#and just wrote whatever the hell they had already decided to write before even stepping into the venue

[kulturegroupie]

Led Zeppelin performing at the Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA, March 31, 1970.

Enter Robert Plant, lead singer. He looked like Rapunzel with a comb out. Wearing a body shirt and spray-on blue bells, he gave every straight chick and gay guy the treat of their day. Throughout the first number he seemed more involved in displaying his pelvic virtuosity than his vocal skill. While prancing in his wooden shoes, he thrust out his groin and shimmied his fanny in a delightfully outrageous manner. Finishing his first song with a sexual assualt on the microphone, Plant stood sweating amid the moderate applause of the crowd.

Seeing that his technique only had minimal success on the hip Philadelphia audience, he decided to let them hear what they came for, the LED ZEPPELIN. The rest of Plant’s numbers showed that he was a better singer than eroticist. He squeezed everything he could out of the “Lemon Song,” “Good Times, Bad Times,” “Dazed and Confused”, “How Many More Times” and “Whole Lotta Love”.

The rest of the group, to my amazement, were fantastic. Some of the guitar work by Jimmy Page was even better than the record, which is saying a lot. His use of a violin bow in playing an electric guitar produces some devastating variations which have become the ZEPPELINS trademark. Page assualts, rapes, stomps, beats, and loves his guitar into submission. The instrument seems to say, “you know I can’t do this but if you insist, I’ll try”, every time Page produces another new sound on his versatile music machine. In his solo “Black Mountainside” Page displayed incredible skill and gaged by their reaction the audience realized it.

The LED ZEPPELIN’s drummer Richard Bonham got it on in a thirty minute solo. His speed on the drums seemed to rival Ginger Baker and his rhythm seemed more practiced and accurate than the sometimes sloppy “Toad”: Bonham used drumsticks for the first fifteen minutes and then abandoned them to play only with his hands. It gave the impression of a modern revolutionary beating the war drums but whatever the impression the huge Spectrum crowd dug it, and gave him a standing, clapping, shouting, whistling ovation at the end of his half hour ordeal.

LED ZEPPELIN’s organ was prominent in their first album and a solo base guitar by John Paul Jones showed why. This number showed that the group indeed has depth and that each member can hold court to several thousand critical Philadelphians. By the encore, however, his bass was dragging, as could be seen in “Whole Lotta Love”.

At 11:30 P.M. an exhausted LED ZEPPELIN left the Spectrum stage from the last encore. They were happy. The crowd was happy (Plant made sure of that by asking them several times during the performance. The last time he asked, the notorious Spectrum roof blew off from the audiences responses.) And I was happy. Even with the Spectrum’s inferior acoustics nothing could stop them. The LED ZEPPELIN had renewed my faith in electric rock concerts with a fine performance.

— By Clark Deleon

[merlinmarvelandother-oneshots]

Hi can we have a Bad sanses trying to raise kid Y/N

bad sanses (Nightmare, Dust, Fell, Horror, Error, and fellswap ((raspberry)) trying to raise Child!Reader

a/n: including a character I don’t normally write for (Raspberry) just for this one-shot because I don’t have to focus on him. his personality is difficult for me to write (and I can’t tell the difference between fellswap and swapfell)

also I wrote y/n about 10 years old.

this also… slightly diverges from canon. I’m kidding it’s super uncanon but this is fanfiction and I can do what I want :)

(tw for death threats, mentions of child death, swearing)

Ink and Dream made a decision to put Nightmare and his lackeys into. . . A rehabilitation, of sorts. Something to force them to be good, and learn responsibility.

They decided to do that by giving them a child.

Ink had saved them from Error’s path of destruction a while back before their truce, and could never find a permanent home for them. Up until now, that is.

the only time any of them had killed children was when they were killing massive amounts of people. They never went out of their way to kill a child, not even Fell or Nightmare.

so, this was probably a solid plan!

“absolutely not,” Nightmare had said. “No. It’s not happening! Don’t you give me that look, Dream, it won’t happen. Are you trying to get that kid killed? Come on.”

“it’s a necessary evil,” Ink chimed in. “To… unevil your evil, I guess.”

“besides, you don’t even have a choice. They’re already inside!” Dream said.

Nightmare flinched hard as a crash came from somewhere behind him, inside his castle, followed by incoherent swearing, probably from Fell, judging by the Brooklyn accent.

he looked, and saw nothing. It must’ve been in another room…

“I’ll talk to you later about this. I have to find out what the hell just happened.”

he turned away and slammed the door with his tentacles, while Ink and Dream created a portal to return home. They had no intentions of waiting for Nightmare to come back, because they knew what happened: Y/N.

Nightmare stormed through the castle, his pace quick as he tried to figure out what the hell just happened.

Nightmare entered his throne room to see, to his horror, that it had been turned over and there was a child atop it, while Horror, Fell, and Raspberry surrounded them in an attempt to get them off. Without hurting them, that is.

the child turned, and when they saw him, they immediately slid off the turned-over throne and began walking towards him.

“I'm guessing you’re Nightmare. Uncle Dream told me about you. I’m y/n!” The child stuck out their hand, supposedly for a handshake.

“uh… huh,” Nightmare ignored their attempt at politeness, desperate to get this kid out of his castle. It was probably futile, though. Ink would come up with some sort of plan to outsmart him and bring the child back. “Okay. Go over there, or something. I don’t really care. Fell, Horror, Raspberry, get your asses over here!”

everyone’s eyelights snapped to Nightmare. Even Fell’s, even though he appeared to have fallen asleep. The child returned to their original position on top of Nightmare’s throne, and he noticed that they had a suitcase with them, that they pulled a notebook and colored pencils out of. courtesy of Ink? probably.

meanwhile, the Sanses that were in the room gathered around Nightmare.

“why in gods name is there a CHILD in our castle?” Raspberry questioned.

“Dream and Ink said we needed ‘rehabilitating’ to ‘unevil our evil’, whatever the hell that means,” Nightmare said.

“heh, they can have fun tryin’,” Fell said. Nightmare nodded.

“but we need something to do with this child. i doubt my brother will be keen on taking them back so soon,” he said.

“we could-“ Horror began.

“NO!” the other three snapped in unison. Nightmare pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“we are not making them into a head dog, Horror. the idea is out of the question,” his tone was slightly calmer this time. Horror’s face sank and he stepped back, slightly behind the others. the child, unbeknownst to Raspberry, Horror and Fell, but visible to Nightmare (as he was facing them) was clearly very sad about the way Horror was being treated. they silently vowed to advocate for him, to make sure he was being treated with proper respect.

“so, what exactly are we plannin’ on doin’?” Fell asked.

“i suppose we will have to care for them until we can find a more permanent solution. we cannot simply drop them into some universe; there would be too many questions. we do not have any proper identification for them or anything else of the sort. when asked where they came from, what would they say? that the Star Sanses have been raising them since Error destroyed their universe? nobody would believe them.”

“with all due respect, Nightmare,” Raspberry said. “that is exactly why it’s a perfect plan. we wouldn’t have to do anything. they could either lie and say they didn’t know, or they could tell the truth and just be seen as a child with an overactive imagination.”

“perhaps, but the risk is simply too great. besides, Blueberry is very active in the ‘policing’ of universes. he would likely be aware of it before we could even leave the universe we drop them into.”

“so, we ain’t got another choice?” Fell asked. “we gotta keep em?”

“yes, Fell. i’m afraid we do,” said Nightmare. Raspberry groaned.

*~* there was a shriek. Error burst into the throne room a few moments later.

“why is there a KID in the hallway?” he half yelled. Nightmare chuckled.

“Aww, are you afraid of a child?” he teased. Error growled, and Nightmare sighed, his face changing from amusement to annoyance. "go tell them to go back to their room. escort them yourself if they cannot find it again."

"but that doesn't explain why they're here." the glitching in his voice, not very prevalent at first, became more noticeable as he got angrier.

Nightmare explained the situation as Error got tenser and tenser. he knew Dream and Ink were extreme, but come on, they know that everyone in this castle has killed before with no remorse, right? That any one of them could kill that child with no hesitation? Error had bickered with Nightmare in an attempt to find some logical reason as to why they should send y/n back, but Nightmare shut each argument down.

both skeleton's voices were beginning to rise when Horror broke into the room. "what do you feed a human?" his voice was calm, in stark contrast to how frantically he slammed the door and how he was out of breath, as though he was running to get an answer, and the emotion on his face matched his name.

Nightmare needed the day off. he thought. honestly, the things he has to deal with! he groaned. "a fucking burger or something. i don't know! i'm not a damn expert on humans!" Horror nodded and left, closing the doors behind him.

"as i was saying-" Nightmare was interrupted again by Horror slamming open the doors again.

"what do humans drink?" Horror asked. Nightmare rolled his eyes.

"water, you imbecile, water! now don't interrupt me again!" Nightmare yelled. Horror nodded his head and left again. Nightmare turned his head back to Error. "we are not getting rid of the human. this is final."

Error lowered his fine. "as you wish," he said as he left the throne room Nightmare sighed. what was he supposed to do?

*~*

"c'mon, kid, come here! you look like free xp," Dust said. the human knew what 'xp' meant.

"hey, what the hell are ya thinkin'? the boss'll turn you into xp if you hurt that kid!" Fell says from behind Dust.

dust turned to face Fell. "you're kidding me, right? you're trying to tell me that he wants a human kid around?"

"no, i'm not kiddin'." Fell sighs. "Dream 'n Ink dropped 'em off this mornin'. somethin' about 'teaching us to be good'. i think it's a whole lotta bull, but the boss doesn't want 'em harmed."

Dust rolled his eye sockets, and turned back to the kid. “alright, i’ll spare ya for now, but if you act up i won’t be so merciful. got it?”

“got it,” the kid said. surprisingly, they weren’t afraid of Dust… or at least they were good at hiding it if they were.

Dust went to his room. Fell turned to leave, too, but stopped to say, “hey, don’t worry about him. he wouldn’t dare go against the boss’s orders. you’ll be safe here, okay? so long as you don’t fuck up too bad.” his tone was filled with a surprising amount of kindness and empathy. the child nodded.

“i know. Uncle Dream and Uncle Ink told me before they dropped me off,” they said.

Fell nodded. “you probably oughta go to your room now, before you piss somebody off. but before you do that, i’ve got a couple words of advice.”

the kids eyes focused on him as they listened.

“when Horror has his axe, don’t go anywhere near him. don’t even let him see you. and if Dust is talking to himself, he’s actually talking to his brother. whether his brother is a spirit that only he can see or a hallucination isn’t entirely clear. and don’t touch Error, he won’t hesitate to kill you. but out of everybody here, Raspberry has the worst temper. best to stay on his good side. got it?”

“yep! thanks!”

Fell nodded again. “i’ll see ya tomorrow.”

then he left.

*~* why the hell was Nightmare yelling? y/n listened in to the conversation going on in the throne room. they couldn’t make out exact words, but Nightmare was yelling, presumable at Horror.

“hey!” they burst in the room, Nightmare, Horror, and Raspberry’s eyes snapped to them. “leave him alone! if you have a problem, TALK IT OUT! yelling doesn’t solve any problems.”

Nightmare sat stunned for a moment. his expression turned angry, but he refrained from doing anything. however, his tone was aggressive when he said, “do not EVER interrupt me again, do you understand me? do not burst into my throne room, and do not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner.”

y/n stood their ground, keeping their head held high with confidence and determination.

“don’t talk to him like that, and we won’t have a problem.”

Nightmare appeared to get angrier, before calming again. “you have confidence. i like that.”

y/n looked past Nightmare to see Raspberry appearing not to care, and Horror, who had a grateful expression.

“i stand up for what’s right,” they said.

“that, however, won’t fly here. now get out!”

y/n nodded and left the throne room, but they stood outside and listened. Nightmares tone was calmer, although still muffled through the door.

they had already started to make a difference here.

how long would it take to fix the gang? who knows.

but they were patient.

they would bring the light into this dark castle.

(sorry this is just a bunch of scenes thrown together lol. i might write more for this later, just to show the skellies character development. i love you all and im sorry this took so long to release)

[riansdiary]

New epiphany born and a new success story from my "change your thoughts" post!

I had another epiphany as I was teaching someone about the law.

3d = the newspapers

You/Us = the writer/the reporter of the news

4d/subconscious = the printer

The only thing we need to do or our job is to write what you want. Affirm/decide whatever your desired technique but please don't do it to get. It's like you're writing whatever as fast as you can and the result is a mediocre edition. Affirm to remind yourself it's done calmly. Be aware that whatever you say in your mind is what's gonna be in the latest news soon.

This is what I did just now before writing this post:

Rian thought of her desire. Before she writes, she asks herself "what do I want to see in the news?" Okay, what I wanna see is me having my desire.

"I already have it. It's done."

She even decided to do it like a reporter for the news in a funny way. Okay what is in the news for today, Rian?"

"Hello everyone! This is the news! I'm reporting the news for today and guess what? I have it! Rian has it!"

She thought of what she wanted to see therefore she wrote as the writer that she has it.

This is what's happening when you're wavering because you checked that it's not in the 3d yet:

You, the writer/journalist grabbed the newspaper from yesterday. You were finding where the latest news is.

"What the hell! I wrote it! Where is it? It's not here! The latest news is not here! What the heck did I do wrong? No!!! The latest is not here! How do I know what's happening?"

You were focusing on the newspaper from yesterday and you weren't writing a new one! The writer simply forgot that she is the f*cking writer! She's the one who writes the new editions! No one writes it for her but herself! So you decide whether you want yesterday's newspaper or you simply write the latest news.

The writer has a choice. Does she just give up and copy the old newspaper or does she reject that and start writing the latest that she wants to see?

Accepting the 3d as facts and giving up is the writer deciding to just copy yesterday's edition. You affirming and reminding yourself you have it is the writer choosing to write what she wants which is the latest.

Wanna see the latest, writer? Okay, this is what we do. Ask yourself what you want the latest news to be and start writing. You decide what the latest news is.

Once the writer has written whatever it is then it's done. Why? The writer is reporting on what has already happened. Once you want something, it instantly manifests in the 4D. Let's stop thinking of it as a process because that is when we feel scared or worried. Knowing it's already done is enough.

We then send it to the subconscious mind so it can print it for you. That's how it works and I hope this helps everyone understand the law a bit more.

I have another one though. Let's say you ordered online. That's us being a boss and doing our job which is ordering. Okay! The items will be delivered to you soon. You know that right? That's a good one too. You know it's done and there's no way it won't be delivered. It's the subconscious mind hearing your order (reminding yourself you have it) and printing that or delivering that to you. Now relax in the fact that you already have what you ordered/what you want.

Now about my success story. I said in my "change your thoughts" post that I'm manifesting a snack. I read it again today and decided to follow what I said. Shift into the version of me who has it. I dismissed the 3d and stepped into the shoes of the version of me who has it. The version of me who has that wouldn't find it, she knows where it is. It's in the pantry. She would relax because it's in the pantry so I forgot about that desire because I assumed it was in the pantry. I stopped seeing it as a process. I shifted my mindset about things now.

I stepped into the shoes of the version of me who has her dream life just now and I realized that the version of me wouldn't worry about sh*t!! Consider it done. You wouldn't worry about it if you have it.

I was annoyed at myself about finding it in the 3d at the moment but I reminded myself to leave the 3d alone. Don't look for it in the 3d. Duh, it's yesterday's newspaper but the news is gonna change. It's temporary. So I stopped myself from acknowledging the 3d. Okay, I shifted myself to the version of me who has it. All we need to do is accept we do have it! We shifted, okay congratulations! There's nothing left to do but keep accepting your desires are now facts! It's not our job to change the 3d so just leave it alone and forget about that.

Realize that as soon as you decide that you shifted and now you're the version of you who has it, there's nothing left to do but to remind yourself it's done. Ask yourself. What would you do if you already have it? Go and relax in the knowing it's done.

Again. Ask yourself. "Do you have your dream life?"

What would the version of you who has it say?

"I have my dream life. Why are you asking me?"

I decided to let the 3d do its job and I'm gonna do my own job which is to know it's done. I'm the version of me who has it so it's not a process anymore! Once I said I have it, It does not matter what the 3d says!

I'm just fully relaxed now that I know I have it. It's a law, it can never fail me. Whenever we find something in the 3d, it's like Neville telling Abdullah that it didn't work. That he's not in Barbados. He did not step into the mindset of already being in Barbados. Abdullah questions what he's saying because he's literally in Barbados. You're in Barbados. Door slam 🚪

You have your dream life, it's only you who's not accepting it. Leave the 3d alone and let it do its job. It's not your job to change it. Your only job is to know it's done. As soon as you ordered that shirt, you knew it was gonna come right? It's gonna be delivered. You didn't check if it's in the house when you ordered the shirt right? That's stupid. I know you're checking and said it's not there yet but you know you "bought" the shirt right? Meaning, it is yours 100%! You have no doubt while you were waiting for your package (whatever you bought from an online shop) because you know it's done and it's being delivered to you. So do what you would do when you're waiting for your package to come.

Sit back, relax and chill. Do what you wanna do. Continue living your life knowing it's done and just do what makes you happy. It will stop and distract you from checking. Also, you can check your mind instead. Be the version of you who has it and say "I have it."

Live in the reality where your desires are a fact. Disregard and leave the 3d alone. Say "all my desires are facts now so yes I do have it"

Our job is not to change the 3d but it's to know it's done meaning it's being delivered to you but at this moment you ordered it so technically you do have it. When you buy something online, as soon as you press buy, you know it's already yours.

The actual success story now. I was craving this cracker brand. I decided to disregard the 3d and think that it's in the pantry. I just relaxed in the knowing that it's in the pantry. I manifested it. It's done. I no longer made it a process. I just accepted I have it and relaxed. My dad and my siblings today then came home with the exact pack of crackers I wanted!

I also recommend the list method. It helps you realize and accept that you have whatever it is that you want. It's done. Consider your desires manifested and relax.

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[griefabyss69]

Come Back To Life

written for ‘Cake’ wc: 311 | rated: G | cw: Little bit of vampire sadness

This is a prompt from @steddiemicrofic

I posted this on ao3, too!

This is from my Vampire Eddie AU but you don't need to have read that, it just gives addition context!

( I know I just wrote one of these but I had two ideas, then didn't write either of them, and so. Turns out I had three ideas. You know how it goes! )

-----

Eddie hadn't told Steve.

Because why bring another person into it, when he's confused?

The status of his birthday weighs heavy in the back of his mind as the day creeps closer, as he considers what it means to be born, to die, and to be reborn.

Should he be celebrating a re-birthday instead?

He doesn't even know what day that would be, he'd have to be okay with just picking one out of blurry memories, maybe sometime in April. He doesn't remember if he started living in Steve's basement back then, or if it had been May already.

