#anyone have those really big coffee mugs

[salamispots]

starting out the new year with a wiP

read Iris Complex on Tapas! :0

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[sailorholly]

Stressed

Summary: Spencer’s been in a bad mood lately, you help him feel better.

Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

W/C: 1.4k

See my Masterlist here

“Who drank the last of the coffee and didn’t make another pot?” Spencer propped up on his cane, asked the crowded police station. One of the officers set his mug down beside the case files spread on the table before him.

“I did. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t think that anyone else would want coffee, when we have barely had three hours of sleep?” The officer looked stunned, obviously caught off guard by the grumpy FBI agent.

“Kid, like I said, I’m sorry.” Spencer limped over to an empty chair, taking a seat. “Don’t call me kid. It’s Dr. Reid to you.” Hotch shot him a warning glance. “Reid.” Spencer dropped his gaze. The officer put his hands up in defeat, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

You wait until the room clears before going over to Spencer. You walk slowly as if you were approaching a wounded animal. “I started a fresh pot just for you. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s finished.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. “Thanks.”

You can tell he’s still upset. He has been moody for a few weeks. Even though you all had agreed not to profile each other, the team had been taking guesses about what was wrong. You still didn’t have an answer. Hotch tried to speak with him privately, but he wouldn’t open up.

At the end of the day, everyone was glad to be back at the hotel. It wasn’t like the comfort of your homes, but at least it was a place to lay your head down. You all had been running on fumes.

You took a shower, thinking of every detail of the abduction. Something didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t get your mind off it. You dried your hair, deciding to knock on Spencer’s door to talk through it.

If anyone could help you figure it out, it was him. He answers the door, looking grouchier than before. “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?” He snaps. You take in his attire. He’s wearing a cardigan over his button up and dress pants, the same outfit he had on earlier.

You frown, pushing your way into his room. “Since when did you start sleeping in your work clothes?” He closes the door, gripping his cane as he walks toward you sitting on his bed. He sits beside you, keeping his distance.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately, Spencer. It’s so unlike you. Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looks away, avoiding your face. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I’d love to help you, especially if it gets you out of this bad mood.”

You watch as he considers your words. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” He asks quietly. You place a hand on your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” The faintest of smiles appears, the first one you’ve seen in a while.

“Now spill.” He sighs. “I am unbelievably stressed. My mom is on a new medication, and she’s giving her doctors a hard time. I got a new neighbor and he plays loud music late at night. I’ve asked him to stop, and he does for a while. Until I go on a case, when I get back, he’s started again. And I’ve been getting these headaches that won’t go away.”

He rubs his left eye, shoulders sinking in relief after he confessed. “Well, all those are valid reasons to be stressed. You really need to get laid.” You giggle, elbowing his side. “I’ve tried.” You stop laughing. You weren’t expecting a sincere answer. You were only joking.

“Wait, you’ve tried to have sex, but can’t find a partner?” You ask, a little surprised. “Yeah, I think it’s my awkwardness paired with the cane. It freaks them out. They probably think I’m an unsub.” He pushes his hair behind his ear.

“I like the cane.” You admit. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah! I think it’s sexy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but couldn’t you just take care of yourself?” You wince. You were having the most awkward conversation of your life with your favorite coworker.

“I tried that. But I couldn’t finish. My mind would race with a million thoughts. It kills the mood.” You lower yourself to the floor, getting on your knees in front of him. “Wha.. what are you doing?” Spencer asks nervously, his voice raising.

“Helping.” You state matter of factly. You unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down. You’re careful when you tug his pants and underwear down his legs, going slowly so you don’t hurt him. He takes a deep breath when you wrap both hands around his hard cock.

You lower your head toward his lap, taking him between your lips. You suck slowly, waiting for his reaction. He lets out a shaky breath when you take him to the back of your throat. You suck harder now, saliva dripping down your chin.

Spencer watches you intently. He can’t believe this is happening. All the nights he had laid in bed, imagining this exact scenario as he pleasured himself. His biggest fantasy was playing out before him. He grips the white comforter on the bed with one hand, the other holds your head in place as you bob up and down on him.

This was too much. He was going to come, and he hadn’t seen you naked yet. “Come up here, I want to touch you.” He sounds almost like he’s begging. You release him, standing to remove your clothing. “Take everything off.” You command as your panties hit the floor.

He wastes no time, throwing his cardigan and shirt beside your discarded clothes. He didn’t even unbutton his shirt. You didn’t know how he managed to get it off. “Lay back against the pillows.” He scoots until his back hits the cushiony wall. You climb on top of him, legs positioned around his hips.

You start grinding against him. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. He tilts his head back, greasy curls splayed out on the pillows. You pepper kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, while large hands cup your breasts.

He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between calloused fingers. You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more turned on. “I want you to sit on my face.” You notice the faint blush rising on his cheeks as he said the words. “You sure?” He nods his head, confirming. “I want to taste you.”

You place your thighs on either side of his head. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to where you need him the most. His curious tongue meets your center, collecting your arousal and bringing it to your clit. He moans, the sound vibrating against you. You clamp your legs tighter around his ears, letting him devour you.

His tongue swirls around you expertly. He could be writing in Morse Code for all you know. You reach for the headboard when his lips wrap around your most sensitive spot. The suction and heat of his mouth tip you over the edge. You reluctantly remove yourself from him, still feeling needy.

“I need you inside of me.” You kiss above his belly button and his cock twitches. “I can’t get on top because of my leg.” He points to the offending appendage like you had forgotten about it. You beam at him, as you you straddle him once more. “I got this.” You line yourself up with his hard length, sinking down on him.

He gasps when he fills you all the way. You move yourself on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. You rock your hips back and forth, letting your head tip back when he brushes your g-spot. You call his name, tilting your hips so he hits it again.

“You like that?” Spencer asks, gripping your hips, working your body with his. You feel the pressure building inside you. It’s unbelievable. You’re lucky if you get off once during sex, and your second orgasm is quickly approaching. Spencer feels you clenching around him.

“Already?” He is in complete awe of you. You were even better than he imagined. “Oh God, Spencer! I’m so close.” His hands hold you harder. He sits up, pressing his chest flush against yours. Your peaked nipples rub against his chest, adding fuel to the flames.

He removes a hand from your waist, bringing it down between you. The pad of his thumb drags across your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. He looks down at where you’re joined, admiring the view. “You’re taking me so well, Angel.” He swirls fast circles against you, and your orgasm rolls over you in waves.

