of you anymore. You closed your eyes again, remembering how it all ended.

He had been distant since he had come back from this last case, he had been away for almost two months trying to catch this unsub and you had thought he'd be more excited to come back to you and finally be home. But he hadn't spent more than 10 minutes with you, the only time the two of you were in the same room for longer than that was when you fell asleep. Recently that had also stopped, he spent more nights away from home and at clubs with Derek and Emily , only coming back once he knew you weren't there. It was killing you but every time you questioned it he shrugged you off, telling you he loved you.

You wanted to scream at him if he loved you why isn't he showing it, why does he refuse to acknowledge you. You knew he was lying to you, he didn't love you anymore, you could see it in his eyes, how he never looked at you as he used to, he never held you like he used to. It was killing you and you knew you should ask him but you also knew that would lead to conversation you didn't want to have, an ending you didn't want to happen. So you kept quiet, went about your day and didn't question his actions, you had decided you would rather have the worst of him than not have him at all.

But that didn't last long. A few weeks later something happened, something you could ignore. Spencer had barely been home, only coming back to grab new clothes and leaving again often returning at 4 am or not all. The nights you spent alone, his side of the bed going cold broke your heart bit by bit. But you weren't ready for it to completely shatter, the images Penelope sent you of him holding that girl, a little too close, a little too tight, a little too much, start to fill your screen causing a lump in your throat and tears threatening to spill. You walked to the kitchen, surprised to see him there, he was sat at the counter head in his hands and a coffee in front of him.

"Spencer, what fuck is going on?" You all but shouted.

"Shh, my heads killing me." He said, burying his head in his hands attempting to block you out.

"You fucking asshole." You screamed at him, the pain and hurt evident in your broken voice as you tried your best not to cry.

This made him look up, far quicker than he should've causing his head to fill with pain and throb, but he didn't care, the memories of last night were coming back he knew he had fucked up. "I-I'm sorry, I was drunk and she was just there, nothing happened.

"You're sorry? Are you fucking kidding me?" You said, moving away from him as he got up to come closer to you. "No, don't fucking touch me. I'm done."

"What? No look I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I love you." The words were said, but the tone held so much uncertainty you couldn't tell if he was trying to convince you or himself.

"No you don't Spencer, not anymore. I know you don't and I've been lying to myself, saying that I'm ok with it when I'm not. I love you so much but I can't keep hurting myself by pretending like we're fine, We're not fine, we haven't been for a long time. Yes that fucking hurts, I thought we were forever, I thought we were going to grow old together and have kids and show them that we were soulmates. I thought we were perfect but we aren't."

"I never wanted to hurt you, I love you so much but-" He started with a sigh.

"You're not in love with me anymore..." You finished for him

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different, I wish I could control how I felt. You were everything to me, I really did picture a future for us but things changed, I don't know why and I don't know how. You don't deserve this, I'm so sorry."

"I know Spence, I know." You moved closer to him and he held you like it was the last time... because it was. "I'm sorry too."

You pulled away from him."I'll grab some stuff and go stay at my mom's for a few days. I just need to find a new place to move my stuff to." You said, trying to brush some tears away but failing as they kept falling.

"No, it's fine. I'll go, this is just as much your home as it is mine. I'll stay with Derek for a bit, you take your time sorting stuff out ok?" He said, using his thumbs to attempt to wipe away your tears. You sighed but nodded knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You sat down as he went to the room to gather some things, your mind reeling from the last half hour. How could so much change in such a short period of time, years spent together thrown away so quick.

"I'm done, I'll get going ok?" He said placing his duffel bag down beside by the door.

"So this is it huh?" You said, with a sigh. You felt him walk towards you and take a seat next to you.

"The last 10 years have been the most incredible time of my life, you put up with so much of my shit and loved me unconditionally and I can't thank you enough for giving the eager 25-year-old who wanted nothing more than to impress you a chance. I'm never going to stop loving you, you know that. I'm never gonna forget about you, my first love, the first woman to capture my heart. I'm so sorry things didn't work out like how we'd imagined them. If I could change how I feel I would, I wanted nothing more than for this to be a silly phase, for me to wake up one day and feel how I felt again. But it didn't happen and it fucking sucks."

"I get it, Spence, you have to do what makes you happy and I'm not gonna stop you. I'm just sorry it wasn't me that could give you want and need, but you're gonna make some girl out there very happy if you're even half the man you were when you were with me." You gave him a soft smile as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead.

He stood up and walked to the door. "Call me when you're ready ok? I love you." He turned and gave you a soft smile before picking up his bag and walking out the door.

You just broke down, you don't know how long you sat there sobbing your heart out but it felt like forever. Everything hurt so bad you didn't think you'd ever feel any emotion other than heartbreak for as long as you lived.

You took a deep breath as your hand hovered over the delete button on your phone, it was time to move on just as he had. As you released the breath you were holding, your finger pressed against the button, deleting all the pictures you had with him and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and the realisation sunk in.

You loved him so much, but he wasn't yours to love anymore.

He was just a memory.