Every time he tries thinking about it, he gives up, deciding to just be happy to be a definition of alive.

--

There's a crash from upstairs and Eddie's bolting out of bed before he even really wakes up.

The sun is down, which is great because he's dressed in nothing but his boxers - that'd be a lot of blistering to endure as he fights whatever foul mouthed creature is attacking Steve in the kitchen.

His claws are long and sharp and ready.

"Fuck!" Steve's whisper-shouting, and all Eddie can smell is burnt wax, Steve's panic, and a newly extinguished candle.

It's clearly not what Eddie was expecting with all of the commotion, but the way Steve sucks his finger into his mouth to sooth the burn he'd gotten makes him want to fight something anyway.

"Steve?" He asks, stepping into the room.

Steve's head snaps up and he looks guilty, wincing as he tries to hide a jar full of blood, and it all clicks in Eddie's head.

"What in the seven circles of hell are you doing?" He asks again, a smile tugging at him.

He keeps his voice soft because he knows he looks like a real monster right now, his eyes fully black.

"Uh, making a cake for vampires?"

[too-destiny-panda]

Wyllvember Day 30: Epilogue

A/N: And so, the end of this wonderful event upon us. I would like to thank everyone that took the time to read, to comment and to like my fics. I would like to especially thank @sagscrib and @commander-yinello, both for posting their prompts that gave me the inspiration adn motivation I needed to write something, and for always taking the time to look over my works. As this is the last prompt of Wyllvember, I wrote two drabbles instead of one, as I believe our dear Wyll deserves two happy endings. And with that, I bid farewell to the month of November, and wish you all a wonderful rest of 2023. -Blue

WC: 1299

With each action taken, each word taken, people are making decisions that affect their destinies. Even a small thing such as deciding what colour to wear changes the course of the day. And this story truly had many different paths to take. This humble author has decided to explore two of them. Both of them are happy, for few deserve anything but happiness, and the person that is the object of my focus deserves it tenfold for all his sacrifices. So, instead of dwelling on the what if’s, digging through the misfortune that could befall him, this humble author has decided that for once, a happily ever after is in order. And what is better than one happy ending? Two, of course. And with that, dear reader, this author bids you farewell. May your journeys be full of joy and discoveries.

Epilogue 1- The Blade of Avernus

As the Netherbrain fell, and everyone got their bearings, the parasites withering into nothing but dissipating arcane energy in their skulls, for the first time in weeks, the odd group of heroes could breathe. None of them could explain what they felt as weights have been lifted off shoulders, curses have been dispelled, bombs have been disarmed. It was magnificent. For just a few moments, they were the undeniable victors of their dilemma, the writers of their own destinies without any supernatural being dictating what they can and cannot do. Those few moments were dampened by the rising sun, Astarion’s skin greying and flaking off until he swiftly found cover. The second one was Karlach’s heart.

Everyone was aware of her condition, but the tiefling was surprisingly adept at hiding the severity of it up until now. And though it was clear something must be done to keep her alive, she waved off any concerns, saying that there was still a little bit of time before it became critical. And so, Wyll had little bit of downtime to spend with his lover, their talks of the future settling on travelling to Avernus to slay every fiend that shows ill will. When morning came, it was apparent that they would welcome a third person on their journey. Despite Karlach’s hesitation, they eventually convinced her to come with them, if only to buy her some time to fix the engine. And as they stepped into the Hell’s, the ones holding the strings (except for the archdevils and the especially arrogant cambions) shivered as a sense of dread accumulated in their entrails, it’s unknown source quickly approaching.

Few would venture into the Hells willingly, but when one survives a magically enhanced Elder Brain, three Chosen, and several other remarkable perils, they figure they might as well tempt fate for a little while longer. And so, the three heroes carved a bloody path through fire and desolation, hunting and killing fiends of all ranks (with periodical check-ins with the Grand Duke, as the father-son bond slowly recovered). Eventually, they made enough disruptions for even Mizora to begin fearing for her life. Perhaps she thought that Zariel would protect her forever, perhaps she thought herself safe once the Blade of Frontiers lost his warlock powers. Whatever it was, she was wrong. For the Blade of Frontiers was no more, in his stead rising the Blade of Avernus, staunchly determined to keep her from harming the world with her existence anymore than she already has.

One day, a portal opened in an abandoned ruin in a forgotten corner of Faerun, three figures emerging from it. One was an imposing figure, the once jagged edge of a broken horn now slightly softened from headbutting, a mechanical heart no longer in danger of overheating but fully ready to make use of a certain blacksmith’s expertise. Another, with a crow perched on their shoulder, a quiet confidence in their posture as an acorn is held safely in a pouch around their neck. And finally, the last one, curved horns a contrast against the brightness of the portal, a blue skinned head held by its copper hair in one hand and a blade in the other. The Blade of Avernus has returned home at last, one victory closer to his goal.

Epilogue 2- Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard

Celebrations were held all over the lands, though the biggest merriment was surely in Baldur’s Gate, the city most threatened by the cult of the Absolute. The streets were still filled with debris and corpses of mind flayers and allies alike, some mourning their loved ones while celebrating a new dawn where they live to honour them. Even the strange gaggle of adventurers were celebrating, though there was an order of business first. By returning the Crown of Karsus to Mystra, Gale earned her favour and although he refused to become her Chosen, he did ask for one last favour: to keep Karlach from overheating. Of course, it was a temporary measure until a more permanent cooling system was found, but it lifted the mood, nonetheless.

Amidst the loud cheers and merry conversation, Wyll Ravengard stood off to the side, looking upon the ruins of the city as he contemplated his future. Grand Duke. A title he dreamed of as a boy, and quickly stopped dreaming about it after he accompanied his father to one meeting. And now here he was, that title once again hovering in his mind, though this time it was a certainty. No longer would he be free to travel across the continent, slaying monsters and helping those in need. Instead, he would make important decisions, draft up and approve laws, navigate court intrigue to try and ensure the prosperity of the city and its surroundings. A bittersweet feeling rose in his chest at the thought of being guided by his father once again, though this time, he sensed, he wouldn’t be as strict, for fear of driving his son away once more. A lot of talking would have to take place between the two before the canyon healed, and maybe it never would. But as long as Ulder was willing to do his best to atone, to earn his son’s forgiveness (no matter how much Wyll believed there was nothing to forgive), they could at least somewhat repair the bond they once shared.

Even as he woke up the next day, his partner pressed into his back, he still though about his newly acquired position. All the good he could do, as well as harm if he wasn’t careful. It has been a while since he navigated court intrigue, and he was admittedly rusty at some of the finer points of noble etiquette, but the arm thrown over his waist reminded him he wouldn’t be alone. The acorns safely kept in the pockets of their clothes were proof of the promise he had made, one he intended to fulfil as soon as possible. Whether it be a grand and lavish wedding, full of refreshments of the utmost quality with guests he had never even met before and a ceremony that could put a god to shame, or perhaps a small gathering of their closest friends and family, with a homey and relaxed atmosphere and a heartfelt gathering, it didn’t matter to him, as long as he could call them his on paper as well. His heart fluttered as he stroked their skin, anticipation and excitement building in his lungs at the thought of his newfound future.

And what a future it was. Soon, people far and wide heard of the just, kind but firm, Archduke Wyll Ravengard and his lovely spouse, their love so sickeningly romantic many blushed at the sight. And months later, news spread of a different kind of love and happiness, as now seemingly everyone knew that the young Archduke was now granted a new title; father.

[glossyybabie]

mother's meeting

Summary: Missy has a habit of making your life a living hell, but this time she’s outdone herself.

Warnings: SFW. Gender neutral reader. Missy’s a pain in the arse. Tiny tiny lil swear word. 

Word count: 1054

Notes: This is a bit of drabble I wrote half asleep after a 9 hour shift, so if it’s pure chaos, that’s why. I don’t think I’m physically capable of writing anything that isn’t just a slight crackfest. So enjoy, I suppose. Slay.

You didn’t visit your parents that often, just once every few months whenever you needed to pop in for something. Sometimes you’d need paperwork your mother stored under her bed, or you’d need to drop off old clothes to store in the attic.

This visit had intended to be as mundane as most. You literally just needed to pick up a toaster. You had every intention of getting home within an hour of leaving to visit in the first place.

That, of course, was before you came to two painful realisations. 1: you were not alone in the house, and 2: it was not just your parents who were home.

In shock, you very nearly dropped the toaster you were carrying. You weren’t even sure where they’d come from, or how you hadn’t noticed them, but in the middle of the family room, sitting on the sofa with tea and biscuits, were your mother and Missy.

Missy.

You hadn’t even realised you were gaping until both women turned to look at you. There was a very very obvious reason why you had never introduced the Time Lord to your parents, and yet somehow despite your best efforts she was in your living room. It was just so out of place.

You continued to stare blankly. “. . . Hello.”

Missy stirred her tea and pulled a melodramatic shocked face at the appliance in your arms. “Ooh, look at you with your new toaster! Where did you get it from? I’ve been meaning to invest in a new one myself, and you know how they are with sharing,” she said, nodding towards you.

It took you a moment to realise that Missy was literally bonding and bantering with your mother about you. They were having a mother’s meeting. In your family room. Gossiping like the two middle-aged women they were.

You weren’t even sure how to approach the situation anymore. You could leave, you supposed, just take the toaster and leg it out of the back door and back to your car, but you didn’t think you could trust Missy alone with someone as important to you as your own mother. But contrariwise, did you really want anything to do with whatever was happening currently?

Bewildered beyond words, you stood there for another minute or so, the butt of their motherly jokes, before deciding on the former plan and making a run for it. You knew where your keys were in your back pocket, so it would be an easy escape.

However, just as you began to carefully back up out of the room again, you stopped.

“Going already?”

Shit.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, taking another step back. “I’m just, um . . . yeah, leaving. Sorry. I’ll just –”

You could’ve sworn Missy must’ve had something to do with it, because against any logic, one of the dining room chairs was positioned directly in front of the door, but at an angle that resulted in you tripping over in the most inelegant way possible. The toaster loudly flew out of your hands as you fell, sprawled across your front.

“Oh, poppet!” Since she was closest to you, Missy was immediately by your side, but just as you reached for her hands, expecting her to help you up, your arms fell lamely to the floor again when she reached for the toaster, completely ignoring you. “Phew, not a scratch.”

“Mhm, thank fuck for that,” you replied, paying no mind to the small chiding you received from your mother for your language. “Okay, mother, Missy. Missy, mother.” You motioned to each of them before swiping the toaster from Missy’s arms. “So nice that you two met without any warning. I love it. Now we really need to –”

“Come on, sweetheart, there’s no need to be like that.” Missy snatched the toaster back and walked with purpose towards the sofa again. “Your mummy here was just telling me about the time you were picked on by those mean girls when you were 12.”

You glared at Missy’s pout. She was playing a game that she knew would thoroughly annoy you and leave you seething for the rest of the day, and not only that but if she played her cards right, she could land herself some real blackmail material on you.

God, you were so fucked.

“Oh, I love that story, it’s my favourite one,” you deadpanned, “but really, I need to –”

“Nonsense.” This time, it was your mother who interjected. “Tea?”

“Ooh, she’ll have a cuppa, won’t you, darling?” Missy was already sitting, toaster by her feet and all chances of escape far out of the window and beyond sight. Afternoon? Wasted. “So really, how was school for them? Because I know every child’s experience is different.”

The fact that your mother was even buying into this act in the first place was killing you. Forget every actual attempt Missy had ever made on your life. This would easily end you first. You could think of a long list of places you’d rather be. Skaro sounded like heaven.

As their lilted, gossiping voices carried through the room, you made one last effort to leave, discreetly reaching for the toaster by Missy’s feet, but before you could even come within millimetres of reaching it, Missy pushed you aside using the tip of her umbrella. The angle at which it had nudged your chest left you slipping backwards with a nearly silent huff that was quiet enough to not interrupt their conversation.

You gave up at this point. You were done fighting it. Dignity well and truly gone, and without the toaster you’d come for in the first place, you settled on the floor, folding your arms over your chest and making no effort to hide the frustration on your face. It only increased tenfold when Missy reached over to condescendingly pat your head.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The car ride back was silent for the first few minutes. Missy was driving, as always, and you had no choice but to curl up in the passenger seat with your toaster in your arms and your sanity never to be seen again.

Missy patted the stack of blackmail material she’d collected in her lap, including various childhood photos, drawings, and Mother’s Day poems throughout the years. “Well,” She smiled at the road, “I think that went rather well, poppet.”

[certifieddeadgirl]

Eddie Munson ( 2-in-One Shot!)

( I wrote two tiny one-shots for Eddie when I was feeling down. Writing fanfics for yourself only is therapeutic, but since I'm feeling better I decided to post them in case someone needed a quick pick-me-up. I tried to make these both gender neutral but they aren't proofread! My apologies for any typos, regarding accidental pronoun switches or me being bad at typing. Anyways- let's get this show on the road! Reader is Dustin's older sibling. )

(TITLE: Not So Dirty Little Secret. Reader is popular in high-school but secretly plays D&D.)

It was a warm, airy afternoon in Hawkins, Indiana. 1986, summer time. In the kitchen of the Henderson residence, the siblings sat. 

“Y/N, I PROMISE; I will do anything you ask me to do this week. Just be a sub, just this once!” Dustin begged. Y/N returned his begging with a perplexed look. 

“Me? Seriously? You want me, the “cool” Henderson sibling, who practically EVERYONE in Hawkins High knows, to be a substitute for your missing D&D partner?” Y/N asked with a thin layer of sarcasm. 

“..Yes. If that’s how you want to describe it,” Dustin rolled his eyes, “but I’m serious! We really need a full party for this one. I can help you make a character, and you don’t even have to do much! Just heal the party when we get low.” Dustin pleaded again, waving his hands around in emphasis. Y/N raised a brow. 

“I’m just your slave, then?” They questioned as they took a sip from their cold drink. Dustin’s eyes widened in shock 

“No! No- of course not. You can do whatever you want! But, we do really need good healing spells. And with Gareth out sick, we lost our best spellcaster,” Dustin said before clasping his hands together in a begging motion, “can you step up, and be our savior?” 

Y/N thought for a moment. They sat their drink down, then tapped their chin slowly as if seriously pondering his offer. Truth is? Y/N LOVED D&D. They'd been playing it for about a year now. They had their own character, backstory, original design, everything. But they’d kept this from Dustin, though not out of spite. They just knew about how much he loved, and prided himself on playing it with his friends. Hellfire was the “outcasts”, their solace was each other. It was his game. Y/N didn’t want to get in the way of that.

“Alright, fine. I’ll play with you, just this once. But I’M making my own character. I can figure out algebra, I can figure out this game.” Y/N said confidently. It was a red herring of the deepest crimson. They knew how terrified Dustin would feel about her saying that. No one likes when a noob tries to act like an expert, especially in a game like D&D. But, no matter how Dustin tried to change their mind, Y/N was firm in their bluff. After a few minutes of begging and pleading, Dustin finally sighed in defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, um, let me call Eddie then. He’ll come pick us up, take us to Hellfire, look over your character, yknow?” Dustin said, as if trying to calm himself, before heading over to the house phone that hung against the wall of their living room. Y/N simply chuckled and turned back to their drink. Now out of earshot, Dustin made a concerned call to his peer and mentor; Eddie Munson. The one Hawkins High dubbed as “freak” for his wild antics and interest in metal music. A few rings went by before a voice crackled over the other end.

"Munson residence." Eddie said sarcastically.

"Eddie! It's Dustin." Dustin huffed.

“Henderson! How are things looking for a sub tonight?” Eddie asked, twirling the cord of his house phone between his fingers.

“Yeah! Yeah- um, about that..” Dustin began. Eddie spoke up, 

“What? Did you not manage to find one? Because I already told you we NEED a spell caster since Gareth is-.” 

“Sick! Yes, I know. Okay, Eddie, I found a sub.” Dustin continued.

“That’s great!” Eddie replied.

“It’s Y/N.” Dustin muttered. 

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s tone dropped. “Y/N? The campus ‘party animal’? There is no way in HELL you managed to talk them into this.” Eddie said in disbelief.

“I know, right? It sounds crazy. I just agreed to a whole week of doing whatever they want.” Dustin admitted shamefully.

“You did what you had to, soldier. I offer my sincerest condolences.” Eddie said in a soft, yet dramatic tone.

“It gets worse.” Dustin added.

“How much worse?” Eddie asked, suddenly in suspense.

“They want to make their own character. Without any help.” Dustin said, now looking over his shoulder at them. 

“Well- that isn’t SO bad, right? Surely, they can’t be that confident. They’ll look at the first pages of spells and get lost; probably asking, “what does this do?” and “can I cast this more than once?’,” Eddie quoted Y/N's words in a forced whiney voice, “I’m not worried, Dustin. They’ll show their true colors.” Eddie nodded to himself.

Dustin blinked. “I think you underestimate Y/N, Eds. They're…” he looked over his shoulder a second time, getting a questioning stare back, “kind of stubborn.” Dustin added quietly, turning back around. 

“I suppose we’ll have to see, then.” Eddie muttered. “Anyways, should I head out to come get you? The group is ready to go when you guys are.” 

“Yeah, head over. I’ll see you when you get here.” Dustin replied. Everything went a bit quickly after that. Eddie made his way over to their house, Dustin packed up his things, and Y/N quietly pulled their D&D notes out of hiding and slipped them into a convenient bag with a zipper. Can’t have the surprise being ruined, right? A good 30 minutes went by, and a honk was heard from outside. 

“That’s him! Come on, (nickname)! Got your, uh… Character sheet?” Dustin asked with a nervous smile. They nodded back to him. 

“Yeah! It’s ready. I think I did a great job.” They smiled, walking out the front door. Dustin was sweating already. Because, to his knowledge, Y/N had made a character in about twenty minutes. Eddie was sitting outside his vehicle with his arms slack behind him on the hood. Once the Henderson siblings made it over to his van, he opened the passenger door as an offer for Y/N to ride in the front seat. To the untrained eye this would look like a charming scene. In reality, Eddie wanted them in the front seat so he could interrogate them. Dustin was disgruntled about being put in the back, but a simple wink from Eddie turned his aggravation into curiosity. 

Y/N hadn’t known much about Eddie, other than what gossip wandered through the school hallways and what Dustin told them. But in all honesty? He wasn’t half bad. Eddie, to them, was quite the catch even. Attractive (kind of musty though), honest (bluntly honest), humorous (in his own weird way). His music taste was a bit out there, but it wasn’t bad per se. Y/N almost wished they had seen him at more parties, and asked him more questions. Who knows, maybe if things were different this interaction wouldn’t feel so awkward. 