Spencer watches as you come undone. He follows closely behind you, a string of curses leaving his lips. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. “I need to be in a bad mood more often.” Spencer thinks out loud, his lips curling upward into a smile.

Tagging some people I think would like this.

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lamentis-10 @megharat-barnes @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid

[house-of-lovin]

protect her

Tara Carpenter x Detective!Reader

masterlist

Preview: "Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle."

Warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of violence and mature language. slight scream vi spoilers. read at your own risk.

Note: Reader is around Sam's age, so like 25 or 26. Tara being a words of affirmation girlie. Thought this dynamic would be fun to write about. I'm incapable of writing shorter oneshots ig, so enjoy 6k+ words of whatever this is lol.

Word Count: 6.1k+

The honking of horns blowing through the cool night air was muffled when you pushed the glass door of the diner open. The chimes of the overhead bell rang alerting the room of your presence but barely anyone turned their heads – save for Sam Carpenter who smiled at you.

You shuddered away remnants of the chill air off your shoulders, stepping closer to the bartop; claiming your seat in the far corner pressed up against the wall. A mug is placed on the counter before you even finish hanging your jacket on the back of the chair.

You slide into the high-top seat as the brunette pours coffee into the mug with a carafe. “Still hot, wow, I must be special.” 

“Yeah okay, hotshot. You just happened to make it in time for a new pot.” She rolls her eyes, and you hide your smirk behind the mug; taking a sip – ignoring the fact that you usually come in at this time.

“You on the clock?” She asks, leaning on her elbows atop the counter. She glances back briefly, making sure her snitch of a coworker wasn’t around to scold her for not doing her job.

It was still too early for the influx of drunk regulars and one-timers to come by, so really the only kinds of people in here were the ones who were getting off work too late to make dinner at home.

“Just got off, 16 hours. But got a new lead on a case that went cold a couple of months ago so I guess I’m doing a double. Just reviewing some notes now.” You sigh heavily, gesturing to the files and folders sprawled out on the table. 

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You work too much. You need to take a break and focus on something else outside of work. When was the last time you did something just for you?”

You roll your eyes at her mocking tone, shooting back, “Oh yeah? You learn that from therapy?”

It was her turn to glower when you remind her of the doctor visits. 

“Yeah, that’s usually the advice therapists love to give me before I actually open up – you know like they tell me to and suddenly they’re running for the hills, one by one.” 

You snort, all too familiar with the tales of her doctor visits. It took a while for Sam to open up to you; trust came sparsely these days for the Carpenter. It wasn’t until one of your frequent visits turned into you having to step in and kick a rowdy group of drunkards who were harassing Sam of something along the lines of ‘Woodsboro’ and ‘Ghostface’. It was only when you threatened the group with jail time did they relent.

Sam knew she could trust you after you sent her an acknowledging nod when the group left and went back to minding your own business. The next time you visited, she opened up; about her past, her father, her hallucinations, the attacks and the trauma that came afterward. And, how she managed to land herself in the big city, which sprouted an overzealous rant about her strained relationship with her sister.

You knew how to read people well, it was a significant part of your job to be able to. So, you knew from the moment you laid eyes on her that there was a fire behind those dark eyes that she desperately tried to douse – you had interrogated and dealt with enough people to know what the glint meant.

You were honest to Sam that you had an inkling of suspicion about the darkness in her mind – you still accepted her despite knowing her dirty secret; that a part of her doesn’t feel bad for killing Richie and Amber, if anything it felt kinda good. Sam was confused as to why you, a cop, weren't locking her behind bars at the confession. 

But, having dealt with the scum of the Earth, you can tell she was nothing like them.

It isn’t always easy to differentiate people between just good and bad, you told her when she asked.

A friendship blossomed between you two after that, bonding over similar traumas. Sam invited you to her apartment to meet her friends and sister – who all interrogated you, Mindy, most especially to make sure you weren’t secretly Ghostface. The girl had some skills in that department, you'll admit.

Coming to learn of your career and how surprisingly well Sam trusted you, the group lowered their walls bit by bit. They would never say it out loud but they felt way safer having you around.

“That’s why I don’t go to therapy.” You shrug, taking a sip of the steaming coffee; letting the heat warm your bones.

She snorts, pretending to be wiping the countertop when her coworker peeks her head out to look at you two. “You probably need it more than anyone else in this place.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” You mumble, as you flip through the evidence photos of a homicide you investigated five months ago. The pictures were gruesome, but it was just another day on the job for you. Maybe that’s why you and Sam got along more than expected.

Sam’s phone vibrates from her back pocket and she fishes it out, reading the text.

‘We got into some trouble, some help?’ it was Anika, no doubt being appointed to text Sam because the others didn't want to do it themselves.

“Dammit.” Sam sighs, already taking off her apron to leave.

“What’s up?” You raise a brow at her panicked expression.

“My sister and her friends got into some trouble. I need to get them. Crap! They’re all the way in the East Village.” She says reading the other incoming texts on her phone. “This is what I get for letting her go out.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you.” You say, already standing when Sam mentioned Tara. The thought of the brunette in trouble makes your heart stop for a moment.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re working.” She shakes her head in protest.

“Carpenter, it’s a 30-minute drive just to get to the East Village, get your ass permission to leave then meet me at my car. Acting like Danny wouldn’t have my ass if I just left you like this.” You mutter, acting indifferent – but it was true, her boyfriend would have your head on a stick if you ever left Sam high and dry, not that you would ever.

She nods, knowing she won’t win this one with you. You throw a $20 tip, slip on your jacket, and make your way back out into the cool fall air.

You lit a cigarette to pass time as you wait for Sam – leaning against your car, trying to ease the nervousness raging in you as you think of what kind of trouble Tara found herself in.

You and Tara are... complicated. You two haven't exactly slapped a label on it, all you know is you care about her more than you probably should.

Because of your close connection with Sam, and how much everyone secretly trusted you. You and Tara found yourselves growing closer to each other with each visit to their apartment.

Tara was weary about you at first introduction, ignoring that you were ridiculously attractive. She can still remember Mindy asking you to your face 'Where did Sam find you?' in a flirtatious tone. You just chuckled and explained how you met her sister, and Tara knew it was kind of wrong, but she couldn't help but be intrigued…

Then Sam started leaving you two alone in the apartment to run some errands. With not much to do, Tara decided to pop a horror movie in to watch with you – finding out you’ve never seen ‘Se7en’ after inquiring if your job was just like the movies.

A connection between you and Tara blossomed from those moments in that tiny NYC living room.

