#and always made jokes on me being deep analyzer and taking things too seriously

[madhushala]

<3

[lovelycleon]

So I decided to make an analysis about the last scene of Infinite Darkness

But before I start with the fun part, I just want to tell you that my history with “angst ships”

I had a bad experience with another ship, soul mates full of angst tropes and true love, beautiful... and a really bad ending because the showrunner fought with the actors (I wasted years watching and I regret it).

Anyway, after suffering that kind of pain, no other ships and angst scenes can hit me hard enough. I'm numb or just got used to it. You choose.

So maybe the scene of Leon and Claire's argument wasn't that impactful for me because of that. But for all the fans who felt hurt, I understand and it's okay to feel that way, because the scene was meant to hurt. The scene exists because of that. And your feelings are valid.

So let's get to the fun part.

spoiler alert, it's not that fun, it actually hurts 😅

The scene starts with Leon going to meet Claire at the gates of the White House.

I don't think anyone denies the fact that, whatever Leon is doing, he just wants to protect Claire. And he doesn't want her involved because of it.

But this dialogue makes this even more evident if we analyze how it begins.

Nothing in a show or movie is by accident. Everything is handpicked for one reason or another. The meaning is not always that deep, but there is still a meaning behind it all.

So when – of all the ways a conversation can be started – they decide to make Claire joke that she sneaked out of the hospital, Leon takes it seriously and she has to clarify that it's a joke, there's a reason:

Show that Leon is taking what happened to her too serious, and Claire not that much.

When Claire makes a comment about when he's going to stop treating her like a kid and he says probably never. There's a reason:

Show that Leon wants to protect her (or being overprotective) and Claire doesn't like it.

Of course, some might argue that this specific line is capcom trying to show that their feelings aren't romantic and sink the ship completely. And, ok, people are free to think that.

But if they really wanted to sink cleon forever, they shouldn't have done the scene of Leon saving Claire the way they did. They did it because they knew it would tease a certain part of the fans... They knew exactly what they were doing...

And there's simply no reason to tease a ship you want to sink.

So no, I don't think that's it...

For me the scene means the classic and simple: "stop being worried about me🙄" "noooo🗣️"

Another way to intensify Leon being overprotective is Claire's broken arm. A reminder that she was injured following his plan. Just as she was hurt the last time they saw each other in Harvardville.

And yes, I know Degeneration made Claire hurt to take her out of the action. It is undeniable. But somehow I don't think the same situation and reason applies to Infinite darkness.

Because Claire was already out of combat, following Leon's plan and showing no intention of doing anything different. It's not like she's going to attack the monster that is several platforms higher than where she is. She couldn't fly around and there were no guns where she was anyway.

So why hurt her to get her out of combat if the story itself has already done that?

Again, you are free to think differently. Capcom made Claire dirty, she was underestimated and they wasted her potential. I won't argue with that, I'm also on the team Claire deserves better.

I just don't think it fits this specific situation.

The injured arm is there and a awkward conversation about Leon being overprotective starts because of it. I think it makes sense.

So moving on.

Claire mentions the chip and Leon looks disappointed for a moment and says he thought they were going to dinner.

This is to indicate that he didn't come to see her with the intention of breaking their friendship. Leon just wanted to spend a good time with her and nothing more. Some place a little more normal, maybe?👀

But Claire wants the chip and tells Leon her plan. The same plan that Shen May was killed trying to convince her partner to follow. Is there a parallel here?

The only difference is that Jason broke her neck while Leon decided to break Claire's heart.

Okay now I could show more parallels between them, but I won't because this is already too long and I know maybe I'm reading too much into this. Resident Evil isn't that deep most of the time 😂

Anyway, Claire asked for the chip and Leon said no.

And that's the point, right.

The climax of the conversation and the turning point in their relationship.

Note that Leon took a few seconds to say he couldn't. That was the moment when he made his decision...

He went to meet her for dinner, remember? He didn't expect to have this conversation or make a decision like that. But he had to.

Now, I'm not from the US and I don't trust politicians in general, fiction or not. But I admit this sounds realistic.

Just imagine if the president makes a speech about peace and prosperity and whatever and the next day the media reveals that members of the government are involved in BOW and planning an attack on another country.

At the very least, it won't look good.

In the worst case, it will be a catastrophe 😂

So... I don't agree with Leon, but I understand why he chose this.

It's an important decision, however. And how long it takes him to say something and how he's quiet after saying it shows he knows what's on the line. Not just the security of the country and “peace”, but also his relationship with Claire.

And despite everything... He didn't lie to her.

It would be much easier for Leon to simply say "the chip was destroyed in the fight" when she asked. Claire would never know about it and probably never doubt him. And they would still be fine with each other and having dinner.

But he didn't lie. Why?

Because their relationship is not based on lies. And it's not based on betrayals.

And while it may be hard to believe right now and it hurts to think about it, this relationship is still based on truth and trust in each other. And now their relationship is being tested.

It's easy to trust someone you're on good terms. How hard it must be to trust someone who has let you down.

There is a lot of room for development here.

Obviously Claire felt hurt in this moment. Maybe even betrayed. Heartbroken. I think we all feel that same way.

But Leon played fair there. He said he had the chip, showed it to her, and then said he wouldn't give it to her.

He was honest with her. And this act also shows respect.

They are two people with different points of view and that truth hurts.

There is silence as they look at each other. She never asked his reasons and he obviously never told them. The exchange of glances is enough for them to understand what was happening.

When Claire says “you do things your way and I do mine” it's almost like “do you know what that means? ”

Then Leon nods and another moment of silence. The time they need to accept that the relationship is broken.

Now that's angst

Interesting choice of camera angle. Showing her broken arm as a visual reminder of why he was pushing her away like that.

Claire leaves, but looks back and says again that his outfit doesn't suit him.

What's interesting here is that the director has done a few interviews over the past few weeks and he always said that the suit is a representation of Leon's position in government.

Claire commenting that it doesn't suit him is basically the writers/producers/directors admitting that this position doesn't look good.

And while all the characters praising Leon for his success, Claire is the one who sees this reality and who he truly is out of the suit (position)

And that's good angst.

Claire walks away and Leon with a sad look watching her leave and he has to say to himself "I will stop this".

Could it be just one of his one-lines? Yes.

Could it be a way for him to remind himself why he's doing this, even if it means sacrificing his relationship with Claire?

It's already done, now he has to make it worth it.

Whatever happens after that is a mystery.

I don't think Claire believes that Leon is going to cover up the government's involvement in things (their discussion would be much more intense if that were the case), she probably thinks he's going to resolve it internally without taking anything public, which is precisely what she wants to do.

I also don't think Leon believes Claire is going to give up on the investigation, he probably thinks it's going to take some time to her to get real evidence and he has time to carry out his plans.

But this is capcom... They are masters of forgetting plot points. So who knows.

Angst is only good if it has a good closure. I hope they keep that in mind.

In any other tv show that used this kind of angst trope and drama I would be completely fine...

I would expect a sequel to this plot. The characters find each other unexpectedly, having to work together and acting awkwardly because they don't know how to stick around each other after the argument. Then the story would develop and they would gradually mend their relationship.

That's the trope.

So that's all I can hope for.

[slothgiirl]

the spy part 1(keith x reader)

8k. explicit content. while on medical leave reader meets the red paladin of voltron during the war against Zarkon.

The corridors are well lit. It’s like being in a brand new hospital, this ship in the rebel fleet. 

People hustle around, landing, taking off in smaller ships to distant planets. Your hand goes to your arm. The medic had given you a movement’s leave, so you were resting for now on this ever moving ship. 

Outside the widows, you spy an assortment of ships, each one’s origins clear from the design. So many planets, so many peoples banding together against Zarkon. You’d win the war. 

It was what you kept telling yourself. 

You would. 

It was just a matter of time.

You round the corner, stretching your arm across your chest, a simple form of physical therapy in deep space. You hadn’t seen earth since being deployed. The galaxy garrison seemed like a dream from another life. You had been on track for the chemistry department, long term missions to mars to analyze soil and dust, not this, not a war. You take a breath. 

And spot the Red Paladin. 

He’s one of the most recognizable people in the universe, and his grungy hair and distinctive outfit does him no favors. You’d never seen him before, not in the flesh. Sure. Voltron had saved your ass a handful of times. You wouldn’t have survived the assault on Arrakis if Voltron hadn’t rammed the shield. Trapped. Piloting a fighter craft that was closer to a mosquito irritating the Galra then pushing them back.

But you hardly knew him.

He’s gripping the railing tightly, trying to camouflage into the wall as an alien with crystalline blue skin and hair like saturated indigo leans into him. 

The line of his shoulders is taut, brittle. 

You don’t even think. 

“There you are,” you force yourself to be synthetically cheerful as you smile easily at the paladin, who you realize quickly you don’t know his name but you know what he is and that must be an awful feeling, being so recognizable without being known. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you lied, elbowing the blue alien out of the way. You could never tell much from a single glance at themis species despite their largely humanoid appearance. 

You put your hand on his arm loosely, “come on, we’re late enough and you know how annoyed the others get.” Good, that seemed convincing enough. 

The red paladin’s eyes go wide, his mouth a grimace and it’s then that you notice the feverish flush to his skin. 

But he doesn’t pull away or argue. 

You ignore the alien and decide small talk was the way to go until you put some distance, “I’m kind of hurt you didn’t come visit me while I was healing,” you stick close to the truth, “but since it only took an hour? a varga? for me to heal I won’t hold it against you.” He’s too warm.

Maybe the space flu?

Was that even a thing?

You weren't sure. 

Mostly, you snuck into work camps and blew up strategic targets using whatever you could get your hands on to make a bomb. The chemistry came in handy. 

He sways as he walks, looking like your roommate at the garrison after a few too many hits after an exam. “Do I know you?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just,” you look back, but the alien’s been left a couple turns back, “you looked uncomfortable.” You take a step back, letting go of him. “Are you okay?” 

His expression furrows, mouth a pinched line as he goes from suspicious to annoyed, takes a u-turn back to suspicious as he studies you, before relaxing. “Yeah. yeah. . .who are you?”

You introduce yourself, taking on the meaningless garrison designation at the end, “technically second year member, though I’ve been with the runners mostly.” No designation more than a number. 

“You do look human,” he replies simply, moving to get a look at your ears, “not many of those out here.”

“And yet somehow the sentries always look the other way,” you muse, “not very bright. I’m almost convinced the Empire’s in it’s failing bureaucracy days.” 

He winces, before deadpanning, “eh, I don’t know how useful a lion is against the DMV.” 

You laugh. 

He takes slow deliberate breaths, steadying himself, “I’m Keith.”

“Seriously though, do you need to see a medic?” He looked in serious need of a tylenol. The ships were usually crisp, you wore a jacket most of the time to stave off the permanent chill. 

Keith shakes his head, chewing his lip before meeting your gaze with an intense concentration in his violet eyes, as if he was gauging how much titrant he could add before hitting the endpoint and if half a drop was worth the risk. “I’m just. . .going through something.”

“Anyone I can call for you?” You weren't about to abandon him here. Sure, he was a paladin and could probably look after himself. But you couldn’t in good conscience walk away. 

He swallows, looking down for a moment and you are startled to find how much you miss his attention boring into you with the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen. 

“No,” Keith replies mulishly as he jerks away from you. “I’m fine.”

Which was a total lie. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling well but you weren’t about to get on his case. You were sure he had people for that. He wasn’t some random soldier in arms with you that you watched out for and hoped not to have to watch die. 

You swallow the bitter thought away, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leaning back against the hall, you watch evenly as Keith stumbles, catching himself on the wall. His mouth is a drawn line of determination. 

You didn’t understand why. 

There was aid here. It wasn’t the same as crawling through cramped mining tunnels and swallowing back pain forcing yourself to work through it until the mission was accomplished. 

“Do you need help,” you ask.

“No.” He leans a hand against the wall.

You raise a brow, wondering if he would pass out for whatever weird space flu he had clearly caught and you could only hope it was nothing like the infections that ran rampant in the work camps, or if he would give in and accept your offer of help. The former seemed more likely. 

You don’t ditch him though, focusing your attention on the porthole to the stars. 

There was no rush: no reason to help him by force. People didn’t learn if you babied them you’d caught on quick back on earth during your tutoring hours. You had to let them fall and smash their face in sometimes. 

So you stay, watching the stars.

Keith makes no move to take another step. 

It still got you, looking out into the vastness of space and realizing this really was your life now, you were out here, further than you’d ever dreamed. Everywhere you looked, novel stars, distant planets teaming with life. You could have done without the war, but it was what it was. 

“And here I thought Mars would be the furthest I’d go,” you comment more to yourself than Keith. 

The red paladin makes a small sound of acknowledgement. 

“Earth’s, or was, at the beginning of our space age. People had barely begun to live on the research bases on Mars,” you watch him out of the corner of your eye in case he really does pass out, “so no Star Trek for me but now I’m here.” 

“There’s a war going on.”

You turn over to look at him, sort of annoyed because yeah you got that, spent enough time in the trenches without a fancy lion spaceship, but the bubbling annoyance dissipates when you see the upturned corners of his mouth. Keith was teasing you. 

Shifting your weight, you add, “yeah well, instead of being a footnote in a Mars base’s history I’ll be a footnote in this war instead.” Gallows humor. You needed a lot of that when regularly infiltrating camps and posing as a slave, as a prisoner, the bottom of the barrel that wouldn’t get a second glance from the Galra soldiers. 

He frowns. “I don't think anyone’s just a footnote.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Keith looks away.

You feel bad. “It’s probably better not to be so cynical,” you muse, “but it’s like the vice president thing, no one remembers them unless the president gets assassinated.” God you couldn’t help how dark your humor could veer even when trying to be positive. 

He looks over at you, head tilted, considering. Despite being standoffish, Keith was easy to read unlike the slick space pirates you’d encountered. 

You meet his gaze head on. 

“I might need some help,” he allows. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. “If you’re sure,” you utter, regarding him carefully and unable to keep the teasing from your voice. You shouldn’t. You barely knew him and what little you’d learned made it clear he wouldn’t take well to your teasing. 

War made quick brothers out of everyone. 

But Keith held himself afar.

A questioning glance danced in his uniquely violet eyes as he tried to get a read on you. “I am.” 

You nod, stepping besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. You were always caught by surprise by how heavy a grown adult could be. And depending on the alien. . .

He takes a step, still holding himself afar from you, barely resting any weight on you. His muscles were stiff under your touch, back rigid that matched the uncomfortable look on his chiselled features. 

You follow his lead. 

At Keith’s sedate pace, it would take quite a while before you dropped him off where you needed to go. Being personable was part of being a leader or it’d lead to mutiny. Not that you had ever gotten that far. The Galaxy Garrison had slapped the graduation badge on your uniform and sent you into space. 

You scrabble for familiar territory, earth and the garrison. The Black Paladin was a Garrison member returned from the grave. Rumor had it all the paladins were garrison deserters. 

Veronica McCain did share a familiar resemblance with the blue paladin. It was probably true. 

“I attended the Garrison campus at Guiana,” you offer. “I was hoping for Texas or Florida to be closer to home, but I didn’t test into pilot or engineer.” 

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

Even through the fabric of his uniform, he felt warm. How anybody could be warm in such cold halls was anybody’s guess. A permanent chill had sunk its way into your bones. You missed the humid heat of Guiana. 

“It was nice though. The jungle was pretty close and it was always hot,” you tell him. “I thought I wouldn’t miss the humidity, step outside and it was like having just showered but I do. These ships have to be at 15 C.” 

“Texas is hot too.” Keith utters quietly. 

“Isn’t the desert cold at night though,” you ask, already knowing the answer. It had been basic earth science. 

“Yeah. It is.” There’s longing in his voice. You wish he’d say more just to hear him speak. 

Warmth spreads, an embarrassing tell, through your cheeks. 

“I did miss the snow while there,” you continue, “it didn’t snow much up in Vancouver but it was never as hot as Guiana, and the rain was warm!” You had never gotten over that. The rain would spot and start throughout the day but the sun would keep on shining. 

“What were you,” Keith asks bluntly.

“Chemisist, more the physical and inorganic type,” you admit, “it was fun doing wet labs.” That had gotten you hooked back in regular school. “Then got shunted to command track after a few too many volunteering opportunities. Guess the lesson there’s to not try too hard.”

That gets a laugh out of him. 

“You,” you ask him as he shifts more of his weight onto you, finally accepting the help he asked for. Stubborn guy. 

“Pilot.”

You look over at him, his wild hair brushing against your cheek and the simple action shouldn’t excite you but it does. He was hot with sharp features offset by a certain enthralling earnestness but he could run a comb through his hair.

Keith didn’t seem the pilot type: arrogant, loud, generally strong personalities. 

“You any good,” you ask though you’ve heard about Voltron so he has to be pretty fucking good to be part of them. How did Voltron choose its pilots?

He smirks easily, close to a smile at the mere mention of piloting and you knew that moment he loved it: didn’t matter if he was good at it or not. You swallow hard as anticipation buzzes under your skin for no good reason. 

Get your head out of the gutter, you tell yourself. 

“I’m a pretty good pilot,” Keith answers, somehow managing to sound like he’s stating a fact instead of bragging. 

“Just pretty good?” You smile at him, letting him know you were only joking around as you both round another corner, finally making it to the transient quarters. People were always dropping in and out of mobile spaceports like these. 

He snorts. “Better than most.” Keith shrugs, smiling over at you. 

“Don’t be modest on my account,” you utter, looking away, not sure what to do about the growing heat in your body that had nothing to do with temperature controls. 

“It’s true,” he says simply. 

Honesty was a hard thing to come by. You were finding more and more reasons to like the red paladin as you reach his current room. No special treatment here. 

Or maybe it was politics and optics, making sure everyone knew Voltron was of the people and not aiming to replace Zarkon as rulers of the universe. 

Keith places a hand against the door, putting space between you both.

You swallow, glancing away, feeling some of the tension ease. 

“You sure you don’t want me to send a medic,” you ask him, looking over at his striking eyes. The heat under your skin is a live wire: you curl your toes in your shoes. People usually didn’t affect you this much. Even the smell of him was so distinct, drawing you in. 

It was an unprecedented reaction. 

He must feel it too. 

Keith studies you with an enraptured fascination shining in his wide eyes, mouth parted on the verge of answering. Both your bodies sway towards each other like branches in the wind: sunflowers orienting towards the sun. 

You shift your weight from one foot to another. 

It relieves enough tension for you to shift away. 

“No. No medic,” Keith finally answers. 

“Right then.” But you don’t make a move to leave. 

He says nothing. 

The silence is broken by the hum of the ship's engines under your feet. People move about and you can hear their footsteps echoing on the metal floors. 

Supposedly quintessence powered ships smelled like ozone. 

This one was powered by crystals and some Olkari engine. You wouldn't know the specifics, they were beyond you. And not your job. 

You look back at him, ready to leave. The space between you could so easily tilt to awkward and you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you found yourself so entranced by Keith. You barely knew him. You didn’t want to be one of the soldiers with a photograph in your pocket and a farflung hope that you’d-

He’s looking at you, cautious, movements slow and deliberate as if he’s caught between thinking and simply doing. 

Then Keith’s demeanour becomes determined: deciding to take the leap without looking down. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you.

For a second you’re baffled, trying to figure out how you got to point B when this wasn’t a bar and you had no agenda, before you shrug and kiss him back. Keith was undeniably attractive. He was even a bit taller than you which was compelling, you were on the tall side for a girl. 

It’s not some unsolvable thought experiment, you kiss him back.

And a current of static electricity runs through your core. Heat pools after only just a kiss that steals your breath away. 

You can’t get enough, his hands warm against your skin, igniting a delicious sensation in your very core. You want more. You kiss him harder, your mouth against his, sucking on his bottom lip. 

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his shift.

Keith kisses you back, matching your frenzied energy, his mouth parting against yours and pulling you flush against his chest. 

It does nothing to dissolve the tension, the charged energy between you spikes. Like a fire fed by wood it grew. 

It was a heady feeling, his hands caressing your cheeks as Keith kissed you with a vigor you thought only existed in soapy dramas. Heat pools in your belly like a sinking stone: you liked his intensity. 

Keith pulls away, catching his breath, resting his forehead against yours. 

Some of the muddled list clears from your head, now completely in the gutter as you press Keith against the door to his room. 

Oh. . .were you really doing this?

Keith looks a fuckable mess, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. Still, he hesitates. 

You can feel the question linger in the air, can feel it in the featherlight touch of his hands ghosting over your cheeks as he makes to pull away, to let you go if you want to turn back now. But you don’t.

You want to run your hands through his hair. You’re practically burning up wondering how Keith would look splayed on the bed between your thighs. . .how he would feel. 

Would he be just as intense in bed as he fucked you? 

“You feel it too,” he asks quietly.

You furrow your brows, thrown. There were a lot of intense emotions coursing through you all narrowed down to feeling horny as a teenager back on earth. Masturbation only went so far. 

You swallow, trying to rack your brain cells together and say something. Yeah. It was a bit. . .much. Space much. But that didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t taken any drinks from strangers. 

The connection was too strong to discount the possibility of space weirdness affecting both of you. 

“Yeah,” you reply, sounding more whiny than you’d like to. The apex of your thighs throbbed with want. Anticipation had built up and he was right there; Keith

s breath fanned over you, his forehead against yours like a touchpoint. 

Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his shirt. 

In the hall. 

Where anyone could see. 

“So what now,” you ask, “medic?”

Keith snorts, “No. I just-do you want to come inside?”

You smirk. Everyone knew what that meant. There were so many variations with the same outcome. 

“Yeah. Okay.” You put a pin in any alien space nonsense and slip inside Keith’s assigned quarters for however long Voltron was here for.

The lights are off. You don’t bother to study the room when Keith crushes his mouth against yours. You stumble around in the dark, feeling emboldened now that he’d voiced an invitation, he wanted this as much as you did, and run your hands up his chest. He was lean and lithe. Keith leans into your touch, a shiver running down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair and run your tongue over his bottom lip. 

Keith moans, the sound scratchy from the back of his throat excites you. 

It was thrilling to know you could elicit such a response from someone. You liked feeling hot and sexy. And from a guy like Keith who you were vibing with. . .

He finds the jagged hem of your cut tank top, which had doubled as a bandage, and slides his hands under your shirt. His fingers are calloused, skin hot against yours and there was always something so carnal about skin on skin touch. Keith clutches at your sides and leads you backwards. 

You trust that he knows the layout.

Your mind has boiled down to simple desires. 

“Keith,” you mumble against his mouth as he guides your hips against his and you feel his cock beneath the fabric. It goes straight to your ego: straight to your pussy. 

More heat. It’s unbearable how much your body throbs and you moan against him, against his lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling.

“Mhm,” he asks, just as overcome with lust as you were. Keith tilts his head up, and you kiss his jaw, kiss the side of his throat, nipping at the flesh and enjoying the breathy moans he makes as your knees hit the bed. 

You want more. 

You move your hands to his shoulders, “let's get this off,” you utter softly, pushing at his jacket. 

“Okay,” he replies, crowding you against his bed until you have no choice but to sit down. Keith discards his jacket, and pulls his shirt over his head. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It’s dark. You can’t see him well. You still react like a charged electron. 

“Now you,” Keith states simply, not exactly a command. It was nice, the lack of mind games and subterfuge. 

You scoot up further on the bed, shrugging your bomber jacket off. 

He’s watching. 

Awkwardness creeps up on you. There was no sexy way to take off a sports bra. 

You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Then you peel off your sports bra. The elastic worked too well. 

Keith’s sitting up on his knees.

“You’re beautiful,” he states.

“Come here,” you utter, inviting him closer. 

He complies readily, cupping your cheek and kissing your mouth eagerly, closer to a lover than a random encounter. 