“So, Henderson,” Eddie began. Both Dustin and Y/N turned their heads. "Oh- no, the bigger Henderson." Eddie clarified. Dustin grumbled quietly at offhandedly being referred to as "smaller" than Y/N.

Y/N turned to him, their thoughts now interrupted. He continued, “I heard from Dustin that you decided to make your character yourself? Now, if I don’t mind, could you tell me a bit about what you came up with? ‘Cause, you know, as the game’s “DM”, that’s “Dungeon Master”,” Eddie quote-fingered at them, “I have to be sure you aren’t breaking any rules, or, aren't too over-powered.” Eddie said, as if this was a genuine question and not him trying to make them look overly confident. 

Y/N chuckled, waving dismissively at him, “Oh! No, I understand. I’d be more than happy to. Her name is Celdira Weddlezeddle, and she’s a level 17, half-orc bard. She was abandoned on the doorstep of a gnome village by her parents, who had her in secret as to cover up the illegality of their cross-species affair. She was raised by the gnomes in the village to be a peaceful creature, and now focuses her strength into helping the innocent instead of being a mindless war machine like her kin.” They said quickly, the information flowing off their tongue with ease. Celdira had always been Y/N's favorite character to play, since she was their first ever D&D character. The jaws of both Eddie and Dustin were slack in awe of Y'N's explanation.

“She has a good variety of spells, ranging from combat to health. Dustin said your main healer was out, so I knew she was the right one to bring. What do you think? I can go into detail about her spells if you want-.” They were stopped by Eddie’s index finger shooting up to their lips, waving slightly as to silence them. 

“Tsk tsk, I know that talk. That, my boy,” Eddie referenced to Dustin, who was glancing back and forth between the two, still in shock, “was the talk of someone who’s played this game a time or two.” Eddie chuckled, retracting his hand with a few quiet snaps of his fingers, as if he'd caught Y/N doing something. Dramatic bastard.

Y/N hoped he didn’t see how their cheeks flared up in the dim lighting of the afternoon sun. His rings added an effect that they couldn’t quite describe. Swallowing, they spoke. 

“Guilty as charged.” Y/N laughed breathlessly. 

“WHAT? You mean to tell me you’ve played D&D before?! Why didn’t you say something? I would have loved to play with you.” Dustin said sadly. 

“I’m sorry, D. I just wanted you to have a hobby for yourself; your own special thing! I didn’t want to take that away from you by having it be something I did all the time too.” Y/N replied. 

“I could never be mad at you for liking D&D. In fact, I am SO EXCITED! I can’t wait to see you in action! I gotta see her spell list. Cmon, can I? Please?” Dustin begged, causing Y/N and Eddie to both laugh. 

“I promise, I’ll let you see it when we get there. And then? you'll get to see her in action.” Y/N chuckled.

"Fucking awesome." Dustin whispered in awe.

-------- SECOND ONESHOT! ---------

(TITLE: Munson Melodies. Reader gets blasted at Eddie's house and decides to turn on some music. TW?: Marijuana usage.)

Things were quiet at the Munson residence. If you could even call it a “residence” I suppose. The trailer wasn’t THAT bad, but it wasn’t extravagant either. But it doesn’t matter- we’re not here for a trailer description. We’re here for the people *inside* the trailer. Sitting on the couch were two lazy ass adults, both blasted to bits. They sat shoulder to shoulder, staring off into the space of the living room. 

Y/N Henderson.

Eddie Munson. 

It was hilarious how this came to be. Y/N had only stopped by for a quick smoke, and said they planned to go swimming at the community pool. It was 5PM now, and they weren't showing any signs of getting their ass off of Eddie’s couch. 

“You’re evil.” Y/N muttered. Eddie, baffled, turned to look at them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He gasped, a facade of surprise on his face.

“You know what I’m talking about, Ed. I said I was going swimming, and now?” Y/N lazily gestured to the room, “I’m high as fuck.” 

“You asked to smoke, though.” Eddie offered as a rebuttal.

“You’re older than me. You’re supposed to be wiser, Munson. Y’know; stop me before it’s too late?” Y/N muttered, turning their head to look at Eddie. He looked back. Both of their eyes were an ungodly shade of red. Yep; blasted. 

“You’re an adult, (nickname). You can make your own decisions.” Eddie replied. Y/N groaned, smacking him on the knee, to which he responded with a soft laugh. Suddenly filled with the urge to stand, y/n tore themself from the couch cushions and into an upright position. They waddled over to the many stacks of cassette tapes that sat on a shelf next to a modestly sized radio, then began to look through them. 

“Got anything that won’t ruin my high?” They asked with a smirk.

“You don’t know good music.” Eddie grumbled. “Check the second shelf. My uncle keeps his stash up there. Should be plenty of old, sappy songs for you to whine over.” He continued. He didn’t say that out of spite, of course. Eddie loved Y/N, he was only teasing. Y/N found a cassette tape titled “HAWKINS PROM 1967”, with a small note underneath that read “Our song <3”. Y/N inserted the cassette tape slowly, then adjusted the volume of the radio accordingly. The song that played was one they recognized, their mother had played it for them on several occasions. Subtle blues music, and a man singing his heart out. It was a love song. 

“Oh, that? You picked my uncle's favorite.” Eddie commented. 

“His favorite?” Y/N asked. 

“Yeah! That was the slow dance song they played at his senior prom. I think it was recorded by his high-school sweetheart.” Eddie added, standing up and joining Y/N by the radio. For a moment, they enjoyed the music together. That was until Y/N broke the silence. 

“Where’s his sweetheart now?” Y/N asked quietly. 

“Wish I could tell you. My uncle never told me, and I’ve never really asked. Figured it was an old wound he didn’t want reopened.” Eddie frowned. Y/N turned to him, studying his face. He looked back. They stood there, simply idly enjoying each other’s faces before Y/N muttered out a single question. 

“Do you want to dance with me?” 

Eddie silently thanked God his cheeks were already red from the marijuana, or else he’d be toast. “Dance? Really? You've gotta be joking.” Eddie couldn't help trying to puff up his "bad boy" persona. People would laugh at him if they saw them slow-dancing, especially to this.

“Yeah! I mean-.. Why not? It’s a lovely song. Shame if it went to waste.” Y/N chuckled, gently taking Eddie’s hands into their own. 

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.” Eddie smiled nervously, placing his hands on their hips. Every embarrassing thought slowly melted away the longer he stared into their eyes. Y/N linked their hands behind his neck, and leaned into his chest. In silence, they swayed. The music filled the room perfectly, blocking out any means of outside noise. It was peaceful. Eddie had to admit; this was nice. Holding the person he loved, dancing to a song he (would never admit) he loved, without a single care in the world. Beauty and the Freak. After a little while, which felt like an eternity within their arms, Eddie piped up.

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“…I love you.” Eddie muttered into Y/N's scalp, as if scared someone would hear him.

Y/N laughed, leaning back just to plant a kiss on Eddie’s soft lips, “I love you too, Eddie.”

He'd be putting this song into the radio more often.

[collecting-stories]

Loose Lips - Rafe Cameron

Request: hey gorg! i’ve been waiting to request for so long and now they’re open! it’s kind of a basic idea but being kie’s sister and hooking up with rafe on the dl? and john b comes over to see sarah and sees y/n walking out of his room? thank you!!

A/N: This honestly came so easily to me and I’ve been having the hardest time writing so...fingers crossed that’s a good sign. Also, was listening to Lips by The Maine when I wrote this. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The sound of the voice calling your name wasn’t unfamiliar to you but it was unfamiliar in this space. That voice, it was your best friend’s deep, raspy like he’d just taken a mouth of saltwater after he wiped out, voice. The tone was confused, naturally, because while he was out of place here to you, you were out of place here to him. You turned away from the bedroom door that you were quietly pulling shut, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.  

“John B? What are you doing here?” You’re words came out barely above a whisper, praying that the person on the other side of the door, the person you’d just left, wouldn’t hear the commotion.  

“I swung by to get Sarah...” he trailed off, probably, easily, putting together that you were coming out of not-Sarah's room and you definitely weren’t hanging with Wheezie whenever you disappeared for an afternoon or after a party. “What are you doing here?”

If he eliminated Rose and Ward too, that left one person in the Cameron household. You could see the gears turning in his head, already imagine him trying to blindly text your sister some kind of SOS as he reached his hand into his back pocket. Maybe you could play it off, would you rather he think you were buying coke or that you were here for the actual reason you were here.

“I uh...” you trailed off, looking back at the crisp white door, the doorknob warm in your hand, knuckles turning white as you gripped it. Maybe you could slip back inside and pretend nothing ever happened. “I-”

Before you got a chance to answer him, the doorknob was pulled out of your grasp and you stumbled back as the door opened, the last option John B wanted to believe but the one he knew was it stepping into the hallway.  

“You’re still...” Rafe looked at you curiously for a moment, you were still in the hallway outside his room. But when he turned he John B at the top of the stairs looking a lot like someone who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real. “You forgot your phone.”

If there was any chance for making John B believe that your trip to the Cameron household was innocent or not-innocent-but-not-what-he-thought, that opportunity flew out the window. Rafe was standing there, holding your phone out to you, in nothing but a pair of boxers sitting so low on his hips it was obvious he’d just pulled them on to come out of his room. His hair was still messed up and there was clear evidence, marks on his otherwise flawlessly sunkissed skin, that whatever happened in there was exactly what John B didn’t want it to be.

“Are you sleeping with Rafe?” He practically shouted as you awkwardly pocketed your phone. Couldn’t you have just stayed in bed ten extra minutes like Rafe had asked, did you have to always be so punctual.

“It’s not what it looks like!” You insisted, not daring to look over at your co-conspirator. You could just imagine him leaning up against the door frame or the wall, arms crossed over his chest, amused grin as you tried to stutter out an explanation. Wasn’t that exactly how you had ended up in his bed the first time?

“Pretty fucking sure it looks like you and Rafe just had sex.” John B replied, sounding both disgusted by the idea and betrayed.  

“Oh, then it is exactly what it looks like.” Rafe piped up. You turned to look at him, trying your absolute hardest to burn him with your glare. He remained unaffected, which didn’t surprise you at all. He usually was unaffected by most things.  

“Does...does Kie know about this?”  

“Please John B, you cannot tell my sister about this.” Sarah didn’t even know and most times you were in the house at the same time that she was. There was no way any of them would take this well. Hell, your sister had thrown a fit the first time John B brought Sarah around. This would be ten times worse.  

“So what’re you saying,” Rafe asked, feigning hurt, “you don’t want anyone to know about us? I’m really hurt Carrera...I thought we meant something to each other.”

“Shut up Rafe!” You snapped, smacking his arm.  

John B ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends. He had half a mind to bolt back down the stairs and tell Kiara exactly what he’d seen. You leaving Rafe’s room, Rafe confirming that you were sleeping together. “How long have you guys been together?” He asked you, trying to remind himself that you were his friend, practically his sister, and he owed it to you to let you explain. At least enough that he could get a whole picture of what was going on.  

“Together...would you call it that? Together?” Rafe cut in before you could answer, repeating the word a third time as if he was testing it out. Like he’d never heard it before.  

In all honesty, and maybe somehow it was better this way, you weren’t together. You weren’t even definitely friends. You were just hooking up, strictly sex. And yeah, maybe sometimes after sex you hung out and watched TV or smoked weed or ordered a pizza and then had more sex, but it wasn’t together. It wasn’t a relationship.  

“We aren’t.” You said it like you were promising John B it was nothing serious. “We aren’t together.”

“John B!” Sarah’s voice rang out from the bottom of the staircase, “are we going or what?”  

You mouthed a silent please to him. Please don’t tell Sarah, don’t tell anyone. If your friends found out you would be ostracized, tossed from the pogues forever. You would never be able to show your face on the Cut again.  

“Yeah, yeah...” He called back, waving his hand to her to go outside, he’d be right there. He was still staring at you, as if he could somehow figure out why you had decided to hook up with Rafe of all people. Maybe if he looked at you long enough it would all make sense. “We need to talk later.”  

“We will, just please...I’ll, we’ll talk, I’ll explain.” You promised, trying to buy yourself some time.  

He turned from the top of the staircase, heading down to meet Sarah in the foyer and you heard her ask what the hell was taking him so long when she thought he’d just gone up to use the bathroom. He fumbled through an excuse, casting one more look up the stairs but he couldn’t see either you or Rafe from his position near the door.  

When you heard the door slam shut behind them you pressed your hands to your face, “fuck...fuck.”  

“Looks like someone’s in trouble.” Rafe teased, laughing when you smacked his arm for a second time.  

“Shut the fuck up Rafe!” You grumbled, turning to look at him, “fuck...he’s totally gonna tell my sister, he has no fucking filter. And they’re all shit at keeping secrets.”  

“Well,” Rafe shrugged, standing straight and pointing back to his bedroom with his thumb, “might as well come back in, if they’re gonna know anyway.”

“No, I need to leave, I need to go talk to them or something or try to...explain what’s...” your sentence stuttered, trailing off as you lost your thought. Rafe had crossed the hallway to you, placing his hands on your hips and leaning down enough that he could kiss along your neck and shoulder, over faint marks that he’d left earlier.

“You need to what?” He asked, between trailing kisses.  

“Rafe...”

“You need to what?” He repeated, pulling away just enough to look at you. Right now John B was no doubt cooking up exactly what he was going to say despite promising to let you explain because he had absolutely not self-control and he was always more loyal to Kiara. You needed to leave, to somehow beat him to his own house so you could make them understand that this meant absolutely nothing to you, that they were your friends and they were ten times more important than Rafe Cameron. “You need to...come back to my room?”

“Like ten minutes, tops.” You reasoned, letting him taking your hands and walk you into his room, pushing the door closed behind you with your foot. It wouldn’t be ten minutes, both of you knew that, but you’d been slowly lying to yourself about this whole thing for months. What was ten more minutes?

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Epilogue

Summary: You and Ransom attend the launch of his book and the cover closes on your story.

Warnings: Bad language, Mature (NSFW, 18+) NON-CON situations, kidnap, violence. Blood. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER…READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED…YOU HAVE BEENWARNED.

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: The end! I can’t believe all this span from @jtargaryen18​’s Halloween Challenge last year. I hope you have enjoyed his as much as I have.

Word Count: 3.6k

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK series so don’t @me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18 get off my blog!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 7

 The town car and it's driver took you to whatever swanky hotel Ransom and his publishers had decided upon, you not caring the slightest inwardly, outwardly only half paying attention. You glanced out the window watching the lights of downtown pass by as your husband of merely three weeks held your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. 

It was a warm July evening, the two of you dressed to the nines in formal attire. Ransom had insisted the launch be an invite only, formal event. Therefore, he was dressed in a two-piece suit, black of course, with a crisp white button down, silken black tie, and you, you looked like an ice queen's slutty sister. The powder blue silk dress you wore tied together with thin straps on each shoulder, your feet already hurting in your nude six inch sandals. Your free hand tapped a neatly manicured finger over your clutch that matched your shoes. A delicate white gold and diamond tennis bracelet adorned your wrist whilst the necklace you'd been gifted at Christmas hung around your neck. You wore your hair the way he said he loved it, in a ponytail full of waves and wisps framing your face.

After the incident on Valentine’s Day, you’d spent another two weeks in the confines of the basement. All luxuries removed and you were used and abused in exactly the way you had been when Ransom had first taken you, until he’d once more sucked the fight out of you. Only this time you didn’t have the strength to find it again. 

You played the part you’d been cast in his sick little fantasy and became totally passive to his whims. You let him fuck you which, in all honesty, wasn’t an entirely unpleasant situation as he knew his way around your body and it felt good. You had given up denying it, and for the moments he was teasing those carnal reactions out of you, you escaped, let yourself imagine you were with someone who you wanted. And by keeping him sweet, you fooled him into thinking you were content. And things settled down, you had that halfway to normal life that you’d achieved before you discovered his manuscript.

But it was bullshit. A means to an end. And you deserved a fucking Oscar.

He’d had the audacity to propose to you, too. In a restaurant. Surrounded by people. He asked you the question, like you had a fucking choice.

Angry, desperate tears had filled your eyes as you’d simply gaped at him, tears the deluded cunt took for you being overwhelmed with happiness. With a smile he slipped the gaudily large diamond on your finger, sealing your fate.

It weighed as heavy on your hand as the grief for your lost life, and the despair at your situation did in your heart.

You’d had a small wedding. Attended simply by your parents and sister. He sent an invite to his mother and father but they didn’t show up. Your dad walked you down the aisle and as you walked towards the man you hated with every breath in your body, your father kissed your cheek and asked you if you were sure you wanted to do this. And no, of course you didn’t, but what could you do?

There was no way out. 

“You look as gorgeous tonight as you did on our wedding day.” Ransom’s voice slightly startled you and you turned to face him. 

You smiled at him, the smile you knew he wanted to see, as he placed a soft kiss to your cheek before doing the same to your hand, his lips ghosted over the top of the obscene rock and matching band on your finger which caught the lights of the city, sparkling with all the ferocity of a supernova.

Before you needed to reply with some half assed compliment back, the town car stopped as the driver got out and opened Ransom's door.

"Wait here," he instructed and walked around with the driver on the other side, escorting you out the minute your own door opened.

Flashbulbs fired off in your eyes, no doubt the press there for some absolutely ridiculous notion that this book was anything but its true nature of terror and disgust.

Ransom’s hand pressed into the base of your back as he guided you along in front of him, various members of the press calling his name, and you heard the excited shouts from some as they spotted the bands on both yours and Ransom’s hands, positively shrieking as they asked when you’d gotten married. 

The headlines flashed in your mind now, 'Grandson of the Great Harlan Thrombey Releases First Suspense Novel'. 'One of Boston's Most Notorious and Eligible Bachelors is Strictly Off The Market' . 'Trust Fund Playboy Sinks His Bunny'. 

It made you want to puke. 

In fact, as the press line faded and you stepped foot into the lobby, you swallowed back the bile forcing its way up. A tray with champagne flutes passed you by and you immediately snagged one.

When Ransom had been distracted for a brief moment, you quickly glanced around and swallowed back the entire flute of the bubbly drink. Delightfully enjoying the brief taste and quick head rush it gave you.

The further you walked into the event, his hand still against your bare back, the louder it grew and the more trays of champagne and appetizers were floating by.

As typical, the two of you were fashionably late so, you had little chance to take part in any nibble or further, a drink, because the supposed "man of the hour", more like terror of life, was due to give a speech.

His agent pulled the two of you aside and made mention that it was time for Ransom to greet his guests. He pressed a sickening sweet kiss to your lips and confidently took to the small podium atop a small stage nearby.

“First and foremost, thank you to everyone who came out tonight. But more importantly, thank you to my beautiful wife, without you Sweetheart, this wouldn't be possible.”