Suddenly she wasn't just your friend's little sister and man, is she magnetic.

She educates you on the joys of horror movies and you watch every single one, listening to her analysis of each scene; simply enjoying the serenity she brings out in you.

Tara is secretly glad you are older than her because sometimes it meant you’re so different, but that just means she can expose you to her interests, and vice versa. You never turned her down – no matter what it was.

On the slim chance you got off work early enough, you visited the diner to keep Sam company and do some work.

Sometimes though, when Sam would end mid-morning, you two would continue your talks at her apartment – sometimes with Danny, over whatever leftover diner food she would steal from her work for you three to munch on over beers and conversation. 

Those would be the nights where you would pass out on their couch from drinking and Tara would finally come out of her room when Sam and Danny leave. She would tuck a blanket over your sleeping figure, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, taking the time to scan your features for any injuries. And in the mornings, when you were gathering your bearings from a night of drinks and bad choices, Tara would force you to sit down at their dining table and have breakfast with her. Scolding you for your irresponsible choices, but being grateful you were in front of her, nonetheless.

She worries for you with your job and all.

And as you find yourself giving into her request for morning coffee, stolen kisses, and conversation – you push away thoughts of being late to work as you find yourself grateful for similar musings the longer you stare at the pretty girl across from you.

“Wow, if people couldn’t tell you're a narc. They sure could now.” Sam takes the time to poke fun at you – pulling you out of your daydream. You look down at your figure; sporting a button-down shirt, trousers with your leather jacket on top and trusty leather boots on your feet.

You roll your eyes in realization and flick away the cigarette bud, yanking the car door open.

“It’s the work dress cod– just get in the damn car, Carpenter.”

– – 

The usual thirty-minute drive instead took fifteen minutes as you pounded on the accelerator, flipped the sirens on, and dashed past other cars on the road as they cleared the way for you.

You arrive at the corner of a lower Manhattan intersection, the East Village was known for its bustling nightlife; you can see a mix of all ages of people wandering the street as they continue their bar crawl.

It was further down the road, where you can see six sullen-looking figures sitting on the curb of the sidewalk – a police officer standing above them. 

Sam dashes out of the car before you can even finish parking. You see her run down the street and talk to the officer, getting in his face and the six others look at her panicked. You sigh, and make your way out of the car, strapping your badge to your belt – you’d need to use it soon, you’re sure.

Tara’s eyes immediately connect to you as soon as you climb out of the car. Before she can think about it, she’s standing up to meet you. “Ah ah, I said sit down! You better listen or I’ll throw you all in jail for the night.”

“You can’t do that!” Sam shouts, stepping closer to the police officer. You decided enough was enough when you saw the police officer resting his hand on his holster.

“All right, that’s enough.” You grasp Sam’s elbow, yanking her away from the police officer. The older Carpenter is slightly startled by the rough tug, but you push her behind you getting in between her and the policeman.

“I think we’re all good here officer, thank you.” You say with finality. You weren’t asking, you were telling and Tara’s inebriated mind is all hot and bothered. 

“Like hell we are, these six were caught sneaking into a club underage, and this one.” He points to Sam, “is getting on my nerves. Now, it seems like I can add you to the list, ‘cause who the hell you think you are, buddy?”

You briefly glance a stern side-eye to Tara at ‘club and underage’, she immediately looks away.

“Detective Y/L/N from the 99th precinct.” You slide your jacket aside to flash him the badge on your waist.

”And, you must be… Officer Leroy. From 6th, huh.” Reading his name tag and badge.

“Think that’s supposed to mean something?” You see his eyes on your badge before glowering to meet your eyes. “I’ll arrest you too.”

The group breaks out into loud protests.

You chuckle knowingly, “How long you been in the force buddy?” You ask, not unaware of all of the eyes on you as you and the officer have a stare-off.

“Four months.” He answers confidently, pushing his shoulders up and back to appear taller.

“Hmm… see I had a feeling. ‘Cause, my buddy Rivers just got promoted to Captain six months ago over on the 6th precinct, which means he’s most likely your superior. I wonder what you’ll tell him as to what charge you picked us up for. ‘Cause well, he will see me.” You shrug, offering up that thought for him to think about. 

“Oh better yet, I’d just love to see what you write down on that case report, Officer. Leroy.” Your tone was harsh now as you stepped in his face, intimidating him.

He was forced to take a step back as you got in his space, his features paling, it took a few seconds before he conceded. “Fine! Just get the hell out of here, and don’t let me see you again!”

Everyone let out a relieved sigh as you smirked at his submission; everyone immediately takes the chance to leave and Sam tries to tug on your arm but you were still staring the cop down. He put this hand on his fucking gun when Sam got in his face and anger was quickly rising in your veins – you were unmovable, even by rough force.

“Y/N it’s over, let’s go.” Sam tries again but she can feel your arm harden as your knuckles tighten into a fist. “Y/N, seriously.”

Tara sobered up by the time police charges was being thrown around and her worry about your protectiveness was increasing. Sam couldn’t even pull you away. Chad steps in when Sam asks for help to convince you to move. He puts a hand on your shoulder, whispering calming words, no doubt. 

But nothing was working as you stood there, still unmovable. She wouldn’t be surprised if Chad threw you over his shoulder and dragged you away, even though you weren’t that much smaller than him. In your boots, you were nearly at his height and Tara had to strain her neck to try and meet your eyes. 

It was only when Tara pulled away from Quinn and Mindy’s hold and stepped in front of you, putting a hand just above your chest that you blinked, glancing down at her. “Y/N, let’s go… please.”

When you tried to glance back up at the other officer, whose partner had seen the commotion and tried his own efforts in calming him; his patience thinning by the second – was when Tara’s grasp on your shirt firmed, making you look back at her own stern eyes.

"Let's. Go." Her tone left no room for argument. Warning you from doing something stupid and you clench your jaw, looking away from the uniformed officers.

“Fine…"

Everyone slowly releases a breath when your rigid posture relaxes. “I’m driving you home, let’s go.” You exclaim to the rest but look directly at Tara, “Especially you, Carpenter.”

You place a hand on the sliver of her back and Tara shivers not used to being this close to you in a while. Your hand keeps its place even as you both turn and Sam is immediately on her ass about sneaking into a club. You guide the bickering sisters to walk to the car, zoning out the familiar sounds of their argument.

“–ou’re lucky Y/N was at the diner, who knows what that creep would’ve done if we didn’t drive out here in time.” Your hand tightens, subtly bringing her closer to your side at Sam’s words, Tara glances over when you do.