You grab his other hand, guiding him up to your chest, to your breast. Keith runs his thumb over your nipple, gooseflesh rises on your skin. He trails bruising kisses down your throat. 

Your breath catches in your throat. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you, savoring the feel of his chest against yours. 

“Fuck,” you groan as Keith bites down hard at the crook of your neck, harder than you’d expected. 

He stills. “I’m-I,” making to pull away.

“No,” you reach for him, tilting his head up as you move to straddle his waist, “it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.”

“I won’t do it again,” he stammers out. 

“I didn't say I didn't like it.” You push him down against the bed, topping him. “Just warn a girl.”

Keith wraps his hands around your hips, tugging at the waistband of your trousers. “These are kind of in the way.”

Laughing, you reply, “could say the same to you.” Your hands pop the button of his jeans. 

It’s a fumble to pull your trousers down. Neither of you care, eager to get on with it. He shoves his jeans down his legs along with his boxers. 

You straddle Keith, completely naked and lean down to capture his lips against yours. His cock twitches against your thigh and your toes curl up. His tongue runs over your top lip, you part your mouth, letting him in. 

You cup his cheeks between your hands, your hips rolling against his. 

He thrusts feverishly against you. His fingers dig into your bare hips, skin against skin. 

“Come here,” Keith utters hoarsely, “I wanna fuck you.” 

“Think I’d rather ride you,” you reply back breathlessly.

“You can do that after,” he whines, a rumble emanating from his chest but your head is too fucked up to make sense of it. 

You sit up, hands on his chest. “That’s presumptuous of you.” 

Keith grins, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and rolls you over so he’s on top. “Is it,” he asks rhetorically as his hand reaches between your thighs, ghosting over the wetness of your pussy, “when you’re this wet?”

You moan, canting your hips, cashing the feel of his hand, wanting relief. It was a mounting pressure in your belly, a forest fire under your skin and you needed Keith. “Okay. yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes when Keith bent his head and licked a stripe from your nipple to your collarbone. You whimper, lost in the sensation. 

“Tell me what you want,” Keith asks. 

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” you utter, you hands clutchinf at his shoulders, bringing him flush agaisnt you. 

Keith aquieses. 

You bend your knees, spreading your legs as he positions his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Keith mutters as he pushes into you. 

Fuck indeed. You moan his name without thought, closing your eyes and laying your head back against the bed. His cock fills you up, sliding into your pussy with ease given how turned on you were. 

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he stretches you out. 

“God, yes,” you utter dazed. 

Keith moves his hips. You roll your hips up to meet him. He nips at your collarbone as he thrusts into you with favour. 

As promised he fucks you.

Keith captures your mouth in a kiss that catches the moans you make as he reaches between you and runs his thumb over your clit. His pace, the way he was kissing you madly. . .the heat that had been building since you’d met him comes crashing down. 

You come. 

Leaving you boneless. 

“Keith,” you whimper.

“Sh,” he tells you, kissing the shell of your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

“You..sort of already did,” you utter completely fucked out. 

“Turn over.” Keith says even as he’s already helping you move, his arms supporting your weight. He presses his lips on the back of your neck, as he grabs a pillow and sets it under you. 

You bring up your knees, laying on your legs, “thought I was going to go next,” you tease, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. 

He stills, “if you. . .”

“No. No,” you shrug, “I did ask you to fuck me.”

Keith runs his hands over your shoulders, sliding down your sides. He squeezes your ass with his hands. 

“Best two out of three,” you offer, half joking half serious because while you were still blissed out from having just orgasmed, you could already feel your pussy clench with anticipation. Seriously, the effect he had on you-

You can feel his smile against your skin, “If you think you can handle it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you reply, arching your back into him, titling your head back, and pulling his hair so you could kiss him. It was sloppy, and the angle was awkward, but none of it mattered when Keith stroked your pussy with his fingers, dipping into your wet folds. 

Already stimulated, you shudder with pleasure. 

Your tongue strokes his in an open mouthed kiss. He tastes as good as he smells, Keith filling up your senses like an incense stick wafting through a room. 

He wraps an arm around your chest, his hand caressing your breast, pulling you against his chest, both of you melding together. Keith thrusts his cock into you again. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hand fisting the sheets of his bed, moaning into his mouth. 

It was a combination of his cock in you, his thumb rolling your nipple in his hand, that set you aflame. 

You couldn’t get enough, your hips jerking back, up to meet his. Keith fucks you against the bed. 

He palms your breast in his hand, pulling you up to him, keeping you close as he plants a kiss at the juncture of your ear and jaw, on the side of your neck whilst nipping the skin and you moan, his cock hitting just the right spot as he slams into you. 

First he grows comfortable, pulling almost entirely out before thrusting hard as he finds a pace that leaves you both a mess. 

“Right there, right there,” you utter. 

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, his fingers draw a circle around your clit without giving you the satisfaction you desperately seek, already building up to another climax. 

You nod jerkily. “So fucking good Keith. Your cock feels so fucking good,” you manage to reply.

He speeds up, faster, deeper, at your words. The bedframe, bolted down into the floor, creaks. 

“Just like that.” You moan wantonly. “Right there.”

He responds to your words, pulling out to the head of his cock, teasing your entrance just so before slamming back in.

You shut your eyes and whimper, over sensitive to your very marrow. It was too much. Keith was trailing kisses down your spine, his breath warm, his cock twitching inside your filling every inch of your pussy up. 

With a shudder, you come, stars behind your eyelids and short circuiting. You never knew sex could be this amazing. Not in real life. 

You got what people meant about the right partner. 

The right sexual energy to match. 

You collapse, a puppet with its strings cut. Keith’s hand across your chest is the only thing keeping you from melding into the mattress like a blob. His hips thrust against your ass mindlessly, chasing his own climax.

With another couple of thrusts, his hips snapping against you, Keith moans your name and comes undone behind you. 

He comes inside you, hot and sticky.

His hand grasps the back of your neck, holding you in place as he comes inside you. It’s unexpectedly hot. You didn’t know you could like this in bed. 

You didn’t know how much you liked an obstinate expression with wide eyes until you met Keith. He had the type of soulful eyes you could drown in. 

He had drawn out something in you that you hadn’t even been aware of. 

Your thoughts center on him as he finishes inside you. 

“You take my dick so good,” he says with a surprising amount of softness for what amounts to a one night stand and a pang strikes your chest, wishing you had met him under better circumstances where there might be-

Keith gets off you, slumping next to you on the bed. 

There’s a thrum of satisfaction running through you as you look at his face in profile. The insane idea that you might just stay and cuddle plants itself. 

That was impossible.

It was time to cut and run.

Sure, he’d fucked you. But he was also still half a stranger. No matter how jumbled your thoughts were, you refused to give into the pull he had on you. 

You wanted to lay there with him. 

Keith blinks slowly, looking as blissed out as you feel, reaching out a hand towards you, but stopping himself halfway. 

You feel a little disappointed, but say nothing. It was just a one off thing you remind yourself, no matter how you felt. 

Now that you can think a little more clearly, though the sensation remains like a lump in your throat that starts there no matter how much you swallow, you glance around the dark room. Only the barest red lights on the floor illuminate enough to cast shadows. 

Keith’s own eyes reflect the light like a cat. Just a glimmer of traffic sign yellow. 

But you’re too tired to think, so you file it away in your head under the nebulous details you’ve learned about the red paladin.  

You blink, grimancing as Keith’s come runs down your thigh onto the sheets. At least they weren’t yours. 

He closes his eyes. 

“I’d say sorry about the mess,” you break the easy silence lulling you into staying there, “but it's your fault,” you tease way too familiarly. 

Keith sounds embarrassed when he utters, “sorry about that. I can get carried away.”

You smile softly, tracing over his shadowed form with your eyes but resisting the urge to reach out. That part was over. “It was good.”

“You did mention.” 

So he could joke. 

You giggle in the darkness that envelopes the room. You were good at being friendly and taking charge but you understood the hesitancy to open up to people you just met. 

Keith’s chest makes a rumbling sound akin to a cheetah purring. 

You try and hold onto the thought, sure it means something, but the sound draws you in and you lose the battle against yourself, curling up into his side. 

He takes this as the permission it is, and tangles his limbs with yours. 

A thrum of warmth surges where Keith’s skin touches you and you’re not sure if its his running warm or if it's all in your head or-

your eyes drift closed. 

He’s purring.

You know Keith would be embarrassed if you pointed it out. 

So you say nothing. 

Everything seemed so intangible anyhow. The world had been turned down a notch. The post orgasm glow remained unrivalled. 

Even a hit from a bong didn’t measure up. 

Your first time had been a real embarrassment (you hadn’t managed to get the boy’s cock in you), this was just a weird quirk of his, and it was soothing. 

You close your eyes. 

Keith’s breathing is deep and steady, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but don’t feel pressured to check. 

It was nice, not scurrying off, not being more than a little drunk. War was exhausting. Earth had only been in it for less than three years. No wonder some aliens were in such shit moods. 

You exhale. 

There’s no way to mark the passage of time. 

The bed shifts under you. Keith runs the back of his hand gently over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open.

“So would this be round two or three,” you ask lightly.

Keith smiles lightly, “you did say…”

“I did,” you laugh easily, blushing, the flush creeping from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. 

You swing a leg over his waist, straddling him, but not without feeling the start of a soreness in your legs. It doesn’t deter you. 

Keith lays back, watching you through his lashes as you sit up. He looks lovely. 

You lean down and kiss his mouth, reaching for his cock with your hands. He was already half hard when you wrap your hand around his shaft. 

His breath hitches in his throat as you move your hand. It’s been a moment since you’d jerk anyone, but it’s not rocket science. You press kisses down his throat, moving your hand firmly up and down his length until he’s completely hard. You nip at his collarbone, marking him the way he’d left bruising kiss all over you. 

His cock twitches in your hand, Keith’s hips thrusting up into you. 

Anticipation builds in your belly, but you want to set the pace, stay in charge. So you still your movements.

Keith whines under you, his hands holding your waist.

“Be a good boy for me,” you tell him. “Can you do that?”

“Mm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yeah,” he manages hoarsely, “I can be good.”

You smile, lining him up against your entrance. You shift your hips, teasing his cock against your wet folds, closing your eyes as you moan at the feeling. 

Keith thrusts up, trying to get more friction.

You still wanting to drag it out. Though your thighs ached and your pussy throbbed and you wondering if you should just-

You rub his cockhead against your pussy, “oooOH,” you moan. Your nails scratch his chest lightly, trying to steady yourself. Your heart raced, back arching down to him.

“Come here,” Keith groans, his fingers trailing up, asking for more, his hand on the small of your back. 

You give in, sinking down onto his cock. 

He moans your name, shutting his eyes. 

It’s pornographic, the way Keith rises up to meet you, hips bucking against yours, the expanse of his pale throat. 

You roll your hips slowly, fucking yourself on his cock. At this angle, the way he filled you- 

“Fuck,” Keith moans, “you feel so good.”

“I could say the same,” you reply, sliding against his hips, picking up speed. You hold yourself up, hand on his chest.

You suck in a breath as his cock thrusts into you. Static filled your head as you chased your pleasure, grinding against him. You tilt your head back, moaning his name, everything but Keith becoming background noise. 

He palms your breast.

Your breath hitches when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Ah,” you sigh. 

Your stomach was taunt. 

He doesn’t go further. You sort of wish he would. You trusted Keith not to hurt you. . .too badly. 

The idea excites you, as he wraps his hand around your throat. 

You match him, curling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard, “look at me,” you try and order but your voice is a whine. You’re too hot and heavy to think. 

His cock twitches inside you, filling you up and fuck it felt good to be streched out. 

Keith’s thumb strokes the side of your throat, his grip firm. “Do you like this,” he asks, his gaze heavy on you. He was entirely concentrated on you. It was like being worshipped. 

It sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you got rougher,” you admit, finding it easy to trust him.

He looks away. 

You falter. Had you read things wrong? 

Keith bucks his hips up against you and you let the thought go, sinking onto his cock and groaning, “Keith…” 

It was easy to let go when it felt this good. His hand around your throat, fingers digging into your hips, you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. Not that anyone would be able to tell from over your uniform. 

A shudder runs down your spine, you squirm on his cock mindlessly, thinking about bruises in the shape of his hands, about the marks on your neck you could already feel blooming on your skin. Heat surges in your chest, something primal as your thoughts linger there. 

You nails run down his chest, leaving shallow scratches as you try and get a better hold, desperately grinding against Keith, down on the bed, his cock ramming into you. “Fuck,” you think, “fuck. . .Keith. . .”

You can’t stand it. 

The pressure in your stomach, the heat scorching your pussy, the sound of Keith’s whines and moans, your name tumbling out of his mouth like a hymn that raised your heart beat, blood pounding in your ears. 

Keith squeezes your neck, your throat bobs under his fingers and fuck-

You come. 

Your legs tremble, unable to support you any longer as you collapse, a quivering mess on Keith. His hands move down to grip your thighs, pulling you down flush against him, down to the hilt of his cock as he comes, moaning erotically. 

The thread of heat doesn’t dissipate entirely as you rest on his chest, boneless and sticky with sweat, but it relaxes and you breath the scent of him in instead of pulling away entirely. 

Keith strokes a hand down your spine, an afterthought, “that was. . .” 

“Yeah.” You’re exhausted. 

You close your eyes, listening to the inhuman rumble of Keith’s chest as it rises and falls with every breath you take. 

You end up slipping out. The halls are in the light cycle, but no one bothers you as you walk. 

Getting up the next morning is hell. 

Your legs are sore, and that’s not even mentioning how much your pussy hurts when you take a step. You take a dose of painkillers still remaining from your injury and check your messages. 

Nothing from earth. 

That was expected. 

The meager universal communications were taken up by the war effort. You still sent your family messages, even if it was just one way. It was a way to keep in touch. It felt like watching starlight and knowing it was millions of years old, a form of time travel. 

You shower. 

Keith’s come was a mess on the inside of your thighs and the thought is not as gross as it should be, your skin warming up, zapped by static. You run your fingers over your clit and fuck yourself in the shower thinking of the red paladin and his come.

You get out, brushing your hair out, not looking in the mirror at the purple hickies spread out like a constellation on your chest, and realize how weird you were being. 

Come was gross. 

You hated swallowing so you never did. The tentative relationships at the garrison had been short, you had all been teenagers, and now anything that happened was a one off thing sometimes involving aliens. 

You swallow, gripping the counter of your sink. You were horny again. 

No. 

Not going there. 

No space weirdness this morning. 

Because you’re on leave for the space equivalent of 6 or 5 days, you don’t have much to do. You get food. It had taken getting used to, and figuring out which brightly colored pastel goo thing was good, but there was a variety. You still had no clue what was plants or animals up in space. 

The more liberated planets, the more supplies trickled in. Pirates loved to take a cut. 

You eat as soldiers stop by to refuel, fill up on supplies. Despite the stress, you missed being out on the front. Being out of the action sucked. 

Sitting around on a spaceship was boring. 

It wasn’t like they had shops or movie theaters. Walking around too much ended up with you being in the way. 

You clench your jaw, feeling feverish. 

And you had just been getting better. . .

You shove the thought away. 

You end up watching space TV: reality TV shows like Galra Ninja Warrior and nature docu series on plants, some you’ve been on, before finally sliding your hand under the waistband of your trousers and rubbing your clit. 

It takes the edge off, but the heat’s still there, pressed up in the pit of your stomach, cheeks flushes and you sigh, unsatisfied as you click to something other than the marine biomes of Kmeolsuahr. For aliens larger than a schoolbus, they were peaceful creatures. Since they were filter feeders, agriculture had never developed a hold on their planet, but water generators were plentiful. 

Yet another show starring Galra. It was the most common type of show in the Empire. Hijacking communications had given this traveling spaceship TV. You were glad for it now. 

You curl up, the communicator snug around your wrist translating everything instantaneously. It was the part in the soap where there has to be a duel for honor. What a load of crap. 

The two Galra circle each other, close ups of their face like a mexican stand-off. Through TV you got to know the Glara in the empire as more than just soldiers. Spending time in the camps taught you that even Galra citizens could be arrested for treasonous statements against Zarkon. 

They make growling alien sounds, something between a jaguar and a sound not found on earth, an underlying clicking that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You connect the dots. 

The glowing eyes, the purrs and rumbles, and whatever weird alien thing was going on: the red paladin was part Galra. 

Only that made no sense. 

He was from Earth. 

First contact had been what, when the paladins had disappeared? When the Kerberos mission had been abducted, and boy had that made fringe conspiracy theorists happy. . .how could he be part Galra? 

Was it even your problem?

Surely this would go away. . .

You were leaving in a little over five days. 

You curl up and watch TV until you fall asleep, determined to enjoy the rest while it lasted and your weren’t trudging through waist deep mud. 

“Read through the debrief,” a commander with a nebulous rank above you asks. In your line of work, so much was redacted. Information gathering was a fancy way of saying spy. It was why you worked so closely with the rebels. 

You don’t even blink at the slight pale easter egg yellow alien, ears that resembled hair, long and droopy like a rabbit: there were four of them. You’d met stranger. “Yeah. Long mission.”

You were not looking forward to being on a planet with an inhospitable surface. A sun close enough that set the surface on fire with it’s rays, no thanks. 

Still, it was your assignment. 

“It is vital.”

They always said that. 

It seemed to be extracting some key players. Who they were remained unknown until you had to know. It was a lot of flying blind to keep information from leaking to the wrong ears. Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz. 

“I’ll treat it that way,” you nod, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It would be fun flying a hijacked Galra fighter ship. The planet was pretty deep in Empire controlled space. 

“And,” the alien looks you up and down like a Garrison RA finding a stain on your uniform during morning inspection, “get rid of that scent.”

“What,” you ask plainly, “scent.”

The alien raises a hairless muscle over its eye. The gesture is human enough. “Voltron has docked here.” 

It was subterfuge. Both of you were in the same line of work, you could do this dance in your sleep. “As far as I know, yes.” You are careful to keep your expression neutral, feeling stupid for not having used negating get. It wasn’t even rationed, but used pretty widely. There were many aliens who relied primarily on scent, and those whose sense of smell was far sharper than yours. 

“Mm.”

You hold their gaze. 

You weren’t one to waver.

“Any further questions?”

“None.”

“Good.”

You walk blithely back to your room, intending to shower, again, and probably take care of the warmth in your gut. The heat was like an uncomfortable itch under your skin that stubbornly remained no matter how much you ignored it. 

How was it even possible that Keith was any part alien let alone Galra? You were pretty sure the entire planet would have known if the Galra arrived on the planet. 

It was intriguing. 

Your mind drew up the details you knew, trying to make them fit. It was half mental exercise, half the urge to actually get to the bottom of this. Keith didn’t look half Glara like Prince Lotor and his gang of misfits. . .quarter, one sixteenth. . .

Occam's Razor. 

The mystery occupied your mind as you made it back to your quarters. 

Keith is pacing outside your door. 

How did he even know where your quarters were?

“Did you sniff your way here,” you ask, genuinely curious. Maybe the traits might not be apparent. . .just how Galra was the red paladin. You were reminded again how little you actually knew him. 

Understanding fills his eyes; he knew you knew. Keith looks over at you for a second before ducking his head dejectedly, a straw dog expecting to be run off. 

Your heart ached. 

How a paladin of Voltron could be so self conscious despite going toe to toe with the Empire on a daily basis. . .you didn’t know. They were only flesh and blood after all. 

You take pity on him, “so is this going to be a thing,” the corners of your mouth lift into a small smile. You were still a little sore. You wouldn’t mind going another few rounds. . .

But you needed to clear some things up first. 

Just how much of this between you was space Galra funkiness? 

Keith snorts, looking up, meeting your searching gaze. His shoulders were still tense, unsure that you weren’t about to tell him to shove off. Not the loner type entirely by choice then, his innate awkwardness must have made it hard to connect. 

It wasn’t a problem you’d ever had, rushing into everything headfirst, taking charge. 

“Not like there’s a lot of humans to choose from up here,” he says self-deprecatingly. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m down for some alien funkiness,” you answer evenly, taking a step towards him. He inhales sharply, looking away again, this time in thought. 

The lines of his face increase, clearly uncomfortable, frowning. 

“I can’t usually,” Keith admits in a tense voice, “smell this well. . .though I can smell better than Shiro.”

“Shiro?”

“The black paladin,” he explains, surprised he has to explain at all. 

You answer his unvoiced question, “everyone tends to focus on the color of the lion rather than the pilot inside.”

“Oh. That’s dumb.” He looks a little relieved at the anonymity that grants. 

“Is it just me then,” you ask, getting to the bottom of things. 

He nods, meeting your gaze. “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking of fucking you,” he says without ceremony. 

You find yourself blushing. The connection went both ways, the very alien connection. “Don’t hate me but I think we should go to the medic.” 

Keith frowns. “Or we could just fuck.”

“That horny,” you tease, raising a brow, “or was I just that good?”

Keith cusps a hand against your cheek, his thumb running over your lips. 

Your mouth parts, the tip of your tongue grazing his thumb. 

“So you don’t want to fuck,” Keith asks, a playful smirk on his lips. 

You swallow, the urge to say yes right there as his touch on you entranced you, sending desire cascading through your body down to your toes. “This isn’t just alien weirdness is it?” You wanted it to be more. 

“No,” he shakes his head, his breath mingling with yours. “That’s-I’m not that impulsive.”

“Good,” you mutter, pressing your body against his, and opening the door to your room.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

harry and his wife going to a birthing class would be so precious !!

imagine him asking all the questions wanting to be informed as much as possible !! + him bragging to the other new parents about how proud he is of you for carrying his baby!! and him rubbing your belly throughout the class(!!) he’d be so nervous after watching a birth video knowing that you’ll have to go through that soon but he’d be so happy knowing at the end of it all you’ll have your baby (i re watched the snl skit and i couldn’t resist 🥺🥺)

soon to be dad!harry is my favorite thing ever :)

birthing class

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

"Are you almost ready, love?" Harry called from the living room. "I'm coming!" you replied, struggling to lean down. You had finally reached the point in your pregnancy where you couldn't get your shoes on by yourself. Huffing, you kicked the tennis shoes back to your closet and grabbed a pair of crocs from the shelf. Not the most fashionable, sure, but they fit and they were comfortable. Good enough.

"I'm ready," you said, grabbing your water bottle from the table. "Couldn't get my shoes on." "Oh, I could have helped you!" He cooed, looking guilty. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. It was sweet that he was so attentive, but it was also getting really annoying.  He acted like you were made of glass. He didn't let you do anything anymore. At first you had been fine with it- after all, you weren't about to complain that he was suddenly jumping to do the chores around the house. But sometimes you missed your independence. "It's fine, Harry," you sighed. "I figured it out. I am a very resourceful woman." "You are," he grinned, grabbing the keys from the bowl by the door. "My incredible wife." "Oh yes, I'm so incredible for putting on a pair of crocs," you said, this time not stopping yourself from rolling your eyes. His happy expression didn't change as he ushered you out the door. That was one other thing- he had been incredible throughout this whole thing. He didn't get annoyed when you snapped at him or cried at random things or woke him up in the middle of the night because you were hungry. He just kept that happy smile on his face, or rubbed your back, or went to find something to satisfy your cravings. You were more thankful than you could ever explain. "So, are you excited?" You asked him, already in a better mood as you buckled your seatbelt. He didn't mention your mood swings, another thing you were very thankful for. "I am," he admitted as he backed out of the driveway. "I'm gonna ask all the questions. I'm gonna learn how to be the best birthing partner you've ever seen." "Please don't refer to yourself as my birthing partner," you shook your head. "It's super weird." "Alright, uh... baby... delivery... support?" "Baby delivery support? Really?" You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, is it better than birthing partner?" He grinned. "Not much," you said, unable to hold back your laugh. "Why are you taking this so seriously?" "Of course I'm taking this seriously. It's learning how to bring our baby girl into the world. Very important stuff," he said, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. "Yeah, but I'm just gonna get an epidural. I honestly don't know if we need this class." "Too late, we're already here," he said, flashing a cheeky smile as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Let’s go learn how to have a baby!”