-

tagged: @gcblers​ @187-reid​ @mgg-theprettiestboy​ @mggbler​ @snitchthewitch​

[coffeecakefanfics]

Mosaic | B.B x Fem!Reader

An: I can’t tell if I like this but have it anyway

Fluff? idfk

requests are open

words: 2,011

It started innocently enough.  When Bucky was brought to the compound Steve had taken the young girl under his wing, treated her as his kid.  Though in all fairness she was Stark's actual kid first, she never minded Steve stepping in as a second parent. She actually appreciated Steve and Bucky coming to visit her in her room or when theyd all sit in the living room and watch movies, catching the pair up on things they’d missed. 

Steve had to go on a mission, it left a few other Avengers, Wanda, Nat, Bruce, Bucky, and Peter (who popped in every now and then to ask for help from the older girl). 

“Hey Guys, can you do me a favor and look at this piece and tell me what you think?” She asked, carrying a large canvas into the Kitchen. Wanda stood at the stove, Pepper was sat at the counter typing on her laptop and Bucky was perched at the table, a cold look on his face. 

“Show,” Wanda grinned and turned from the stove.

“It’s for my senior portfolio, my theme is “Lost in Time”,” Y/N spun the canvas, setting it on the table.  It was a painting, a painting of Steve and Bucky from the forties, a painting of a picture that to Bucky’s knowledge had been lost. The breath left his lungs and tears sat at the edge of his eyes. 

“I Figured I’d paint my two favorite guys, you know, since you literally were lost in time and all,” she gulped the lump in her throat at everyones silence. 

“Do, do you have more?” Bucky asked barely above a whisper, his fingers willed him to reach out. Y/n slowly nodded and peeked down at the painting. It was the first thing he’d ever said to her, and her alone.  It made her heart skip and her stomach flutter. 

“It’s beautiful Y/n. I’m sure this is the one that’ll get you the scholarship,” Pepper smiled and stood, kissing the top of the girls head. 

“Thanks Pepper, Hey Wanda how long till dinner?”

“About 30 minutes dear,” Wanda smiled at the girl. 

“Okay, Bucky I can. . .Show you the others, if you’d like that,” Y/n spoke slowly, testing the waters.  Receiving a nod in response the girl hugged Wanda and kissed Pepper on the cheek before leading the man up to her room.  The walls were a soft white and were littered with paintings and posters and vinyl records.  Bucky watched as she set the painting on an easel.  

“This one is one of Steve, When he was doing the propaganda tour,” she smirked and pointed to the painting. 

“That one is of a little boy i’d found in an old photograph, he’s polish.  Oh this one, is actually inspired by Gone with the Wind umm, it’s one of my favorite books and movies that’s a period piece,” she motioned to a painting of a woman on a swing in one of the big puffy dresses. 

“It was mine too,” Bucky almost, almost smiled.

“I have a copy of both if you’d like to ever read or watch it,” she beamed at him.  It set something in him ablaze.

Here she was 25, sitting in her apartment on facetime with her little sister, working on her portfolio 

“Morgan I promise to come see you and mom this weekend, I just have work,” Y/n laughed at her sister.

“But I miss you now,” The little girl frowned. 

“I miss you too goofball,” her eyes welled up.

“Mommy says you’re going to be famous,” Morgan spoke pointedly into the camera. Y/n let out a chuckle at her sister. 

“Don’t jump baby, I still have a lot of work to do,” she smiled.  

“Mommy also said daddy would be proud of us,” her heart panged at that.  

“He would Morgs, you know, Daddy loved you very much,” Y/n felt tears slip from her eyes. 

“Come on Morgan, dinner, “ Pepper spoke, “Say bye to Sissy,” 

“Bye, Hurry home”

“I will” Morgan passed the phone to Pepper. 

“How are you doing Sweetie?” Pepper had a solemn smile on her face. 

“I’m. . . “ Y/n stopped. “I miss him, everyday,” the tears spilled over.

“I know baby, I miss him too. Our door is always open if you want to stay,” Pepper tried not to cry, for Morgan. 

“Thanks mom, Give Morgan a huge hug for me okay, I’ll see you this weekend,” Y/n choked. Pepper said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.  (E/c) eyes drifted to the larger than most canvas across the room,  the canvas covered her dining table and was adorned with a half painted portrait of her dad, Steve and Nat.  The memorial piece would be hung publicly at the new Stark Memorial building.  She tried to finish it, the unveiling was in two weeks, but nothing felt right.  It had been 6 months, 6 long months without her dad, without Nat, without Steve.  

A gentle knock drug her attention to the door.  She drug her feet as she crossed the room, opening the door as much as the chain would let her standing before her was Bucky and the New Captain America, Sam Wilson himself. She gasped and slammed the door shut, flinging it open and wrapping her arms tightly around Bucky.  The tears fell again. 

“Holy shit, how, how did you find me?” she asked as she pulled back and threw her arms around Sam. 

“Had to ask your stepmother,” Sam smirked when Y/n stepped back. 

“In, come in, sorry,” she stepped aside and let the men in.  The two smirked at the decor in the apartment. 