“It was fine until you got there and started overreacting, Sam.” Tara rolls her eyes, way past just ‘over’ Sam’s overprotectiveness. The younger girl loved her sister, she did, but she didn’t want to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder.

Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle.

Sam scoffed offended, “Are you kidding me right now?” And you sigh because you can feel a bigger fight brewing and you can hear the slurring in Tara’s words, not a good mix. 

“Let’s get you all home first before we do this, okay?” You cut in when you see the car come closer into view. Fishing for your keys, you throw them at Sam making her catch them. 

“Walk ahead and start the car for me, please?” You ask with a raised brow; tilting your head to gesture to Tara saying a wordless ‘i got her’. Sam relents, tightly gripping the keys and walked ahead.

Tara leans her head against your shoulder, grateful for the brief moment of seclusion as everyone else walks up ahead.

“Are you mad at me?” You glance down at her frown, before looking away. 

“No. I’m not.”

“That wasn’t very convincing. If you’re mad you can tell me… cause then I can fix it.” You feel her run her hand up and down your back, under your jacket. It made a shiver run up your spine as she continued rubbing lines on the fabric of your shirt.

“I swear, I’m not mad. A little disappointed but no, not mad.”

Tara huffs, sliding her arm off your back when you reach the car; the talk cut short. You open the car door sitting Tara inside, it was a tight squeeze but she was small. You’d sit her on your lap if her sister wasn't here. Anika did sit on Mindy’s lap though with poor Chad in the middle seat and then Tara. 

She squeezes your hand just before you shut the door.

Apparently, Ethan and Quinn elected not to go home and continue on with their night.

Sam is already sitting in the passenger seat by the time you closed Tara’s door. With a sigh, you pull your door open, sit behind the wheel and drive off to the Carpenter’s apartment.

– –

Sam hurriedly rushes everyone into the living room as soon she opens the door; making sure to quadruple lock it, twist the handle to make sure it's locked and look out the peephole. It was Sam’s routine whenever she got into their place.

“Come on, let’s go, sit down.” Sam waves at you all, walking to the kitchen to grab water for everyone.

You help Tara onto the far edge of the couch, sitting her beside Mindy, who sat beside Anika. Chad decided to choose a record to listen to get rid of the tense air.

You felt Tara pulling you down with her, “Let me sit on your lap.” She mutters only to you.

“We can’t,” You whisper in her ear, slightly shaking your head. You hear her huff when you refuse her and see the pout on her lips when you pulled back, slightly smiling at her adorableness.

You force yourself to walk away from the younger Carpenter; heart tugging firmly, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in your arms, especially after not knowing what kind of trouble she was in.

Instead, you make your way into the kitchen to help Sam with the water bottles and bread.

“Is this necessary, Sam?” You ask the brunette, who was frantically searching through the fridge on her knees.

“You kidding? Chad is literally just staring holes at the record player.” She rebuttals and you glance back at the younger boy in amusement.

With a chuckle, you say, “He’s just high as shit. He’ll come down soon, plus he’s here now, they all are. Just relax and take a deep breath, man.” You remind her in a serious tone, holding out a hand to hold all the water bottles she was passing off to you.

“I know, I know. I was just worried.” She follows your advice taking calming, deep breaths as you follow along with her. 

“Your therapist would be so proud, Samantha.” You tease smugly as she scoffs, hitting your leg from her position on the floor – you kick her back.

“Can you make sure Tara drinks and eats something, and that she’s okay before going to bed?” Sam asks you in a hushed tone, although she didn’t need to. The other four were all too engrossed either in the music or the TV in the back. 

“Why me?”

“She’s not ready to talk to me and I’m not either... and I just wanna sleep right now.” She admits with a plead behind her eyes and you nod with no hesitation. 

“I'll make sure all of them make it to bed, don’t worry.” She nods appreciatively, then stands so you can both get back to the other four in the living room – tossing them some bread.

“Finish that whole bottle before going to sleep, I don’t care if you piss your pants while you do ‘em.” You say in a stern tone while throwing the bottles, then sitting on the armchair to Tara’s left.

Sam shares a look with you as she slips out of the room, wordlessly, leaving you with the other four. They watched TV for the next 20 minutes, glancing around as each of them got progressively tired the more time ticked on. 

“Alright. I think it’s time to call it a night.” You call it.

The twins and Anika slowly got up, muttering goodbyes and promises of texting Tara once they’d made it home. You offered to drive them to their dorm but felt the silent conversation between the friends – as Tara got them to turn you down to get you to stay here with her. 

You lean against the front door, watching as the trio made their way down the stairs until they were out of sight. As soon as you shut the door closed, you felt arms wrap around your midsection – making you turn around.

“I missed you,” Tara mutters against your chest making you chuckle when it slightly tickled. 

You cup her jaw, making her look into your eyes. “I missed you too, baby.”

Tara melts at the term of endearment, grabbing your neck to pull you down for a long searing kiss. Lips slotted over one another as they found the familiar grooves of each other’s mouths. Only breaking apart when Tara confessed with a bated breath, “You looked so hot confronting that other cop.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” She mutters connecting her mouth to your neck, peppering wet kisses there. She can hear you sigh in satisfaction and it makes her hold on you tighten even more. But with great reluctance, you pulled away from Tara; who whimpered in protest.

“We can’t, babe.” You remind her, pointing with your head to Sam’s room.

She frowns, “then come to my room.” Problem solved. She smirked devilishly, tugging you toward her room; you refused.

“We still can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not taking advantage.” You whisper, only stepping close to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She groans letting her head drop to your shoulder as your hand played with her hair.

“I hate that you’re a goodie two shoes.” She mutters making you laugh.

You tilt her head up with the hand already in her hair – gaze intense as you whisper, “I can assure you, I am far from a goodie two shoes.”

And Tara thought she melted at the way your voice dropped an octave when you said that but she knew she melted when you leaned down, tugging her by the hair, to connect your lips.

It was barely a peck, all tender and fleeting.

When you pulled away, she smirked knowingly watching as your eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes – your gaze all dark, lustful. When your eyes connect you dive into her with a hair-raising kiss; all hungry and pining.

The feeling of your tongue clashing against hers and sounds of soft moans sends time stopping like only you and her exist in this apartment together. But Tara knows it doesn’t really stop and she has to eventually pull away before she takes you in the hallway – right then and there.

“God, you drive me crazy,” Tara whispers against your lips.