-----

"Hello everyone!" The instructor chirped. She was way too cheery. "Please, choose a yoga mat. Partner sits behind mom." "See?" Harry nudged you, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. "Partner. Birthing partner. I was right." "Shut up," you huffed, elbowing him lightly. "You know I'm right," he grinned, pressing a light kiss to your ear. You did know he was right, but you would never admit it to him. So you just shook your head, leading him over to the closest yoga mat. He helped you get comfortable before he settled himself behind you, putting his legs on either side of yours and resting his hands on your belly. He put his chin on your shoulder, looking down at his hands on you. "Did you feel that?" He asked excitedly. You smiled at the fluttering feeling inside you, putting your hands over his and guiding them to where the movement was strongest. "She does that every time you talk," you informed him, tilting your head to look at him. "Really?" He grinned, looking so boyishly happy that you couldn't help but smile with him. You nodded. "She already loves you." "Well that's good, because I already love her too." You smiled at this, tilting your head more to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Before you could get too carried away, you were pulled from your sweet moment by the instructor clapping loudly. "Alright everyone, it's time to get started!" She announced, taking her place at the front of the room. "First we'll go around the room and introduce ourselves. Then I want you to say the thing you're looking forward to most in this class. I'll start: I'm Sandy, and I'm most excited to answer all of your questions, and hopefully ease any fears or anxiety you may be having." She gestured toward you and Harry next. You smiled, waving to the other couples in the room. "Hello, I'm Y/N. I'm most excited to learn about epidurals and how to go about getting one." This got a small chuckle from the others in the room, and several knowing looks and nods from the other moms. "I'm Harry," he said, lifting his hand from under yours to give a small wave. "And I'm most excited to learn about how to support my wife during the rest of her pregnancy and the delivery." Sandy nodded. "Both excellent things to learn about. Who would like to go next?" "Aw, you're sweet," you whispered, leaning back against him. "What a good husband you're being." "Please, I'm always a good husband," he grinned, turning his head to kiss your cheek. "I'm just better than everyone else here, so I look really good by comparison." You reached back to smack his shoulder playfully. "Be nice, we haven't even heard from any of the other dads yet. For all you know, one of them could totally blow your answer out of the water." "I seriously doubt it," he scoffed, speaking in a low voice so he wouldn't interrupt anyone. "Look at them. That one looks ready to bolt. Keeps eyeing the door. That one over there looks like he's gonna be sick just looking at the diagrams of the female body. And that last one- well, he actually looks fine." Just as Harry finished analyzing everyone in the room, the last man spoke. "I'm Lucas, and I'm most excited for Kristen here to have some questions answered. She's been so freaked out the whole time, it's getting ridiculous. It's like, babe, I don't know either! Why are you asking me?" Harry leaned closer to speak in your ear again. "Nevermind, maybe he's not fine." You tried very hard to keep your laughter to yourself, mostly because you felt bad for Kristen.   Sandy seemed a bit stunned by his blunt answer, pausing slightly before she regained her chirpy tone. "Um... yes! All very good goals. Let's get into it then!" Harry stretched his arms out in front of you, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, get ready for me to be the best baby delivery support you've ever seen," he said into your ear. "Lucas wishes he could be as good as me." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face. You felt very lucky to have such an attentive husband, one who was even more excited for birthing classes than you

were. There was no one else you would rather have by your side. "First, we're going to go over some breathing exercises. Now, you may be thinking "I don't need to learn how to breathe, I do it every day!" but you may be surprised how much regulating your air can help with relaxation and pain relief. So, get comfortable. Moms, rest on your partner behind you. Let them support you. Partner, your job here is to hold them up and keep your breathing even. You can place your hands wherever feels comfortable. This may be on their belly, or legs, or even holding their hands." "I'm keeping my hands right here," Harry whispered, placing his hands in their previous position, right over where your baby was kicking. "Now, everyone follow me as I take a deep breath in..." She inhaled exaggeratedly, raising her arms up in the air, before she spoke again. "Then exhale," she lowered her arms. "Repeat this a few times. Inhale... and exhale." You could feel Harry's chest moving at her prompts, and you matched with him. You wouldn't tell him (his ego was already big enough) but his presence was extremely soothing. He made you feel so safe, and you were much less worried than you had been before. You usually played it off with jokes and sarcasm, but you had been pretty anxious about the delivery process. But with Harry behind you, holding you and staying so calm, you felt like everything would be just fine. After a few minutes of this, Sandy brought her arms down one final time. "Excellent! How are we feeling after this? Hopefully more relaxed." "I feel very relaxed," you said quietly, tipping your head back against Harry's shoulder. "You're good at this." "I told you," he smirked. "I have a very soothing personality." "Very soothing," you agreed. "Alright, for our next activity, we're going to go through some birthing positions. In fact, you are already sitting in an ideal position, but there are others that can be more comfortable. So partners, help mom stand up, and we'll get the birthing balls." She gestured over to the corner, where there were large exercise balls lined up. Harry helped you up slowly, making sure you were steady before he went to retrieve one. He set the ball down behind you, helping you settle yourself on it. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking up to the front for the next set of instructions. "All you have to do for this one is bounce slightly. This can help decrease back pain, and relieve pressure in your pelvis and abdomen. It can even shorten the process of labor." You did as she said, bouncing a little. "Having fun there?" Harry smiled, looking down at you. "So much fun," you quipped. "I could do this all day." After a few more minutes on the ball, and then learning several other positions, you were ready for a break. Thankfully, the other expectant mothers seemed to feel the same, and Sandy noticed. "Why don't we take a few minutes, just talk with your partner or some other couples, and then we'll regroup after that." She said, leaving you to your own devices for the time being. You sighed, leaning against Harry again. You were in the same position as you had been while doing the breathing exercises, and so were the other couples. You turned to the couple to your left, deciding to start a conversation. "How has the whole pregnancy thing been for you?" You asked. "Honestly, not too bad," the woman, whose name you had learned was Chloe, informed you. "I think William has been more stressed than I have." She patted his shoulder with a small smile. He grinned sheepishly behind her. He was the one Harry had said looked ready to bolt, but he looked much more relaxed now. "Hey, don't blame me, I'm just trying to stay informed. It's not my fault I keep stumbling upon all these horrible things." You laughed at this. "Harry's the same way. Aren't you, baby?" He smiled, blushing lightly. "He's right, there's a lot of horrible things. It's a bit scary, if I'm being honest." "Right!" William said, eyes going wide. "But it's not like I'm going to say anything about it, I'm not the

one giving birth." "Exactly!" Harry nodded. His hands were absentmindedly rubbing over your belly, so light that you weren't even sure he was aware of it. "We should have met up sooner, mate. We have a lot in common. But someone didn't want to come to the birthing class." You smiled, hitting his arm playfully. "I didn't think it was worth it, but I'm kind of glad you convinced me. This has been pretty helpful." "Chloe didn't want to come either," William laughed. "I think she just gave in because I was so stressed." "Yeah, I was sick of you freaking out every five minutes," she joked, leaning back against him. "Not every five minutes," he rolled his eyes. "Maybe every other day. Maybe." "Mhm," she narrowed her eyes at him, before they both broke into smiles. Harry kissed your cheek again, nuzzling his nose against you. "What are you doing?" You giggled, turning your head away from his tickling touch. "I just love you so much," He said quietly. "You're amazing." He spoke a little louder then, directing it toward Chloe and William. "She really is amazing, though. She had the worst morning sickness. But you got through it, didn't you?" He smiled, kissing your cheek again. "My amazing wife." Chloe nodded. "Mine was terrible in the first trimester. We almost had to go in to the hospital once, I was so dehydrated. Couldn't keep anything down." "That's how mine was, too. The only thing I could stand to eat was pickles." "Which is odd, since you used to hate pickles," Harry reminded you. "I did," you laughed. "But then one night I woke up and just had to have them. We didn't even have any in the house, Harry had to go out at three in the morning to get me some." William smiled. "I did quite a bit of that, too. Babies have weird cravings, don't they?" You and Chloe both nodded. "But I'm very thankful for my lovely husband, who is willing to get up and go to the store in the middle of the night for me," you smiled. This time it was you who kissed Harry's cheek. "Anything for my love," he said, blushing again. "Are we ready to get started again?" Sandy asked, raising her voice over the chatter in the room. "We just have a few more activities. Next, we'll go over how to put a diaper on a baby." "Oh, I'm so ready for this," Harry said quietly. He wasn't lying. He had been practicing for at least five months. When he first found out you were pregnant, he had gone to the store and bought a baby doll and a pack of diapers. He had carried the doll all over the house with him, figuring out the best way to hold it and rock it and burp it and- most importantly- diaper it. He was basically an expert at this point. Two baskets were passed around- one full of dolls, and one with diapers. Harry had the diaper on your baby before Sandy even gave any instructions. He looked up at you, incredibly proud of himself. "Good job," you smiled. "You're an expert." "Pretty much," he nodded. "I'm basically ready to be a father, I think." "Definitely," you agreed. Once everyone had figured out this step, Sandy informed it was time to move on to the last activity. "Lastly, we will be watching the miracle of life video. You might have seen this in your high school health class, but it's never a bad idea to revisit this, just for an idea of what to expect." Harry, who had been very calm and collected during this class, suddenly seemed nervous. He shifted around, tightening his arms around you and laying his chin on your shoulder again. "You alright?" You whispered, putting your hands on his forearms. He nodded, his eyes glued to the screen as the video started. You could practically feel his eyes going wide as you watched the baby being born. Each time you glanced back at him, he had the same look of mild horror on his face. Once it was over, and the woman onscreen was holding her baby, he seemed calm again. "If there are no questions, I think we'll wrap up for today," Sandy said as she turned off the TV. "Thank you all for coming! I hope you learned a lot and had some of your fears eased." "Um, I have a question,"

Harry said meekly. "How does... um... I can't help but notice... that baby's head seemed... much too large to come out of such a small place." Your face felt like it was on fire as he spoke. Your dropped your head, resting it in your hands as the instructor turned to look at him. "I just don't... what if the baby gets stuck?" "Oh my god," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Actually, that's a question many new parents have," Sandy assured him. You finally lifted your head, noticing many of the other dads were paying close attention. They seemed to have the same thought in their minds, but apparently only Harry was bold enough to actually say anything. "It can seem very scary, but the skin in that area is made to stretch in this way. Some women do have tearing, but this happens less often now that doctors know how to properly support the area. And as for the worry of the baby getting stuck, that's also something that happens very rarely. There are several methods doctors can use to deliver the baby in that case. But you really don't have to worry too much; your wife is in excellent hands. Our doctors here are first rate, and they are highly trained to handle any kind of complications." Harry nodded, looking much less worried as helped you stand up. You both waved at the couple you had made friends with, before thanking the instructor and making your way out the door. You shook your head as he opened your car door for you. "Really, Harry?" you sighed as he got in and buckled his seatbelt. "What if the baby gets stuck?" "Hey, it's a valid question!" He defended himself as he backed out of the parking spot. "You heard her. It's a question that many new parents have." You shook your head again, but didn't say anything back. You did feel a little bad for him. The video had been slightly disturbing, even for you. And you already knew exactly how it was going to go. "Well, thank you for making me go to that," you said. "I do feel more prepared now." "Me too," he smiled. "And I feel better knowing that I'm better than those other dads there." "It's not like it's a competition," you laughed. "No, not a competition, I just can't let them win." "Right, makes sense." He nodded. "But really, I'm so excited. I can't wait to meet our little baby." "I know, I can't either," you smiled, resting your hands on your belly again. "She hears you talking. She's kicking like earlier." "Is she? She's excited to meet me too." "She is," you agreed. "We're going to be the best parents. But first, we need to get McDonald's. She's telling me that's what she wants." "Oh, is she?" He smiled as he got into the turn lane for the restaurant. "Well, who am I to deny what my baby wants?"

[diana-berry]

South Park fans take things so seriously it’s hilarious, I mean I don’t think Matt and trey think of cartman as this deep character that’s been abused with thoughts and feelings, mostly they just think of him as a joke character that is the most evil being alive. I don’t think they were thinking about him as truly reformed or anything, they made him Jewish because it was the most outlandish thing they could’ve possibly done for his character. Cartman was never supposed to have a good ending or be redeemed, he’s cartman. I mean it’s kinda funny that standards y’all have with this honestly like irl if someone was racist once 20 years ago they’re dead to you forever but cartman can literally be well… cartman but suddenly he better for 2 one hour specials and suddenly he’s a good guy that doesn’t deserve a terrible fate now? Just remember the one that got the bad fate wasn’t good cartman, the still bad, selfish, horrendous, evil, transphobic, homophobic, racist, antisemitic etc cartman got the bad end. Cartman being good and redeemed was just a joke it was never meant to be taken seriously. But honestly I almost feel like this whole thing was a test to see if they could get people who hate cartman to feel bad for him, and it worked. Like you should hate cartman, he’s horrible. Granted all the boys have done bad things but NOTHING on the level of cartman, do I need to remind you the giant list of crimes he committed on his wiki? There are over 40 CRIMES listed. Go read it for yourself if you don’t believe me, the details are worse. It’s funny that “does cartman deserve the ending he got” has suddenly become a hot button debate. Honestly if y’all are feeling bad for cartman, you’re looking too deep into it, but of course this fandom has always looked too deep into things, myself included. So if you feel too upset, just remember that that wasn’t their intention with it, it was something played for laughs, cartman became washed up because he’s bad and he will never get anywhere in life while being in his current situation because the qualities he has as a person makes it impossible for him to be any form of a good person. Maybe it’s the people around him, but that doesn’t make it their fault, his reactions to them being unhealthy isn’t something they can control, but I didn’t come here to analyze cartman. Feel bad for cartman if you want but try not to forget the show you’re watching and the people who wrote it.

[bonny-kookoo]

Sweet Girl [J.JK x Reader]🔞🌼☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, angst because I like to cry myself to sleep

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom!jungkook, sub!Reader, size kink is still strong, mild dd/lg themes, praise kink, long haired jungkook because yes that needs to be a warning, strength kink, they fuck in the kitchen smh

Jungkook and you are in a healthy relationship, managing all those things couples have to manage; building an IKEA bed, having your first fight, or arguing who should do the laundry this time. Apart from that, your life inside your bedroom has been pretty active as well, leaving Jungkook more satisfied than ever. He's not a horny teenager anymore after all, trying not to bust a nut just because he got a glimpse of your nipples through your rather thin shirt- yet you always manage to be so unbelievably sinful, he can't help but snatch a taste every now and then. After all, you're his- he's simply reminding you.

This is part of the 'Good Girl'-Universe!

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl

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Jeon Jungkook and you loved to tease each other. From the way he would rub his sweat-soaked hair all over the crook of your neck playfully after his workout just to rile you up, just to exclaim happily that you love him too much to actually be serious when you yell that he's disgusting. And he's right- even if he's exhausting to be around sometimes with his seemingly endless energy (seriously, you're convinced at this point that he's the human embodiment of the energizer bunny), or how he could sometimes forget that you're not as tough as his other male friends that he was regularly around. You catch yourself laughing inside yourself every time you turn into a crybaby and tear up when a comment gets under your skin, because his entire body changes posture- every time he notices you getting hurt because he's too rough while playfighting, or when he again tells you you could just get your chubby butt up and work out with him, completely ignoring the fact that he knows its a very sensitive topic for you; he literally turns into a complete child who just got asked to explain rocket science. Jungkook isn't used to handle something as fragile as a girl- plus, you play along and usually brush off most things so easily, that he simply sometimes forgets that you actually have weak points.

One of these moments occured early on in your relationship; it was a silly mistake on his side really. When Taehyung asked him straight up if he was dating you, you didn't expect a huge love proposal; Jungkook wasn't like that. But a simple yes would've been okay as well- yet Jungkook being the cocky bastard he was, simply made a comment along the lines of 'nah, I'm just screwing her.' It was meant as a joke really, and it took him a good thirty seconds to notice your demeanor changing. Deep inside you, you knew he didn't mean it like that, yet it still hit you hard, especially considering his past hobby of trying to be the biggest manwhore around. When he'd went after you just when you had told him you'd be using the bathroom and not returning after a good ten minutes, he'd bursted into the womans bathrooms just in time to see you trying to wipe away your tears. His face had been priceless really now that you thought about it; before that moment you always had a hard time imagining that 'kicked puppy look' people always talked about- he didn't look like you just kicked him, but full on sucker punched his prized playstation out of orbit just for a laugh. He was totally unprepared and clearly had no idea what to do in that moment, never having needed to deal with tears in that way- and your face had hit him especially hard, considering how it was his fault at that. Considering how lost he really was he dealt with it quite sweetly, yet in a typical Jungkook fashion- uncaring of other woman and girls trying to get into the bathroom, he'd grabbed a considerable amount of tissue paper from the dispenser next to the sink you were standing in front of, promptly sitting you on top of it to properly have you at eye-level with him to wipe away your tears and smeared make up, telling you how you looked better without it anyways, and how sorry he was for being an utter asshole and idiot at the same time. You honestly started laughing at that. Not necessarily his comment even though it was true, but his extremely concentrated face, as if he was restoring an ancient artwork or something the likes of that. He audibly sighed at that, glad to know you didn't hate him. Because that was his innermost fear; you probably seeing the dickbag he thought he was underneath and leaving him for good. Not that he'd tell you that. You knew of that fear though.

Needless to say, it wasn't the only thing that happened between you both. Yet you've always overcome these things with ease, both of you growing surprisingly mature about arguments as time went on. Jungkook changed you as well- you were a wallflower before, and if you were honest, you kind of still were. But you were carrying yourself with a newfound confidence because of his daily praises- turning heads every now and then simply because you actually liked yourself these days. And Jungkook noticed as well- always commenting on how he didn't know if he liked the change or not, considering how much attention you now got everywhere you both went. You simply countered that with a simple comment along the lines of 'Now you know how I feel', because he was glowing up every month it seemed. Yet he stayed true to his words back then to you; he really did only have eyes for you anymore.

What really did piss him off was just how innocent you could be sometimes. It had him fuming how oblivious you could seem to others shamelessly flirting with you, yet he knew that he loved that about you just as much. The fact that you would willingly (and happily of course) let him corrupt you over and over again fuled his pride to no ends, making him feel like he was your knight in shining armor, even if it sounded sappy. Right now however he could really use some more patience, because he was sure his own amount was slowly running out. When he came back home, he didn't really have any plans, except for the one you had already agreed on. You both wanted to cook something tonight, nothing fancy, simply craving some kind of 'bonding time' as you called it, even though he had immediately told you this could be done in a different way, to which you blushed. He loved making you embarrassed, almost craving the way your flustered cheeks would turn into a beautiful red shade.

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He knew those plans would change however as soon as he spotted you on the couch in his living room. That itself wasn't something new since you lived here, but the attire you chose was rather.. unfair. He was supposed to keep it in his pants tonight, yet he could already feel himself rising against the fabric of his sweatpants at the view of you in a black shirt of his, oversized on your way smaller body. Yet that exactly did it- because that was all you wore, apart from your flimsy pair of pastel blue lace rimmed panties. You raised your head from out of your book and he was a goner as soon as he saw those eyes.

"Babydoll you're being really unfair right now." He groaned as he sat down on the couch, making you bounce a bit next to him. You looked at him confused, his patience snapping. Maybe it was his frustration that had filled up his mind during the day, or simply his habit of taking what he wanted when he wanted it, but soon enough you found yourself on his lap, your legs on either side of his. His hands were fast to reach under your, or more so his shirt, growling when he felt your bare breasts underneath his fingers. You really were asking for it.

Stop. Mission abort. Cancel all open tasks. Shutdown, emergency-

With a sigh the young boy detached himself from you, running a hand through his hair rather agressively. Even though he would usually not feel too bad about his actions, especially with you, considering he felt rather safe and comfortable around you, he had to remember the small argument you both had the night prior. It really hadn't even been an argument if he was being honest, and it was basically all on him that night, yet he felt like he needed to second-guess his actions now. It had been a simple question really, admittedly a fair one at that, however, it also was one he rather feared answering. Yes, Jeon Jungkook was actually scared of a mere question.

'Why won't you kiss me?'

Well, yeah. Why wouldn't he? To answer that would mean to expose himself, to open himself up, to be vulnerable- and even though he knew deep down that you would never use anything against him in an almost predatory meanor others in the past had, he couldn't shake the feeling off. The fear, of what he couldn't tell. He simply waved you off, telling you that you both didn't need those sappy gestures, and you had simply nodded, accepting that, even though he knew that you felt hurt by his answer. Hell, he felt hurt by his own answer. And what had hurt him even more was your reaction to it; somehow he wanted you to be offended, to openly dig at his wounds, to scratch at his scars and make him spill his blood into your hands. He didn't want you to feel like he only loved you physically, like he only wanted to own your body, because he craved so much more than your touchable form. He wanted to build his home into your very soul, wanted to surround himself with your voice and live in your very heartbeat- yet it didn't matter how romantic and oh-so poetic his own thoughts could be. It didn't matter at all if he couldn't say it.

He looked at you, internally cringing at the way you looked at him, utterly confused. You'd gotten so used to him using you that it made his own saliva taste bitter, making him crinkle his brows a little. "I-" He started, yet took a deep breath, his eyes aimlessly dancing over the plush carpet, analyzing the various shades of light brown it presented to him. Right now he hated it. Hated how it made his apartment, your apartment feel like home. He hated how it did fit into the living room even though he'd complained about you buying it, arguing that you started to take over his life back then when you both didn't even date each other. He hated how he fell in love with it after he'd seen you lay on it with your phone in hand, the small white fan in the corner of the room softly blowing your hair and clothes during the summer. He hated how he remembered spilling his soda on it one day, freaking out because he knew even if he would cover it up you'd notice, you always noticed. Just like now. Because the hand you'd placed on his shoulder as a form of comfort had never felt so heavy on him, like a brick trying to force his entire back down. "M' sorry.." He simply grunted out, putting his head in his hands.

"What're you sorry for?" You had laughed a bit uneasy, and he hated the sound of it. He always pictured himself as the man who was oh-so protective of you, yet right now he'd never felt so small. "Is it about yesterday? You don't have to change Jungkookie, I don't mind-" Yet he had to shut you up, turning a bit to look at you with a face melted into a vision of being thrown side by side by your own thoughts. This was exactly the issue. You didn't mind- and he knew that you didn't even lie about that- it made everything so much worse.