The smile he flashed you was loaded with meaning as the pair of you looked at one another, his eyes shining with the depraved private understanding you shared. 

And you hated him then just about as much as you ever had.

Excited muttering spread around the room as he had knowingly referred to you as his wife. It was the first time he’d announced your marriage to the world but, as he smiled and held his hands up, nodding smugly and confirming whatever people were asking him, you felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of nausea. To everyone else it was a sweet dedication, to you it was a sickening truth. This book was based on what he’d done to you. What he was saying was literal truth. 

And the fact that the people currently applauding whatever he had said would never realise the true nature of those words on the pages of his book made you want to vomit in your handbag.

Applause rang around the room and you realised everyone was turned in your direction. Drawing your shoulders back you stood tall and once more fixed that fake smile on your face before Ransom cleared his throat and began to speak again.

But you didn't listen, you drowned him out, the sound of his voice distant and murky like Charlie Brown's teacher. You allowed you mind to think of anything but the present, other than the fact that these people were in unknowing full support of the hell you'd been through the last nine months.

Eventually a loud, rapturous applause signalled the end of his speech and he stepped back, smiling and then turned to the man from his publishers who shook his hand furiously, before the pair of them posed for photos.

That was when he beckoned you to him, looking at you in such a way that made your skin crawl and your teeth seethe with each breath. This bastard expected a photo op from you above all this, commemorating this disaster.

On autopilot you headed towards him, indifference obedience now your specialty and his arm curled possessively round your waist, fingers splaying on your hip. You posed and smiled as the flashes went off, but as you stole a glance at the large, ornate clock on the wall, you suddenly felt your head beginning to swim.

Seeing a convenient way out of this bullshit, you made sure to falter just a little, placing your hand to your chest. It caused Ransom's attention to turn to you.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

“I’m feeling a little light headed and warm.” You looked up at him. “Could we maybe get some air?”

"Sure, yeah," he looked to his agent and they nodded towards a side door in the room.

His arm still round you, playing the doting husband, he led you towards it and opened it with a flourish, allowing you to step out in front of him. 

You emerged into the alley at the side of the building and took a huge gulp of air, steadying yourself.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

You were warm, flushed, your skin tingling as the now cooling air hit your slightly damp skin, your nipples perking at the temperature change were visible through the silk dress, and you didn’t miss the heated glance he gave them as you spoke. "I, I don't know. I think it's all the commotion."

“You do look a little flushed.” His eyes moved back to yours and he studied you for a moment, his large hands gently cupping your face as he kissed your forehead before his lips pressed to yours. “Wanna take a walk?”

Despite the fact you really couldn’t walk far in the ridiculous shoes you were in, you nodded. Anything to avoid going back in there and listening to all those sycophants kissing his ass.

He took your hand and started walking slowly down the alley. You were mid-way down when a man jumped out from behind the dumpster. You screamed and instinctively Ransom jumped to the side, pulling you slightly behind him.

“Give me the money and the jewellery, no one gets hurt.” The man spoke gruffly and you felt Ransom draw himself up to his full height as he glared at the dirty, dishevelled man, disdain on his face.

“Eat shit.”

“Ransom, just... please give him what he wants.” Your voice trembled as your body shook, your right hand already removing the rings on your left.

“I’d listen to your pretty wife, if I were you.” The man spoke as he reached into his pocket and when he withdrew his hand you swallowed at the unmistakable flash of metal.

“Fuck, Ransom, he’s got a knife!” You clutched his arm. “Please just give it to him!”

"Fuck, no," he started reaching for his phone but the man lunged toward him.

In the melee that followed, you were thrown to the side, your rings clanging to the floor somewhere along with your clutch, your palms and knees scraping painfully on the floor. By the time you’d pushed yourself up, you saw the man scrambling to his feet, Ransom’s watch and wallet in his hand. He turned to look at you and you backed away, stumbling once more to the ground letting out a blood curdling scream as he advanced. He stopped, picked up your rings and your bag, before he turned, bolting up the alley and rounding the corner, disappearing from sight.

"Y/N," the croaking voice came from your husband as he staggered towards you, a deep red seeping through his white dress shirt, his one hand attempting to stave off the bleeding. The other, cradling his phone. But he didn't get more than a few steps as he collapsed nearby. 

"Ransom!" You shrieked and heels be damned, you ran to him, looking around, "help!" 

"Call 9-1-1, Baby," he begged, trying to thrust the phone into your hand and you leaned over him. 

With a jittery hand you swiped over to the emergency call option and hit the first two digits before you glanced around again and hesitated, rising slowly to your feet.

“What...” Ransom’s chest heaved as he looked up at you, his face white with shock as you turned the phone in your hand and shrugged.

“Yeah, you see, I could call for help but...” with that you tossed his phone to the hard ground and crunched it with your stupidly high heel, rotating your foot to make double sure, the glass and metal grinding between the stiletto and the tarmac. “Whoops, looks like it got smashed in the fight.” You gave a little chuckle. “And of course, mine was in my bag which he took. Isn’t that ironic? I mean the first time you permit me to use it for something other than to contact you or my mom, I can’t.” You made a little tutting noise. “Guess I’ll just have to keep yelling and hope someone hears.”

With that you turned and screamed, a frantic yell. “Please, someone help us! Please, he’s been stabbed, call 9-1-1.” You slowly dropped back to a kneel, ignoring the sting of your grazed knees and smirked. “Dammed, I really am good at this acting shit, don’t you think, handsome?”

Ransom coughed a harsh and wet cough. His chest heaving raggedly as he struggled between catching a breath and bleeding out. 

“Y/N...” he spluttered, “you...please...”

"So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” you emphasised the 't' of the last word as you spoke the very same line that he had delivered to you months ago, the threat he had held over you and used to keep you in check whenever you stepped over that line. 

His eyes widened further as the realisation set in, you could see his brain working and it gave you a buzz, a sense of satisfaction to know that he understood this was your doing.

You wanted the last thing this bastard thought about to be how you were responsible for his death. But more so, his narcissistic and sociopathic tendencies be damned, you wanted him to completely understand exactly how it was his fault. 

And given the way he was bleeding and struggling for breath, you didn’t have long.

Another scream for help flew from your mouth as you pressed one hand on top of his which were now both clutched to the wound in his stomach, the other brushing his hair back slightly as you smiled down at him. 

“I told you when you threw me back in the basement that the way you treat people would come back to haunt you.” You gave a little shrug. “And, when you told the homeless guy looking in the bins on collection day a few months back to eat shit and get a job, well, he took it kinda personally. He didn’t even blink when I asked how much it would take to knock you off.”

"You..." choking on blood, "vicious..." choke,

At that you gave another loud hysteric yell for help before you turned your head back to look at him.

“See, once upon a time I thought you’d changed. But here’s the thing, a person like you doesn’t change, Hugh. You’re incapable of love. You take what you want when you want for no reason other than it pleases you.”

Another scream for help, and this time you could hear someone answering and a lot of yells as people started running towards you.

“Well, now I’ve taken your life like you took mine.” You bent down, your forehead pressing to his as you smirked. His arm reached up to grab you, his blood soaked hand curling over your cheek and side of your neck. "And you know what? It feels good."

His palm was warm and slick against your skin and his eyes blazed with anger as his fingers squeezed. You knew he was desperately trying to hurt you but you felt nothing. You smiled, as you placed a soft kiss to his lips, your words whispered as you pulled back ever so slightly. “Karma’s a bitch, and so am I. See you in hell.”

As the fake tears started to pool in your eyes once more, you allowed your lip to tremble for distraught emphasis. Blood was now trickling out of Ransom's mouth, along down his ear and to the tarmac. You pulled back just a little so as to see his eyes. You wanted to watch him choke on his own blood as he took that final breath. You started sputtering words incoherently as you amped up the hysteria, hearing the footfalls now just behind you. 

He didn’t even make it to the hospital. 

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was pronounced dead at 21:05 hours on Friday 17th July where he lay in a pool of his own blood, in that dark alleyway down the side of the hotel.

Leaving you a widow.

And free. 

***10 months later***

It was as simple as it sounded, closing your eyes and pointing to a spot on a map. Your finger ended up on Boulder. 

Colorado was far enough from the last year or so of your life that you could feel comfortable. You'd researched it, finding it to be something worth interest. Affordable. Breath-taking scenery. Incredible life altering activities and quaint little towns. The summers were supposedly warm but rarely did the temperature rise above ninety-five, the winters were supposedly very cold, dry and windy; rarely dropping below six degrees with partly cloudy skies year round.

The months following Ransom’s death had been as draining as humanly possible. The investigation had involved countless interviews before the police and authorities settled for it being a mugging gone wrong. But then there had been the months of wrangling and private law cases his parents had attempted to bring against you to prevent you getting his money, despite the probate law being fairly simple. You were married. He left no will. It was yours by default. 

Eventually, when the Drysdales had exhausted every last option, they were forced to concede and that was when you made the decision to leave, a decision of which your parents were highly encouraging. They practically talked you into this whole thing to begin with. Helping you leave your nightmares behind. Despite them not suspecting anything at first, you weren't blind to the fact that things still had not sat right with them. You knew they had suspected a level coercion, that maybe you'd had a manic episode of mental illness, but you never had divulged the full details and by the time he was gone, they hadn't cared. Your relationship with them had strengthened and healed and that was what you cared about.

Now, you were newly nestled in Boulder with a great condo downtown, a stone’s throw from the historic district that was filled with cliché shops and bars.  Whilst you didn’t need the money, you’d taken a job working in the media department of a private law firm. It was a far cry from your journalist days, but it suited you just fine.

The more distance you put between who you were now and who you had been, the better. 

You were at peace.

The May evening air was temperate as you crossed the street and opened the door to the designated bar in which you were meeting your new group of friends, mostly gathered from work, for a girl's night out. You’d been held up a little in the office so they were already waiting at a table. You waved and gestured to the bar, indicating you were going to get a drink. 

As you sidled up to the wooden counter, you were jolted a little into a man to your right. You turned to apologise and gave a little double take. You recognised him instantly. But you didn’t want to make that obvious and cause him to feel uncomfortable. You knew how it felt, to have everyone looking at you, hushed whispered comments as you went about your business, people trying to figure out if you were who they thought you were.

That was part of the reason you had moved, and you sure as hell weren’t about to subject the man next to you to the same, uncomfortable experiences. 

Recovering quickly, you hastily apologised and he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it.” His Boston accent was evident and you smiled.

“I miss that accent.” 

The man chuckled, his warm blue eyes creasing slightly as he looked at you. “You from Boston, too?”

“Concord.”

“Newton.” He replied, “well, I lived there anyway, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Should I? Know that, I mean?”

He studied you for a moment, and you kept your face as passive as possible. You could tell he knew that you knew, but you gave a shrug none-the-less and he smiled, a gorgeous smile that lit up his entire face, perfect white teeth flashing from beneath an immaculately groomed beard, as he extended his arm towards you.

“Andy Barber.” His fingers gently brushed the back of your knuckles, as you shook his hand, his grip warm and gentle.

“Oh, of course.” You smiled back. “One of our attorneys.”

“Our?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m Y/N. I work in the media department. I mean I only started a few weeks ago but...”

“Well, in that case, I’m pleased to meet you, Y/N, and welcome aboard.” His smile didn’t falter as he let go of your hand and gestured to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”

You paused for a moment before you took a deep breath.

And nodded.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

******

Sequel: Follow Andy and reader’s story in Consciousness Of Guilt. 

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

Soojin x Reader

Requested by : anon

Library Peace 🔞

There was no word strong enough to describe how you hated having to do group projects but there was one for how much you hated the partner you got paired with : to death.

Soojin was definitely your worst nightmare since the really beginning of times. She was the type of person to think her opinion was better than other's just because it was hers. You were polar opposites in all aspects and weren't eager to interact or even acknowledge each other's existence.

There was literally nothing you could rely on in her that would make her more likeable in your eyes. And even if there was you weren't sure you wanted to see it, you were fine with hating her, it was helping you be better at everything. Because everything was a competition of ideas and values between the two of you.

As you entered the library, you didn't know if you were glad she wasn't there yet or pissed because she was already wasting your time. After waiting few minutes, your foot shaking from impatience, you decided to just go ahead and do the work on your own.

If this girl didn't care about marks and bonus points you sure did and weren't about to loose any for her.

You started looking for the books you'll need, rummaging through the shelfs to get every book out. It's only when you got to the last section that you understood why you were struggling so much to find what you needed.

Soojin was standing there arms full of books, some even opened at some specific pages, she was looking for the last like you were about to.

Saying you were pissed wasn't even a quarter of the truth, you were fuming. The bitch literally made you wait like a fool while she was right there doing everything by herself.

Yes you did attempt to do the same but you had the decency to pretend to wait for her, you tried when she clearly didn't, it probably didn't even cross her mind.

Busy reading two books at the same time, Soojin didn't even spared you a glance until you shut one of your books close and even then her glance was fast and unbothered. Her eyes got back to the paper as fast as they took a look at you.

"Someone else took the last book, we'll have to start without it."

Soojin's voice was surprisingly calm and almost gentle, not that you would know how her voice normally sounds like, you tend to avoid listening to anything that could pass her lips.

The realization that she was actually ready to co-operate was making you feel slightly guilty to have judge her actions that you knew nothing about, so easily. Yet you were fast to remember who you were talking about and how annoying she has been in the past. A single slightly polite act would never change how irritating she was.

You ended up following her because even though you'll love spending your time cursing her in your mind you still had an essay to write and you weren't ready to let her get a better grade than you.

In the end having twice as much books as needed was the minimum because you couldn’t imagine how it’d went if you had to share and get closer to Soojin to be able to read. 

Maybe you talked too fast and karma is indeed a bitch because not even fifteen minutes later the librarian was making her way to the both of you and asking you to give back the extra copies because other students needed them.

Seeing that Soojin wasn’t willing to move, you were the one making the sacrifice, giving her the books.

You tried to work only using your sheet of paper and what you already wrote but of course you couldn’t just passed out on writing the quotes and understanding the context. After a minute you abdicted.

“Could I borrow one of your books please ?”

Soojin took her time finishing to write her sentence before looking at you in the eyes and answering simply.

“No.”

Even though you knew she wasn’t someone nice on a regular basis you were astonished by her answer, she clearly didn’t give a fuck about doing the work as a pair. You were ready to just leave when she added somehing.

“But you can sit beside me. I won’t bite you.”

You sighed, but did stand up to sit beside your rival.

“If that sigh was about the no biting part, I’m all about changing it, I wouldn’t mind biting down that neck.”

That was unexpected, you thought and terribly sexy in a way. You wouldn’t deny that Soojin was extremely beautiful and exactly your type, long black hair, dancing skills given by god, overflowing confidence, tattoos and so on.

Without you knowing your cheeks had reddened at the thought of how physically perfect Soojin was, that lustful glance Soojin was giving to your exposed neck wasn’t helping your horny mind either.

You tried to remember why you hated her so much but when her fingers met your tigh your mind was suddenly blank. She wasn’t even doing much but you were already embarrassingly wet.

On the other hand Soojin was perfectly and terribly calm, way too calm compared to how crazy this situation was. She looked unbothered and even when her hand got from above your knee to your inner tigh, she didn’t even look at you as if it was completly normal for her to touch you that way.

As much as you internly claimed that it was crazy, you had no intention in stopping her. Sure she was your ‘ennemie’ but maybe the ‘hate’ you seemed to feel towards her was nothing but frustration because you were sure you couldn’t have her. 

Her hand making her way inside your panties was telling you otherwise though. Seems like you actually could have her but this realisation hit you enough for you to grab her wrist and stand up, making her turn to you.

“What are you doing ?”

Soojin looked at you confused before answering.

“What does it look like I’m doing ? Because I thought it was pretty clear until now.”

“Well yes I know what you’re doing but why ? Aren’t we suppose to hate each other ?”

Soojin escaped a laughter and stood up, taking a step closer to you in the process.

“Oh yeah ? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Well you did get back at me everytime I say something though.”

“I thought we were just flirting.”

“Oh...”

Saying you were shocked would be an understatement, she didn’t hated you. You didn’t get to think much more, stopped by lips crashing on your own. The gentle kiss didn’t last long, Soojin breaking it to look at you. Her arms were on both sides of you, caging you between her and the bookshelf.

“Can we go back to what we were doing now ?”

“Yes.”

The word escaped your lips before you could process anything and you couldn’t think about it after because Soojin’s tongue was asking entrance in your mouth and that was way more captivating than thinking right now.

Soojin didn’t even needed to fight to be the one dominating the kiss, everything seemed way too unreal for you to take the lead. Yet you weren’t mad about it, her tongue was dancing the sexiest dance ever with yours.

You were wondering if someone could see you even though you were in a pretty secluded area. A thought that was cut off once Soojin’s mouth began traveling down your neck to your colarbone, letting a moan escape your mouth as she bite you.

The hell did you care about being seen, right now the only thing that mattered was Soojin fingers playing with your clit while her mouth was playing with one of your nipple.

You didn't even remember when she unbuttoned your shirt but she sure did and was now enjoying seeing and touching your breast.

The rhythm of her fingers over you clit was terribly slow not letting you reach orgasm the slightest bit. Well that was until she finally decided to slip a finger into your dripping core earning a loud moan from you.

She stopped her movements to scold you.

"We are in a library, you should know that you cannot scream here baby. I'm the only one who can hear you moan and whimper under my touch, understood ?"

Your mind was messed up, you just wanted to cum so you nodded wanting her to keep going at all cost. Which she did.

Not even minutes after she got back to pleasing you, she had to muffle your voice as you cummed all over her fingers.

Her hand circled your waist keeping you from falling while she was putting your shirt back on and straightening your pants.

She didn't talk until your breathing calmed down, wanting you to be able to respond to whatever she was about to say.

For some reason now that you were looking at her you noticed how she wasn't that confident anymore.

"I.."

You cut her off by kissing her, something you madly wanted to do since earlier but didn't had the chance to.

The kiss took her by surprise, shading her cheeks in pink. You didn't know what the sudden shyness was about but you did find it cute that after giving you the biggest orgasm your friennemy was suddenly becoming shy.

"What was that about ?"

"I thought that was pretty clear what it was about, I kinda like you."

Hey, here it is finally ! I made it slightly longer than expected but I had to put Soojin's duality in it, hope you like it 😁🤞 Give feedback. -Ael

[spacedikut]

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah! 

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Sole Crusher

Well... It's finally here... the episode introducing the new bee hero. And what do you know? It looks like I was right about how the new character would be portrayed.

It's kind of funny how I made predictions exaggerating what could happen, and they were surprisingly accurate. Isn't that funny?

Let's just get into the seventh (chronologically the seventh and the seventh episode in the season to air after “Mr. Pigeon 72”) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Sole Crusher. Damn, I hate that a pun this clever was used for the title.