“So do you… cause sneaking into a club, really?” You ask unimpressed and Tara immediately pulls back, groaning.

Snickering as you follow closely behind when she walks into her room, trying to get away from you.

“You’re a mood-killer.” She mutters sitting on her bed, arms crossed over her chest; sulking.

“And you’re gonna give me and Sam a heart attack soon.” You joke but it was true. Tara loved to prove her sister wrong; not like being told what to do. It grew a defiant attitude in her that loved to stir shit up just for the hell of it, and that landed her in some hot waters with her friends sometimes. She definitely made your blood pressure sky-rocket, sometimes too.

“Why?” Tara probes. You were always so elusive and mysterious – it came with your job and allure. She can barely get you to open up about your feelings most of the time, saying you prefer to show her than tell her. You definitely did, so this admission from you was new. It has Tara yearning to hear more words of affirmation from you.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? I care about you, dummy. I nearly caused multiple accidents just to get to you. I was going like 80 mph the whole time,” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck a little ashamed.

“You were really that worried?” She asks, looking up at you with a hopeful stare like she was surprised.

“Of course, I was Tara. I even used the siren lights.” You shake your head at the fact that she’s even asking. 

She was smiling goofily as you walked closer to stand between her legs, taking both her hands in yours. “I worry for all of you. But you, well, I always worry for you 'cause I’m thinking about you all the time.” You confessed in a whisper in her dark room. 

Tara bites her lip, staring up at you with an indecipherable look. “You’re the worst.” Was the words that left her mouth.

“What, why?” You ask laughing.

She lets go of your hands to fiddle with your shirt buttons, muttering, “‘Cause you’re standing here looking all good and saying all the right things, and you still won’t fuck me.”

“Oookay…” You chuckle, grabbing at her fingers trying to unbutton your shirt, “That’s enough from you tonight. Let’s get you to bed before you say anything else you might regret tomorrow.”

She huffed but allowed you to grab her some new clothes to help her change; still not fucking her, Tara complains. Your eyes never even strayed from hers, not even when she took her bra off to change shirts and batted her eyes seductively. When she was all ready, you helped her to bed; tucking her in.

“Stay with me?” She asks grabbing onto your shirt, then gripping tighter. “Please.”

“What about Sam?” You ask softly, pushing away some hair from her face.

“She’s probably already sleeping, if not, she’s gonna be in her room all night.” Tara reasons, fully tugging you on top of her. 

You give in like you always do.

Work for you and classes for Tara have been a lot right now, not being able to find time alone. You were practically living at the police station with the crime surge in the city, working late nights and long hours. With Sam’s overprotectiveness, Tara can say goodbye to dates so she only really sees you when you come over with her sister. You take your jacket off, place it on the chair in the corner of her room and tug your boots off. Remembering you had a change of clothes here from when Tara ransacked your closet; you picked out a shirt and shorts before getting into bed beside the younger Carpenter.

She was on you in an instant, swinging a leg over your waist, shoving her face in your neck. You feel her exhale a calming breath, once she’d settled into a comfortable position on you. You reciprocate by wrapping a strong grip around her waist, cherishing the way her skin warmed yours and how the weight of her body felt perfect.

“Just stay with me until I fall asleep?” She asks you with such a vulnerable gaze that you would never dream of ever telling her no.

You nod, pressing a kiss to her lips, then forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Goodnight.”

She smiles against your lips, whispering her own, “goodnight.”

As you hold Tara Carpenter in your arms, you find yourself fending off sleep, only ever being this relaxed around the girl. You squeeze her slightly, feeling grateful to be with her at this moment with all the craziness in your two’s lives. No worries of outside-world problems could break the cozy bubble you and Tara created. Without ever standing a chance, you lose the fight to sleep and easily fall off the precipice with her in your embrace.

– –

“Tara, do you have my nail polish – Oh this is cute.”

You spring up, the voice startling you from the most relaxed sleep you’ve ever had; the type that makes your entire body heavy and head foggy when you wake up. You were the lightest of sleepers, a pin drop could probably startle you awake, but never when you fell asleep beside Tara.

“What the fuck?” Tara grumbles against your side, peaking her head up to see Quinn watching you two in bed.

It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and instantly pale when you realize you never left the Carpenter Sister’s apartment, you never even made it out of Tara’s bed. You can feel the stream of sunlight coming in from Tara’s window and just know you had majorly fucked up.

“I just needed my nail polish but this is quite a sight, definitely a pleasant surprise.” She waves a hand toward you two, and you roll your eyes.

“Shit babe, Sam.” Tara places a hand on your arm. You check the watch strapped on your wrist for the time, 10:32 AM – making you leap out of her, oh so warm bed.

“Screw Sam, my Captain is gonna be on my ass until next year if I don’t get to work now. I was late about two hours ago.” Grumbling, you yanked Tara’s closet open and grabbed the spare trousers and button-down, you stowed in there.

"Can't say I blame your Captain." Quinn retorts, heavily eyeing you as you change your shorts into trousers.

Tara groans at the mess this morning has already been, flopping onto her back.

“Screw Sam, huh?” She appears, leaning on the threshold just behind Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest.

Your hands stall on the tie you were tying as you hear your friend’s voice, making you turn around.

“I guess that’s a no on the nail polish?” Tara glares at her roommate. 

Quinn shrugs, still ogling as you changed before turning to leave the room. “Not a wasted trip though, nice catch Tara.” She winks at the brunette – holding a thumbs up.

The redhead just laughs, moving out of the way when Tara attempts to throw a pillow at her.

“Sam… I’d love to explain but I am so late for work right now.” You plead at the older sister.

Tara sat on her bed wordlessly, unsure of what Sam’s reaction is going to be – but ready to defend her relationship with you, regardless.

Sam chuckles shrugging lightly, “I already knew. Or well, I had a feeling, but this just confirms it.”

You and Tara look at each other at her confession, unsure if Sam’s words hold positive or negative connotations. Sam sees the eye-contact and laughs.

“I’m not mad, I promise. I was a little hurt that you didn’t tell me…” She pauses, “okay. I was really hurt when you guys didn’t tell me. But I realize I haven’t given Tara reason to trust me with anything about her life lately.”

That makes Tara’s head perk up at her sister’s admission. All she’s ever wanted was for Sam to trust her a little because trust went both ways in every type of relationship.

“And well, I guess I can’t think of anyone better to be with my sister than my cop friend. Especially after you came through for her last night. You were driving so fast, I thought I was gonna die.” Sam laughs a little but you’re still unconvinced.