The nickname, the way you said it, the way you meant it- it all just punched his guts even harder. Instead of answering he simply took your face in his hands, placing his lips onto yours with so much emotion you could feel them trembling. His kisses turned into more than simple pecks, they turned into desperate cries of confusion, of insecurity, of so many things you would've never associated Jungkook with. Slowly your bodies fell into place again, with him laying you down on your back, a pillow falling down and knocking a fork down from the small table, yet none of you cared about it in that moment. As soon as you reached for his belt he'd grabbed your hand, holding them with such care. "No no- I-" He said, switching between kissing and talking. "I want to- no, I need to make love to you, yeah?" You squeaked at his sudden movement when he'd picked you up, trying to carry you to the shared bedroom, yet aborting that mission as well by simply sitting you ontop of the kitchen counter, the marbled stone cold underneath your butt. You gasped into the open air, the way he'd just lifted you with such ease making you feel so small- in every good way possible. Yet even though this wasn't the first time making out in the kitchen, this was new- to both of you. He had no clue what to actually do, exploring new territory as well as you did in that moment, never having gone slow before. Yet he slowly eased into it, his arms leading his hands over your exposed skin, fingers softly squeezing the flesh of your thighs. His kisses started to wander, caressing your neck, yet even though his dominant side was starting to show the more comfortable he got with what he was doing, you noticed a slight difference in his demeanor. His arms weren't limiting your movement, weren't moving you around to his hearts content- even though you would never complain about that- they were around you, his hands on your back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in his hands, then letting go just to repeat like a kneading cat. "You're so sweet, so so sweet, did I ever tell you that?" He whispered almost like a secret, and you felt like he was bewitching you in a weird way. "Wanna keep you all to myself, wanna hide you like a secret." He said lowly, almost growled, and you felt yourself slowly fall for his word with every sound he made. "But I also wanna show you everyone, wanna show everyone how lucky I am, how I got the prettiest and sweetest of them all." He said, hands wandering up his shirt you were wearing, running over your soft breasts, squeezing them softly and relishing in the way they felt under his fingertips. He always loved your skin, even though you'd complained before how you disliked the slight chub on your lower belly, or how your thighs were thicker than most girls your height. Yet he couldn't find anything wrong with it, loving the way it gave you such a soft vibe and feel. This was you, every little flaw that you were seeing he saw as another thing to love about you, as sappy as it sounded. "You're my good girl, my best girl.." He said before he started to move your already ruined panties to the side, his fingers exploring your heat. "My only girl." He said, making you mewl into his neck, hands now grabbing his shirt for a change. He made you shuffle a bit closer towards him, standing between your legs while his tattooed hand pushed two fingers inside you, reaching to make you feel good, yet never going the usual pace.

"Jungkoo-ah- Jungkookie please-!" You sighed, and he simply chuckled, kissing your neck, down to your collarbone where he playfully nipped at the skin, loving the sounds you were making. "No no no, I wanna go slow yeah? Wanna make love babydoll, we got time.." He said, and you shot him a pout, making him laugh. "Come on I'm trying to be romantic here!" He said, and you reached for his jeans again- making him move your hands away again. "Nuh-uh. Good girls are patient. You can wait right, pretty girl?" He said playfully, making you pout again. He couldn't help but comply with you. How could he not? He loved you. He really did. Fuck, he really, really did. Undoing his belt and letting his pants fall to his knees along with his underwear, he reached for your butt, making you shimmy even closer to him so he could swiftly enter you, making both of you gasp out both in anticipation and relief from your side for getting your way.

The simple view he had of your form speared on his cock was the sole reason he loved every position that made him look at you. The picture in front of him just was too presious yet sinful to be wasted. He wished he could take a picture of it actually, yet he decided against it, having heard his phone fall out of the back pocket of his jeans before, and he was kind of too terrified to see his screen cracked yet. He also couldn't really think about it, the way your walls engulfed him occupying his mind almost completely. His arms encaved you, holding you against him as close as possible, creating a safe haven for you and your mindset. You always slipped into some sort of headspace whenever his praise and affection got to a certain point- something that had terrified you at first, making you feel a bit embarrased as well- yet Jungkook had assured you that it was completely okay and normal, having googled it someday back when he'd been bored on his phone. It was actually quite endearing that your mind trusted him enough to slip into such a vulnerable state, his pride feeding off if it to no end.

He wanted to go slow, yet by the end of it his pace had quickened to his typical ruthless tempo, making you gasp out bursts of breath against his neck, hands clawing at his shoulder blades though the material of his shirt, grabbing onto him for dear life, while on your fast lane to release. When he came himself his breathing got erratic from oversensitivity, yet he ignored it to bring you over the edge as well, even making you ride it out to its fullest afterwards. When you slowly deflated against him, hands simply reaching out for his body, he softly cooed at you, completely enchanted by you in your post-orgasmic bliss. Suddenly he laughed, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "God, why am I like this?" He said, soft smile turning bitter. "Can't even be soft for one fucking time." Yet your hand softly ran through his now slightly damp locks, head turning to look at him with so much endearment he could cry- well, he actually felt his eyes start to sting, but he swallowed them down.

"You don't have to, Jungkookie." You softly said, and he wanted to argue. "Don't change. You're perfect just the way you are. I love you either way. Doesn't matter if you buy me roses or screw me in the kitchen. I take any love you give me." He suddenly laughed, and his eyes turned into sparkling half moons, his bunny smile almost blinding you.

"God I love you."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Jungkookie?"

"hm?"

"I'm hungry."

"There's leftovers in the oven."

"You're not gonna treat me some chicken nuggets?"

"Tomorrow maybe. Its too late now baby."

"Come on, be a sweet baby-boy and do it-"

"Careful sweetheart."

 ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

IT.IS.FINALLY.OUT.Thank you all so so much for waiting so patiently, I really didn't expect all of you to even stay, let alone shower me with all of your support- I really didn't deserve that! I hope I didn't dissapoint too much with it, since I didn't check for spelling errors :( I love you all, and I hope you're all staying safe and healthy during these times! Remember that spreading love begins with self-love, and self-love begins with small steps 💜

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

[goldentournesol]

Proper Date

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer and Y/N go on a proper date after being kidnapped together.

Part 2 of Unwanted Matchmaker: Read Part 1 here :)

A/N: makes minor references to Part 1, but can be read without reading it. ENJOY SOME SPENCER FLUFF! i got a little carried away...but it’s worth it! thank you to @theamuz , @andiebeaword , @yourwonderbelle​ for requesting a part 2! 

Length: 2.5k

masterlist

Luckily enough, Friday came sooner than Spencer had thought it would. He was finally able to take a break from the team. Y/N had texted him Friday morning to confirm the date. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him for a single moment ever since they went their separate ways the day of the fateful kidnapping. She never thought she’d ever be thankful for such a situation.

She was nervous, she knew very little about the Dr., but had gathered bits and pieces of him on the days she saw him at that coffee shop. She thought he was gorgeous. She also thought she may have imagined it when she caught his eyes lingering on her once or twice, but the imagination became set in stone when his face broke into what seemed like the most adorable shy smile that could possibly appear on someone’s face. She should have talked to him then, but she would have been late to her class. She couldn’t have been more glad to go on a date with him.

Spencer had gotten off work two hours early to ensure he had enough time to be nervous while getting ready.

“Woah, where you goin’, pretty boy?” Morgan asked as he watched Spencer begin to pack his things.

Spencer rolled his eyes, he should have timed his exit better, “Uh...I have an appointment?” He made an attempt to lie. 

“You always this nervous going to appointments?” Emily chimed in.

“Wait, wait, what day is it?” Morgan asked.

“Friday.” Emily replied.

A knowing smile made a home on Morgan’s face, “Aha! Pretty boy’s got a date!” Spencer quickly shot him a look that screamed, ‘how did you know?!’, “I may have overheard you talking to the girl the day the unsub took you.”

Once again, Spencer rolled his eyes, “My God, can’t I have just one thing to myself? Just once?” He tried to hide his smile though.

“Nu-uh, not when it’s making you this nervous!” Emily pointed out, noticing how Spencer’s hand was turning white at the intensity it held onto his bag.

“Well, Emily, it’s not every day that I have a date with someone who is practically the embodiment of beauty.” Spencer uttered with a slew of exasperated hand motions.

Morgan let out a chuckle, “Calm down, kid. She seemed really into you. I’m sure she’s just as dorky as you are.” Emily smiled endearingly at the youngest member of their team and nodded.

“Yeah, haven’t you guys been in contact like..all week? She wouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t interested.” She added and noticed the slight drop of Spencer’s shoulders. Maybe they were right, he probably had nothing to worry about. He nodded and began to smile.

“Go get her, kid. Just try to keep the statistics at a minimum.” He joked around before Emily interjected quickly, “No! Be yourself!” Spencer laughed and gave them a double thumbs up before quickly saying goodbye and heading home.

He called the restaurant to double check his reservation and tried to pick out an outfit that wouldn’t scream, ‘I got off work two hours early’. He showered, shaved, and attempted to style his hair, but it was too much of a task to tackle, so he left it to do whatever it pleased. He decided he’d stick to his normal attire with a white and blue checkered button down, a navy v-neck sweater and a matching blazer to elevate the look. He contemplated whether or not a tie would make the outfit over the top, but then remembered that the restaurant would be quite fancy and added it anyway. He left his house a half hour early to make sure he had enough time to pick up a bouquet. That was romantic, right? People do this all the time, right? He took a deep breath and reminded himself to stop stressing. He decided to get her red flowers to match the dress she wore when he first saw her. She was wearing a white dress with a motif of small red flowers with black centers, it was safe to say she blew him away that day. 

He checked the time and saw that it was still early, so he texted her. They had agreed on meeting at the restaurant, but he just couldn’t wait to see her.

“Hey, would it be okay if I picked you up instead of meeting there?” She lived closer to the restaurant anyway and he wanted to ensure her safety any time he possibly could.

“Yeah, sure! I’ll send you the location.” She did just that and Spencer made it there on time, of course.

He took a deep breath as he stood at her doorstep with the bouquet of flowers. He gave himself a miniature pep talk and knocked on the door three times. Spencer hoped the knocks were louder than his heartbeats beating relentlessly in his ears.

Y/N’s heart leapt as she heard the knocks, “Coming! Just one second!” She made her way over to the door, struggling to put in one of her earrings. 

She opened the door for him, “I’m sorry, I’m almost rea-” She breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him. She admired his every angle, he looked immaculate to say the least. She’d only noticed that she dropped her earring on the floor because she followed his eyes to where it lay.

“You..um, dropped your..” He stuttered, turning red. Was it him who made her nervous? She laughed nervously and retrieved it quickly, putting it on. He cleared his throat to try to regain his composure from seeing her, “You look...stunning.” He let out a breath and shook his head as if to clear the fog in his brain that she unintentionally created, “Oh! Um, and these are for you!” He extended the arm holding the bouquet. 

She smiled and accepted them graciously, “Oh, these are beautiful, you didn’t have to trouble yourself, Dr. Reid.” He loved the way his name sounded coming from her.

“It was nothing, really, it’s the least I could do, and please, call me Spencer.” He smiled and she mirrored it instantly.

“Come in, Spencer. I’ll put these in a vase, put on my shoes, and we’ll head right out!” He watched her as she disappeared into her apartment. 

A sparkly, form-fitting black dress adorned her figure contrasting to the flowy nature of the dresses Spencer had usually seen her in. He tried not to profile her apartment as much as he could, but he was too curious not to. He saw unfinished canvases and the apartment smelled vaguely of paint thinner. He admired her paintings but also tried not to snoop. She came out of her room, completely ready, and saw him staring at her paintings.

“Uhm, those aren’t quite done yet.” She stated shyly, “I have a habit of getting sidetracked.” She giggled and gestured to her unfinished paintings. 

He smiled as he turned to her, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to poke around.” He stated quickly but she just smiled at him, “These are incredible, I don’t believe I have a single artistic bone in my body.” He laughed.

“Yeah, right! That can’t be true.” She teased. 

Spencer grinned and checked the time, “Are you all done? We should get going. I hope you don’t mind walking there.” She nodded and they made their way out. The restaurant was a short walk away and the whole time Spencer fiddled with his hands in his pockets nervously except for when he was describing something, a habit he had. They arrived at the restaurant.

“Good evening, reservation for Dr. Reid.” Spencer said and Y/N hated the way her stomach went into a fit of somersaults at that. That was a lie, she kind of loved it.

They were seated and they could finally make uninterrupted eye-contact. She smiled at him and Spencer hoped his swooning wasn’t too obvious. They ordered their food and made conversation as they waited.

“So, Spencer, how did you get into the FBI?” She asked as she propped her chin on her hand. Her gaze was enough to send Spencer into the next dimension.

“Believe it or not, I’m unbelievably athletic.” He joked and she bubbled with laughter. Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off her as she laughed, determined to never stop her from doing it, “seriously,” he continued, “they took one look at me at the academy and were like, yeah we need this dude chasing down bad guys immediately!” She laughed again and shook her head.

“Aw, come on, don’t bring yourself down!” She smiled wide and took one of his hands that were resting on the table. Spencer’s heart soared at the action and was glad it was different from the way it felt as she clutched his hand when they were kidnapped together.

“I guess the FBI needed me because well...serial killers and criminals often have a tendency to create puzzles that are seemingly impossible to crack, and I just so happen to be very good at cracking those puzzles. I usually do that by analyzing their behavior. I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She could tell he was being humble, but she couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Aren’t you a Doctor? I’m assuming PhD?” She saw him blush.

“Uh, three actually.” He looked off to the side bashfully. Her jaw dropped at his humility, but he just smiled, “In Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering…” he paused, “as well as degrees in Psychology and Sociology.” She laughed in somewhat of a shock. Spencer knew his credentials were impressive but for some reason her validation seemed so important to him.

“What….how? How old are you?” She gawked. 

He laughed, “I’m 30. I graduated high school at the age of 12. I have an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words per minute. I have an eidetic memory which basically means I can remember lots of information accompanied by the ability to recall things with accuracy which of course came in handy while I was getting those PhD’s…”

“Wow...” was all she could say, she suddenly felt insignificant, but her smile never faltered. He had no intention of making her feel that way and she knew that, but she had no idea how she possibly landed a date with a...genius.

“Yeah...it kind of overwhelms people, I hope you’re not too intimidated.” He laughed shyly. She giggled, how could she be when his awkwardness made him oh so endearing.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little intimidating, but they are amazing accomplishments and you have every right to be proud of them.” She assured him by squeezing his hand, just like he did hers when she was nervous. He appreciated the gesture and they grinned at each other.

“So when did you start painting?” He asked her as he took a sip of wine.

“All my life, it seems. I couldn’t think of anything else that I wanted to do. There’s something about the way the paintbrush feels in my hand. I don’t know, I guess I wanted to add more color into people’s worlds…and I love kids! I just knew I had to teach them.” She gushed and he admired the way her eyes sparkled.

“You know there are countless studies that support the idea of painting as a stress reliever. Actually, there was this one study where…” he continued to ramble and Y/N seemed to hang onto every word. He was so adorable in the way that he described things and bounced from one topic to another. She didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the food was set down on their table. He only stopped when he felt the warmth of her hand disappear from his so she could start eating. She peered at him curiously, wondering why he stopped.

“Sorry,” he grinned, “didn’t realize I’d been rambling.” 

She shook her head, smiling wide, “If I knew half the things you know, I would want to share them with everyone too. I love it.”

He hadn’t expected her response but he was grateful because she hadn’t belittled him like most people do. They ate as they shared stories from their lives. Spencer noticed how the wine added a flush to her cheeks and he wondered how much more beautiful she could possibly get. She insisted on feeding him a piece of her meal but she couldn’t reach that far across the table and Spencer thought that was adorable. He’d had to lean forward just to have some, the interaction made his cheeks ache from smiling. Soon, they finished their food and Spencer took care of the bill, Y/N insisted she’d take care of dessert. 

They got up and headed out of the restaurant. They were greeted by the soft chill of the nighttime. Spencer had noticed immediately how Y/N’s arms instinctively shot up to hug herself and shield her body away from the cold. He took his blazer off and placed it on her shoulders. She blushed at the warm gesture and gladly slid her arms through. 

She smiled up at him gratefully, “Thanks, Spencer. Are you sure you won’t get cold?” The way she slipped her arm through his and hugged his arm almost made him forget to reply. 

“I’m good, this um, sweater vest is warmer than it looks.”

He usually shied away from touch, but if there was one thing Spencer was sure of, it was that he never wanted her to let go of him. They walked in the moonlight. Conversation with her came easily. They found themselves in front of the coffee shop where they first learned of each other. It seemed it only fit to celebrate their first date there. They walked in and the woman behind the counter beamed as she saw the two of them walking in together. It was like she knew. She greeted Y/N and the Dr. gleefully and happily took their order. Spencer physically had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too much. They sat down where Spencer usually sat with his books.

“The first time I saw you sitting here, you were literally zooming through a book. I thought you’d had to have been looking for a specific quote or something, not actually reading it!” She giggled as she took a piece of the carrot cake they’d ordered. She didn’t want to let go of his warmth, so they decided to sit next to each other. Spencer didn’t mind that one bit, he’d taken his hand out of his pocket and laced his fingers through hers, their arms still looped in one another’s.

He nodded at her words, taking another piece, “The first time I saw you, you were just walking in, with your earbuds in. I was quite literally blown away.” He sheepishly admitted. She was taken aback by his sweetness and she shook her head. This man had to be too good to be true. She looked up at him and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I never thought I’d say this but...I’m so glad I was kidnapped.” She said and that sent the both of them into a roar of laughter that made the entire coffee shop jealous of what they had.

Part 1

[ravenadottir]

do you have any hcs on what type of drunk the islanders are?

cannot, for the life of me, find my old answer on this.

but it’s a good thing, ‘cause it was probably too short, and i do have some thoughts and scenarios on this one! this is gonna become a whole book :/ i might also include their favorites, or what i think it’s their favorites.

bobby.

he doesn’t know how to stay still when the alcohol goes in! bobby is the type to be dancing, singing along, singing with no music, pumping other people to join him whenever he’s feeling joyful! even when he’s in a certain mood that isn’t celebratory, he’d still be finding a way to not bum everybody out with his problems. he’s just the kind of guy to try and forget his problems while having a glass in hand! “mate!” he points to gary, noah, rahim, henrik. “i - love - you! no, seriously!” he takes a seat on their lap, hugging them as he continues. “i - love you, mate! you’re the best a man can ask! i - love - you!” colorful cocktails like “sex on the beach” and daiquiris. bobbyfish is only fun to him if he’s the one making it.

carl.

forever the quiet drunk, in a corner, reminiscing on every bad decision he’s ever made. nothing makes carl pensive and regretful like alcohol. he always refuses to drink in public because “i’m the worst drunk you can have at your party.” he doesn’t interact or talk before the sixth drink, and when he does, prepare yourself for a battle of two carl’s. “bummer” x “i want to rage, but the pain of being alive is too much for me right now”. definitely wants to be designated driver at all times. prefers to drink alone, at home, when everything is going wrong. bitter drinks like the “negroni” or “manhattan”.

chelsea.

the - life - of - the - party! always! chelsea never lets her outside problems get in the way of a good time and it shows! she’s here to party, to dance, to let everyone know how fun and good friends they are. you’ll never see this girl on the corner. it’s middle of the dancefloor or no dice in her case. she also gets extra flirty with everyone else, without any intentions of hooking up with anyone. “you are looking like the whole damn roast dinner in that dress, babes!” GIN!! and everything you can make with it.

gary.

pirate drunk. do you hear me? pirate drunk. draping his arm on his mates’, or girl’s, shoulder and singing along to whatever in on the background. slow speech and often stuttering his loving and caring words. “buz ya know whet may? i... focken luv ya! i zoo! because... en her mee ou-t. you, may, a - thu - bessss!” it’s love and confusing speeches all around, followed by raising his pint to pay for another round, again. gary drunk is also the type to tell you secrets you definitely didn’t need to know. picture the things he could tell you about from when he was a teenager, before he started working out, and no, i don’t mean painful and deep stuff. i mean the weird phases of discovery. he’s absolutely graphic when talking about those and i’m not here for it, garebear. beer! beer! cheeky v is for the start, then he stays on the beer for good.

henrik.

the happiest pup you’ll ever see at a bar. henrik is extra affectionate after a few shots, and incredibly in touch with his emotions, them being positive or not. one thing i often picture him doing is just going for the kill if he needed some courage for it. whether is a girl or a boy, he’s gonna walk towards them, offer them a drink and let them know how he feels. it’s all about the positive and the horniness. if there’s a possibility of a “bathroom in the club” even better! he doesn’t waste time on talking and if he’s really into you, he’ll let you know. other than that, he’s on the booth, watching the others dance, putting his hair on a bun, because when he decides it’s time for some moves on the dancefloor, no one can hold him back. he’ll grind, twerk, take off his shirt, pull people to dance with, you name it! sweet cocktails like the ones involving wine. anything that has red wine in it, it’s probably his favorite.

hope.

gracefully having her drink in peace, trying her best to keep her composure at all times. i do reckon she’s the kind of person that when drinks has the confusing thoughts and doesn’t get her whole sentences out, but in her head she’s not aware that’s happening. not that she drinks a lot, i don’t think she does that on a night out, or party in a friend’s house, but i can definitely see her being confused when someone laughs of the way she’s speaking, because they can’t understand it. “hope, you’re drunk...” “naah, i’m foine, i only had like...” keeps trying to do the math but can’t, resulting in teasing about how much she had that night. flavored vodka cocktails with a spite of vanilla beans in them.

ibrahim.

i like how shy and closed off he is but just how much he enjoys himself while drunk. he doesn’t necessarily change as much while in that state. he knows he doesn’t need much to have a good time and it shows when he gets to that “carry me home” self. ibrahim’s favorite thing is to dance with his partner and his friends. he lets the spotlight to whoever wants to grab it, but you can be damn sure, out of nowhere, you’ll see him attempting another worm, or his usual twerking. he’s not doing for the show, he’s doing because he can’t stop laughing after and honestly? i love it! he keeps his voice to a lower tone and often gets a little dizzy while getting up. it’s part of the reason noah and bobby tease him, but he doesn’t mind and laughs along. definitely the ones that contain citric fruits, like oranges or limes, lemons and grapefruit. i often picture him drinking a “paloma”. also, drinks that have some pepper might be on his list.

kassam.

this is probably the only time you’ll see kassam smiling for no reason. usually he reserves those for special occasions, such as really goos jokes, some snarky comment about someone who he hates or when you try to make him laugh, failing miserably. but drunk kassam has an easy smile and entertained facade you would think to be fake. do not be mistaken, he’s not. he just can’t control himself while under the influence of alcohol, and i think the part he enjoys the most is to see you having fun while trying to convince him to hit the floor to dance. “you know... that’s not gonna happen. because if it does, i’m gonna humiliate you with my...” he does a snake with his arms “... moves.” he gets funnier and looser, wanting to make you smile at all costs, even if that means he does and says ridiculous things like the worm arms. energy drinks+whiskey combos. he just likes that flavor and it hits the spot pretty fast.

lottie.

there’s only two lottie’s when she gets the alcohol going: depressive/pensive or goddess of dancing. no in between. lottie will forever be a wild card and that’s part of the reason why people invite her in the first place. she’ll be questioning life and her existence when bummed out, or dance and get every chin dropping when she’s being herself. drunk lottie might pull you in a bathroom stall and go to town on you. it’s confidence and “let’s skip this one, i have something to show you.” winks discreetly. plus, she’s always that kind of girl that pulls off the “bobbing/swaying side to side” move, even thought it’s the most boring in the book. she looks good and she knows it. as for talking/confessing, forget it. she’s not one to open up while drunk. lottie is probably the least selective when it comes to choosing alcohol. colorful, sweet, spicy, bitter, you name it.

lucas.

it’s always time for confident lucas to show up, and his drunk persona wouldn’t be different. the thing he loves the most is definitely showing his moves by taking your hand and making the two of you the center of attention. something he can’t hold back is his horniness. that’s something he had in common with lottie and henrik. but instead of a bathroom stall it might be the car you came in, or a nearby hotel. he’s not exactly the type to just at it on any corner, and even drunk, he has some fear of germs. also, he might be extra flashy when dancing, on the brink of looking like that’s his stage and he’s the star. i’m sure people agree, given he’ll probably dance with more than one person at the same time, giving the audience some threesome ideas. that’s the whole point: too look hot while making everyone else wish they were his dancing partners. think of grinding on the floor, grabbing thighs and dipping a girl. or a boy, if you ask me. combos of whiskey and energy drinks.

marisol.

drunk marisol, to me, it’s the funniest. she’ll become extra analytical of the social interactions happening at the bar/club/party. every conversation will get fully analyzed before she can take the next sip. of course there’s lots more to her drunk persona, but that’s how it starts. i believe it takes her four drinks to start dancing, five to make her take her glasses off and throw them somewhere, and six to make her dance on a table. i don’t believe she has much time to drink and have fun, so that makes her much less resistant to alcohol. three drinks are enough to make her stop being marisol and become “marisol, the life of the party”. it can get ugly once she gets more drinks in her, and you can expect dinosaur noises from the other side of the bathroom stall. that’s why she avoids that feared seventh drink and gets lots of water between shots. “espanhola” and colorful cocktails.

noah.

he’s probaly the least active on a night out, but the most surprising if he feels like it. usually he stays put, having his drink in place, watching everyone dancing and goofing around with each other. not participating it’s his default, he would rather watch everyone else’s personas coming out. “come on, book boy! you’re not gonna stay in your seat all night!” “nah, i’m good. for now.” he’ll hold his twerking self in until he has the urge of taking the dancefloor. very talkative while drunk, often discussing things he’d recently discovered and can’t wait another second to share them. of course he might get them wrong, given he can take lots of alcohol but no notice when his speech becomes gibberish. definitely enjoys lemon-y drinks with vodka and other “clear” alcohol types.

priya.

oh my god, don’t shoot the messenger, but priya is the type to do some crazy stuff while drunk and blame the booze on the next day. being fully conscious and aware of her actions but saying “oh my god, i can’t believe i did that, i’m so sorry.” for whatever it is. usually she’s fun and loose when there’s alcohol involved, and by loose i mean wanting to dance her ass off. this might be the time she challenges people to lip sync battles or dances, which to most is funny, but she gets very competitive about them, to the point of betting on things like the bar tab. definitely enjoys the white wine and its variations, and often experiments with flavored vodka, like peach and vanilla.