“You always did know how to make a place feel like home,” Sam joked and let his eyes drift over pictures of her with the Avengers. 

She turned her attention to Bucky who shifted in his shoes. “I missed you Buck,” she smiled at him. 

“Missed you too doll,” he bit his cheek. “Sorry I didn’t call I-” 

“Don’t” Bucky gave her a look. “Don’t blame yourself, you had a lot going on, so did I, but it’s okay you’re here now, so chill,” she smiled and nudged him, earning a light chuckle. 

“So what brings you handsome men to my little home?” she joked and pulled down two wine glasses 

“Well, we wanted to check on you, it’s been 6 months. Hear you’ve been busy?” Sam questioned, and thanked her when she handed him the wine. 

“Yeah um, I managed to get into an art exhibit, and I’m working on a piece for the Stark Memorial building,” she handed a bottle of beer to Bucky.  She’d never admit it, but she kept a six pack in the fridge for if he ever stopped by. 

“Stark Memorial?” Bucky asked. 

“Uh Yeah the memorial building, one of my artist friends is carving the statues out front of Steve, Nat and, Dad, I am in charge of the Painting for the entryway, the one that’ll hang above the door.  The memorial is going to display the suits and tech and stuff like that I don’t know the specifics,” She stammered on.  The three sat and talked for hours before Sam had to go, it was getting late and he didn’t want to miss his flight in the morning. 

“Bucky?” her voice was soft.

“Yeah Y/n?” he looked at her. Regret filled his belly as he took in her frame. 

“Do you mind staying a little longer, it’s been a while and I missed you,” her voice was shaking, nervous, scared of rejection.

“Of course,” he nodded and sat back down. 

“So therapy?” she spoke, her tone lighter.  Bucky let out a groan. 

“Do NOT get me started,” he rolled his eyes.  Y/n let out a laugh, a laugh that he missed.  

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, in fact he would sit and watch her name light up his shitty phone.  He was afraid, afraid that he would get attached, that she would leave him too. That his heart would betray him yet again.  He was Afraid of losing her, of loosing the only other person he felt at home with until now. 

“I’m proud of you Buck,” she swirled her wine, he hadn’t noticed she’d brought the bottle to the table. 

“For?”

“Trusting Sam,” she peeked up at him. A soft pink dusted his cheeks. He took a sip of his beer, missing the feeling of being tipsy or drunk. 

“I wanted to call,” he blurted out.  His words took the girl aback. 

“I just, I couldn’t bring myself to, not after what happened,” he cleared his throat.

“Oh Buck,” she set her glass down and stood up. “Come here,” she held her hand to him.  He traced his eyes over her hand, up the expanse of her arm, over the curve of her shoulder, before allowing himself to submit to her.  Her hand was soft, warm, clammy.  She led him through her apartment and opened a door.  She pulled him through.   With a flick of the switch the room buzzed to life, her studio.  His eyes danced around the murals and paintings that littered the desks and shelves and walls.  His eyes were directed to a desk in the corner, a sheet was draped over a canvas.  Her fingers lifted the dust colored fabric to reveal a painting that knock the air out of Bucky’s lungs and made his eyes well up.  The same effect her first painting had on him now knocked him breathless once again.  It was the two of them, sat side by side in the quinjet, his first mission.  The two wore huge smiles across their faces.  Her hair was set back neatly and Bucky had his pinned back, courtesy of the girl next to him.  God only knows what had them all smiled, but that was the moment they realized they needed each other.  

The mosaics of paintings around the room started to make his spin, most were snippets of them. Have you ever taken that first sip of coffee? The way it slides down your throat and hits your belly so well it speaks to the soul.  The feeling Bucky felt when he looked back at Y/n again.  Her hair was messy from work, her lips stained from the wine, the way her clothes fell on her body had Bucky’s head spinning.  He felt almost dizzy? Is dizzy the word he felt.  He let himself go, entirely, giving in to the craving of her skin on his.  He enveloped her in a hug that was nothing short than the blanket of security she had longed for since her dad passed, since Steve left, Since Bucky hadn’t returned her calls.  The barrier between the two crumbled as he cradled the back of her neck gently in his hand, the cool metal pressing her back to be closer, willing himself to conjoin with her, to never leave her again.  Tears fell from his eyes this time. 

“I was scared,” he said. “Steve left me, he chose her, and I didn’t want to lose you too,”? He choked. 

“Buck?” He couldn’t respond, only nod. 

“Your painting was the one to get my scholarship,” she spoke, her voice was shaky, small. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he pulled back, letting his fingers brush over her cheek. “So proud” he pursed his lips. 

“I buy plums and beer just in case you come by, I reread Gone With the Wind and the Hobbit when I'm sad because it was your favorite. I sleep with my window cracked because hearing outside made you sleep better. I never wash my clothes on Wednesday because that was your day.  I am a mosaic of you and all of your pieces,” the way she looked at him shattered every doubt he had.  The way her lips felt against his shattered hers.  The two wrapped themselves in each other, relishing in the feeling of releasing pent up emotions.