We get to the point pretty quickly with the first scene being Zoe arriving in Paris and getting a tour of the city. She asks to stop at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, where she meets Marinette through some brief Unfunny Marinette Slapstick. The two quickly strike up a conversation.

I mean, it's not like Zoe is the sister of the absolute worst human being in existence, right?

Marinette compliments Zoe's shoes, and she points out that she designed them herself, and wrote every good thing anyone has ever said to her on them. But because she only has one friend, there's only a standard “I <3 U” on the left shoe.

So Zoe leaves the bakery and heads to Le Grand Paris where she meets her mother, Audrey. Unlike how she talked with Marinette, Zoe pretends to be just as snobby as Audrey in order to fit in. She then meets up with Chloe, who criticizes her for having poor person things like a phone without any diamonds embedded in it. And then she sees Zoe's shoes.

Look, that meme was already dated when it was referenced in Black Panther three years ago. Please don't try to reference memes in 2021, Miraculous Ladybug.

Chloe offers some golden heels while saying that those kind of shoes are for winners to wear and crush the losers underneath. This is the only episode to mention this kind of ideology, and believe me, it gets worse when Chloe decides to teach Zoe how to be like her.

Get used to this. This episode is all about demolishing any semblance of likability in Chloe's character. Now that Astruc doesn't have to bother with writing Chloe with decency since she's not Queen Bee, watch as he turns her into an absolute caricature of her former self.

Yes, Chloe has ordered her father to give her a lot of frivolous things in the past, but she has been shown to care about him, like immediately rushing to hug him after she was safe in “Origins” and showing concern for when he was akumatized into Malediktator while apologizing for causing it. For the love of God, one of the first things she did when she allied with Hawkmoth at the end of Season 3 was to have him unto her parents' akumatization. I guess she only cared about her rich parents for their status and not because she actually loved them right?

Next up on the list of Chloe's positive qualities to ruin is her friendship with Sabrina.

🎶It's seven o'clock in the morning🎶 🎶I can't believe they made this scene🎶 🎶With the writing Astruc's enforcing🎶 🎶It's like he's trying to piss off me🎶

Yep, Chloe doesn't view Sabrina in a twisted view of friendship anymore. Now she's a slave. I'm not exaggerating by the way, he actually said that in a tweet.

THIS IS WHAT THOMAS ASTRUC ACTUALLY BELIEVES

Okay, so I guess all those times we saw Chloe playing superheroes with Sabrina in “Antibug” and “Miraculer” were just a slave driver playing with their property. Actually apologizing to Sabrina for getting her akumatized in those episodes? Protecting her from the Scarlet Akumas in “Ladybug”? She was just interested in keeping her slave around. I think Astruc may have slept through the slavery unit in his history class. Yes, Sabrina was mostly used as a joke to show how controlling Chloe could be, but there were still semblances of an actual friendship between the two.

Chloe arrives at school and introduces Zoe as her half-sister, despite being the same age and having the same mother. Because I guess we can add basic biology to the list of things the writers don't understand. Now that we're at school, Chloe's friendship with Adrien is next up on the chopping block.

Yep, despite being Adrien's only friend and making a big deal about valuing his friendship to the point where she threw a big party just to make sure he wouldn't leave her and risked cooperating with an Akuma to save him, now Chloe just sees Adrien as a rich meal ticket. Two of the earliest episodes to show Chloe had a more compassionate side to her, and they just undid them. Even as much as I hated the episode, “Felix” showed Chloe was willing to cooperate with Marinette and her friends just to find a way to cheer Adrien up on the anniversary of his mother's not-death.

For the love of God, Astruc, 1984 was supposed to warn people about what could happen if they rewrote the past, not encourage people to rewrite the past. He probably finished Animal Farm thinking Snowball really did work alongside the humans, didn't he?

Marinette comes up and Zoe pretends to hate her, leading Marinette to wonder why she did that. She texts Zoe (she gave her number to her earlier) and invites her to a concert on the Liberty, but Chloe finds out. Zoe thinks fast and pretends it's just so she can torment her more. Chloe then takes out a book listing all the ways she can torture Marinette. I wonder if this is a metaphor for the writing process behind most of the episodes last season.

Zoe decides to go outside for some fresh air, and Andre comforts her. Funny how Andre bends over backwards to give Chloe whatever she wants, yet he's willing to actually talk to Zoe like an actual parent. Andre tries to cheer Zoe up, but she talks about her past where she had to put on an act so she would be liked, but (bet you've never heard this before) she just wants to be accepted for who she truly is. The surge of emotions is enough for Shadowmoth to akumatize her into Sole Crusher.

In addition to having one of the most clever puns for an Akuma name, I actually like Sole Crusher's design. Not only is it a good excuse to reuse Chloe's character design, it makes sense thematically, as Chloe was trying to mold Zoe into a copy of herself. The gold and diamonds also make sense given Chloe's love for shiny things. Her powers tie into the bizarre belief Chloe has about stepping on the winners. Whenever Sole Crusher kicks or steps on someone, she absorbs them and gets progressively bigger, making it easier to do so. While it's not cracking my top ten anytime soon, it's still an interesting character design.

Sole Crusher heads to the hotel to get Chloe, and she manages to get away pretty quickly. Maybe in an alternate universe, she's a track star? For some reason, she runs to the Dupain-Cheng bakery and then... Oh my God... pushes Marinette's parents so they get absorbed by Sole Crusher, before trying to do the same with Marinette.

When has Chloe ever done something like that? Whenever she endangered someone during an Akuma attack, it was unintentional or a result of her naivety. She was only trapped in Pixelator's dimension because Adrien tried diving to save her, she only alerted Rogercop to Ladybug's presence because she eagerly called out for her, and during “Zombizou” she only tried to throw Sabrina towards the horde of kissing zombies once, and that was meant to highlight her growth. The only person to actually do stuff like this consistently is Lila, but I guess she got vaporized by Big Brother offscreen.

This episode is determined to make the audience hate Chloe by retconning everything about her character while portraying her as a complete monster. As bad as Chloe could get, she was never selfish enough to use anyone as a human shield. This kind of behavior honestly could be explained by saying Chloe was lashing out as a result of losing the Bee Miraculous permanently, but the events of the Season 3 finale aren't mentioned ONCE, not even in the next episode that introduces Queen Bee's replacement! How the hell can you set up the next Bee hero without explaining why the original needs to be replaced in the first place?! And trust me, I'm going to talk about Zoe replacing Chloe later.

Sole Crusher grabs Marinette in her hand, so the Horse Kwami, Kaalki, uses her power to teleport over to Adrien's house and inform him Ladybug needs help, meaning once again Adrien did nothing in this episode before becoming Cat Noir.

At the Liberty, Chloe offers more victims to Sole Crusher in the form of the band Kitty Section (consisting of Luka, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, and Mylene) and theatens the giant golden supervillain she can send her back to Paris, even though she's really not in a position to bargain right now. And she STILL continues to insult her. Do you hate Chloe yet? Come on, do you? The writers won't stop until you do.

After we see Sole Crusher's conflicted emotions, Marinette is set free by Cat Noir and transforms into Ladybug, immediately summoning her Lucky Charm, a shoehorn. They only learn Zoe's sneakers were where she were akumatized thanks to Chloe's ranting, so the episode unintentionally made Chloe save the day. Ladybug breaks into Le Grand Paris and breaks the sneakers where Zoe hid them, using the shoehorn to open a door. So Sole Crusher is de-evilized, Ladybug fixes the damage, and gives yet another charm to Zoe.

Afterwards, Zoe goes to the Liberty, apologizes for the act she put on, all while divulging to the audience her “tragic backstory”.

Of course, everyone welcomes her with open arms.

And right here is where the biggest problem I have with Zoe as a character. I normally hesitate to use this term given how often it gets thrown around when criticizing characters these days, but I really can't say anything else.

Zoe... is a Mary Sue.

For those who don't know, the term Mary Sue originated in a Star Trek fanfiction from 1973 satirizing several self-insert stories at the time. Most of these stories showed a beautiful young woman joining the crew of the Enterprise and immediately gaining the attention of the crew. Mary Sue parodied this character archetype by showing how much she was appreciated by Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, the latter being driven to tears at her funeral despite his species being emotionless normally.

What does this have to do with Zoe? She has the exact same storyline as Mary Sue in the parody fanfiction. Her mere presence is enough to make Chloe act extremely out of character in an attempt to make her look better, and as soon as she apologizes while giving a frankly vague backstory, everyone just accepts her as their friend, and I mean everyone in the entire class. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't feel earned. Why was she bullied at her old school? What did her bullies have against her? What caused her to stop going along with her peers, and why did everyone turn against her? How the hell did the bullies who put cockroaches in another student's locker get no punishment while the victim was forced to transfer schools? It's an intentionally unclear backstory designed to make the audience feel sympathetic towards Zoe without actually doing anything else.

I want to ask anyone reading this who watched the episode a question: Outside of her backstory, what do we actually know about Zoe?

What is her personality like? She's nice? Socially awkward? We've never had a character like that in Miraculous Ladybug before! Sorry Marinette, Adrien, Juleka, Nathaniel, Mylene, and Marc, there's a new character with more personality than all of you combined!

What are her goals? She wants to be an actress? Great, but why? Even though there's no clear answer for why Marinette loves fashion, or why Alya loves journalism, or why Nino loves DJing, you can still see the passion in their lives when they do something related to their goals. Zoe only says she wants to be an actress, connecting it to her people pleaser backstory (and given how it ended, she must be a terrible actress), and in the next episode, she immediately gets the lead role in a student film.

When Mylene got the starring role in the movie in “Horrificator”, we at least got snippets of her acting skills in the same episode that established her desire to be an actress, which is also implied to be because she was inspired by her father in “The Mime”. She didn't just say she wanted to be an actress and got the leading role. She still had problems to overcome like her cowardice, which threw her own self-confidence into doubt. Here, Zoe just says she wants to be an actress, and is rewarded for no reason the very next episode.

Zoe basically exists only to be a foil to Chloe, and the writers had no idea what to do in terms of a personality, so they just dumped a bunch of extremely likable character traits onto her without thinking of how her character could come off. And like I said, she's a Mary Sue.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. I've seen a handful of posts on this very site calling Zoe a Mary Sue. In fact, I even asked another Tumblr user @anxresi​ to quote their take on Zoe being a Mary Sue, which I couldn't even top in terms of accuracy. They basically listed off five things that made Zoe a Mary Sue.

She has to have a ‘tragic backstory’ so all the other characters will fall in love with her. Usually within minutes, in the very first episode they’re introduced.

She has to have a supercute design so that the audience at home will fall in love with her. And if they don’t, they’re automatically dismissed as ‘haterz’ even if their objections are purely from a writing POV.

Her only flaw will be thinking too little of herself. “What, lil ol’ me as the Bee Miraculous holder? With my shyness, colorful shoes, chic beret and personalized pink strip in my hair? Gosh, who’d have thought it?”

The contrast to her half-sister will be a constant plot point, with Chloe always getting dumped on. “You see, kids? Bad things happen to bad people. But you see this super-sweet girl over here? She gets a free DAD. Instant FRIENDS. To star in her own MOVIE. The chance to be a SUPERHERO, even though she only arrived last week. Who cares if she has no depth, no personality and barely any reason for being in the show, apart from being a massive ‘Up Yours’ to all the Chloe fans out there?”

What about character development, Mr Generic Zag Guy? “Development? What’s that?! Zoe is already perfect as she is. The only ‘development’ she’ll receive is having her hair done in the first episode she’s introduced. Besides, That‘d’ word is banned here at Zag studios. Why do you think we abandoned Chloe’s stillborn arc so quickly? This is a KIDS show, why bother trying to create a complex character with more than one dimension?”

This is essentially who Zoe is. She's perfect, has no character flaws, has a cute design so the audience will love her already, and was designed only to replace Chloe as Queen Bee. That's all she is.

So the episode ends with Zoe feeling happy at all the new friends she made while we get one of the most blatant attempts of symbolism in the ending card I've ever seen.

See, look. While Marinette is happily talking with Zoe with the image of Ladybug next to them, Chloe is to the far left with an EVIL purple aura, showing how bad she is compared to how great Zoe is. Only a braindead moron would actually like Chloe over the super awesome and pretty Zoe!

I'll give my final thoughts on the episode in the next part where I analyze this plotline as a whole.

LINK TO “QUEEN BANANA” REVIEW

[chuckbass-love]

20,39,42 with Andy Barber?

Hey, lovely anon. First of all i hope you’re doing well and second of all, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it. It’s been a hot minute since i last wrote for Andy.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Prompts Used: 

20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are”

39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

42) “I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Warnings: Smut. Sexual intercourse, vaginal sex, spanking, daddy kink, love making (kinda), arguing, swearing, angst and a sprinkle of fluff for good measure. That’s right, used all 3. 18+ you know the drill.

Word Count: 6,796

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cassercole go check them out💕

Do You Feel What I Feel?

After a long and interesting weekend, you’re a lot less eager to get back behind your desk to work for Andy Barber than you usually are. One reason in particular being that you’ve been dating other people behind his back. See the thing with you and Andy is that you’ve known him for 2 whole years, worked for him for 1 year and been fucking him since the evening of your very first day. He got you the job to work with him after you got laid off.

You met him after he showed up for one of your seminars at college and he gave a presentation on what it’s like to be a lawyer and you just clicked. But it was strictly platonic...until you showed up on that first day dressed in a knee length skirt, a semi sheer polka dot blouse with stockings and heels. He was shocked to say the least. You looked entirely different and he’d never seen you this way before. It turned him on and he let you know it. 

As you were packing your things away and bidding him goodbye for the day, he called you back into his office and instructed you to lock the door behind you before he began to inform you of the effect you had on him. Starting slowly by telling you how he was taken aback by your ability to think on your feet, use your initiative and then just like that, it all came out and he couldn’t control his hunger much longer. 

He kissed you so hard that night that the breath was knocked from your lungs but you loved it, you yearned for more of that feeling and he fucked you so good that you made it a regular thing, without even realising it was becoming one until it was too late. You’d just show up at each others places without a warning and before you knew it, he was fucking you into the mattress and making you cum with a cry of his name.

Now back to the present... you like Andy, in fact if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’ve fallen so madly in love with him that you know it’s time to quit him. He’s like a drug, an addiction and you need to stop going back for more. Hence why you decided that enough was enough. 

You met a guy online, his name is Ashley and he was more than keen to take you out so you happily obliged and sure you had a nice time but there’s just one issue lying in your way. Andy is unsuspecting of your little date and it’s been eating away at you since said date walked you back to your apartment. You know that you need to tell him but you fear that it’ll cost you your job, he did hire you to help you out after all.

Before you can wallow more in your choice to keep things from him, he calls you into his office and you haven’t even gotten any work done yet, you only sat down 5 minutes ago.

What could he possibly want so early on?

“Yes, Mr Barber?” you ask flirtatiously, making him glare up at you before gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. Which you do.

“So today i’m gonna need you to file this paper work into the data base for me” he starts, lifting up a pile taller than the length of your forearm and now you’re annoyed for real this time. He knows full well that you’re still finishing off the stack from Friday and yet here he is presenting more work for you to do “get it done by the end of the day” he finishes, flashing you another stone cold glare as he looks back down at the paper on his desk, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence for a second longer.

Until you speak up “Andy, you know i’m still finishing off Frid....”

“That’s Mr Barber to you and you can leave now” his rude and snappy interruption makes you scoff as you shake your head at the tone in his voice, he’s not in any mood today to help you out or make exceptions. So you do as you’re told, hauling the heavy pile into your arms and lugging it back to your desk outside. Once it’s on your desk, you walk back to shut his door before he asks, making sure to slam it harder than needed to make it known that you’re angry with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care though.

Now to get started on all of this work that’ll probably mean you staying later tonight, just brilliant. Guess your second date with Ashley will have to be rescheduled.

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

You finish off half of the pile by the time it gets to 1:30pm and you’re due a lunch break round about now so seeing as though Andy hasn’t left his office all day, you decide to pop out for some food with one of the other assistants, Stacey. Thank God you don’t have to face him since you have absolutely no clue what could have possibly rattled his cage this morning to make him snap at you like that. The two of you have always had this ongoing joke of you calling him Mr Barber and he usually allows you to call him by his first name until today when that alone was enough to anger him.

It’s obvious that you’ll have to put off telling him about your date until he’s in a better place to receive the news. You’re hoping that since he’s always been opposed to commitment that he’ll take it well but the halt in your fooling around might annoy him a little. It’s not your problem though, he always knew you were planning to eventually settle down.

Upon your return to your desk you find Andy sat in your chair, looking through your work “where the hell have you been?” he mutters as he avoids your eyes “you know what, don’t even bother making excuses, my office, NOW” you jump out of fear as he raises his voice slightly at you for the first time in the whole 2 years you’ve known him. Your anxious body shuffles into his office, scared of what’s about to happen.

“Was i not clear enough earlier Y/N? Hm? Because i specifically remember asking you to have this work done by the end of the day. You get off at half 4, it’s now half 2 and you’ve only done half. Do i pay you to galavant around town with Stacey or do i pay you to do your goddam job?”

In the 2 years that you’ve known Andy, he’s also never made you cry, yet here you are trying your absolute hardest not to let these tears fall in front of him.

“You pay me to do my job and i’ve tried my best to get it done. I-I’m sorry” you stand there awkwardly, picking at the torn skin around your fingernails as you stare hopelessly at your stilettos. “Well your best isn’t fucking good enough Y/N, try harder. You can stay here until all of the paperwork is done and that includes Friday’s load too now close the door on your way out”

Is he actually serious? He can’t be, surely. What is wrong with him?

“No” you stand tall, hands on your hips as you talk back and if he was angry before then now he’s livid with you “What do you mean no?” he questions, stepping towards you, hands in his pockets as he awaits your answer.

“I said, no. Just because you’re in a bad mood for whatever reason does NOT mean that you get to stand here and humiliate me. I said no and that’s final. I’ll do my best to get today’s work done before i leave but Friday’s work can wait and i don’t care what nasty comment you have in store to throw back at me”

His face screws up as he clenches his jaw again, you should feel really scared right about now, that comment might have just cost you this job but you don’t care. If that’s the case then you’ll walk out of here proud of yourself along with one less so called friend in your life.

“Bad mood? I’m furious and you don’t even know the half of it” he picks his phone up, tapping a couple times before handing it to you and walking back to his desk to sit down. You watch the clip in his camera roll, squinting as you try to make out the faces in it and then you realise that it’s you and Ashley. Fuck. He was there that night at your apartment, he was obviously coming to see you and you didn’t even know it. He must have seen you with another man and changed his mind. You feel awful as you look back at him, he just sighs once you place the phone onto his desk.