[prettyricky187]

Sometimes You Don’t Feel Like A Winner

A/N: I was listening to Prom Queen by Catie Turner and it inspired this piece. I highly recommend listening to it while you read, at least for the first half. 

Couple: Spencer X Fem!Reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Content Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts

Word Count: 4K

MASTERLIST

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“Thank God we had Morgan there, otherwise we’d probably still be stuck in the elevator.” It was such an offhand comment from Penelope, said in a joking manner and alluding to earlier when her, Derek, and Spencer found themselves trapped in the elevator. Derek had to pry the doors open to get the emergency system to kick in. 

Spencer knew she didn’t mean any offense by it, but he couldn’t stop replaying it in his head. He didn’t like how it implied that he wouldn’t have been able to get the job done. His thoughts spiraled down a rabbit hole, wondering about all the other times someone thought he wouldn’t be able to do something for one reason or another, but never said anything out loud.

He thought about the various comments from his team members over the years about his physical ineptitude. He was well aware of the fact that the only reason he was in the FBI was due to his brain, having to get waivers for all of the physical aspects of the academy. Even then he had heard the comments from fellow recruits. He always tried not to let them affect him, but he could only take so much. 

He and Derek were paired up a lot, and it didn’t take much to see the glaring differences between the two of them. Whenever they walked into a room or to a crime scene, people noticed Derek, whereas no one ever noticed him. Derek was smooth, muscular, active, and very much a kick down the door first and ask questions later type of guy, whereas Spencer just…wasn’t. He could barely talk to a woman without feeling like he was going to throw up, he didn’t think his noodle arms counted as muscle, and he much preferred to stay behind at the station whenever it came time to arrest an unsub. He wasn’t even like Hotch, with his tailored suits, matching socks, designer accessories, and stoic face that could wither a concrete wall. 

Did people want him to kick down doors? Wear matching socks? Get a Rolex? What did he have to do in order to stop the comments? 

If being more like Hotch and Morgan was what he needed to do to be taken seriously, then he would do it. 

The following morning Spencer grabbed the tailored ensemble that was a birthday gift from Rossi before hunting down a pair of matching socks. It wasn’t easy, and he felt weird putting them on, but he had to try. He pulled out his designer satchel and moved over his important papers. 

“You look like I do when I have to switch purses for a night out.” His girlfriend’s voice sounded off behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see her leaning against the door frame with a light smile on her face. One look at him and she got an inquisitive look, almost as if she was profiling him. 

“Is something wrong with your bag?” 

“No, I just felt like a change.” 

The noise she made gave away that she knew there was more to his actions, but she didn’t push it. “Do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

“I think so. Unless an urgent case comes up. I’ll let you know, okay?” She nodded as she watched him flit around the room in a manner that was very un-Spencer like. 

“Alright. Have a good day.” He smiled at her words, the first glimpse of her true boyfriend of the day. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He gave her a kiss and was out the door, leaving behind a very confused (y/n). 

--- “Woah there pretty boy. Your socks match today.” Morgan commented, coming up behind Spencer in the kitchenette. When he first walked into the bullpen, he had been surprised to see the matching plain black socks as Spencer bent down to grab a file from the bottom drawer.

“Yeah, what of it?” Logically Spencer knew Morgan didn’t mean anything about his comment, but Penelope’s words were still swirling around in his head, so his response was more hostile than he intended. 

“I’m just not used to seeing it.” Morgan said slowly after a moment of silence, no doubt trying to profile the resident genius to figure out the cause of his attitude. “I thought you said it was bad luck?” He rose his eyebrows in questioning.

“I’m trying something new.” 

While it was apparent there was something bothering Spencer, Morgan knew better than to press him. He’d talk to him when he was ready. “Alright.” 

Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and Spencer was over the whole day. He almost missed the morning train, he’d spilled coffee on his shirt, his shoelaces came undone and he almost faceplanted in the lobby. He realized around lunchtime that he’d forgotten his lunch at home, and when he was finally on his way home, he turned a corner right into a woman carrying a bag of groceries that ended up all over the sidewalk. Really, he just wanted to crawl under the covers and for the day to be over. 

He heaved a huge sigh of relief once he was safely inside his dark apartment. Everything was familiar and comfortable; nothing could hurt him in his own sanctuary, except maybe his own thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his bag and made his way towards the kitchen for some food before going to bed. 

Entering the bedroom and eyeing his sleeping girlfriend, Spencer felt a wave of insecure sadness flow through him so strong it almost knocked him over. She trusted him to protect her, and he knew he would fail if push came to shove. How could she possibly love him and want to be with him if he couldn’t even do the most basic thing for her?

Shaking his head sadly and trying not to cry, Spencer disrobed quietly and made his way to the bathroom in hopes that he could wash his terrible day down the drain. 

After his shower, he stood naked in front of the mirror and analyzed the reflection staring back at him. Never before had he really taken the time to look at himself beyond a quick pass to make sure his hair was tame and his tie wasn’t crooked. 

He didn’t like what he saw. 

“Jesus.” He muttered, pinching at his skin in various places. His limbs were disproportionately long, his sunken eyes created the appearance of two permanent black eyes, and he didn’t have a tan nor much body hair. Based on his research, backed by conversations overheard from JJ and Emily, body hair was something women found manly and attractive. He felt beyond inadequate. Mostly though, he looked at his arms and stomach and noted that neither had copious amounts of muscle on them.

He was an FBI agent for crying out loud, he should have some muscles. He shouldn’t have to rely on someone else to help him kick a door down or get out of an elevator. Frankly, he had never felt more pathetic than in that moment. At best, he felt like a professor; at worst he felt like a string bean with a gun. 

How was he to be trusted to protect his loved ones if he couldn’t even pass the FBI fitness test? Would he be able to protect his girlfriend if someone broke into their apartment? Would he always have to rely on someone else to keep him safe in the field? He was so absorbed in his self-deprecating thoughts that he didn’t notice the tired figure creeping up behind him.  

“Are you okay?” The startled yelp he let out was high pitched and he found himself comparing it to a more manly sound Morgan or Hotch would have let out. 

‘Great, I don’t even have manly scared sounds.’ He thought bitterly before locking his gaze on hers through the mirror. 

“I had a bad day.”

“I guessed that.” She nodded rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

He felt bad waking her up, but he did feel better having her there. “How?” He really had tried to be quiet when he got home so he didn’t wake her up. “It could have to do with the fact that there are matching socks balled up next to the hamper.” The smile she gave him was playful, fully expecting a witty or snarky comeback. Instead, all she got was a sigh as his head dropped and his shoulders sagged. 

She frowned and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against the skin of his back; the feeling of safety and home filling her veins. 

Spencer sighed again and grabbed onto her arms, anchoring himself to her and the moment. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Do you think I’m weak?” 

Whatever she had been expecting him to say, that wasn’t it. Her frown returned and she instinctively tightened her grip on him as if to shield him from his negative thoughts. “What?” 

He nodded, doubling down on his doubts. “Yeah, like…do you wish I had more muscles?” His eyes fell to his body, all his negative thoughts from before returning at once. “Do you think I’m too skinny?” 

“No. Too skinny for what?” She questioned, but he only shrugged. 

“When you look at me, do you think ‘federal agent?’ Am I too weak to be in the BAU?” He asked. She merely shook her head. He sighed, “Should I look more like Derek?” 

In all their years of dating, (y/n) had never heard a more ludicrous statement come from his mouth. Much less while comparing himself to Derek Morgan. She stepped in front of him and hoisted herself on the counter so that she was eye level with him. Locking her legs behind his, she pulled him flush against her, sensing how much he needed physical and emotional reassurance. 

“Spencer Reid, what on earth are you talking about?” 

Spencer tried not to let his heart race at the thought of her being disappointed in him for any reason. He never wanted to disappoint her; he just wasn’t sure he was fully capable of protecting her. He didn’t like the idea of her being hurt in any way, especially knowing he could’ve prevented it – if only he was stronger or ran faster.  

“Do you have things that you would change about me?” 

(Y/n) drew her head back as if she’d been burned by his words. The thought of changing anything about him was simply absurd. “Absolutely not!” Her tone was adamant, and it was clear that she meant every single bit of it; she loved him for exactly who he was.

“What about my quirks? Do you think they’re weird?” 

“What quirks?”

“I don’t wear matching socks.” He pointed out and she shrugged. 

“So?”

“Do you wish that I did?”

“You tried it today and your day sucked.” 

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Clearly, you’re not meant to wear them, and matching socks are overrated. Embrace it.” 

He merely pouted and shrugged. “But it’s weird.” 

She knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise at the moment, so she shifted topics. “Alright, what else?”

“What else what?”

“Whatever it is that has you feeling this way.” 

Spencer was quiet as he pondered saying what was bothering him; he wanted to be completely honest for both her sake and his own. 

“My hair.” 

She raked her eyes over his wet hair hanging haphazardly and sticking up or out in some parts, clearly in disarray from his quick towel drying. 

“What about it?” 

“It’s always messy.” 

“Probably doesn’t help that I love running my fingers through it. Even when you do comb it, I just make a mess of it again. I’ll gladly take partial responsibility for that.” 

“What about the fact that I ramble.” 

She shrugged as she absentmindedly stroked his hip. “I enjoy it.” She wasn’t just trying to make him feel better, she really did enjoy listening to him endlessly talk. She’d never admit it, but sometimes she purposely made him flustered just so he would start rambling like he does whenever he’s nervous. 

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” He frowned, but (y/n) shook her head.

“I’m saying it because it’s how I feel. When have I ever lied to you, even if it was only to spare your feelings?” 

He immediately thought back to when they first began dating and he had gone on an excited rant about the new season of Doctor Who. He could tell she was trying to follow along and nodding like she knew what he was talking about, but she hadn’t understood. He remembered Derek telling him how girls sometimes lie to guys on a date so that they seem interesting. He asked her thoughts on the show and she told him that she’d honestly never seen an episode and had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but she was excited simply because he was excited. 

“Never.” 

“Alright then. So, believe me when I say that I do not mind your info-drops.” 

“What about all the other things I should have accomplished by now, but haven’t?” 

“Like what?”

“Having a family.” 

“Is that something you want?” The topic of children had come up, but always in a ‘someday’ capacity. She didn’t even know he was actively thinking about starting a family.

“Derek has Savannah and Hank and Hotch has Jack. I mean, I have you, but we’re not married, nor do we have any kids so it’s like…are we a societal failure?” 

“I’m going to pretend not to take offense to that.” 

He squirmed as she lightly pinched at his outer thigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it how it sounded.” He sighed sadly, not liking how his words weren’t coming out as he intended. “I just…”

“Not every couple has children or gets married, Spencer. Marriage or children doesn’t validate a relationship.” 

“Did you know that humans 75 million years ago mostly lived in isolation and only came together to mate? In 2013, a study came out that said that monogamy only came to be so that men could protect their infants and lower the risk of infanticide from competing males.” 

“Okay…” She wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with that information; she didn’t have an IQ of 187 so he needed to explain it for her.

“It means that the sole point of monogamy is children.” He exclaimed. 

“Well, first of all we’re not giant pandas who only come out of some hiding to get it on with each other. Secondly, we are not living in the Flintstone era where a man kills another man’s child simply to procreate with the mother and ensure his lineage. And finally, the one I take the most issue with, couples do not need to have children to be valid. There are plenty of childless couples who are perfectly happy with just the two of them. If that’s what our situation turns out to be, then that’s what it is. We aren’t failures as people or as a couple.” She explained. 

“You’d be a cute giant panda, though.” Spencer muttered after a moment. 

(Y/n) laughed and nodded in agreement. “So, would you.” 

“You know,” Spencer said suddenly, “I always thought I’d be in academia when I was a kid. I never pictured myself in the FBI.” 

While the idea of Spencer as a teacher or researcher wasn’t preposterous, his words still surprised her. She wondered if he’d still be happy in that role. 

“Really?” 

“Do I really scream law enforcement material to you?” He rose an eyebrow as if to say ‘really’ and she held her hands up to concede.

“Well I’ve only ever known you in the BAU, which is part of the FBI, which is considered law enforcement. So, to me, yes.” 

“I also thought I would have cured schizophrenia by now. Or at least been really close to a cure.” He said, “I feel like such a failure because I haven’t even gotten started on it.”

“Well, you’ve been busy saving the world in other ways.” She pointed out. 

“What if it’s not enough?” 

“Schizophrenia has been around for like…forever. It’s not solely your job to cure it; I don’t think anyone expects you to. It’s just you.”

“Actually, it’s only been around for 208 years. In 1809 both English physician John Haslam and French physician Phillippe Pinel wrote about English tea broker James Tilly Matthews. He is largely considered the first case of paranoid schizophrenia; except there wasn’t a term for it at the time. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the term dementia praecox was used to describe someone who we now refer to as schizophrenic. There’s been some debate over who first used the term, some say Emil Kraepelin in 1896 while others say it was Arnold Pick in 1891. It wasn’t until Eugene Bleuler coined the term schizophrenia in 1908 because he believed that it wasn’t a dementia at all, but merely a separation of function between personality, thinking, memory, and perception.” 

Maybe someone else would’ve been stunned or turned off by the correction and lengthy explanation, but (y/n) listened happily as he laid out the history of schizophrenia, all while looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky. She knew it was a touchy subject for him, between his mother, being scared of presenting signs when he turned 30, and genetics he might pass down to any children, so they didn’t talk much about it. 

‘You realize you’re putting 200-”

“208.” Spencer quietly corrected and she smiled to herself. 

God, she loved him. 

“208 years of mental illness solely on your shoulders.” She finished. “You’re one man who can’t be expected to solve all the world’s problems. You have a genius brain, but you’re still human like the rest of us average folk. As much as it may pain you to hear, you can’t do everything.”

“I know that.” He protested, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure. She knew he forgot to take care of himself when he got too into his head, but she wouldn’t dwell on that at the moment. “I just, I wonder if I’m on the wrong track. You know?”

“I do. I think most people wonder that at various times in their life. Second guessing yourself is common, and while it can be worrying, it’s something we all can get through.”

“I never second guess myself. I’m always sure in what decisions I make.”

“Hate to break it to you bud, you’re currently doing exactly that, hence your tailspin.” 

He cracked a small smile at her words, but ultimately sighed. 

She noticed that he still looked off, like he had more that was bothering him. She knew it all wasn’t going to get solved with this bathroom talk, but she didn’t want him to go to sleep with these worries on his mind. “What else are you thinking about?” 

Spencer shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, resigned to the fact that he was just going to feel shitty about things for a while. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid anyways.” 

(Y/n) refused to accept that answer. “It’s not stupid. It matters to you, so I want to hear about it.” She said softly, playing with his fingers. 

“How am I supposed to keep you safe if I can’t even kick down a door?” His voice sounded so soft and scared. She wanted to wrap a blanket around him and lay underneath; shielding him from the world. 

“Who said I needed you to keep me safe?”

“It’s my job. That is literally in my job description, keep the public safe. You are part of that public.” He countered.

“How does being able to kick down a door correlate to keeping someone safe? Are you going to kick the intruder down?” The mental image was amusing to her, but she knew better than to laugh. 

“Did you know that yesterday I was stuck in an elevator with Garcia and Derek?” He began, bringing her attention back to the subject at hand. “He had to pry the doors open enough to trigger the emergency system so that help could arrive. You know what she said after it was all said and done? ‘Thank God we had Morgan there, otherwise we’d probably still be stuck in the elevator.’ Like, I would have been completely useless had he not been there. It did not make me feel good at all.” He said. While things regarding his mood seemed to click into place for her, (y/n) had so many questions. Where were their cell phones? How was Derek even able to pry open the doors? Did they hit the emergency stop button? 

All those things ran through her mind, but mostly she felt like she wanted to shake Penelope for her comment. She doubted there was any malicious intent behind it, and she knew Spencer knew that, too, but it clearly hurt his feelings and struck a sensitive nerve inside him. 

“It’s alright though,” he said cutting her thoughts short, “it doesn’t really matter.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being liked. Who says we have to be liked? Why should I care if people like me? It’s all overrated.” Maybe if he said the words out loud he might believe them, but even she didn’t look convinced.

“Except that it isn’t and really, we all care. It’s part of human nature, you of all people should know this.” She said eyeing him.

When he didn’t say anything, (y/n) decided she wasn’t going to let him spiral into his self-deprecating thoughts any longer.

“Alright Spencer, listen to me.” (Y/n) sat up straight so he could see how serious her next statement was going to be. “I love you with my entire heart. That being said, I don’t need a knight in shining armor to swoop in and save me. So, you didn’t go into education, you still can if you want to. But you don’t have to just because you thought you would as a kid. Who cares if Derek and Hotch have children and you don’t? You’re not Derek Morgan or Aaron Hotchner. You’ve had an entirely different life and set of circumstances than they have. They couldn’t do half the things you can, and that’s okay. Who cares if you don’t wear matching socks or that Hotch probably wears a tailored suit to work every day?” 

“He does.” Spencer interrupted, but one look from (y/n) had him mumbling an apology. 

“The whole point is, you all have your own strengths, weaknesses, and something unique that you bring to the table. Your strength just happens to be in your brain, not your body. It doesn’t matter that you can’t kick down a door because you know they always say to work smarter not harder. Let Derek do the hard work and you do the smart work. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

A beat of silence passed between them before Spencer smiled and let out a few hearty laughs. (Y/n) might’ve been put off by that at any other time, but she was just happy that he wasn’t frowning anymore. 

“You are…not great at making me feel better. But you tried, and I love you for it.” His smile then was the first genuine one of the day. 

Try as she might, motivational speeches were not her forte, but there was something endearing about how bad she was at it. 

“You’re just being a grump right now, so no matter what I say is going to make you feel better. When it’s all said and done, at the end of the day I love you, Spencer, for exactly who you are. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Even the things you might want to change about yourself.” 

Even when he didn’t feel like the shining star that she thought he was, she was there for him and would support and love him. 

“Thank you. I appreciate knowing that I always have you in my corner.” He smiled down on her and gave her a pert kiss on the nose, making them both smile. 

“You always will.” She agreed, mirroring his kiss. “Do you feel better?” 

“I do. You’ll never be a motivational speaker, but you did make me feel better.” He nods with a laugh. 

“I gave it a valiant effort. You want to go to bed?” She tilted her head in question. She knew her shortcomings and made no qualms about them. She knew Spencer loved her for who she was, just as she loved him for who he was. That was part of what made them so great together, at least in her mind. 

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 14

Warnings: violence

a/n: I am so sorry this chapter took so long, but it’s here now! I am so grateful to all of you for being patient with me. I feel like I wrote this chapter line by line, quite literally. Enjoy!

Masterlist

The few weeks they had before the invasion flew by much quicker than Y/N could have anticipated. Her days were spent sparring with Sokka, and, with the occasional time to herself, attempting to throw fireballs at the walls of various caves they had called home. The hook swords felt so natural in her hands now, and Katara quickly extinguished any accidental fires. She wasn’t quite the fighter that everyone else was, but she could hold her own. She would be ready for the invasion.

Y/N supposed she didn’t have much choice, enjoying the quick, tight embrace from Hakoda as they met on the beach. Y/N glanced up at the sky. It was so clear—it didn’t seem fitting. Y/N’s stomach churned. They’d be okay. They had to be.

Sokka was talking—or, attempting to talk about—the plan. Y/N tried to pay attention, but all she could hear was humming. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from her foot that was tapping on the sand. She and Sokka had gone over the plan together a million times, but he couldn’t seem to speak in a full sentence. She couldn’t remember much herself, other than that the eclipse only lasted 8 minutes.

Aang had eight minutes to defeat the Fire Lord, after one hundred years of war. Eight minutes where the Fire Nation would be most vulnerable. Y/N tried to push another intrusive thought to the back of her mind; she’d be most vulnerable, too.

Y/N sensed Sokka’s dejected presence at her side as Hakoda took over, and she wanted to comfort her friend, but the words wouldn’t come. Y/N scanned the rows of fighters instead. Mostly blue-clad Water Tribe men, the swamp benders with far too little clothing for Y/N’s comfort. Some Earthbenders, including a boy with a rather unfortunate mustache.

“We will have control of the Fire Nation capital, and this war will be over!” Hakoda cried, raising a fist in the air. The crowd cheered, but the world seemed to sway under Y/N’s feet. A bird crowed, not a care in the world.

The group dispersed to prepare, and Y/N found herself sitting and observing the others as she sharpened her blades. Katara filled her waterskins, and Toph was back in her Earth Kingdom style armor. Y/N realized she was the only one left wearing red.

Y/N focused on sharpening the blades of her swords and adjusting the fasteners of her belt. After this, the war would be over. She could find her brother. She could return home, although she wasn’t sure what she would do once she got there. Y/N stood and slid her swords into place. She wished Jet were there to see it.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Sokka approached, Katara at his side. His face was covered in Water Tribe warrior paint, the traditional armor making his look so much older. The sight stung.

“Don’t worry, I’m ready to go,” Y/N replied hastily, tightening her ponytail. There were just a few stragglers left on the beach.

“What about your armor?” Katara asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is all I have,” Y/N shrugged, tugging at the hem of her deep red shirt. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“You seriously thought we’d let you go without armor?” Sokka’s eyes widened in shock. “Come on.”

---

“We asked Dad to make some armor for you before we split up,” Sokka explained. “I would’ve made it myself, but I figured I wouldn’t have the materials, and I was busy working on Appa’s armor…”

Y/N’s eyes stung as she looked at the deep blue leather armor in Sokka’s hands. The crescent moon emblem on the chest was replaced with a simple embroidery of the Earth Kingdom symbol in plain brown thread. Y/N gingerly reached out to touch it, the white fur lining soft in her fingers.

“Are you sure?” It was Water Tribe armor. Maybe it was made purely out of necessity, but this was their culture, their family… but the Earth Kingdom symbol was there. For her.

“We made it for you, dummy,” Katara laughed. “I added the embroidery last minute, I hope you don’t mind.”

“You know we think of you as part of our family. Not just us, but Toph and Aang, too.” Sokka gently pressed the garment into Y/N’s hands. “The Earth Kingdom symbol was Katara’s touch. We know you’re fighting for your family, too. Back home.”

“Thank you,” Y/N didn’t know what else to say, pulling the siblings into a tight hug.

“Well, I’ve got to go meet with Dad. I’ll see you guys soon, okay?” Sokka pulled away, giving you and Katara one last quick squeeze before the walking out of the belly of the ship where he had led you earlier.