When Sam realizes no one was still talking she chuckles again. “Guys, I’m serious!”

You cough clearing your throat, “Sorry Sam, it’s just that... I–uh,” 

Tara decided to cut off your stammering, “We’re just surprised, Sam. We thought you'd be more upset. And that we were more subtle.” She admits, shooting you a look.

“You weren't. But, I thought a lot about what to say until I realized it was just you guys and I care about you two so much. You don’t think I noticed Tara being a lot happier than usual and you actually looking somewhat at peace?” She asks rhetorically, reading you and Tara to filth – your cheeks reddening, not being used to being at the other end of the ‘questioning’.

“I see how you look at each other. I know you’ll protect her.” That last sentence she says looking at you and it means the world to get her approval – something that you didn’t even know you wanted, you nod at her appreciatively.

Sam pushes herself off the doorframe, tapping on it. “Now come on, there’s breakfast in the kitchen, don't let it get cold. And Y/N, I don’t think you’re gonna make it to work today.” She winks, leaving you and Tara alone in the room.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, unable to find words to describe what just transpired in the span of a few minutes. Then you hear a scoff bring you out of your reverie.

“What the hell was that,” Tara commented, getting up from the bed and closing the door before approaching you. 

“I’m… not really sure. I can’t tell if I’m still asleep.” You mumble, grabbing at her cheeks to make sure you weren't in a dream. Tara whines against the pinching, swatting your hands away.

You laughed at her frown before leaning down to kiss her slightly chapped lips, all soft and slow. Tara pulls you closer by the neck, sighing against pressed mouths. A sweet moan escapes her mouth when you suck down hard on her lip, releasing it with a loud pop. 

“You think I should call in sick today?” You whisper, running a gentle thumb to soothe her swollen lip.

Tara nods, eyes half-open still a little dazed from your kiss. When she gathers her bearings, she runs a hand down your half-done tie, tugging you closer. “Definitely.”

"You can tell me more about how worried you were and how fast you were driving too," She whispers against your mouth, using your tie as a leash.

"Are you turned on right now?"

"Kinda... can I drive with the sirens on?" She slides the question in like it was nothing.

"No."

"Buzzkill." She teases but pulls you on top when her back hits the mattress. “I’ll make you change your mind.”

You definitely forgot to make that phone call.

The rest of that morning was spent in between Tara’s sheets, you two hidden away from the world; ignoring the flurry of texts and calls from your work phone. Only leaving her room to grab some food and water, but getting caught in the crossfire of teasings from Tara's friends when they see the hickeys on your neck.

Tara merely strides past you, dressed in nothing but your button-down, stopping for a peck on the lips and grabbing the water from your hands before hiding back in her room to ignore her friends. You don’t miss the cheeky wink she tosses you and the grimace Sam lets out as she watches. Instead, you keep your head down and follow the smaller girl like a lost puppy, ignoring the other's whistles as you do.

And, when you make your way to your desk the next day, a mountain pile of shitty cases for the next month is stacked high as punishment.

You still find it hard to feel any remorse for the no-show.

It was definitely worth it.

– –

:)

[mawofthemagnetar]

TFC’s Completely Normal Afternoon Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Nobody Dies Horribly

(shoutout to @lindentree for inspiring this silly fic!)

TFC sat in his little bachelor pad, coffee in hand, watching the steam rise out of his mug. 

It was a nice mug, all things considered. A gift from the other Hermits. A handmade blue thing, turned on a potter’s wheel, with an extra-large handle to give his old hands a break sometimes. Full of coffee from his ancient coffee machine, that gurgled and growled like a jackhammer being waterboarded.

TFC took a sip, and winced. Okay, so maybe it was time to leave the mine and get more coffee. He’d re-used the grounds for the fourth time, and now it was really starting to get properly bitter. 

He drummed his fingers on his glass-top table, listening to the echo against the cold stone walls of his little antechamber. Maybe he’d decorate the walls at some point soon. 

TFC shrugged, and opened his comm. Hopefully one of the other Hermits had some coffee beans. He wiped the stone dust off his screen, and held down the three buttons to switch it on. Yes, he kept his comm strapped to his arm like almost every other player with some semblance of sense. No, he refused to let the damn thing be awake for any longer than it needed to be. The Hermits were chatty folks, and when TFC was deep in his mines and deep in thought, the last thing he needed interrupting his musings was a million buzzing noises as Cleo and Jevin got into a slapfight in the general chat. 

TFC’s personal logo flashed across the screen (the three letters of his name in red, natch) and he took another slurp of his bitter coffee, wrinkling his nose. The comm beeped, and TFC opened the group chat and tapped out a quick message. 

<Tinfoilchef> anyone got any more coffee? I’m clean out. 

He put his comm down, and took another swig. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

TFC frowned. He was a patient man by nature. The same could not be said of the other Hermits, who were usually falling over themselves to help each other out. 

And he hadn’t gotten a reply yet. 

It had been a whole ninety seconds.

TFC scrolled up in chat, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He sank back in his chair in annoyance. 

Of course. 

He tabbed upwards, watching things spiral out of control… in reverse. 

<Renthedog was blanched to death> 

<Renthedog> THE PAIN! THE PAIN IS INDESCRIBABLE

<Vintagebeef was portaged to death> 

<Vintagebeef> RUN! THE BOATS! THE BOATS ARE COMING!

TFC rubbed his temples with his free hand, sighing in exasperation. ‘

“Guys, I dug up five stacks of diamonds, don’t make me do this…I don’t want to re-dig those tunnels…” TFC groaned. 

And of course the nonsense kept coming as he scrolled farther and farther back. Gee, that last message from Ren was about four hours ago, now...

<Iskall85 became part of the weft> 

<Iskall85> HELP GOD THE LOOM’S GROWN LEGS

“Does anyone on this server besides me even know HOW to weave?!” TFC growled, averting his gaze from his pile of unfinished weaving in the corner of the room. It didn’t exist. He couldn’t see it. His WIP’s couldn’t hurt him.

And on and on it went.

<Xisumavoid was hooked to death>

<Grian was torqued to death>

<Tango was unraveled to death> 

<Zombiecleo was racqueted to death>

“Right, I’ve seen enough.” TFC sighed, “On the bright side, at least I’ll have all the coffee I had a week ago, so there’s that…” 

He carefully tabbed through his various screens and menus until he arrived at the one bit of his comm that was set aside for admin functions. Now, TFC wasn’t a server admin. That much was true. But he had slight admin privileges, for one thing and one thing only: server rollbacks. 