“Andy, i-i”

“Save it. If you wanted to cut our little deal off then you shoulda just said. I don’t appreciate being lied to Y/N and i don’t fancy talking about it with you for a minute longer so just do as your fucking told and get back to work”

All you can do is turn around and walk away since you’ve done enough damage already. But all you can think about is the look on his face after you watched the incriminating clip. He looked sad, broken even and it’s replaying in your brain over and over. Torturing you. 

This is why he’s been so nasty today, so demanding and harsh. He’s hurt that you lied to him, hurt that you were with someone else, even if it was just dinner. You still arranged a date with another man and went and what Andy has never wanted to admit before, not even to himself is that he really likes you. In fact no, he’s fallen madly in love with you. 

Every waking moment of his life is spent with you on his mind. You even corrupt his dream world too and it’s gotten out of control. Saturday he decided it was time to cut your little deal off and start over. He was going to do it right, confess his feelings, ask you on a date and then take you out and treat you like a princess.

Ever since he laid his blue eyes on you that first time when he was doing the presentation in your class at college, he liked you. You asked so many questions, engaged a lot in the debates and he knew then that you were going to play an important role in his life. And you have. You became close friends, going out regularly and doing things like bowling and eating dinner together more than a handful of times. He enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his but there was this unspoken rule that you had to remain just friends. He wasn’t ready for anything serious and you were still not over your ex.

But then when you walked through his office door on your first day dressed in that skirt, those heels and stockings and lets not forget about that blouse. He was trying his hardest not to drool. One things for sure though, he was painfully hard for you.

When he came to your apartment Saturday and saw you outside your door with some preppy douchebag who was around your age, he felt this lump in his throat form as his heart ached. Sure he expected you to get a man eventually after all you are 24 and he’s in his 30’s. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He also didn’t expect you to have such an effect on him the way you have but here he is, angry at you for moving on without telling him and angry that you aren’t his anymore. 

He feels bad for shouting at you today, for being so harsh with his words. He could see the tears pooling in your eyes right away but he was too pissed off to stop and now he’s almost certain that any friendship the two of you had is gone for good thanks to his vile actions.

Another 2 hours tick by and you’re still working at your pile, you’ve still got a lot left being that he’s included Friday’s in your load too. It’s going to be a long night so you pick your phone up and call Ashley.

“Ashley hey, it’s uh, it’s Y/N. Listen, i have to work late today so i won’t be able to make it” you announce and as he responds, Andy opens his door but you don’t notice.

“Rain check? Uh...” you trail off, trying your hardest to decide if you even want to see him again. It’s like you’re torn. On one hand you have Andy, your dream man. A man who knows your body like the back of his hands and a man who can more than likely take care of you if you just took a leap and told him about your feelings but then on the other hand you have Ashley. A guy who is your age and who makes you laugh a hell of a lot. Before you can even decide though, you hear a cough behind you. It’s Andy.

“Ashley can i call you back? It’s just now’s not really a good time, i have a lot of work to get done”

You hang up the phone as your eyes are locked onto Andy’s and the moment your phone is placed back onto your desk he wraps his large hand around your wrist, lifting you up off your chair and tugging you into his office. You watch as he locks the door behind him before going back to sitting behind his desk.

“You gonna see him again?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“I-I uh, i don’t know. I’m a little torn right now” your eyes settle on his plump pink lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on his bottom one as you sink down onto his cock but you’re dirty thoughts come to a staggering halt as he speaks. “Torn with what? You like him right?” why is he asking you these things? Is he trying to torture himself with the details.

“Yes i mean no i mean I don’t know. I like him but i don’t think i can date him”

“How come?”

“Because i like someone else, in fact i love someone else”

Andy feels his heart sink further as more cracks appear threatening to shatter it completely. You love someone else and now he’s truly out of the game.

Rage works it’s way back into his body and he can’t help but take it out on you “did you sleep with him? Huh? Did the douche bag get to fuck that tight cunt of yours?”

At first you find him funny, laughing as you look around the room, anywhere but his eyes but then your own rage sets in.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, he didn’t. We had dinner and that’s it” you state, matter of factly as you place your hands back onto your hips..

“Bullshit”

“Is that what you really think of me Andy? You think i’d just give it up to any guy that even looked my way. Wow, i knew you were a lot of things but vicious was definitely not one of them and what’s that i smell? Is it jealousy? Surely not.” you tut, shaking your head “I don’t think i even know you at all by the looks of things if you thought lying to me was better than being honest and trust me, i’m not jealous in the slightest, in fact i pity you. It’s your sex life that will suffer” he doesn’t falter for even a second as he stares you down and just as he anticipated, you’re the first one to break, looking away from him. You can’t help the way your heart starts to race from all of the fury filling up your body. How dare he.

“I was only keeping it from you until i found the right time to tell you. And don’t you dare think for one second that just because we’ve slept together that you have any right to comment on my sex life. You made it perfectly clear that monogamy wasn’t your thing so don’t be mad when i finally want to move on from being someone’s fuck buddy” you spit, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise what you just said. Fuck.

“I’ll comment on whatever i fucking want to so quit the bitching and yeah, i don’t do commitment but i sure as hell wouldn’t be with you even if i did”

You don’t respond to him this time, there’s no quick comeback to fire his way, no insult that could mean you having the upper hand again. Nothing is left but shock and disappointment. He really said that, he really played on your biggest insecurity. He played on it and used it to his advantage, to get the upper hand and win the argument.

“What? Got nothing to say?” he snorts, smug grin on his face. Watch his smile disappear now...

“I love you, Andy” you finally get the words out and you feel as if you’re going to choke on them and die right here in his office. Cause of death, unrequited love.

“W-what?” he’s practically speechless, his words barely audible.

“I’m so madly in love with you and i have been for a while now. But i continued to shut my feelings out and reject other guys because i came to the realisation that having you in any way that i could would be enough for me even if it meant that i couldn’t have you in the way that i’ve always wanted. But none of this matters now, right? Because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel and where you stand. You wouldn’t date me even you did date and that’s fine but at least now both our cards are on the table”

He looks up at you, using his index finger to force you to look back at him and when you do, he looks so deep into your eyes almost as if he’s attempting to see into your soul. Like he’s trying to search for any signs of dishonesty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of going out with other guys you shoulda told me and been honest about it?” is all he can say and that’s the last response you expected but what catches you off guard the most is how he said it, almost like he was hurt and relieved simultaneously.

“Andy, you’re my boss and you made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship” he has absolutely no right to lecture you about honesty when he’s spent the entire time he’s known you blabbering on about how the single life is better for him and how he’d hate to be tied down again. You roll your eyes as you move away from him when he attempts to move closer.

Silence falls upon the two of you and it seems never ending, leaving you no choice but to leave. The moment you turn around to walk away he’s on his feet too “where are you going?” the tone his voice makes it sound as though he’s pleading for you to stay without actually saying the words.

“I’m going back to my desk to do my fucking job, just like you told me to do earlier” you turn back around but just as you expected, he stops you “look. I’m sorry, okay. I was just mad that you”

“Mad about what? That i went out on a date? I’m a single woman Andy and despite our little deal, i don’t belong to you so you have no right to be mad at me for doing what any other single person does”

He bites down on his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled locks, messing them up instantly “God, you’re so fucking infuriating”

“I’m infuriating? You really are clueless to your own behaviour aren’t you? I just told you that i love you and you still haven’t told me if you feel the same. So i think that says it all, don’t you?” you stop yourself before continuing your rant, trying your hardest to prevent something worse slipping out. Right now in your state, you’re bound to say things that you don’t mean and will later regret. “you know what, i think i’m gonna take the work load home and complete it there. I’ll see you tomorrow, if i still have a job that is” you raise your brows at him, praying he doesn’t fire you for your attitude alone. But to your surprise he doesn’t.

“You really think that low of me? That i’d ever fire you because of what’s going on between us outside of this office? Wow” he leans back on his desk and his shoulders drop as he slumps over, looking down at his large calloused hands.

“It’s what i assumed would happen. You’re really gonna pretend like you don’t want me gone after today?”

“I don’t, believe it or not. But i have no time to deal with this discussion any longer, i have to leave early today” he says as he goes back to sitting behind his desk again and turning his computer back on “i don’t expect you to stay any longer, you can take that work home and finish it after your date” he mutters the last few words, pulling a face as if they make him sick.

“Really? We’re back to that again. God i’ve had it with you” you spit, biting down on the inside of your cheek before strutting over to the door but his hand stops you before you even get yours on the lock.

“Let me go Andy. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be stuck in a room with you” harsh, but in this moment it’s true. He’s done nothing but upset you all day long and even after your stupid decision to confess your love for him, he’s still doing it. You feel so defeated right now that you can’t take another second of his shit.

“Just one more thing and then you’re free to go and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. How many guys have you been on dates with since we started hooking up?” the desperation is evident in his eyes as they pierce into yours, searching again but this time for the answers before you can even open your mouth to give them to him “one. It was only one date on Saturday night with Ashley” and that’s the truth. You would never repeatedly date behind his back, this was a one off. A one off you’re regretting more as the seconds tick by.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you once more as he walks back over to his desk, pacing next to it and creating a draft. “Are you planning to see him again?” and he’s back with more questions. Why does he care so much?

He clearly doesn’t love you too otherwise he’d have said it once you confessed your feelings for him. Instead he left you looking like the biggest joke ever, the clown. And you feel so mortified for even believing he’d say it back.

Silly little Y/N, always catching feelings for men who don’t feel the same way back. You’re starting to feel as though you’ll never find someone.

But still his behaviour has you second guessing him. Maybe he does like you and that’s why he’s acting so hurt.

“Maybe i will, after all i am single. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it Andy?” you know full well that you’re pushing down hard on his buttons and you can see his cheeks turn red as his knuckles turn white from his tight grip on the side of the table.

“What you don’t like that? You don’t like the thought of me on top of Ashley, sinking down onto his cock as he touches my body and kis -”

Out of nowhere he interrupts you, slamming his fist down onto his desk “dammit, Y/N, what is it with you? Trying to make me jealous? Because i’ve had just about enough of you running your mouth” he pulls one of the chairs out, falling into it and spreading his legs “In fact. I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use? Huh? Maybe then you’ll shut up about that fucking douche bag” he is jealous, it’s so obvious to you now. He’s jealous of Ashley, jealous of the possibility of him spending time with you and he hates the thought of someone stealing you away from his tight grasp.

You can’t quite believe your ears or your eyes as he spreads his legs further, grazing his hand over the tent in his dress trousers and you can’t help the gulp that follows.

“Andy”

“Shhh, enough talking. I don’t have it in me anymore to argue with you, just come here” he insists but you stand your ground “no. i can’t keep going round and round in circles with you with absolutely no end in sight and with no hope for you to reciprocate how i feel. I’m sorry but i’m leaving”

Yet again, as expected, he clears his throat “fine. I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Like they always do around Andy, your legs turn to jelly and your eyes glaze over along with your better judgement being clouded by x rated thoughts of him railing you. The idea of him touching himself, working his hand expertly around his girthy cock causes arousal to flood your panties. How dare your body betray you like this. How dare your mind do the same. It’s not fair that every time you think you have the upper hand and the dominance, he comes along, snatching it away from you and proving you wrong.

You have absolutely no idea why you’re about to do what you’re about to do other than the fact that your body gravitates toward him like a magnet and it’s out of your control.

So without a second longer to fester or overthink, you spin around on your heels, charging towards him. Andy watches in awe as you drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. Once you free his cock from the confines of his black Calvin Kleins and into your small hand you spot the droplets of precum oozing out of the slit on his red bulbous head. You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them as you give the tip a couple of kitten licks before spitting all over his shaft and pumping him agonisingly slow.

“Fuck” he groans, rolling his eyes back as he grips the arm rests on the chair when you take him into your mouth “attagirl, sucking daddy’s cock like a fucking pro” his hands grip your face as he continues to watch you go to work, making a mess of yourself as you gag around him,

You don’t bother to issue a warning before taking all of him in your mouth, all the way down to his balls over and over. Making sure to hollow out your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of him as your hands grasp his balls. He starts bucking his hips up, attempting to fuck your mouth but you push him back down as a whole batch of unholy sounds that only you can elicit from him fall from his perfect lips, the sounds that are so loud and downright filthy that he has no option but to cover his mouth with his hand, biting down one of his thick digits to keep from exposing himself to his unsuspecting colleagues outside.

He soon pulls you off and you do so with a pop. He forces you to look up at him, his hand grabbing your cheeks and squeezing aggressively “no matter what undeserving boys you go out on a date with, no matter who flirts with you. You’re mine, always have been and always will be” he moves you to straddle his lap before he stands up to move the two of you to the couch.

“So no more dates princess, no more other guys. Because i’m the only one who gets to have you. Is that clear?” he cocks his brow up at you and you nod in response before mumbling a quick “yes” to satisfy his need for confirmation and assurance.

He lifts your knee length dress up to your stomach before he gets to touching you, squeezing at your ass cheeks a little too hard for your liking but you secretly love the way he gets so rough with your body, the way he smacks both ass cheeks repeatedly until you wince from how sore he’s made you.

“God, these clothes drive me crazy. Ever since that first day i met you, i’ve wanted you and when you started working here, i was so desperate to fuck you as you wore these stockings and these heels. You’re so fucking hot, princess and you have no idea how crazy you drive me when you bend over, shoving this ass in my face”

He starts to kiss your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses on the spot that has your back arching as you grip onto the back of his neck to steady yourself. He’s working you up all the more, turning the pool in your panties into a river. You’re dripping wet for him, desperate for him to just fuck your greedy pussy, desperate to clench down around his cock as he pounds into you.

“You’ve done it before Andy. Many times in fact”

His kisses halt as he smirks at you, that devilish look in his eyes. It always drives you wild “do it again, please, i need it” you beg pathetically and much to your surprise, he does exactly that. He takes your panties, tugging them to the side and playing with your soaked core a little as well as touching your bundle of nerves. You whine into the crook of his neck as you urge him to hurry before he eventually pulls his pants further down his legs to position himself at your entrance better. You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks himself to the hilt inside of you.

The way his pace continues to pick up until it’s rendering on animalistic is causing you to let out the loudest and sexiest sounds, it’s like music to his ears but he can’t have anyone hearing this. He flips the two of you over so that you’re below him, your legs pushed back to your head and you hold them in place. His hand covers your mouth as he slides himself back in, not making any effort to start slow “you’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are” he continues with rough snaps of his hips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon and causing the sweet music you make to vibrate onto his hand.

“Yeah, like this? Like the way i fuck this pretty little cunt?”

Thrust

“Bet his cock couldn’t even touch what mine does to you, the way you cry out for more and scream my name every time. The way i can make you cum with just my words and my fingers. God, such a dirty little girl for me, ain’t that right, princess?”

Satisfied hums follow his questions along with a frantic nod as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like a knot twisting and pulling, you’re so unbelievably close that you can almost taste the impending orgasm. “Don’t make a fucking sound when i move my hand, okay?” again you nod in response and he moves his hand, smiling down at you with adoration in his eyes before moving his hand to your aching sex. His fingers pressing down onto your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles on it and as soon as your walls flutter around him, he knows your close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? My filthy girl, go on baby, cream all over me”

Just like that, along with his permission you let everything go, allowing yourself to really feel the pleasure. Your walls flutter around him again and again and each time he pulls out of you he spots your juices as they cover his cock beautifully. The sight alone has his hips snapping harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off of the walls in his office and you accidentally let out a lewd moan that he swallows with his kiss as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer “cum for me daddy” your encouragement sends his entire world spinning as his thrusts stagger. 

His cock jolts inside of you, twitching like crazy before his cream fills you up deliciously, painting your walls in thick ropes. You arch your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You need to feel his lips on yours.

He kisses you so hard that your teeth clash, making the two of you chuckle into each others mouths before attempting again. This time his tongue forces it’s way past your lips, battling with yours as he rides the two of you through your dramatic and intense highs.

Once his hips still and he pulls out, he flops down next to you. The two of you are nothing but a panting mess. Chests rising and falling along with your erratic heart beats.

“I love you too” he confesses, making you gasp as you turn your head to look at his spent body, the way his eyes meet yours and tears pool in them has your eyes doing the same.

“Andy”

“I’m not finished. I’ve felt this connection with you since the day i first met you, it caught me completely off guard. When we made the deal for it to be just friends, i was upset. I wanted a lot more but i know i wasn’t ready just yet. But the way you’d draw out laughter from me that no one else has ever been able to and the way you’d boss me around only made my feelings grow. Then we fucked and it was like confirmation to me that i was well and truly screwed. But i kept coming back for more because it was like an addiction, i had to have you in any way that was possible and if sex was the only way then i’d have stayed single forever just to keep you close. I’d have done anything to be able to hold your body and kiss your neck and make you feel good. If doing that as just your fuck buddy was the only way then so be it. But i got to a point where just fucking you wasn’t enough. I wanted something real with you. So on Saturday-” before he can even finish you sigh, sitting up.

“You came to tell me how you felt? Andy, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you don’t know how to feel right now. You’re so consumed by emotions that your head is spinning. One one hand you’re angry, annoyed and upset that he kept this from you and didn’t just tell you he felt the same when you confessed how you felt. But then on the other hand you’re relieved and happy that he does feel the same. This was never some unrequited love, it’s always been reciprocated and real. 

All the lingering stares you’d catch, all of the compliments thrown your way and the insults hurled at random guys who’d ogle you whenever you were out in public with him or whenever another guy at work would take an interest.

“I saw you with that guy Y/N and i broke down. Then today, i expected you to come in and talk to me about it but instead you sat down at your desk, acted normal and didn’t say a word. I was hurt that you’d keep this from me. I know we both felt these things and i know both of us were unaware of the feelings being reciprocated but you still didn’t tell me you’d even thought about seeing other people and i guess i just expected more from you, more honesty”

He’s right. You don’t have it in you to argue because he’s right. He might have had his reasons for hiding his true feelings but you hid your date from him and that’s a lot worse. How was he supposed to just come out with it when all he could think of was you with Ashley.

“You’re right. I was wrong, i didn’t even think about the effect it would have and i was selfish. To tell you the truth i only went out with that guy because i was trying to move on from you, i didn’t want to keep feeling this strongly with no possibility of you feeling the same so i did the first thing i knew to do, date some other guy”

Andy can’t say he isn’t relieved to hear you admit that preppy college boy means nothing to you but it’s bitter sweet, you saying that you thought your feelings were one sided so you wanted to move on to avoid getting hurt further makes him hurt too. You’ve always meant more to him than just some friendship or some steamy sex. You’re the first woman he’s even looked twice at since Laurie and that means a whole lot more than you’ll ever know or understand.