“Here, let me help you,” Katara offered as Y/N pulled the armor over her head. It was so much lighter than the Fire Nation armor… Y/N turned, letting Katara do the work of tying the armor in place.

“Thanks.”

Katara finished securing the armor and sidestepped to look at Y/N’s face. “You ready?”

Y/N reached a hand up and ran a hand through her ponytail. “Actually, could you help me with one more thing?”

Katara was good with braids. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as Katara’s fingers ran through her hair, twisting it into a simple braid. It was like being home. Y/N could almost imagine her mother leaning over her shoulder, talking about the lilies she had planted in the garden that spring.

“The panda lilies are doing so well this year, aren’t they, darling?”

“All done,” Katara secured Y/N’s braid and laid it over her shoulder.

“Thanks, Katara.”

“If we’re going to save the world, we might as well look good doing it,” Katara joked lightly.

Y/N took a shaky breath.

“We’re going to make it, Y/N,” Katara reassured solemnly. “I know it.”

---

The beach felt less steady than the submarines. Even when she couldn’t see what was happening above her, and even with the lurching and tilting under fire was better than this. Between Katara and the swamp benders, they had a huge advantage on the water. Y/N hated how the walls rose up around the beach. She knew they wouldn’t, but it felt like they could fall on them at any moment.

Y/N kept her eyes on the battlements as she pushed forward with the other behind the Earthbenders’ protection. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for yet. But as they pressed forward, instinct overtook anxiety. Y/N wondered if this was what battle always felt like to the others. Almost like a dance.

Y/N tailed Haru as he diverged forward and left, throwing a large boulder at a Fire Nation tank, hitting it squarely. The metal let out a horrible screech, the tank being forced to a stop. Y/N rushed forward, lifting herself up over the top of the vehicle just as the Fire Nation soldier began to climb out of the top of the tank.

Y/N brought her hook swords down in a quick rhythm, sending the soldier falling onto the steel. The man recovered quickly, hopping up to stand and raising his fists. Y/N anticipated the flame, ducking as the man shot a burst of fire over her head. Y/N swung a hook around the man’s leg, sending him to the ground again.

“Haru!” Y/N shouted. Haru seemed to get the message, a chunk flying from the boulder, forming a band of stone binding the man to the tank. Y/N hopped down onto the sand, running by Haru’s side back to the nearest Earthbending tank.

Enemy fire continued to rain down from the battlements stationed on the walls on either side of the beach. Y/N grabbed Haru’s arm, dragging him down to the dirt as one got a direct hit on the vehicle carrying their boulders, sending bits of rock flying over their heads.

“I want the tanks in a wedge formation!” Sokka commands, “Warriors and benders in the middle. We’re taking that tower and heading for the Royal Palace.” Sokka points to the battlements perched on the wall. The warriors close in behind the tanks, Y/N joining them.

Sokka was built to be a leader, and it was easy to see. He had come up with this whole plan himself, and they were making ground. And while he had struggled in his speech to their small army earlier, he could take command in the field. He’d proven that.

Y/N watched Haru disappear somewhere in front of her to help propel the tanks along. The pace was dreadful—it was slow, leaving them all feeling a bit too vulnerable, but fast enough to where it was difficult to analyze what might be coming your way. Y/N could hear the screech of a Fire Nation tank somewhere forward and to the left. The men on either side of her pressed further in.

Y/N wanted to cry when she felt her feet hit solid ground. They were out of the sand, finally. Y/N could feel fire, and she wasn’t sure whether it was the fire running through her own veins or a result of the enemy fire that was no doubt being rained down on the tanks. She could see small streaks of flame peeking out over their heads from time to time, reaching over the tops of the tanks they were using for cover. But there didn’t seem to be much damage, so they pressed forward.

“Cover the back!” Bato shouted. Y/N couldn’t see where the voice was coming from but turned around. They were started to scale the incline up to the palace and wouldn’t want to chance someone from the beach possibly being on their tail.

“Let us handle it, sweet pea,” a voice to Y/N’s left said. A tall Water Tribe warrior stood next to her; his face obscured by his wolf helmet. Y/N’s blood boiled.

“I think I can handle it just fine,” she replied coolly, already stepping forward as she noticed the small band of soldiers advancing up the hill after them.

Y/N picked up her pace to a run, swords clashing with the metal armor of the soldier in a matter of moments. The soldier raised his arms, fire spewing from his fists. Y/N sidestepped, feeling the heat barely miss her side.

Y/N brought the sharp pommel of her right blade down, the soldier catching her wrist in his hold. Y/N lifted her leg, delivering the highest kick she could manage to the soldier’s gut. He stumbled back, pushing her away and sending her falling to the dirt.

Y/N fell to her back, the impact knocking the breath out of her. The soldier was recovering more quickly, already raising his arms. Y/N thought back to that night in the alley, the silver flashing in the night, as the world suddenly seemed impossibly bright.

Y/N dropped her swords and split the soldier’s fire with a flame of her own, using the soldier’s shock to spring to her feet. The soldier’s face plate had fallen to the ground in their struggle, Y/N’s heart twisting when she saw his face. He wasn’t much older than her. Y/N thought of Jain, of Bihun. Of Sokka, Katara, Toph, Aang. This boy shouldn’t be fighting.

“Traitor,” the young soldier seethed, his face contorted with rage. Y/N quickly retrieved her hook swords from the ground, shoving them into her belt. Y/N felt her own anger bubble. She was never, would never, be one of them.

Y/N let the rage release through her hands in a ball of flame, watching the boy retreat as more Water Tribe warriors descended in their direction.

Y/N jogged to catch up with the tanks that was continuing their steady climb up the hillside as she saw Appa’s large shadow descend. Y/N felt the relief flood her as her friends came into view. Hakoda was obviously injured, but alive. They were all alive. And they were winning.

“Y/N!” Katara rushed forward, pulling the other girl into a tight hug.

“Everything’s going smoothly, and the eclipse hasn’t even kicked in yet,” Sokka was saying. Katara pulled out of Y/N’s grasp, looking off into the distance.

“Let’s hope our luck holds out,” Katara muttered. Y/N could see the worry in Katara’s eyes, following her line of sight.

“Is that Aang?”

---

Y/N wandered away absentmindedly as Sokka, Katara, Aang, and Hakoda discussed their next move. She couldn’t help but to feel disheartened, but as she looked out over the beach battlefield, the pride in her chest swelled. They were winning. Y/N ran a thumb over the handle of a hook sword at her waist.

“He’d be really happy,” a voice to her left said. Y/N turned to see Pipsqueak, looking at her with an unreadable expression. “Those are his, right?”

“Yes,” Y/N answered, a little breathlessly. Her eyes stung a bit. She’d forgotten that Pipsqueak and the Duke had been Freedom Fighters, too. Before. Y/N met Pipsqueak’s eyes. “I just wish he were here to see it. It was his fight, too.”

Pipsqueak thought for a moment. “He’s here. With the Duke and me. And you.” Pipsqueak looked to the swords at Y/N’s hip again. “And a piece of him is here, on the battlefield.”

Y/N listened to the light breeze pass by, and for a moment, she thought she could sense it, too.

“Y/N!” Sokka called, breaking her from her reverie.

“Thank you,” Y/N said hastily, giving Pipsqueak’s arm a quick squeeze before going to meet the others.

Toph gave Y/N a swift punch in the arm to greet her. “Ready to go kick some Fire Lord butt?”

Y/N wanted to say no. “Yeah, of course.” Wait. “Where?”

“There are tunnels underneath the palace,” Sokka explained. “We’ve decided to keep going. We’ll finish what we started.” Sokka’s gaze turned from determined to compassionate. “If you’re okay with it.”

Y/N nodded.

“I want you to come along with in case we run into any firebenders before or after the eclipse,” Aang added. “Even if you aren’t a master bender, we could still use the extra help.”

“You’re a good fighter, Y/N,” Sokka agreed.

Y/N did feel like she’d proven herself, at least a little bit. And she wouldn’t be completely helpless without her bending during the eclipse—it wasn’t her main fighting tactic, anyway, and how many of the benders holed up underground could say the same?

Katara would stay back—Y/N got the sense that Katara wasn’t overly happy to let all four of them out of her sight—but Hakoda needed the help. Y/N promised Katara that she’d look after the others.

Y/N, Sokka, Aang, and Toph landed Appa further up at the mouth of the large volcano that Caldera rested on.

“Do you feel anything down there?” Aang questioned as Toph knelt to the ground.

“Yep. There are natural tunnels criss-crossing through the inside of the volcano,” Toph confirmed.

“Is there a structure anywhere?”

“There’s something big, dense, and metal in the middle of the volcano.”

“Sounds like a bunker to me,” Sokka stated. Toph sent dust flying as the pulled the earth away, leaving a gaping hole in the ground.

“There’ll be magma channels through there,” Y/N pointed out. It was a volcano, after all.

“Well,” Sokka gulped, looking down into the dark, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

---

As it turned out, the worst that could happen was nearly being dunked into a pool of magma. Aang had barely managed to get the four of them across the pit on his glider. Y/N never wanted to leave solid ground again.

“Couldn’t you bend some of this heat away?” Sokka asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Don’t you think I’d already be doing that if I could?” Y/N quipped. Honestly, she wasn’t entirely sure if that was something firebenders could do at all. She’d only ever met two, and…

Y/N’s stomach sunk further with each step closer to the bunker. What if she saw him? Y/N had blocked Zuko from her mind for so long—and she didn’t really think she’d be here, under the palace, giving chase to the Fire Lord. Y/N prayed that she wouldn’t have to face Zuko. She wasn’t sure if she could.

“Hey, Captain,” Toph said. It took Y/N a moment to realize the earthbender was talking to her.

“What?”

“You don’t need to be so nervous. Your heartbeat is so fast it’s giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” Y/N murmured quickly. She hadn’t noticed, before, but now she was hyperaware of the pounding in her chest.

When they finally reached the metal door of the bunker, Toph pried it open with little effort.

“I am so glad we added you to the group!” Sokka exclaimed, gesticulating wildly as they climbed into the bunker. Y/N groaned—even more passageways, albeit a bit nicer than the dead magma channels. Toph pointed to the left, and they set off.

“Why does every capital city have to have underground tunnels?” Y/N wondered aloud. It was like Lake Laogai and the Earth Kingdom palace all over again. The memory of her pounding head was in the back of her mind, when Zuko had practically shoved her away down the dim passageway.

“I love it,” Toph pronounced proudly. “Finally get to be the eyes of the group,” she joked, directing them around another turn.

A Fire Nation soldier stood in the hallway. His eyes widened upon seeing them. “The Fire Lord is that way, down the hall, to the left, and up the stairs,” the man rambled fearfully. “You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks!” Aang replied joyfully. Y/N held back a giggle at the Avatar’s never-failing friendliness.

Sokka pulled out his timer from his pocket. “Thirty seconds until the eclipse.”

“Do you think it’ll feel different?” Y/N wondered aloud again. Y/N didn’t like to talk about it, but she could feel fire. Brimming, underneath the surface. All the time. Would it be gone?

No one responded—Y/N supposed they wouldn’t have an answer, and it wasn’t exactly the most pressing question in the world. And as the large doors to the Fire Lord’s chamber appeared in front of them, Y/N felt the question fade to the background, feeling a hum in her ears.

“I’m ready,” Aang said with determination. “I’m ready to face the Fire Lord.”

The doors flew open with a burst of air, sending up a small flurry of dust. Y/N squinted, expecting fire, before remembering that the eclipse would have started by now. She still felt fire under her skin.

“So, you are alive after all.” Y/N recognized that voice. Azula sat on the throne, smirking sharply. “I had a hunch that you’d survived. But no matter. I’ve known about the invasion for months.”

“Where is he?” Aang demanded. “Where is the Fire Lord?”

“Aw, I’m not good enough for you?” Azula pouted, rising from the throne haughtily. “You’re hurting my feelings.” Azula’s golden eyes scanned the four of them, finally landing on Y/N.

“Oh, you picked up a little stray?” Azula raised an eyebrow, looking Y/N up and down. “I figured she was taken care of in Ba Sing Se.”

“Stop,” Y/N spoke, willing her voice to sound commanding.

“You’re powerless right now, so you’re in no position to refuse,” Sokka agreed, his expression steely.

“I can tell if you lie,” Toph threatened. Azula looked up for a moment, thinking.

“I am a four hundred feet tall purple platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings.”

Toph’s smug expression faltered. “You’re good,” Toph said, moving her arms, sending a cage of earth around Azula. “But you should consider telling the truth anyway.”

Almost as soon as the stone had solidified around the Fire Nation princess, it crumbled away, Azula brushing off the dust from her clothing casually. “When I came home from Ba Sing Se, I brought a souvenir.”

The shadows of two Dai Li agents dropped from the ceiling, landing gracefully on the stone floor to flank Azula.

Y/N stuck to Sokka’s side. Azula was at a disadvantage without her bending, but so were they. Earthbenders held all the cards in an underground battle. Y/N and Sokka ran after Azula as Toph and Aang held back the Dai Li.

After a few moments, Aang flew by them in a whirl, attempting to catch Azula as Toph secured cuffs of earth around the girl’s feet. Sokka slowed, realization dawning on his face.

“Aang, stop! She’s just wasting our time.”

“Are we just supposed to leave her?” Aang called back. Azula had stopped running, looking at them with yet another amused smirk.

Sokka was right. They were wasting valuable eclipse time chasing the princess, and it was clear she wasn’t about to talk.

“We have to go and find the Fire Lord ourselves.”

Aang nodded in agreement as they turned to walk away. Y/N didn’t like turning her back on the Fire Nation princess, but a quick attempt at lighting a flame in her hand reassured her that they would be safe.

“It’s a trap. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Azula’s voiced called coolly.

“Ignore!” Sokka shouted back, raising a hand to emphasize his point. A beat passed.

“You’re Sokka, right?” Azula asked casually. Y/N noticed Sokka’s steps slow ever so slightly. “My favorite prisoner used to mention you all the time.” Sokka stopped dead in his tracks, glaring back at the princess.

“Sokka, let’s go,” Y/N whispered, giving Sokka’s sleeve a light tug. Azula continued.

“She was convinced you were going to come rescue her. Of course,” Azula sighed, “you never came, and she gave up on you.”

“Sokka,” Y/N muttered in warning and concern, watching her friend’s eyes well up with tears.

Sokka sprinted back towards Azula, pinning the girl to the stone wall. Y/N looked at Aang, who looked completely helpless to the situation. “Go!” Y/N shouted, before running over to Sokka.

“Where. Is. Suki?” Sokka demanded, pressing harder on Azula’s shoulders. Y/N slowed as she approached, keeping her right hand poised on the handle of her hook sword.

“Where is she?!?” Sokka repeated, rage evident in his voice. Y/N had never seen him like this. It was difficult to keep a level head.

“Sokka, we have to go,” Y/N said shakily, “she won’t talk.”

“Where are you keeping her?” Sokka asked again, his voice shaking with anger and hurt. Azula didn’t address him, turning to Y/N.

“I’m sorry you survived, Y/N,” Azula drawled, “having to find out the truth about your little boyfriend like that. Although I don’t know why he’d associate himself with a commoner to begin with. Good thing his girlfriend hasn’t found out about you.”

“Sokka, let’s go,” Y/N insisted, finally grabbing Sokka by the shoulders and wrenching him away. Y/N didn’t let go as they started to walk down the hall, feeling her own body shaking as much as his.

“Oh,” Azula’s voice said again, “guess the firebending’s back on.”

Y/N and Sokka whipped around as Azula send a flash of blue flame their way, propelling herself out of her restraints. Azula sent another wide blast of fire their direction. Y/N instinctively pulled Sokka behind her, using her own flame to block the strike.

Azula’s eyes widened. “Oh, Zuzu didn’t tell me you were a traitor, too…” Azula glanced down for a moment. Y/N’s adrenaline surged. “Dad is all the way at the end of the hall and then down a secret stairway on the left. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to see you now.” With that, Azula turned and ran down the hall.

“I used up all our time.” Sokka hung his head in shame.

“It’s not your fault. Azula had everything planned out,” Y/N reassured. Azula had just outsmarted them. Again. “Come on,” Y/N started jogging down the hall. “We need to find Aang and Toph.”

---

“I can still face him!” Aang insisted when Y/N and Sokka reconvened with Aang and Toph.

“We need to leave, now,” Y/N argued.

“We thought we had surprise on our side, and we didn’t,” Toph agreed. “It just wasn’t our day.”

“We’ll get another chance,” Sokka insisted. They had to.

“We need to get back up to the surface and help the others,” Y/N pressed. She wanted out of this tunnel before they ran into yet another member of the royal family. Y/N felt claustrophobic, the tunnel walls seeming more like a trap by the minute.

“Okay,” Aang agreed sullenly. “I guess you guys are right.”

Toph wasted no time in leading them out of the tunnels, luckily through a different route than where they had come. Y/N enjoyed seeing the sky again, but she could smell the smoke in the air. That wasn’t good.

War balloons cast dark shadows over the ground as they flew Appa back to the other troops. They were so far up the hillside now—the beach was so far away.

“We have to get back to the beach!” Sokka shouted as soon as they were in range to be heard. “Azula knew we were coming, we have to go!”

Appa landed with a grunt, and Y/N slid down from the saddle, feeling a bit more sting than normal as her feet hit the ground.

“I can try to slow them down,” Aang said, opening his glider before quickly taking off into the air. Momo flew off after him as Katara climbed up onto Appa’s saddle.

“Appa and I can help, too,” Katara said with a steely resolve. “Yip yip!”

“Let’s get back to the subs!” Sokka commanded. Y/N took off with the rest of the group into a sprint down the hillside.

Y/N heard the crashing of airships behind them, but soon enough their shadows could be seen on the ground in front of her. Sokka was shouting something about cover, and Y/N hit the ground hard as Toph bent the earth to form a shield around the three of them.

Dust and little pieces of rock fell on Y/N’s head as the stone shook from an impact. Suddenly, the pain in Y/N’s leg felt sharper. Stinging.

Toph pulled the stone away when the bombs finally stopped falling. The war balloons had already flown past them.

“They’re heading toward the beach…” Aang trailed off. “They’re going to destroy the submarines!”

“How are we all going to escape?” Sokka hung his head.

“We’re not.” Hakoda looked out as the bombs dropped down into the water. “You kids have to leave. You’ll escape on Appa together.”

“We’re not leaving you behind.” Katara stepped forward.

“You’re our only chance in the long run.” Hakoda’s eyes were sad. “You and Sokka have to escape with Aang. It’s the only way to keep hope alive.”

“The youngest will go with you,” Bato agreed. “The adults will surrender. We’ll be prisoners, but everyone will survive.”

Y/N wanted to protest, but they were right. The submarines were long gone, and the war balloons would be coming back their direction.

The goodbyes were tearful, and Y/N envied the pride in Hakoda’s eyes as he hugged Katara and Sokka. Sokka climbed up onto Appa last. Hakoda met Y/N’s eyes, raising his hand to give a salute.

Y/N returned it with a sad smile as Aang thanked them all. “I’m gonna make this up to you,” Aang promised. Appa lifted into the air with quite some effort from the extra weight. Y/N kept her eyes on the remaining soldiers until they disappeared over the next hill.

Masterlist

taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye, @sunflowerr-mami, @nadiblue. @la3divine, @sarsky, @aangsupremacy, @good-ones-are-taken

[harrysweasleys]

Tarnished

Summary: draco x little miss perfect slytherin!reader where they constantly argue because he is always trying to get under her buttons and one day snape decided he’s had enough so they both get detention. of course, the reader is now even more mad at draco since her “perfect” reputation is now “tarnished”. things get a lil steamy during detention once snape steps out

Warnings: maybe one swear word

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: i hope you’re all staying safe right now and i’m sending you all my love. xoxox (Gif is from google)

-

Although double Potions was usually quite enjoyable on your end, the migraine that was throbbing away under your skull was currently telling you today was not going to be as good. The dark corridors of the dungeons were helping the pain in your eyes, but the laughter and constant chatter that greeted you once your entered the class made you grimace. 

You sat in your usual seat at the front of the class, taking your Potions book out and patiently awaiting Professor Snape to get on with the lesson so you could leave sooner. You loved your classes, but today was just not going to be your day. 

A group of rowdy Slytherins led by Malfoy stormed into the room, laughing loudly and flicking paper balls at innocent students. You ducked your head down, hoping to stay out of sight until Snape arrived. Which thankfully, didn’t take long. 

“Good afternoon, Professor Snape,” you smiled kindly, almost missing the very faint, forced smile he shot back at you.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N.”

As the class became quiet, Snape began to instruct the class on what was going to happen in the lesson. You opened your book to the instructions for a Draught of Peace and looked over the ingredients briefly.

Seemed simple enough. You only hoped you’d be able to complete the potion quickly enough and could head to the hospital wing with intention of curing your blasting headache.

“Before you all get rushing around, I will be assigning partners,” Snape’s cold voice made you shut your book hastily.

Partners? Great.

“Finnigan, with Marshall. Johnson, you’re with Keagen,” Snape started reading names off of the list in front of him, and you could only pray you got a decent partner.

“Crabbe and Parkinson,” he read aloud. You rolled your eyes as you heard the two share a dramatic high five.

“Y/L/N, you’re with Malfoy,” Snape read, and you swore you could practically feel yourself failing the assignment already. Of all people, why Draco Malfoy? The platinum headed idiot was nowhere near as good at potions as he should be. Besides, he was way too focused on his stupid ego to even try.

Lord have Mercy.

“Well, what are you all waiting around for? Get moving,” Snape snapped, causing the class to stand up and find their partners. You, however, didn’t have to get up because Malfoy slid quickly into the seat next to you, an arrogant smirk on his face.

“You seem to know your way around a potion so I’m not worried,” he said cooly, leaning back in his chair.

You forced a smile, “As long as you cooperate, we’ll be fine.”

You figured it was no use snapping at him. If you ticked him off he’d make this class living hell, and that was the last thing you needed. You stood up quickly and walked over to the cabinet, grabbing the necessary ingredients in a little basket before walking back to your desk.

A thick, black cauldron now sat on top of it. You placed the basket down to prepare everything you needed.

“Can you crush up this moonstone, please?” you handed over the stone to Malfoy, who reluctantly stood up from his chair.

“Fine,” he muttered, “Don’t know why you’re taking this so seriously. This class is stupid anyways.”

You bit your lip, picking up the unicorn horn and beginning to slowly grate it, making sure that it was the perfect consistency.

“It’s not stupid,” you replied calmly, not facing him, “Potions are extremely useful. You never know when you’ll end up needing one, it’s good to pay attention to every part.”

Malfoy smirked, “Snape isn’t standing behind you, Y/N. You don’t need to kiss his ass.”

You dropped the unicorn horn, eyes bulging out of your head as you snapped your head up to face him, “What? I am not — that’s not—,”

“Relax,” he held up his hands in fake defence, chuckling lightly, “Take a joke.”

You let out a huff of annoyance, looking back down to the unicorn horn and letting your hair fall into your face to hide the pink on your cheeks. You knew Malfoy’s talent was getting under people’s skin but you weren’t about to let him do that to you.

“Just powder the moonstone, Malfoy,” you muttered as you started working on the unicorn horn once more.

After you poured the unicorn horn into the boiling water, you turned to check on Malfoy’s work, only to find he hadn’t even touched the moonstone. You could feel the anger bubbling inside of you.

“Why haven’t you crushed the stone?” you asked, placing your hands on your hips, “You can’t just sit around and let me do all the work.”

“Why not?” he crossed his arms, a challenging expression on his face, “You seem to know what you’re doing, miss Goody Two Shoes.”

“First off, don’t call me that,” you spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to catch the attention of fellow students, “There is nothing wrong with being good at learning. Secondly, this is a group project, in case your thick head hasn’t noticed. So, do your part, partner.”