While, say, Hypno would have had an extensive wall of options, showing his permissions and all sorts of bells and whistles, TFC’s admin console had a text box to input a date and a big red “GO” button. 

He looked mournfully at his ender chest, and, with a sigh, keyed in a date one week prior. 

And TFC jabbed his thumb on the big red button. 

The world flashed white, utterly blinding him, and a second later TFC was deep in the branch mine in a half-finished tunnel, the same spot he’d been exactly a week prior. 

Unfortunately, he was still in a comfortable sitting position, resting all his weight on a chair that suddenly wasn’t there, so he immediately toppled to the ground, landing on his ass in an undignified heap. 

“Ow.” TFC muttered, sitting up slowly and tapping through his messages. 

<Xisuma> oh, we rolled back. Is everyone alright!?

<Tango> Mumbo you are BANNED FROM TIME TRAVEL

<MumboJumbo> It wasn’t me this time! I mean it was. But blame Zedaph! 

<Zedaph> ME?! No! Blame Cub! Cub gave me the doodad! 

TFC rolled his eyes and typed out a message. 

<Tinfoilchef> Does anyone have any fresh coffee beans?

Silence. 

No messages. No new complaining. As all the hermits re-read TFC’s words and soaked them in. 

Finally, Cleo broke the silence. 

<Zombiecleo> TFC. How many times did you re-use your last filter of grounds. 

<TinfoilChef> eh, six? Seven?

<Zombiecleo> are you telling me we’d all still be in shuttlecock hell if you hadn’t gotten sick of the taste of reused coffee grinds?!

<TinfoilChef> Pretty much, yeah 

<TinfoilChef> anyway 

<TinfoilChef> does anyone have some fresh coffee? 

[7ndipity]

Dating Jungkook headcanons

Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a lil suggestive, I think that's it

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, I've never written a list like this before so it's a little scattered, sorry. Anyway I'm very soft for this man now, goodbye.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Jungkook is, for lack of a better word, messy. But like in all the best ways.

Late night hangouts when y'all can't sleep and you just end up at the local convenience store, eating snacks or whatever and talking until you notice the sun coming up.

I know I wrote a lil blurb abt it already, but karaoke dates are a regular occurrence. Doesn't matter if you can sing or not, y'all are just having a good time seeing who can hit the highest note(it's him, sorry)

He's one of those people whose friends probably tease cause he says "my s/o is my best friend". But he actually means it, you are his best friend.(I really feel like he would fall for a friend, but that's a discussion for a ot7 reaction I'm working on for next week👀)

Acts really cocky sometimes, but will fold like a house of cards(ha) into the softest boi at the slightest provocation from you.

He's fucking whipped for you, and he knows it.

Was so nervous to kiss you the first time that he legit backed out like three times before it finally happened.

Probably has some kind of nickname for you like "my light" or "my life."

But on the other hand, y'all also tease each other relentlessly, it's like a second love language with him.

Like he will sit there while you're trying to read or smth and poke your cheeks until he gets a reaction out of you.

Will make height jokes, even if you're only like 1in shorter than him.

"Tiny baby." He coos while patting your head. "I'm gonna climb up there and kill you." You warn. "So tiny, so precious."

But if he catches anyone else giving you a hard time about something, God help them.

Possessive(*cough perilla leaf debate)

Gives you his sweatshirts to wear because you look cute in them, but also loves that it's a subtle sign to anybody else that you're his.

This goes both ways though, he loves when you call him yours.

The first time you called him "your boyfriend", he legit short-circuited for a second.

Would probably have matching, macrame type couple bracelets that y'all made together for your second or third month anniversary.

Protective AF

Does that thing where he makes sure you walk on the inner half of the sidewalk when are you're out together, so you're protected from the street?

Not big on Pda exactly, but usually has an arm around you or is holding your hand. He doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes, it's just kinda become a habit to have you close as much as possible.

He gets so little time with you as it is, so he just wants to make every second count.

When it's just the two of you though, he becomes a fucking koala and will NOT let you go.

Clings to you like his life depends on it.

Begs you to stay over all the time, swears that he can't sleep well unless you're next to him.

At this point, you might as well move in, half of your shit's at his place already anyway.

Looks at you like you're a literal dream.

Like some mornings when neither of you are really awake yet, you look over and he's just staring at you over your coffee mug like🥺

Loves to make you flustered tho

Like, if he notices you have a thing for his arms, he's gonna take every chance he can to roll his sleeves up in front of you just to see your face go red.

Randomly walks up to and gives you these deep, intense kisses and then? just fucking walks away as if nothing happened? Like, nuh-uh, get your ass back here and finish what you started sir!

Talks about your future together with such casual certainty. Like "when we get married, we should get a house like that".

Refers to Bam as your child.

Idk where I'm going with this or how to end it, so I'm just gonna stop here, but yeah. I just think he's neat lol.

[kingdom-by-the-sea]

The Not Valentine’s Date

Summary- Mutual pining, an office bet, and baby sitting make for an interesting Valentine’s Day between Spencer and Hotch’s daughter.

Warnings- fluffy fluff

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Hotch’s daughter

Word Count- 2.7k

A/N- This is something I randomly wrote last year after Valentine’s Day but didn’t post cause I felt like I had missed my window. Who knows maybe I’ll write something later this week that I’ll post in a year.

—————-

“Eww,” Emily complained, scrunching up her face in disgust, “Please tell me that none of those lines actually work on real life girls. I don’t understand why guys had to start going around saying stuff like that and ruin Valentine’s day for the rest of us.”

”Woah,” Prentiss stopped Reid mid-explaining, “You are not actually referring to that,” she gestured vaguely in Morgan’s direction, “as poetry.”

Spencer scrunched his face in consideration, “Not in the traditional sense, I suppose. However, in my opinion, some of the best lines of poetry about love have nothing to do with Valentine’s day so using it as the standard might not properly reflect what you’re looking for.”

“Oh really,” Morgan questioned, “And what exactly would you use to woo the ladies on the fourteenth?”

Reid considered the question seriously his fingers tapping to some indiscernible beat as he thought, “‘We loved with a love that was more than love.’”

“What?” Morgan’s reaction was quick and it seemed that everyone else in the group mirrored his sentiment, “Hate to break it to you, pretty boy, but no girl you mention that to is going to have a clue-”

“You quote a man who married his thirteen year-old cousin on love?” Y/N asked suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“They really are a match made in heaven…” Prentiss muttered only loud enough for Morgan to hear, who responded with a chuckle.