“So what now?” you ask, puppy dog eyes showing as you await his response.

“I know it’s a bit backwards but how about a date tomorrow?”

God, he really is so handsome, so sweet. His deep and raspy chuckles make you giggle along with him as you straddle him once again, crashing your lips to his, his beard scratching at your face just the way you like.

He pulls away for a second “is that a yes?” once more you shake your head, tutting at him “a thousand times yes, Mr Barber. Yes i’ll go out with you” he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you flush against his suit clad torso, kissing you eagerly and smiling into it. He finally got the girl.

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

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LMK if you want to be added to any of my tag lists...

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi Hi!!!! So I've been following your account for a little while now and I love every single comedy bomb you drop on what you write so I was wondering....

How would the boys react to their S/O who is usually reserved when at the lair, doing a full 180 when at April's? Like they could be April's roommate or something?....

Like crackhead energy, dishing out memes and vines and literally having a duel with Casey about leftovers in the fridge?... Yeah I know it's very specific 💀

I don't know.....the idea just popped into my head but I lack the creativity and comedy skills for that...so I was wondering if you could do something with this?.....

It's totally fine, if not 😁😁

This is... 100% me. I love this and I'm gonna pour my soul into it. Also I have started mentally referring to these as comedy bombs and I refuse to stop.

Also, I hope you don't mind that I wrote these in oneshot form instead of bullet points. It just made more sense for my brain.

TMNT Oneshots

The boys with a partner whose reserved at the lair but an absolute crack gremlin at home 🤣

Donatello

Donnie may have been a man of science, all logic and facts and numbers and things. But he absolutely believed that everyone had three separate faces, you were direct proof of that theory. While the purple terrapin had known you for nearly a year you’d only started dating a month ago and it shocked him that he was still uncovering new things about you. He loved it, sure, but it had a tendency to give him figurative whiplash.

He’d always known you to be calm and collected, maybe even a bit shy. He swore you’d explode if more than one person tried to talk to you at the same time. So it wasn’t an over exaggeration for him to say that your behavior at home nearly made him break his neck.

He was only there to help April fix a bug in her laptop and to confirm your next date, he was excited to see you since you’d had no contact in person for a week because of your schedules. Just lots of phone calls and exchanged text messages. You both missed each other like crazy and your roommate had neglected to inform you that your boyfriend was coming over.

Hers was already there and he was driving you up the wall, you’d never actually thought about committing a murder but Casey was pushing you very close to the edge of snapping. And he might as well have crane-kicked you off your cliff of patience and into the rushing river of “you little fucking shit I’m gonna piss on your grave” below. You hadn’t even heard Donnie come in through the window much less his conversation with April over her computer.

All you knew was that Casey had come parading into your room like a tyrant eating the leftovers in the fridge that you had specifically put your name on. That did it. Your eyes had skimmed over the top of your textbook to meet the asshole in front of you.

“Casey?”

He couldn’t speak through the mouthful he was trying to chew and grunted in pathetic response.

“Is that my cheeseburger?”

You’d never seen a living person imitate a pug’s facial structure so well, the man’s eyes bugged out of his head and he tossed the takeout box on your desk before turning and bolting out of your room. You followed about two steps behind with a bottle of shampoo in your hand. No, you weren’t entirely sure where you’d grabbed it from, all you knew was that it was your weapon. And it quickly became a very messy problem when it missed your target (Casey’s head) and slammed into the wall, exploding on impact.

You didn’t think you’d thrown it that hard.

“April April help help help helpppppppppppppp-'' The two on the couch had looked up during the chase throughout the apartment, Donnie was mostly curious at what Casey was screaming about. Not a lot usually made the guy make that noise. He was then distracted by April grabbing the laptop and passing it to him, she then clambered over his legs to sit behind him.

“YOU UGLY ASS CROISSANT! FUCKING PANINI HEAD- IT HAD MY NAME ON IT YOU DAFT AVACADO!”

Your boyfriend almost went vertical upon watching you tackle Casey to the floor and knee him in the groin. You shook the terrified man under you and slammed him a little harder into the rug.

“Touch my shit again and I’m gonna make the beaches of Normandy look like a goddamn family vacation.”

Then you climbed off of him and stood, brushing your disheveled t-shirt off with a huff. Donnie caught your attention and you raised your head to grin excitedly at him.

“Hi Dove! April didn’t tell me you were coming over,” you practically skipped over to the couch to peck him on the cheek, “I missed ya, are we still on for Saturday?”

He nodded in complete shock, his gaze flitting from you to Casey, who was still wheezing on the floor and clutching his dick.

“Uhhh yeah! Yeah, yep, Still good for Saturday. Uhm, completely unrelated question, where the hell did you learn to grapple like that?”

You shrugged absentmindedly, already walking to the hall closet to grab cleaning supplies for the puddle of shampoo in the walkway.

“Just kinda picked it up I guess? I’ve watched you guys train enough.”

Leonardo

See, Leo had always known that you were hiding something from him. Be it your true personality or some deep dark secret. He wasn’t really in a rush to find out, you’d tell him when you were ready. The leader enjoyed your quiet disposition anyways, you gave good advice and liked to meditate with him, what more could he ask for? What more could he want?

Well, maybe if you got along better with his family, although he supposed that wasn’t your fault, you always had been a bit shy. Even six months into your relationship with him, Leo only hoped that you’d warm up to his brothers eventually. You seemed to do alright with Splinter, that was a plus for the situation. It wasn’t that you were mean or impolite to the others, you were just… avoidant. Distant, quiet, whatever word you wanted to use. You just didn’t seem comfortable at the lair.

He was excited that April had asked to host a game night though, maybe you’d come out of your shell (haha, see what I did there?) and socialize, even for a little bit. They’d all shown up a few minutes early to make sure April didn’t need help with anything, she’d assured them that everything was handled and made sure to inform Leo that you would be back shortly with Casey from your snack run. Mikey had joked that you’d ditched the get together to avoid them but they all knew it ran the possibility of not being a joke.

You unlocked the door and held it open so Casey could get inside without tripping himself before entering yourself and kicking your shoes off. Leo looked up to meet your eyes and you sent him a wild grin, your entire face lit up with amusement.

“Hi babes! Are you ready to get your ass kicked at Monopoly?”

All the poor turtle could do was nod.

“Good. I did grab drinks by the way, April there should be a mixer in the cooler bag, Donnie there’s some of that lemon lime stuff that you said you wanted to try, Mikey, orange crush as usual, Raph I tried to go for Dr. Pepper but they were out so I figured that root beer was a safe second. And Leo they had a new boba flavor that you haven’t had yet so I grabbed one. If you don’t like it then you can have mine, I just have the peach royal.”

Beverages were tossed and they were lucky that their surprise didn’t throw off their catching skills. You and April shared a quick word in the kitchen as you took your coat off and ran a hand through your hair.

After some arguments team captains were decided and Donnie nearly had a heart attack when you picked him instead of Leo or either of your friends. He even went so far as to point at himself to make sure you weren’t joking. You declared that while you loved your boyfriend his morals were too strong to be competitive, Donnie’s were not, he said so himself.

They were all surprised that you’d remembered that conversation.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game that things started getting heated, you and Mikey were nearly jumping across the table at each other. And it visibly took all of your strength to not burst out laughing when he started yelling.

"YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS IS CHEATING! YOU'RE CHEATING! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!"

April and Casey were snorting into their arms as you got to your feet and walked towards the kitchen, making a poor attempt at climbing the appliance.

"THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!"

Raphael

Raph had always been under the impression that you were never really 100% yourself around him, he knew for a fact that you weren’t when you stayed over. He’d never seen someone so aggressively avoid someone, except himself of course. You were his partner of almost a year and it seemed like you were never going to let your true self shine. However you did seem to lighten up when you were alone with him, he supposed that was normal, but you may as well have been a pair of old earbuds that only work when you held them a certain way at the lair.

He honestly hadn’t expected that to change tonight, not given the text that Casey had sent him informing him of April’s recent breakup with whatever guy she’d been dating. So when he climbed in through the window and saw both you and Casey sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom he really didn’t think that the words out of your mouth would be-

“April you’ve got another twenty minutes of this then I’m ripping the door off the hinges!”

Casey shot you a look and you shrugged nonchalantly before getting to your feet and walking over to your confused boyfriend.

“Hey, sorry about this. Casey only texted you as a last resort if he needed someone to stop me from tearing the door off.”

Raph found that peculiar, “Uh, couldn’t he do it himself?”

The man in question looked up from his spot on the floor.

“Nah dude, they’re crazy. Last time I tried stopping them from doing something they nearly knocked my damn tooth out while screaming, and I quote, “If you put your hands on me I’m gonna fucking rip your face off” and quite frankly I don’t have the balls to test that.”

“No no dude, that’s valid. I wouldn’t either. Babe, why are you so-”

You raised an eyebrow at him over a glass of water, “Violent? I’m not Raph. These two just have little bitch feelings.”

He found it hard not to laugh at that and fifteen minutes later when you left his side to approach the door again it sent him reeling.

“This shit’s temporary April. You’ve got nice teeth and a fat ass, stuff your feelings down!”

Michelangelo

There would never be a time where Mikey wasn’t a prankster with you, it was just simply non-negotiable. You were cool with that and he was aware, he was also aware that no pranks were to be pulled at the lair. So he’d reign it in while you visited, just for a short while. But you’d never said anything about the apartment and Mikey was a creature of opportunity.

Unfortunately Leo talked him out of it and forced him not to pull anything while they visited. The leader was already on edge so when he walked in with the others following closely behind you were the first person to see him. Your eyes caught Mikey’s instantly and you might as well have been telepathic at that moment. But you took one look at Leo’s solid, angry face and seized your moment.

They weren’t at all ready for the scream.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ DOG BITCH!”

And they also weren’t ready for Mikey’s response of, “It don’t bite.”

And Leo was not ready for the pillow that got whipped at his face at incredibly high speed.

“YES IT DO-”

So when Leo finally realized that they were yelling at him his mood did not improve at all and in fact declined sharply into a pit of “oh fuck”. And that was how you ended up on Mikey’s shoulder getting dragged away from any sort of repercussion for your actions.

These got a little short near the end but I hope you like 'em and I hope I was able to capture what you had in mind! 😁

-Mars 🌠

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Short! Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I wrote this story on Wattpad (@Red_scarfed_person) and decided to post it here lol. If you saw this on Wattpad and don't believe me, you can go to my page on Wattpad and see that in my Messages, I talk about having a Tumblr account and left my Tumblr username there :)

And rereading my old story scared me. If you're here expecting a violent, fearful story, please don't read this. This is full of the sarcasm someone who lacks sleep can muster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah yes. Y/N's favorite part of the day. Trying to cook. Was that sarcasm? Partially.

Y/N loved cooking; it was so satisfying to see people enjoy her food. But the part she hated was trying to reach the goDDAMN bowls and ingredients from the cabinets. Why did the construction workers have to put them 17 light years high?

Of course, it wasn't the construction workers' fault. It's just that Y/N is the size of a fifth grader. 4'6" tall. What makes it harder to live being so short? Living with someone who's 6'7."

You see, a while ago, there was a certain incident...

A tall male in a white mask and blue jumpsuit, brown hair and blue eyes, found himself in the home of another. He silently panted in his mask, in pain even if he wouldn't show it. Rolling up his sleeves and pulling up the bottom of his shirt, Michael started checking for severe wounds.

"Damn, you're hot..." Some short woman mumbled, turning on the kitchen light. Michael perked up, pulling his shirt back down and reaching for his knife.

"Oh, damn, wrong time to speak up? Sorry," Y/N said, not even knowing if she was being sarcastic in that sentence or not. Mainly since author-san doesn't know if their being sarcastic or not. Anyway--

Michael started walking towards her with the knife, not running since we all know that Michael can walk and still win Olympic runs. Y/N just grabbed a candy bar in her cabinet, opening it and taking a bit.

Michael was confused as hell. As a result, he stopped walking and lowered the knife. "So, you're not gonna kill me? That sucks since my dept is unbelievably high." Michael blinked quickly in confusion, thinking, then it might not be too high with short you are.

Y/N sighed, then gasped. "Oh wait! You're that boogeyman guy who everyone is scared of!" Y/N said with a small smile. She wasn't sadistic or anything, but she was sorta excited to see him.

Michael just stood there, not even knowing how to react for the first time in his life. Y/N then sighed again, throwing away the wrapper to the candy bar and shrugging. "If you decide to kill me later, stab my neck. It's very sensitive. Oh and my room is down the hall, to the left. And my couch is comfortable if you wanna sleep there."

And with those last words, Y/N walked to her room, closing the door behind her and getting it bed. Leaving a confused serial killer.

The next morning, Y/N yawned as she walked out of her bedroom and to the kitchen. Her kitchen and living room was one large room, the kitchen set to the right near the front door, and the living room on the other side of the room.

Between them is a hallway that leads to a bedroom and bathroom. It was a two story house. The top two floors had an office room, another bathroom, and a storage room.

Anyway, Y/N rubbed sleep from her eyes as she walked over to the stove and grabbing a pan. She also pulled out milk, pepper, salt and eggs and set them ok the counter. But now she needed a bowl to even put those in.

Michael heard noise from the kitchen which resulted in him waking up. He slowly sat up on the couch, turning to face Y/N. He got up and walked towards her.

"Why is this so high up," Y/N mumbled to herself as she tried to reach a bowl from a cabinet. She couldn't even reach the handle on the cabinet. Growling in frustration, Y/N gave into defeat.

But then comes Michael opening the cabinet for her, making her help and turn around. "W-Who the hell are you!" Y/N shrieked, blushing a bit. I mean, here she is, a tiny gal blocked in the corner of the kitchen by a tall, mascular guy.

Memories came flooding back and Y/N remembered who he was. "Ooooh, so you're that boogeyman guy? I remember now...wait... I let a damn serial killer into my house!?" Y/N shrieked again as Michael set down the bowl, turning on the stove.

As Y/N went through her epiphany, Michael actually started to cook. It wasn't until he was done did Y/N snap out of it. He set out two plates and cups, putting the scrambled eggs on them and filling the cups with F/D.

"W-Wait...so you aren't going to kill me? You're really gonna..." Y/N mumbled as Michael grabbed a nearby receipt and pen. He wrote down something, making Y/N shush and lean over at what he's writing.

"My name is Michael. I'm not planning on hurting you anytime soon. What is your name?" it read. Y/N was confused as hell now. Why would he spare her? What is so special about her? I should just be grateful, Y/N thought.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N..." Y/N said, looking up at Michael. She blushed a bit, making eye contact. Michael grabbed a plate and cup and handed it to her, then grabbed his own and sat down at the small diner table. Well, way to go from one thing to another, Y/N thought as she sat down next to him.

As much as it confused her, Y/N still wasn't sure how she was still alive. But she was grateful she was, anyway. She always the tall male attractive, but never had feelings for him until recently.

Even if he'd refuse to get things for her that were high up, give her looks that just screamed out about her being short, and wrote down short on sticky notes and put them everywhere, she fell for him. What a lovely crush.

"Why the hell are the damn cabinets 17 light years high," Y/N growled as she climbed on the counter. Just as she was about to grab a bowl, she yelped when large arms wrapped around her an pulled her down carefully.

"Michael! Hey, let go!" Y/N yelled, trying to be serious despite how much she wanted to smile and laugh. Michael shook his head, hugging her tighter.

Despite how badly be wanted to tease her about her height, he kept quiet of course. He didn't just want a hug, either, he wanted to pull her down so she'd have to struggle to get back on the counter again. As said before, what a lovely crush.

Michael eventually pulled away, taking a couple steps back. Y/N looked over at him with a sour-sweet look, blushing a bit. She crossed her arms, "so, was that all you wanted?" Yeah, is that all you wanted, baka? ≧n≦

Michael shook his head, pointing to the bathroom. Y/N raised a brow. "What?" She asked, thinking for a moment. "You need a towel or something?" Michael then nodded.

Y/N smiled a bit, nodding. She walked to her room, Michael following until they reached the door. Grabbing a towel, Y/N walked back over to him and handed it. "It might be a bit small for a giant such as yourself, but here."

Michael nodded, then walked towards the bathroom and went inside. Y/N smiled a bit, thinking to herself about what he'd look like once he got out. It made her cheeks heat up and her heart beat a bit faster.

And about 15 minutes later, Y/N was back in the living room, watching TV. "C'mon, Saitama, beat the hell outta them..." Y/N mumbled under her breath, watching an intense fighting scene.

Y/N perked when she heard the bathroom door open and looked over. Long story short about that was happening in her mind: bad idea.

"MMMM-" Y/N screamed muffledly, having covered her mouth with a pillow that moment. Her face was red, blushing hard from the sight. The towel covered just enough on Michael to where nothing was shown, but he was h o t. Even the scars on him weren't seen as disturbing or anything.

Michael cocked his head, holding his clothes in his hands. He ignored Y/N's reaction to seeing him, since he only cared about his jumpsuit being cleaned. Of course he would act like that--

Y/N, already knowing what Michael wanted, slowly stood up and walked over. She was figitting, clearly still flustered as she grabbed his clothes. "I-I'll just, uh, go wash these..." She mumbled as she walked passed him quickly, to the washing machine and dryer.

Michael blinked a couple times, thinking about the hell he's supposed to where for the time being. Just the towel?

About five minutes passed, Michael was still waiting next to the bathroom for Y/N to come back. He just wanted something to c h a n g e i n t o.

Alas, the moment finally came. Y/N walked back out after almost crying to herself in the laundry room. Typing this out now made me realize I'm making it sound like Y/N was-- well, if you know, you know. But no, that wasn't happening. Our child, Y/N, was just flustered, ok? Yes, our child. I care about you so much reader and I love your OC even though idfk what they look like. They're a beautiful specimen. :):):):):):) Anyway, back to the story.

"H-Hey," Y/N stuttered as she walked out, waving as Michael. Michael, who kept his mask on by the way, just rolled his eyes from inside the mask, handing her a piece of paper. It said that he needed a change of clothes, to which Y/N just chuckled about. "I-I mean...Do you reallllyyy? Can't you just stick with that? You don't look too bad in it, heh heh."

Michael have her a dull look from under his mask, making Y/N sigh. "Fine, whatever. But let's be honest, I'm not gonna have anything that fits you. You should just stick with that," she said, shrugging and pretending to calm about seeing him like that. She was clearly in a flirty mood, which she sometimes gets like when she wants to annoy Michael.

He likes to out sticky notes everywhere with the word short on it, pull her off counters so she has a harder time getting stuff from cabinets, and put his hand above her head as if he was saying, "You're not tall enough to do ____." So it's only normal she would flirt to get him back. But mayyybe acting like that isn't a good decision on her part.