He squinted at you, “A little bit more fiesty when you’re ticked off, aren’t you?”

You took a deep breath, turning over to grab the porcupine quills in the basket, “Just crush the moonstone, it’s not that hard.”

He let out a chuckle, picking up the moonstone and holding it between his two fingers as if he were analyzing it. You wanted to question what he was doing, but you also wanted to avoid any and all conversation from this moment forward, so you didn’t.

“Fine, I’ll powder your stupid rock,” he placed it back down on the chopping board and did as he was told, grunting every now and then when things weren’t working.

When you completed with your porcupine quills, you put them into the cauldron and he did the same with the moonstone, the two of you continuing to work in silence. Until, of course, he decided he had something else to say.

“Your nose gets scrunched up when you concentrate, you know,” he said calmly. You snapped your head up from the page you were double checking the instructions off of and stared at him blankly.

“And you’re pointing it out why?” you raised an eyebrow, trying to hide the strange fuzzy feeling that erupted in your stomach when he said it.

He shrugged, “No reason.” He began stirring the contents of the pot, ignoring how you were still looking at him, eyes a little wider than usual and your cheeks feeling a little warmer.

“Just stir the pot,” you grumbled, noticing how Snape was walking over to your desk to check out your potion.

“Yes, ma’am,” Malfoy grumbled right back, forcing a fake smile when Snape stopped in front of the two of you.

“Your potion looks acceptable,” Snape spoke cooly, looking down into the cauldron through the strands of black hair hanging in his vision, his expression unreadable as usual.

“Thank you, Professor,” you grinned, “I actually thought about grinding the porcupine quills smaller than usual, they dissolve quicker and the effect is still the same. I read about it in The Secrets to Succeeding in Potion Making.”

Snape turned to face you, squinting, “Although I usually discourage... risk-taking and experimenting in my classroom, I must admit myself impressed.”

You were positively beaming. It was rare Snape gave out compliments, and any time you got one, it rang through your head the entire day.

“Thank you,” you said again, “I’ve always wanted to make a Draught of Peace.”

Malfoy was looking back and forth between you and Snape, looking slightly disgusted. But, you brushed it off and smiled at the professor once more as he moved on to the group behind you, who had clearly done something wrong as their potion was bubbling a neon orange.

“That was quite possibly the worst case of sucking up I have ever seen,” Malfoy let out a low whistle, wiping the proud smile off your face.

“It’s not sucking up,” you defended yourself, not feeling like it was worth it but your stubbornness feeling otherwise, “I’m just genuinely interested in learning about potion making.”

He rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

You scowled at him, not thinking he was worth your effort, and turned back to face the potion, which was now the exact colour it was meant to be.

“Class dismissed, when we return next class you will be back in the same pairs and we will go through the step by step instructions and what many, many of you did wrong,” Snape addressed the class grimly, his lip curled in a disappointed frown.

You looked around, noticing students who were rolling their eyes and grimacing at their incorrect potions. Yours was pretty damn perfect, if you did say so yourself.

“Guess we’re back together next class, huh?” Malfoy smirked, “Great.”

You picked up your books and parchment, clutching them to your chest, “If you keep your mouth shut, it will go just fine.”

You stuck your nose in the air once more, walked out the class, and marched down the busy corridors to Transfiguration. You picked a seat next to a quiet looking Ravenclaw girl, hoping to avoid Malfoy’s commentary, and prepared yourself for another class.

— —

“We failed? But how?” you felt your heart sink to your stomach as you looked at the large F sitting on the paper with yours and Malfoy’s names. How could you have failed? You guys had done the potion perfectly, Snape even said he was impressed with your tactics. It didn’t make sense.

“Relax, Y/N,” Malfoy shrugged carelessly, “It’s not my first failure. It doesn’t actually affect you as much as you’d think.”

“No! I’m not going to relax! Professor Snape said he was impressed!” you groaned, slamming the paper down on the table, more frustrated than you cared to admit. Malfoy would think you were a fool if he knew how much that F had gotten under your skin.

You had never failed anything before, how could you have failed this? There had to be some sort of twisted, wrong explanation for this.

Before Malfoy could stop you, your hand shot straight up into the air, “Professor Snape!”

Snape, who was in the middle of handing back another grade, walked over to your desk with the permanent scowl still on his face.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” he spoke slowly, eyebrow raised.

“I was just wondering why I — I mean, why we — failed,” you corrected yourself, eyeing Malfoy quickly before facing Snape once again, trying to be polite but also wanting answers.

“Because, Miss Y/L/N, and Mister Malfoy, you had placed the ingredients in the wrong order, therefore the porcupine quills did not blend with your moonstone the way it was intended,” he spoke cooly, “After class was dismissed, your potion turned a vulgar shade of green.”

You nodded sadly, watching him walk away with a swoosh of his robes. You sat down, a sunken expression on your face. You couldn’t believe you let Malfoy’s annoying-ness get under your skin to the point where you hadn’t even paid attention to the order of inserting the ingredients.

You felt like a total fool. Sinking back into your chair, a pout was now formed on your lips. You were devastated. How could you have been so distracted?

“It’s not a huge deal,” Malfoy faced you, clearly confused as to why this was bothering you so much.

“You don’t get it!” you snapped, “I have never failed — ever. This is my first failure and it was your fault. You couldn’t just grind your stupid moonstone and get on with the task, could you? Maybe we’d have been able to follow instructions better!”

He seemed taken aback by your outburst. You had even noticed a few students around you turn to face you guys, evesdropping to see what the fuss was about.

“Wait, you’re blaming me?” he asked, placing a hand on his chest, “You’re the one who had the instructions! You’re the one who was paying attention to every tiny detail. Don’t blame this on me. This is on you.”

You could feel the fumes bubbling under your skin, “Me? No, this isn’t on me. If it weren’t for me, you’d have killed yourself with that potion!”

By now, the entire class was looking over. And to your extreme misfortune, so was Snape.

“Miss Y/L/N, I am very disappointed in your outburst,” he spoke loudly, a hint of loathing in his voice, “Detention. Both of you. My office, tonight at eight.”

You sat down, defeated, letting a harsh sigh leave your lips. Detention. Your first failure and your first detention in the same day. You were so disappointed in yourself.

“Detention?” you mumbled quietly, looking down at your feet, “I’ve sunk low.”

“Yeah, you have,” Malfoy spoke up, his irritating voice making you clench your hands into fists one more, “Can’t wait to share detention with the lamest person in school.”

You scoffed, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms, “I am not lame.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

— —

As eight o’clock rolled around, you found yourself sitting in Snape’s office, deadly silent, with Malfoy sitting by your side. He was dressed casually, the first time you had actually seen him without his robes, and he looked quite awake for this late in the evening.

“See here?” Snape finally spoke up, pointing to the shelves behind him where all his ingredients were stored, “I need you to organize them and make a list of how much of everything remains in my inventory.”

“How would you like the list organized, sir?” you asked softly, looking over at the messy shelves, dreading how long this was going to take. There were a lot of jars. Some even had what looked like body parts in them. Hearts, eyes, hair. It was pretty disgusting.

“Does it matter?” Malfoy asked, “Just write it all down. Not everything has to be in a perfect little list with a bow on top.”

You bit your tongue, holding back a snide remark as Snape rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with your childish bickering.

“Just do what I’ve asked and you can leave,” Snape said once more before turning around slowly and leaving his office, going god knows where at this hour. Now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure what your teachers got up to once school hours were over.

Did they all hang out? Did they sleep in the same quarters? Do they huddle around the fireplace and chat?

It was kind of weird thinking about your teachers’ personal lives.

“Hello?” Malfoy snapped, causing you to blink rapidly as you returned to the present moment, “I’m not doing this by myself.”

You glared at him, “You weren’t this rude in class, what changed?”

As you turned to the shelf behind you, noticing that the four bottles with hair in them were labeled the same thing, you put them into a little line so they were all together and easily accessible.

“Things changed once you were rude to me. Also, you got us detention. Couldn’t keep your temper under control, could you?” he replied without even looking over. You were about to reach for a tiny bottle of green bubbles, but his statement made you retract your hand and turn to face him.

“It’s not my fault I was rude,” you replied as he turned to face you, “You’re practically insufferable. You’ve been worshiped by your gang of cronies and now you go around thinking you’re some sort of royalty, it’s rather annoying, I must say. I don’t stand for people who better themselves.” Although you had never actually spoken back to him with such honesty to your words before, something about telling him off made you feel good.

He smirked at you — which was the last reaction you were expecting — and walked towards you slowly. Up until the point where your back was up against the shelves, but he didn’t slow down. Eventually, he stopped in front of you, his hands against the wooden shelves on either side of your head, and his face closer to you than it’s ever been.

You had never noticed the freckles on his cheekbones, or the scar he had above his lip. Or even the way there was a speck of green in his right eye. Or how being so close to him made your breath catch and your heart race.

Wait — what were you thinking?

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” his smirk was still evident, but the only thing you could focus on was the proximity of your bodies. If Snape were to walk in...

“You’re — uh — I don’t—,” you couldn’t find the words to say as he looked from your eyes to your lips. You had never been in a position like this with anyone before. It felt so intimate, so personal.

“You know, I gotta say I find you quite endearing,” he said softly, eyes staring into yours with such intensity your knees were weak. What the hell was going on?

“You — you do?” you found yourself questioning, suddenly very aware that you had no idea what to do with your hands. Do you put them down?

You settled on crossing them across your chest, almost as if challenging Malfoy.

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, “You’ve got this innocent, know-it-all air about you. And I can’t help but feel weirdly drawn to you. Not that I mind, of course. You’re lucky you’re gorgeous.” Heat rose to your cheeks and you knew he was loving it.

“You find me gorgeous?” you smiled lightly, trying to distract him from teasing your blush.

He grinned, “Course I do. Infuriating as hell, but gorgeous.” You lost all self control, and without thinking, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down so his lips crashed against yours.

He wasted no time in responding, placing his hands gently around your waist and pulling your body flush against his, his lips moving slowly yet forcefully against your own. He was surpringly passionate for someone who seemed to have such a hard edge.

You felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip before clashing with yours, the pure feeling of bliss and energy moulding between the two of you. It was as if ice and fire had met, and the result was calmness and passion.

“Draco—,” his lips moved away from your lips and down to your jaw, and even lower to your neck. He left soft kisses all the way down to your collarbone, leaving you with goosebumps all over your body. He was surprisingly really good at this. Even you had to admit you were enjoying this.

He reluctantly pulled away from you, his lips a dark shade of red and his hair a little wild. It was quite possibly the hottest he’s ever looked.

“Don’t let this change anything, I still find you a pain in the ass,” you mumbled as you raised your hand to fix your hair, hoping no one would notice that you had gotten busy with Malfoy in Snape’s office of all places.

“Right back at you, darling,” he winked at you, causing your heart to flutter, “Shall we get back to work?”

—

[fungifaggot]

Polaroids

Request: You write for LiS ^_^ i would love to read m!reader x Nathan if you'd like to write about him :) perhaps something with reader taking photos of him constantly and pissing him off which leads to sexy times? 

Warnings: lots of swearing and suggestive themes.

A/n: Loved this request, I didn’t write full on smut (sorry bout that) because that’s all I've been writing so far. Even if its a lil janky I hope it’s close enough to what you wanted. Thanks for requesting

!Feel free to send constructive criticisms and requests are open!

_____________

*CLICK*

“Jesus Y/n, again? Seriously?” Nathan scoffed after being met face to face with the lens of your Polaroid for what felt like the hundredth time today.

“Aww what, is someone angwy~” You said as you jutted out your bottom lip, laughing when he rolled his eyes. You pulled out the image and shook it for a bit before rolling over to add it to the comically large pile you had created on the side of his bed.

“You’re annoying you know that right?” He stated bluntly.

“Yeah, and you’re hot. What about it?” You said turning your head towards him to send a wink, hiding the smirk that crept onto your face when you noticed the light shade of pink that dusted over his cheeks.

“I can’t stand you” he muttered

“Tch- oh c’monnn, you know you love me” you giggled out while nudging your elbow into his lower back.

What you didn’t know was that; Yeah. He did. Quite a lot actually.

Despite the contrast in your personalities, Nathan had fallen head over heels for you. For the longest time he didn't know why and he didn't want to believe it either, but with the way you made that boy blush, stutter, and trip over his own words like a fool, he knew he was fucked and that there was no denying it. 

He couldn't help but to think about you all the time. Think about the way you actually listened to him, the way you genuinely enjoyed his company, the way you made him laugh like no one else could, or even just the fact that you  genuinely cared for him as a person. 

Whatever it was, he liked it about you. And you were the exact same way. 

You had liked Nathan for a while now. When you first met him you knew right off the bat that he was attractive, but the more you talked to him and the longer you knew him, the harder you fell and the harder it was to be around him all the time. 

As much as you loved being around Nathan, controlling your emotions eventually became hell. And no matter how many flirtatious jokes you made or how close he was to you, it was never enough. You wanted him to be in your arms (and in your bed). You wanted him to be yours.

And for now, he wasn't. 

You sat back up and began to search through your pile. A lot of them were actually quite good, there were pictures of him from inside his truck, some from when you went to the Two Whales Diner, and a few that you had taken on campus. 

While looking you laughed abruptly when you came across multiple photos where he was very clearly pissed off or in the process of trying to snatch your camera away. This caught Nathans attention and he turned around immediately

 “What?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nuthinnn~” You replied with a snort.

“Don’t be an ass, just show me.”

“Me being an ass? Nathan all you ever are is an ass” You sneered, yanking the picture away when he attempted to reach for it. 

You knew this wasn’t going to end well, but there was no way in hell you were just going to let him win. In a rush you quickly gathered the pile and stood up. You both stared at each other from opposite sides of the bed, awaiting each others next move.

“They’re pictures of me, if anything I should be the one who gets to look at them.” He said, pointing a finger at you accusingly.

“Yeah yeah sure, but how are you supposed to do that if you don’t have them.”

“Just give them to me.” he growled

“Hell no.” you said, laughing at the way his eyebrows raised in a brief moment of shock. You on the other hand stood there with a shit eating grin waiting eagerly for his response. 

What you weren't expecting though was for him to jump up onto the bed and lunge directly at you.

“Oh n-”  You started, dropping all the pictures and going to catch him instead. As soon as he landed in your arms, you tossed him aside like trash and raced towards the fallen pictures. As soon as Nathan got onto his feet he did the same, shoving you to the floor in the process.

He frantically grabbed as many as he could. That is, until you picked him up from under his armpits like a toddler, body slammed him down onto the bed, and belly flopped on top of him without a second thought. 

“ACK- Y/n you fat asshole get off of me!”

You perked your head up at that, gasping heavily while placing your hand on your chest clearly pretending to be offended. 

“How dare you” you said mockingly

“Oh my god Y/nnn, seriously just get off of me I can’t breathe.” he groaned out.

You laughed and finally lifted your body weight off of him, now trapping him between your legs as you hovered over him instead.

You couldn't help, but notice his flustered cheeks and disheveled hair. Or the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath from his tantrum. 

Shit. You were really turned on.

You looked into his eyes and noticed him staring right back at you, and maybe you were just imagining things, but for a split second his eyes drifted down to your lips and back up to your intense gaze. Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours until Nathan finally chimed in 

“Keep staring at me like that and I might just think you’re in love with me or something” He said following it with a dull laugh. 

“Who says I'm not?” You ‘joked’ raising your eyebrows up and down, making him roll his eyes once again. 

“Y’know, that’s what I can’t stand about you Y/n. You’re always joking around and I can never tell when you’re serious.” He mumbled, sounding genuinely upset.

He roughly shoved you in the chest, making you sit up straight and just about straddle him.

“What, do you want me to be serious?” you asked.

A few moments of silence passed by and he didn’t bother to respond. Instead he tried to wiggle his way out from between your legs, stopping instantly when he felt the warmth of your hands on his face. You cupped his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. When you opened your eyes back up he looked damn near paralyzed. 

“Oh... No? I just thou-” You started to rush out in a panic before getting pulled back into a kiss by the collar of your shirt. You placed a hand on the back of his neck, and the other on the headboard in order to maintain balance.

His lips were impossibly soft and tasted of vanilla from the shakes that you had drank earlier. As cliche as it is, in that very moment you swore that you could feel sparks fly inside of you.

What had started out as a gentle kiss quickly became one full of desperation and need. His hands gripped your shirt pulling you as close to him as possible. You bit on and pulled his lip before going back in, this time forcing your tongue into his mouth. He whined into the kiss as your hand danced along his sides and then down to his ass, where you gave it a firm squeeze.

You both pulled away, breathing heavily. You looked him up and down, analyzing everything about him. Analyzing the way his shirt was lifted up just enough to expose his v line, the way he had spread his legs further apart, and even the way his pants seemed to be much tighter than they were before.

You looked back at his flustered face and smiled at him softly, leaning back down to kiss him, but before you did so you shifted so that your knee was up against his crotch, making him moan out loud. His cheeks turned a deep red and he turned his head, unable to look you in the eye. You took a hold of his chin and directed it towards your face, running your thumb over his bottom lip before giving it another kiss. 

You moved down to his jawline, trailing kisses alongside it while he tilted it back to give you more access. You nipped at his ear before proceeding to make your way down his neck, sucking and biting as you did so. You pulled his collar down and began to leave marks. He arched his back and rubbed his chest up against yours before pathetically moaning out

“Y/n, please just fuck me already.”

You pulled away from his neck and looked him dead in the eyes before responding nonchalantly with

“Nah."

His eyes widened in a mixture of both shock and anger. He sat up immediately and pushed you so that you were no longer hovering over him.

“You bitch, and why not!?”

“Cause we’re not even dating.” You replied as if it were obvious. 

He knew that you couldn’t care less about whether you were dating or not and that you were obviously just trying to get on his nerves. And goddamn were you succeeding at that. 

“You’re such an asshole” He muttered, much too horny to bother yelling at you.

“Yeah yeahhh, but I could be your asshole.” You countered, chuckling a little at how stupid you sounded.

He scoffed and turned away. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever I guess.” he mumbled while crossing his arms. 

You smiled widely and peppered kisses all over the side of his face before crashing next to him on the bed and pulling him against your chest.

“Just put your fucking third leg away, its distracting.”

________

Tags: 

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(Don’t be afraid to ask to be removed if it bothers you.)

[dirt-cup-draco]

Fred Weasley x Reader- Games Part 2/2

@just-here-to-escape-from-reality: Pls make a part 2 of games where she finally tells him off 🙏🙏

Previously: 

Even if you always lost, you loved Fred’s games. No one else could own your heart like he did. The lows were nothing in comparison to the highs. Even if he couldn’t commit, even if this was all you’d ever have, even if you crashed every night, it would all be worth it.

You knew that by the time the sun rose, you would be ready to play the game all over again.

Your bag was heavy against your shoulder, back aching and eyes burning. You’d snuck out again the night before to see Fred and you were regretting it now. Not just in the way your eyelids fluttered closed with exhaustion every time there was a lull in your class, but in the way your chest ached and every breath seemed like a battle. 

Is he thinking about you? Maybe today is the day he’ll realize you’re the one he wants whether you’re behind closed doors or not. 

Stomping out any gleaming bit of hope that tried to rise, you made your way to the great hall with slow and hesitant steps. Fred had been stealing you away for months now. Every word from his lips felt like a promise until you asked those damned words that felt like ice when you got lost in his fire. What are we?

Nothing. The practical, semi-pessimistic part of you hissed. Freddie knows you’re always going to be around, so why not have some fun in between girlfriends? 

It felt more like the truth than the quiet girl muttering in the back of your brain that Fred Weasley might love you, but just not know it yet. You knew he had love for you, but never in the way you craved. Fred loved you because you were a constant. You were one of his closest friends and you could never stray long from those honey brown eyes and sinful smile. It was easy to love someone who gave you all the attention you could ever ask for and more, especially with a family as large as his and siblings so close in age. 

You never asked anything in return and whether he knew it or not he was taking advantage of your love and it was bringing you closer to rock bottom everyday.

“Where’ve you been? You look like hell,” Lee Jordan pointed out and you tried to comment playfully, engaging in your normal banter, but you couldn’t find it in you. More often than not these days you couldn’t manage more thank a weak smile and a huff of laughter that felt foreign to your ears. 

“Just been busy with school,” Had been your most relied upon excuse and it didn’t fail you now as Lee nodded, shoving a cauldron cake into his mouth and speaking over the crumbs that fell from his open mouth. 

“Snape, the bloody bastard, took away ten house points from me yesterday just because my essay was two inches too short in length,” 

“Not the first time you’ve been accused of being a bit too short in length,” Angelina giggled to Katie and with a holler from Lee and a snort from Fred, they had forgotten all about your plight. 

George snuck a glance at you, noticing that your lips moved into automatic smiles when your friends around you grew more rambunctious but there was no warmth to it. It was like watching a puppet dance around on stage at the behest of someone else. He had to suppress a shiver when you looked to him, that tired turning of lips trying their best to convince him they were playing their part. Your eyes were dulled in a way he couldn’t remember seeing before. Surely school couldn’t be the issue? 

Tucking into his meal after giving you the widest grin he could, hoping to share some warmth, George promised he would ask Fred before lights out if you were okay. 

--

“Whaddya mean something’s wrong with Y/N?” Fred asked, eyebrows knit together but the concern that George expected to see at his statement was vanished. Instead, his twin’s look read more like he found George to be off his rocker.

“She’s just not herself,” 

“I saw her last night, she seemed fine to me,” 

“You were with Lee and I last night,” 

Fred shrugged, tossing his pajama shirt on with nonchalance. “Saw her after,” 

George narrowed his eyes, climbing into his four poster and trying to see if anything on Fred’s face would give away what was going on. If Fred was sneaking out to see you, after already getting up to no good with Lee and himself, what could the two of you possibly be up to?

“Something’s got to be wrong then if she’s losing sleep over your ugly mug,” 

Fred laughed at the joke, and then, “Seriously Georgie, she’s fine. It’s just school getting on her nerves,” 

Sensing he would get no other answer from his brother; George pulled his curtains around him, turned over in bed, and promptly fell asleep despite the growing questions. 

--

George came to you the next day, hair rumpled and out of breath. “Merlin woman!” He exclaimed, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve been calling your name since you left Potions. Where’re you going in such a rush? Been chasing you halfway ‘round the castle,” 

“Oh don’t be a drama queen Georgie, it only suits your brother,” You teased and he was glad to hear some of the warmth back in your voice but it still remained void from your eyes. You looked....hurt. Not like you were shielding a bruise or trying to go easy on a limp, but like someone had taken everything dear to you and shattered it on the ground as if it were glass. 

“Glad you brought him up,” George grinned, tossing his arm around your shoulder.  He missed the way your smile drooped. Why could he possibly want to talk to you about Fred? Did he know? And if so, what did he think you and Fred were?

Maybe he told George he likes you. Your heart jerked around uncomfortably.

George wouldn’t be coming to you with questions if he had answers. Reason put your sporadic heartbeat to rest. 

The boy with his arm around your shoulder steered you past the Great Hall and to the room of requirement. What could the boy need so badly that the room was now opening up to the two of you? You hesitated for a single step and then George was pulling you inside with a tug of your hand. 

The space was small, comfortable. The fireplace behind you crackled and warmed your back. The two plush seats in the center called your name. You looked skeptically at the redhaired boy. 

“What’s so concerning about Freddie that you’ve brought me here?” 

George looked bashful, pink crawling up his neck. You shuffled nervously on your feet. “Well, it’s more about you than about him but he said something last night that’s got me wondering.... Do like Fred, Y/N?” 

Your eyes bugged out, the air knocked from your chest. Not because George had figured it out, but because it had taken him so damn long. You let out an incredulous laugh, feet carrying you to one of the plush wingback chairs so that you could bring your knees to your chest as a form of protection. 

“Took you long enough,” 

George simply nodded, no gloating, no laughter, no teasing. You couldn’t help but grow more confused. 

“George why is this relevant-” 

“My next question-” He interrupted. “-is why you haven’t told him how you feel yet.” 

The breath that had been knocked from your chest was having a hard time coming back in and you felt light headed as you forced yourself to inhale, albeit shakily. How did you explain to George that your true love, the boy you would trade the world for, didn’t feel the same and it had been proven by his lack of commitment and attentiveness. 

“It’s a long story, we’ve been-” 

“Sneaking around Hogwarts?” George guessed and you sent him a nasty glare but the proud little smile on his face at pulling a genuine reaction from you had you smiling back and the air was suddenly circulating in your lungs again. 

“More or less, not stop interrupting or I fear I won’t let out all I need to,” 

Heading your warning, and feeling an uneasiness in his chest, George quieted. 

You revealed that after your kiss during a typical game of truth or dare, you had expected things to return to normal. You, with your feelings and hopes still intact for a someday with Fred. And him, not thinking anything of the kiss or hopefully thinking of a someday with you. You hadn’t been prepared for Fred to seek you out every chance he got to pull you into hidden spaces and snog you until your mind grew fuzzy and all worries vanished. Then, when you’d finally gained enough courage to ask what you two were, if the kisses meant anything, Fred had dodged a real answer and expected you to want what he wanted.

 But how could you be what he wanted when you weren’t sure if it was you that he wanted? You were a friend, a confidant, a body. You stumbled over your seemingly harsh analyzation. 

“I know he means well, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” You defended, wringing your hands together and it was only then that George had taken notice of the very obvious love bite on your neck. It had been covered well by your robes earlier but you’d been fidgeting in your seat the entire conversation. “He cares about me but I don’t think he cares about me that way, I’m just easy access and he’s grown used to it,” 

George watched as the spark he’d seen not ten minutes before had sizzled out again and he finally had his answer. Fred was what was wrong with you. His idiot brother was using you, whether he saw it or not and you were being crushed by the weight of having the one you clearly more than liked but not having all of him. George felt guilt rise up and swirl with the fury in his gut. He wasn’t mad at his twin, but he was furious for you. You had been hollowed out  because Fred acted first and thought last and never had to deal with the consequences of it. 

“Y/N, you’re not-” George went to argue but his voice sounded pitiful even to his own ears, “He’s- I’m sure that he.... You know he cares,” 

Your eyes met George’s and you could see the turmoil lying behind his eyes. Melted chocolate as opposed to the honey you’d fallen for. He was much like Fred but when you looked in his eyes you saw someone who wore his heart on his sleeve and Fred couldn’t be further from that. 

“I know he does,” You sniffled, eyes glistening and George almost wished he could take back the blank look you’d been schooling for some odd days. He hated to see tears in your eyes. He hated knowing Fred had put them there and that he couldn’t make up for any of it. How did he fix his twin’s mistake? 

With a short nod and an affectionate squeeze of his arm, you left George puzzled and alone in the room of requirement. 

Fred wanted to see you again tonight.

--

You were sat in his lap, his hands running through your hair, but this time, both of you had your eyes on the stars. The nervousness bubbling in your chest was eased as Fred failed to make a move just yet. You were craving time spent with him that meant more than just easing his frustration or giving him a high. You wanted to be like this, comfortable and close, but content to do nothing. It made you feel more cared for than any kiss thus far. 

Fred was always careful in the way he held you and kissed you, knowing just what made you turn to mush in his hands, but he was clumsy with your heart and after your conversation with George you feared he had dropped it too many times. 

“Talked to Georgie last night...” Fred spoke into the night air, voice only a whisper but your heartrate spiked despite knowing that you and George had talked that evening and so Fred had to be alluding to a different conversation. 

“It’s a bit odd when you don’t talk so-” 

“Y/N/N” Fred interrupted gently, gaze soft as he made you look him in the eye. He was quiet longer than you expected. He was searching your features for something but all you could express was mild confusion. “He said there was something wrong, thought I would know. Y/N, what don’t I know?”

“Whaddya mean Freddie, I tell you everythi-” 

“Why are you lying?” Fred huffed, eyebrows now knit together in frustration, his hands pressing harder against your hips but not uncomfortably. “I-I can see it now. Where’d my happy girl go?” 

You bit down on your lip to stop from the whimper that wanted to force itself from your throat. You crawled out of Fred’s lap, immediately missing the warmth he provided. You wrung your hands together to distract from the sick feeling in your stomach. “That’s just it Freddie, ‘m not your girl,” 

“Y-you’re not?” He asked, face paler in the moonlight than you had ever seen it before. 

“I’m your best friend, I’m the person you trust most outside of Georgie, and I’m just another girl, another body. Like I told your brother... all I am is easy access,” 

Fred’s face had gone red as you continued to speak and the frown grew more persistent on his face until it was morphing into a sneer. You’d have seen it if your eyes weren’t downcast and blurred with the tears that were starting to fall. 

“You want parts of me Fred but you don’t want all of me and I can’t live that way anymore,” You choked out, hands slippery with your fallen tears. You looked up at the same time Fred bolted up, that angry look upon his face forcing you to wonder if you’d said something cruel in your admission. 

You opened your mouth to ask him- Well what had you wanted to ask him? It all seemed to disappear now as he ran from the astronomy tower. 

--

“Bloody hell!” George cussed as the door to his dorm was blown wide open, his counterpart stomping over the threshold with fury in his eyes. Fred’s hands were clenched tight, his jaw wired shut. George knew it was best to just wait for Fred to speak when these times came. He couldn’t help but feel the seed of worry that grew in his stomach when he remembered Fred and you had been together. 

“I cant believe she-!” Fred began but a strangled scream cut off the rest of his sentence as he tugged at his hair. “And that I-!” Another sentence lost to the sound of Fred kicking his trunk. 

Sooner than George thought, Fred was whirling on him, a finger suddenly pressed against his chest in accusation. “She told you how she felt dammit!”

“Who?” George asked and Fred threw his hands up in the air. 

“Y/N!” He snarled, back to pacing the common room. “She told you that she felt like... like... well-” 

“Easy access? Just another body? Like she was all yours and you could never be hers?” George supplied, laying back comfortably against his pillows as Fred took a seat beside him, deflated at the words that had riled him up so much. 

“How could she think that?” Fred choked out, eyes misty as he looked to his best friend for answers. “I-I, well, I love her,” 

George let out a grateful breath, one he’d been holding since he’d noticed your misery from across the table. “Because you idiot, you told her relationships were messy. Because you’ll hold her hand in the astronomy tower and make her feel like the most wanted girl in all of Hogwarts and then the next day she feels like the most invisible girl in Hogwarts. Because I know you better than you think and you didn’t realize until you stormed in here that you are irrevocably in love with Y/N Y/L/N. Now get your ass back to that tower and tell her yourself,” 

And Fred did just that, running like hell was on his heels. 

--

Your head was buried in your arms, forehead pressed tight against your knees as you tried to slow your breathing and force the sobs to stop. You’d told him how you felt, you’d told him you couldn’t do it anymore and he’d left without so much as a word. He must not want anything to do with you anymore.

The fresh wave of thoughts reduced you back to your sobs, your shoulders shaking. The force of your cries were so severe you didn’t hear the steps that were racing up the stairs. By the time you registered anyone was there, their arms were wrapped tight around you. 

You caught a flash of red in your peripheral. “George? Did Fred tell you to come?” 

“You daft girl, George told me to come,” Fred laughed through the few tears he’d begun to shed on the way to the tower. Never had he ever wanted to see one of his dearest friends look so vulnerable, yet you did and it was all because of him. Your gasping sobs as he’d come up the stairs had stopped him in his tracks for a moment and it sunk the stake in deeper that it was all because of him. 

You recoiled slightly at his words but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. If the only reason he was here was because of George, why was his voice thicker than usual? Had Fred been crying? You took a chance to look at him and found a tear rolling down his cheek and over his freckles. Momentarily, you forgot the situation you were in and you brought your hand to Fred’s cheek. 

Concern burned in your eyes and Fred could feel his stomach doing flips. You’d been crying over him, you were crying over him, but once you saw he was in any distress you’d completely forgotten it. At least for a second it seemed, his shocked expression bringing you back to reality as you let your hand fall away uncertainly. 

“I- um- sorry...” You mumbled, going to stand. Fred finally saw the empty look George had told him of and it made his heart stop painfully. 

Fred didn’t let you get far before he was pulling you into a hug, a few more tears escaped past his eyelids and fell onto your hair as he brought you closer to him, head nuzzling against yours. “Merlin, no,” He choked out. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I didn’t realize until you said... well- I didn’t realize you felt so used and I didn’t realize everything I said and did confirmed every fear you had.”

You froze in Fred’s grasp, even your sniffles having gone away. 

“I don’t know a good way to say this,” Fred laughed weakly, hand pressed against the small of your back, his fingers twitching as he thought.

 “I love snogging you until your eyes glaze over and you turn to putty in my hands, which I think I’ve made a bit too obviuos. I love your messy hair whether I’ve just finished running my hands through it or you’ve just woken up and stumbled into the Great hall. I love how you stifle your giggles when one of us has said something mean to the other but you still can’t help but laugh once everyone else gets going. I love that you see the best in people and that even when I treated you the worst you still look at me like I’ve only spilled ink on your paper instead of broken your heart,” 

“Freddie-” You began but the boy shushed you and he took a second to fix you with pleading eyes. He needed to say this. 

“I love that I can trust you just as much as I trust George, just as much as I trust Lee. I love that you always listen to me and you notice when something is wrong before I do. I love that you are patient with me even when I can be a complete arse, and I love that even now you are listening to me because I’ve asked you to. You should be kicking me and running in the opposite direction after all I’ve done but you’re still here and I love you for it.” 

“But we’re just friends,” You finished for him, a rueful smile on your lips as you stared down at your feet. His arms were still warm around you but they tensed. 

“Is that what you want?” 

Your head snapped to his. The fragile wavering in his voice had stopped you cold. Since this started he had never asked what you wanted, at least emotionally, and now here he was asking you what you’d been begging internally to hear since the first time you’d kissed. 

“W-well what do you want?” You mimicked to him. You had put your heart on the line too many times now and it was his turn. 

“You,” He said simply, hand warm against your cheek as he stroked the skin on your cheekbone. The honey brown of his eyes shined brighter in the moonlight and you found for the first time you could see the truth in his eyes. “I want you to be mine,” 

“Then you’ve got me,” 

And this time when Fred Weasley, you felt a promise instead of a heartbreak.

The game was over and both of you had won.

Tag List: @stuckysdaughter @thehumanistsdiary @gaycatlord-stuff

Those who might be interested:  @hogwarts-is-my-h0me @emcchi @elf-punk @mozz-are-lla @alyssa-lupin-weasley-salvatore

[ahsxual]

Innate Talent

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x Reader

Request: "Hey, i saw that you're taking request, could you please write a headcanon about L!Joker with a artistic S/O? 🥺 Thank you ❤️❤️"

Word Count: 1,1k

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Thank you for requesting this @dearloiita, I really hope you enjoy it!! If you want me to change anything, please let me know! <33

You always had a soft spot for art and luckily, you were very talented, which is a gift that not everybody has.

You are very a creative person, something that not only you were proud of, but J too. For him, creativity was the key to be someone in life, to stand out amongst the crowd, to do more than the mere simple things. It's because of mankind's creativity that we achieved incredible things, including J's salvation. Without it, he would probably have landed in jail long ago.

He admired your skills of creating something new, something different from others and at the same time, incredibly stunning.

Whenever you're doing one of your artistic projects and J is around, he can't help himself from letting his curiosity lead him to see what you're doing.

Even if he doesn't admit it, he always wonders how can a single person have such talent in their veins, having the right amount of patience in them so their work could be amazing... that person being you, surely.

"Don't ya get tired of it, doll? Ya know, you could use all that ah... dedication on other things with me, dont'cha think, huh?" he would flirt with you, but you wouldn't let him have his way with you because he knows you're very dedicated, so when you're working on something, you won't stop for anything, only when it's really necessary or when you finish... and that was not the case.

"I'm busy right now, J. Maybe later." you would answer, not taking your eyes from your masterpiece.

As expected, he would reply with a deep groan and leave you doing your thing (when you're lucky), since when he really wants your attention, he would grab and lock you in your room with him.

In general, it has its pros and cons for J: the pros being watching his sweetheart doing marvelous things and actually enjoying it... the cons being, well, not having much time with you as he wished.

He would frequently mess with you, saying he could do it better or that even a monkey could do such work that you so dearly call art. But deep inside, you know he's only joking, since he loves to see you mad at him: as he had told you before, he finds it cute because you look like an angry chihuahua, trying to fight an enormous shark, as he would call himself in these situations.

However, when he was feeling tired and was in the right mood, he would sit on a chair right beside you, watching you calmly working until you had finished.

Most of the time you would blush and timidly smile afterwards, acknowledging his striking presence without even looking at him.

Once he had sat beside you, he wouldn't say a word, appreciating your innate talent of artistic skills... and when he does, it's to ask about your technique, or to give his honest opinion on which color or shape should your art preferably have.

You would gladly appreciate his constructive criticism, explaining enthusiastically everything he would ask you, nodding to his commentaries or even debate about it.

One day, you decided to prepare a surprise for him: draw the infamous prince of crime, better known as The Joker, that is, him.

You were so excited to see his reaction: he had stolen many expensive gifts before for you, so you decided to pay him back in kind, making something made by yourself, knowing that it would mean much more for him than something material (even if he doesn't admit it).

While he was causing chaos and burning the city down, you were peacefully making your gift for him: the two climates seemed to create a funny contrast.

This was a arduous task, and to achieve perfection you had to take a lot of time.

You were really proud of your work, analyzing it one last time to make sure everything was fine.

Meanwhile, you heard the window of your room opening and someone coming in right after, accompanied by a deep groan.

You quickly put your painting behind your back, the canvas being way too big for you to hide, but at least he couldn't see it properly.

"Ah... what's that?" he curiously asked, while frowning his eyebrows and pointing to your back with his gloved hand once he saw your quick effort in hiding it.

"I ah... did something for you. I wanted to offer you a gift that I made, so... I hope you like it." you shyly replied while giving your gift to him.

He was still hesitant, since his definition of "surprises" was very relative. But it came from you, so it was surely a good surprise.

Once he saw it, he was speechless. He never expected this from anyone, someone wasting their precious time to draw him so carefully, maybe even so perfectly. He didn't know what to say or how to react, but one thing he knew for sure: he loved it.

"You ah... did this?" it was a stupid question, he knew you had done it, but he couldn't believe that you had made that for him.

"Oh no, I just passed through a cheap painting shop that is a real fan of yours and decided to buy it." you said, whilst rolling your eyes.

He briefly laughed at this, being way too concentrated on his amazing drawn face.

"I didn't know I was so ah... handsome." he joked, earning a sweet laugh from you.

"You like it?" you seriously asked, while softly biting your lip, not knowing what was in J's unpredictable and complex mind.

"Meh, it could be worse. A monkey could still do it better." you let out a loud gasp, pretending to be offended, and punched him in the arm, making him laugh at you.

"There is the ah... little angry chihuahua." he laughed at you, this time more hysterically.

"Don't underestimate the power of a chihuahua, J. I can still bite a shark with way more strength than you think." you teased while smirking at him.

He then kissed your forehead, his way of thanking you for your exceptional surprise.

From then on, he would wake up seeing his pretty drawn face, which would definitely increase his ego and confidence, but also remember the unconditional love that you have for one another.

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Four: Supper

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,748

MASTERLIST

~

A sudden loud beep had you shooting upright in bed. You leapt up and put your ear to the door. Rather than sinister noises, you heard the faint humming of a very familiar theme song.

You cracked open the bedroom door, peeking into the kitchen where Spencer was bustling around with a frying pan and a spatula with a focused expression on his face, humming the theme music to Doctor Who under his breath.

It was actually kind of adorable. You pushed open the bedroom door further to get a better look, but the door creaked and Spencer spun around, withdrawing his gun and pointing it square in your face.

“I’m sorry!” you squealed, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He quickly holstered his gun and ran over to you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” you tried to laugh. “A little shaken but I’m okay. Really!” you added after a doubtful look from him.

His eyes were a deep hazel that seemed to peer into your soul. His hands felt good on your shoulders, clutching you tightly in comfort. It had been a while since you’d had, well, any physical contact. He was so tall he had to lean down to level his face with yours.

Suddenly, he seemed to realize how close the two of you were and stepped back, clearing his throat. 

“I was, uh, trying to make dinner.”

“I can see that,” you said playfully, with a glance at the kitchen in disarray.

“Yeah. I’m not the best cook. I can memorize thousands of recipes in minutes but i’ve never seemed to master the execution.”

You hesitated. 

“Thousands of recipes in minutes? What are you a genius?” you laughed.

“Scientifically, yes. An I.Q. score over 160 classifies someone as a genius.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding?”

He shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Wait so you can read like, a thousand words per minute?”

“Twenty-thousand,” he corrected, stepping back into the kitchen to continue cooking.

“Twenty-thousand!? That’s impossible!”

“Actually, the unconscious brain can process up to eleven million bits of information per second. It’s just a matter of being able to—“

“—to access the information from your subconscious,” you said, cutting him off. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

He looked at you in shock.

“What’s even more impressive is that you finished a sentence for me.”

“Sorry,” you blushed.

“No! No, I mean, not a lot of people can, erm, keep up. When you start college at fourteen, not many people expect you to be smarter than them. Then when they find out how smart you really are, it can be intimidating.”

Your mouth twitched up into a smile. Spencer was impressive, for sure, but he was also entertaining. Not in a make-fun-of kind of way, but he made you laugh. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Supper’s ready!”

You stifled a laugh.

“Supper?”

“What?” he looked over at you, reaching up to get two plates.

“Who says supper? Are you eighty?” you teased. 

“I’m twenty-six!” he said indignantly.

You froze.

“Wait, really?” He nodded. “You’re only twenty-six and you’re a prominent FBI agent? How?”

“Genius I.Q, three Ph.D.’s, and my irresistible charm,” he said, giving a goofy smile.

“Three PhDs? How? I’m getting a PhD and I can barely keep up with the workload!”

“You‘re getting a Ph.D.? That wasn’t in your police report. What’s it in?” he asked as he filled your plates. 

“Actually, I’m working on two.”

“Two!?”

You nodded, happy that you’d been able to shock him.

“Yep. Linguistics and Philosophy. I like Philosophy better but Linguistics is more challenging. The library won't let you into the section with the really good language books without a certain clearance. But I've actually nearly finished my thesis for it. What?” you added, noticing him staring at you.

“You’re working on two doctorates simultaneously?”

“Surprised you’re not the only genius?” you joked, taking your plate from him, then, upon seeing what he’d made, bursting out into laughter. 

“What?” he looked genuinely confused, which only made you laugh harder.

“Bacon?” you said through gasps. “Bacon and pancakes? You are aware it’s—“ you glanced at the clock, “—nine forty at night?”

“Gimme a break!” he said defensively. “It’s the only thing I can cook. The word ‘cook‘ being a generous descriptor.” 

It was better than Doritos and bourbon for dinner, your go to meal. You were just glad you’d had the stuff to make dinner. It would be very awkward trying to explain your unhealthy eating habits to Spencer.

You didn’t have a dining table. Anyway, you usually ate on the couch and watched something on TV. That was normal nowadays right? Whatever. Spencer didn’t seem to mind which was good enough for you.

“So, um,” he said nervously, pulling out a pad of paper and pencil. “There’s a few things I need to go over with you.”

You nodded, remembering the situation you were in.

“Is there anyone you can think of who might have shown a sort of stalking behavior before? They’d be unreliable, constantly late, not being able to stick to a schedule?”

“The only person I know like that is Claire, one of my co-workers, but she’s not a stalker, she's just always late to work. Honestly, the only people I really know are my co-workers, some people from school, and Steve, my friend.”

“The FBI is going to need a list of people you see frequently. If you could put that together as soon as you’re ready. Also, all your credit card information will have to be analyzed, everywhere it’s been used. Whoever accesses your card, even for something as small as a stick of gum, has the opportunity to use that information to find your name, your address, your workplace—”

“Ok. I get it. People I see frequently and my credit card info. Gotta warn you, there’s not much I buy with it other than books and coffee. Then again, there’s the occasional splurge at the mall.”

“Well, the FBI needs all of it.”

You nodded softly, staring at the bacon on your plate. He hadn’t said I need he’d said The FBI needs. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly.

“Do you want to watch something?” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “It might be a good distraction?”

“Yeah,” you put your plate on the coffee table, noticing that you’d barely eaten. “Yeah that sounds good. Could you just put something on? I don’t wanna choose.”

He nodded and picked up the remote.

The only thing he really knew you liked was Doctor Who so he put on a random episode. You let the TV become background noise to your thoughts as you stared off into space.

Spencer was comforting to be around. He helped take your mind off the situation you were in. You looked over at him on the couch, long legs crossed under him. He had taken off his tie and shoes and changed into more casual clothes: a jumper and some jeans. He was absentmindedly fiddling with the throw blanket between you on the couch. 

His hands are so long, you thought. Wait, why were you thinking that? You shouldn’t be thinking about his hands. Or how long they were. Or what they could—

“Are you alright?”

You felt yourself twitch, startled by his sudden acknowledgment. Even more embarrassing, you were sure he’d seen you staring at his hands.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Hey,” he moved closer on the couch, “you don’t have to be sorry. It’s alright to not be okay.”

They were just words, they didn’t help. What did help was the care behind them. He wasn’t just saying it to comfort you, he actually meant it. To him, it really was ok to not be okay.

“Thank you Spencer, that actually helps.”

You glanced at the clock. It was 10:26.

“I should do some schoolwork,” you said, cringing afterward. You didn’t want him to think of you as some school kid.

“Okay!” he chirped happily, standing as you stood like a proper gentleman. “I’ll just be out here. Is it okay if I keep watching?” The episode played on, The Doctor dangling from a rope above London. “I really like this episode,” he said sheepishly.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “I’ll be in my room and please let me know if you need anything, seriously.”

He nodded assent, but you weren’t sure if he actually would. He seemed a little withdrawn, comforting you when you needed but keeping his distance when possible. It’s his job to keep you safe, you reminded yourself. Don’t get excited.

An hour later your eyes watered from the strain of keeping them open. But you were almost done with this paper. Sure, it was due next week but you were on a roll. Using an allusion to the Holocaust to support the point that Hollywood writing is riddled with antisemitism. In the morning, it might not sound as clever, but to your sleep-deprived brain, it was poetry.

A light knock on your door startled you.

“Come in,” you croaked.

Spencer peeked into your room, squinting.

“It’s pitch black in here,” he said, reaching for the light.

You shrieked as the light filled the room, blinding you.

“TOO BRIGHT!” you yelled, slamming your computer shut and throwing your arms over your eyes.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he fumbled with the switch and clicked it off. The room was now shrouded in darkness, neither of you able to see yet.

“Are you there, Spencer?”

“Yeah.”

You were both whispering. Why was it that people whispered in the dark? 

“You should try and get some sleep,” Spencer said. He was becoming more visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. He had changed into a blue set of pajamas. The fabric looked so soft.

“Yeah,” you muttered, moving toward the bed, “Yeah, I’ll do that.” 

Your bed felt scratchy and cold. Just last night getting in bed had been such a relaxing experience. So much had changed in a day.

“I’ll be right in the next room if you need anything,” 

“Hmm,” you hummed.

Spencer padded back out of your room.

The moment before the door closed you thought you heard a very faint, “Good night, Y/N.” But before you could wonder if it had happened or not, you were dropping off into a deep sleep. Knowing that you were safe with Spencer in the next room.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13