Michael sighed silently, grabbing Y/N"s wrist softly. "Wha--" Y/N cut herself off when Michael pulled her close, leaning down to get his face close to her's. Then, for the very first time in years, Michael spoke.

"Whatever makes you happier~" Michael whispered in her ear; his voice was low and husky. Y/N turned red immediately, incapable of even coming up with a response. Hold on- a tall, mysterious guy with a good figure pulled me close and now can speak, in a hot goddamn voice at that, Y/N thought.

Michael caressed her cheek, pulling away. Y/N had her mouth slightly parted, her eyes widened. "Yo...You can..." Y/N stuttered, not even able to come up with a sentence. So instead, she just nodded slowly, slowly walking into her room and gesturing for him to follow. Michael smiled proudly under his mask, following her.

Yes, what he did was small but Y/N was the kind of person to be a bit extra about these things. Of course it affected her. Anyway, about five minutes later, Y/N couldn't find anything for him to wear other than a large hoodie and very oversized sweatpants she got from a Plot Convenience Sale, which was kinda tight for him. But at least she had a use for the sweatpants, since that was kinda just in her closet.

Y/N took a deep breath once Michael was done changing, coming out of her room. Of course, she left the room when he got changed so don't think dirty, precious readers. Y/N looked over, smiling a bit with heated cheeks at Michael. The small moment from earlier was still bothering her.

"Does it fit?" she asked, raising a brow. Michael nodded, putting his hands in the hoodie pockets. "That's good," Y/N mumbled, staring at the ground awkwardly. A couple moments of silence later, Michael smiled from under his mask, taking it off while Y/N was too busy being lost in a daydream to notice.

"Thank you," Michael whispered as her kissed her forehead, making Y/N flinch. Because Michael appears to be as fast as light, he was already putting his mask on by the time Y/N looked up. Her face was red again, but even worse than before.

"M-Michael, did you just--" Michael was already walking away, brushing her off. "Hey, listen to me!" Y/N yelled as she caught up to him. Like hell that was going to be a one time thing, Y/N thought. I'm going to see his face eventually, she promised herself.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Xuexiao Goes to the DMV

Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen go to the DMV (aka Where Hope Goes To Die) and share a kiss.

That’s it. That’s the fic.

Xuexiao - T (just for some cursing) - Read on AO3!

*

“If you hear about someone going berserk in a DMV on the news, that’ll be me,” the mechanical text-to-speech voice reads aloud, and Xiao Xingchen turns to Xue Yang questioningly.

Xue Yang reaches over and turns the volume down on Xingchen’s phone. “Meant to send that to A-Qing.”

“Are we going to be escorted out? Again?”

Xue Yang grins and looks around the room. They’ve already been at the DMV for over an hour. Dozens of people are draped limply over the hard orange seats, eyes glazed, going down for the third time in a sea of government bureaucracy.

“Ticket 4352, now being served at window thirty-three,” announces the robotic voice over the loudspeaker.

“It would take an alien invasion to wake these people up,” Xue Yang says as a man in overalls shuffles past. “You should see these people. This must be what a lobotomy post-op recovery room looks like.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like the world’s most incompetent deli, filled with zombie customers waiting to eat the brains of whatever the opposite of employee of the month is. Well, ‘brains.’ They work at the DMV, after all.”

Xiao Xingchen adjusts his sunglasses. “Let's not be mean.”

“And we can all hear you,” adds a woman on his left. “Not that it made much sense.”

Xue Yang makes a face at her and turns back to Xingchen. “If they make me come back a third time, I’m going to go postal. You know, going postal should be called ‘going DMV.’ It’s catchier, for one thing, and I’ve never so much as stepped foot in a post office—”

“I’m keeping you far away from post offices. Those poor people have suffered enough.”

“How so?”

“Well, there must be a reason they go postal, right?”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “If the post office has the same taste in music as the DMV, I don’t blame them. Who picked this station? If it’s not Justin Bieber it’s whoever inflicted ‘Kiss Me Through the Phone’ on the world. I’d like to do something to them through the phone, and it won’t be a kiss, I can tell you that much.”

Xiao Xingchen takes a Snickers bar out of the fanny pack Xue Yang has vainly begged him not to wear. “According to the television commercials, this will improve your mood.”

“My mood?” Xue Yang takes a bite. “If I have to hear ‘Baby’ one more time—”

“Ticket 9753, now being served at window fourteen.”

“ ‘Served.’ Ha. As if.”

Xiao Xingchen feels around for another Snickers bar but comes up empty. He should have planned this better. He’d sensed Xue Yang’s mood coming on last night as Xue Yang went through his documents. He’d been cheerful enough until he found his birth certificate in the bundle of papers he’d been given after leaving his last group home.

Then he’d grown strangely quiet, and wandered aimlessly around their apartment for an hour, carrying his phone around with him and switching between a half-dozen different YouTube videos before deciding to bake brownies at 1am and burning them when he got distracted playing video games. He wasn’t paying much attention to the video game, either, going by his cursing as he got repeatedly blown up by what Xingchen suspects was a twelve-year old somewhere in Japan, and eventually gave that up to go take apart their toaster in the interest of “fixing” it.

Now he sits beside Xingchen, jiggling his leg. Xiao Xingchen wants to ask him about his birth certificate, but he hadn't dared to last night, and doesn’t dare now.

“Ticket 9755, now being served at Window 26.”

“Weren’t you 9754?” he asks Xue Yang.

“Oh, crap—” Xue Yang jumps to his feet and rushes to Window 26, brushing past a mohawked man holding a ticket marked 9755. “I’m 9754.”

The woman behind the glass may as well have been carved from wood. “You missed your number.”

“There was no announcement!”

“Or your number isn’t working. It’s not showing up on my computer.”

“What the hell does that mean? I’m on the screen! Look!” Xue Yang jabs a finger at the screen above the booth. At the bottom of the list it reads Ticket 9754 – Window 26. “9754! Window 26! All you need to do is take my picture—”

“Get back in line. Get a new ticket. Window 13.”

“Get back in line?” He looks over at the line for Window 13. It wraps around the entire room. “I already have a number! I’m on the screen!”

“Back. In. Line.”

“Just take the damn photo—”

Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll get back in line.”

“Like hell we will! I’ve been here since 5 o’clock—I made an appointment! I even brought my own pen! You ever watch Monsters Inc.? You know Roz? Are you her evil older sister? Because you look exactly like—”

“Back of the line.”

“Younger sister, then. Happy?”

The woman doesn’t bother shrugging. “You’re blocking traffic.”

Xingchen begins to move, heading in the wrong direction. Xue Yang has no choice but to follow or else let him walk into a column plastered with posters emblazoned with, Make your visit easy - download the forms at dmv.gov! , Streamline your visit - make an appointment online today!, and We’re here to help!

“Let’s just go home,” says Xue Yang. “The gray, water stained walls are starting to close in. At any second I expect a giant ball to roll towards us. Well, wrong movie—whatever. I’m sick of this place. It’s cursed.”

“We’re just going to have to come back, and you’ll have wasted the hour we already spent here.”

Xue Yang groans and gets in line behind a woman with three small screaming children. “This whole thing is stupid. We can barely afford rent, let alone a car."

"We will, one day. Besides, it's good to have a license."

"We’ll just take trains and buses everywhere, or you can learn to drive. We'll fudge the vision test."

Xingchen laughs. Xue Yang relaxes slightly at the sound. After a moment, Xingchen slips his hand in his. He’s not one for public displays of affection, but there’s an edge in Xue Yang’s voice that has nothing to do with his return to Window 13.

Xue Yang’s hand tightens in his, and Xingchen rubs it reassuringly with his thumb.

“You again?” says the woman at Window 13 when they finally make it there, twenty minutes later.

“That power-mad dictator at Window 26 wouldn’t take my picture.”

The woman tilts her head at Xue Yang. “She wouldn’t?”

Xue Yang tilts his head back at her, as if to say, I know! Who wouldn’t want to photograph me ?

She smiles, a synthetic smile that reminds Xue Yang of his friend Lan Xichen’s dimpled little fiance. “Strange.”

“ ‘Strange’? I knew she could have just done it had she wanted to—”

The woman blinks at him, her smile growing faker by the minute. “I’m sure what she told you was accurate.”

“Sure, and there is no war in Ba-Sing-Se—”

Xiao Xingchen squeezes his hand, and Xue Yang stops talking and passes her his form. She stamps it a second time and hands him another ticket.

He and Xingchen return to the waiting area. Xue Yang puts his boots up on the seat next to him, resting his head on Xingchen’s shoulder.

“Describe the room to me again,” Xingchen says, trying to distract him from his brooding and, with any luck, keep him from taking out his Swiss army knife and carving his initials into the seat and get them kicked out again. Xue Yang has a talent for describing things, and Xingchen has been trying to encourage him to start writing.

Xue Yang begins to play with his long sleek ponytail. “Purgatory’s antechamber. Humanity’s lost-and-found. A void where time has no meaning. Pit of despair and industrial cleaner.”

Xingchen chuckles, making sure it’s loud enough for Xue Yang to hear.

“If their posters were honest, they’d all be in Comic Sans font, with things like, Where hope goes to die; This is your home now; Nothing escapes our pull, not even time; Human sacrifices while you wait—”

“Human sacrifices?”

"Yeah, I think so."

A crackle of static over the speaker as a new song comes on. “You know you love me, I know you care...Just shout whenever and I'll be there….”

Xue Yang starts up violently, but Xiao Xingchen gently pulls him back down beside him. “Some kind of cannibal conspiracy?” he asks, hoping Xue Yang’s knife has remained in his pocket and is not seconds away from being embedded in a blaring loudspeaker.

Xue Yang settles back against his shoulder. “I’m positive Overalls Guy never returned from Window 17. He’s probably in the office barbecue pit.”

“This must go all the way to the top. Shift supervisor too, I’d guess.”

“Baby, baby, baby oh….Like baby, baby, baby no….”

Xue Yang stops playing with his hair and starts picking at his black nail polish. He’s feeling a bit better, Xingchen’s shoulder warm and solid. “I swear that Roz lady put a curse on me. They all probably dance in a circle around a stack of burning Social Security cards every night, chanting.” He squirms, suddenly bored. “You got any more food? I’m starving.”

Xingchen rummages in his fanny pack. “Just a burned brownie.”

“I swear I set a timer!"

The timer had gone off while Xingchen was in the shower last night. Xue Yang had simply ignored it, too absorbed in trying to virtually blow up his twelve-year-old nemesis. He tends to ignore timers while cooking, usually followed by a mad rush to the kitchen to salvage dinner. “You know dinner is ready when the smoke detector goes off,” he likes to say.

Xue Yang sniffs the crumpled foil surrounding the charred black brownie chunk. “Is this the same foil I wrapped your tuna sandwich in yesterday?”

“We only have one earth!”

“Xingchen, I swear—” Xue Yang stops, rolling his eyes fondly. He’s never met anyone who can be so annoying and endearing at the same time.

Xingchen takes the brownie back. “I'll eat it. I like the burned bits.”

"It's all burned bits."

"Exactly. Perfect."

“She knows she's got me dazing, 'cause she was so amazin'....And now my heart is breakin', but I just keep on sayin'....”

“Who wrote this? I swear I won’t hurt them. I just want their address.”

Xingchen knows he shouldn’t laugh at that, but he can’t help it.

They sit there for another half hour, talking. Xue Yang has succeeded in denuding the nails of his left hand when his number is finally called. He gets his photo taken by a man with glazed eyes and no chin, and is shuffled off to the next waiting area.

“They refused to show me my photo,” he says as they settle back down. “I swear the camera stole my soul and is using it to power the fluorescent lights. I feel at peace now. Kind of floating.” He discovers a piece of gum in his jeans pocket and begins to loudly blow bubbles, making full eye contact with the annoyed Bluetooth Guy and irritated Woman With Facial Tattoo Of Bugs Bunny. “I am one with the DMV demigods, part of something larger than myself.”

“Like joining the army.”

“Or drowning in the ocean.” He lays down with his head in Xingchen’s lap, boots on the edge of Bluetooth Guy’s seat. “Why does your fanny pack smell like patchouli? Have you been burning weird hippie incense again? You promised you’d stop after you set fire to your curtains.”

Xingchen would rather Xue Yang didn’t semi-cuddle him in public, but Xue Yang’s energy is calmer when he’s touching Xingchen, and he lets him stay. “It’s that new candle you bought me, remember?”

“Right. Bought you.”

“What do you—”

“I thought it was peppermint.”

Xingchen bites his lip. Xue Yang is…well, he can read well enough to pass a driving test, but his education was…slipshod at best. Next on Xingchen’s list is encouraging Xue Yang to get his GED.

“You smell like a music festival,” says Xue Yang. “I must have grabbed the wrong one in the store. I sniffed all of them. My picture is probably hanging beside the register of every Bath & Body Works in town: ‘Beware the Candle Perv’—”

“At least someone was willing to take your picture.”

Xue Yang laughs. Xingchen rests a hand on his chest, heedless of the people around them. He likes how Xue Yang feels when he laughs, his whole body shaking, making no attempt to hide his feelings. Xue Yang makes him laugh so often, it’s a special joy for him to return the favor.

They’ve been there almost two and a half hours when Xue Yang’s number is finally called. As if the DMV curse is kicking in again, the loudspeakers creep up another few decibels.

“Like baby, baby, baby no, like baby, baby, baby oh, thought you'd always be mine, mine….”

“Xue Yang—” Xingchen starts before Xue Yang can say anything.

“I know, I know. This is penance for my putting that egg in Song Lan’s shoe last week. The DMV knows all. The DMV was here before us, and will be here after we are gone. The DMV—”

“—The DMV will make us wait in line again, if we don’t hurry.”

Together they go to Window 10, where a drab little man sifts through Xue Yang’s documents. “Fifties, balding, completely dead inside,” Xue Yang whispers to Xingchen.

“I’m thirty-nine,” says the man in a monotone, not looking up, “and you’re missing a birth certificate. And what’s this stain on your Social Security card?”

“Definitely not blood.”

The man stares at him with eyes that, had his life force not already been sucked out of Xue Yang by an afternoon at the DMV, would have done the job. “Current passport, or birth certificate.”

Xue Yang hesitates, then slips a folded piece of pink paper under the glass partition.

The man unfolds it with the sterling speed of a drugged snail and spreads it over the counter. He lines up Xue Yang’s Social Security card, bank statement, and birth certificate, and examines them line by line as if he’s a Bletchley Circle analyst and Xue Yang’s documents are intercepted enemy transmissions.

He looks up at Xue Yang. “Is this a valid birth certificate? There are no parent names listed, and the date of birth has an asterisk—”

“I know what it has!”

“What’s your date of birth?” The man slowly pushes his chair back. “I’m going to have to get a supervisor—”

Xue Yang slams the counter. Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. It’s a miracle Xue Yang’s knife isn’t out. “Don’t you fucking dare! This is what they do when—just Google it, okay? I don’t know what day I was born, they just put whatever date they thought was accurate—”

Xingchen swallows hard.

He had known Xue Yang had grown up in foster care, but had assumed he had been given up by his parents as a child when they could no longer take care of him.

Not—not abandoned as an infant—

“And change the fucking station!” Xue Yang adds. “If I have to hear that stupid fucking song one more time I will go fucking berserk —”

The man’s dead-eyed stare intensifies. “Sign here,” he says after a moment, pushing a slip of paper at Xue Yang.

“You want my love, you want my heart….And we will never, ever, ever be apart…”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Xingchen asks as they step outside. The words sound hollow, and he wishes he had simply remained silent.

Xue Yang takes a deep breath. It’s almost cool out, a welcome change from the week’s heat. “Well, we escaped. Now we just have to get help for the others. Or do we abandon them to their fates? I vote we abandon them. You should have seen some of the looks I got. It’s like they never saw someone threaten a DMV employee before, something I’m willing to bet happens a dozen times an hour.”

Xingchen takes his arm as he begins to walk. It’s easier than using his stick in the crowded city. “Xue Yang…”

Xue Yang’s muscles tense beneath his arm. “What?”

“Nothing.” He bites his lip. He’ll have Xue Yang feeling better soon enough. “What street are we on? Turn in on 33rd.”

“What’s on 33rd?”

“Just let me know when we’re there. 33rd and 7th.”

“The train’s on 36th.”

“But the restaurant’s on 33rd.”

“The what?”

Xingchen wants to smile, but is afraid Xue Yang might take it the wrong way after what happened at the DMV. For someone who does his best to project an I-don’t-care attitude, Xue Yang is surprisingly sensitive.

“What’s today’s date?” He already knows the date, of course. It’s been on his mind for weeks now.

Xue Yang’s arm grows even stiffer. “Is this a ‘you-don’t-know-when-your-birthday-is-so-every-day-is-your-birthday’ thing? Because—”

“Not at all… Remember the day we met? You made fun of my shirt—”

Xue Yang frowns at this sudden change of subject, but goes along with it. Better than talking about that damn birth certificate. “It was white, and ruffled. You looked like an escapee from a high school production of Hamlet. What was I supposed to do?”

“You crashed a motorcycle not three feet from me. An unregistered motorcycle with stolen plates.”

"I bought you coffee to make up for it, didn’t I?”

“You had them put four sugars in my cappuccino. It was undrinkable.”

“One was a Splenda, and anyway I took you to dinner to make up for the coffee, didn’t I?”

“Pizza at one of those dollar-a-slice places you have to stand at a counter to eat. I paid for it.”

“And I paid for your kombucha, whatever the heck that is.”

“And I paid for the band-aids we had to go buy after you cut yourself after playing catch with your knife.”

“You were distracting me!”

“I was quietly eating my pizza.”

“The light reflecting off your shirt ruffles got in my eyes.”

“Four dollars for the band-aids. You insisted on Hello Kitty.”

“Spongebob was also on the table." He wrinkles his nose. "I've got about three-fifty in my pocket, if you want it. But what’s your point, exactly?'

Xingchen smiles. He enjoys winding up Xue Yang, and it’s by far the most effective way to distract him when he’s in a dark mood. “Just that you better not put extra sugar in the fondue.”

“The what?”

“A-Qing read me the dessert menu. Chocolate fondue with bananas, blueberries, pineapple, and cherries. Strawberries, too, I think, and marshmallows, maybe even non-charred brownies—”

Xue Yang stops walking. “Xingchen—”

Xingchen lets go of Xue Yang’s arm, takes his hand instead. Kisses him soundly, right there on Sixth Avenue.

“Forget your birthday," he says. "We have a new date to celebrate every year." He gives Xue Yang's hand a little squeeze and kisses him again. “Happy anniversary, Xue Yang.”

*

Liked it? AO3 👉👈

Ruffle shirt reference

Obviously, Xue Yang was simply distracted by how pretty Xingchen was.