Reid’s face darkened several shades of red, “I just mean-”

“It’s fine,” Y/N let out a small laugh, “I’m just teasing. Annabel Lee’s probably my favorite poem. Just sucks that most of the romanticism poets were… just really weird.”

Spencer regained his composure and released an unexpected laugh, “Yeah.”

“Anyone want more coffee, I’m going to get another cup,” Y/N stood and left for the kitchenette after finding there weren’t any takers.

“So close and yet… so far,” Prentiss said once Y/N was out of earshot.

“Seriously, man,” Morgan started, “Just ask her to go to dinner or something already.”

Reid rolled his eyes, “Is this about your bet pool thing again?”

“Not anymore,” Morgan said, “I’ve been out since last month. Somehow I thought New Years would do the trick.”

Prentiss laughed, “You’re doing way better than me. I really thought the hormones would outweigh this nerdy stupidity,” she gestured at Reid’s face, “and said Halloween.”

“Halloween?!” Reid squeaked out before lowering his voice significantly, “There is no way you thought Y/N and I would get together by Halloween of last year.”

The two agents dutifully ignored him and Morgan continued, “Who’s even left at this point? I know Rossi chose St. Patrick’s day for whatever reason.”

“And Hotch said Valentine’s,” Prentiss finished and any air of concern left Reid’s face.

“Well now I know you’re making this up,” he turned back to his work, “There is no way Hotch would bet on his daughter’s love life.”

Prentiss tsked, “Your future father-in-law is going to be very disappointed if you miss this benchmark.”

“Seriously though,” Morgan started again, “Just ask her to hang out. Don’t even call it a date.”

“We hang out all the time though…” Spencer whispered, fiddling with his tie.

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a deal,” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, “Go get her, lover boy.”

Reluctantly, Reid rose from his seat and made his way to the kitchenette. Y/N was busy filling up her mug with the right amount of sugar- that is as much as can fit in the cup- but smiled when she noticed him.

“Did you change your mind? I can grab another mug.”

“What? Oh- no, I’m good,” he glanced over at her searching for the right words, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out on Monday…?”

Y/N’s face lit up at the thought before she scrunched up her nose, “I’d love to but I can’t. I’m actually watching Jack so my dad can go out but maybe this weekend?”

She returned to stirring her coffee not noticing the third person entering the vicinity.

“Or Reid could come over and help you with Jack?” Hotch said, forcing them both to turn suddenly in his direction.

“Oh no,” Y/N began, “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you to waste your Valentine’s Day.”

“No, no. That sounds great,” Spencer smiled at her and her heart seemed to warm as she mirrored his reaction, “Send me the times over the weekend.”

With that Reid walked back to his desk in semi-victory.

“Did Reid just ask you to hangout with him on Valentine’s Day?” Hotch asked with a mock accusatory glance.

“Yeah,” Y/N said absentmindedly, “I mean no- I mean he did but it's not like that. We are just two single adults who enjoy each other’s company and not having to feel lonely on a day devoted to love.”

“Y/N, what exactly do you call it when two single adults meet up on Valentine’s Day to ‘enjoy each other’s company?’” he could barely manage to suppress the smile growing on his face at the teasing.

Her face turned pink, “I’m not sure- but apparently you call it babysitting.”

~~~

As the evening waned on, Y/N was more and more glad for Spencer’s company. Outside of simply enjoying his presence, it helped to have a second person there to reign in some of Jack’s more energetic behavior. However, her appreciation wasn’t enough to keep her from noticing how her heartstrings tugged seeing the way Jack and Spencer both lit each other up with excitement. Spencer was beyond engaging and Y/N finally understood why Henry always seemed to immediately latch onto Spencer at BAU gatherings. It was intoxicating to watch them together and Y/N easily could have lost herself in the moment if it weren’t for the screaming six-year-old running around the house constantly threatening to knock things over. Luckily for Reid, Y/N, and their respective sanities, this level of energy wasn’t sustainable and an eventual crash was inevitable.

He nodded lazily in response, “Can we watch Encanto?” for a brief moment the sparks returned behind his eyes as he mentioned what was quickly becoming his new favorite movie.

“Sure,” Y/N said with a small laugh. This would have to be close to the twentieth time she had seen the movie but for Jack’s sake, it was all worth it.

Jack headed for the stairs and Spencer was quick to follow after him.

“I’ll help him get ready for bed,” he explained, noticing what was apparently a rather obvious expression of confusion and the slight tilt of her head, “You could set up the movie?”

Having your heart flutter this much had to be medically concerning, but there was nothing Y/N could do to stop it as she watched her best friend take her brother’s small hand.

“Okay,” she whispered and was met with a smile that sent her straight back into heart-fluttering territory. No matter how long she knew Spencer, he never stopped surprising her. Considering the effort and detail he put into every other aspect of his life, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would be so attentive with her brother. And yet he still managed to strengthen his hold on her heart with every little action that came as some unexpected surprise to her. In truth, she suspected it was a precautionary measure, if she truly let herself recognize how kind and wonderful Spencer was, she’d be done for in an instant.

All the precautions in the world couldn’t have stopped the back of her mind from spinning stories about him though. Spencer was too gentle and pure to keep the less hardened parts of her soul from imagining what it all could be like if she could indulge if she could step over the line she had drawn in the sand for herself.

Upstairs, it seemed Jack had stumbled upon a small reservoir of energy, taking the time to show Spencer his favorite toys and stuffed animals while Spencer attempted to offer him various pajama set options. Eventually, Jack settled on the set covered with small dogs.

Spencer didn’t mind the push and pull Jack, or other children gave him. There was something so strangely fascinating to him about a mind so free from insecurity and a child’s willingness to simply say what was on their mind. Despite his extensive memory, he couldn’t remember a time he truly felt like that and hoped it was merely a result of the fog around his earliest memories. Every decision he made was coated in consideration and accounted for every possible result. He couldn’t help but wish that his hypervigilance would let up from time to time and leave him free to explore the thoughts, and emotions, that remained.

“You work with my sister,” Jack offered up less as a question and more as a statement.

“Yes, I do,” Spencer responded to the not question.

The boy’s head bobbed in as much seriousness as a six-year-old could muster, “Can you still be friends with someone if you work with them?”

Spencer watched as he stepped away from him and began absentmindedly examining the toys around his room.

“Of course,” Spencer answered, not sure where this line of question was headed, “Your sister and I are very good friends then.”

Jack’s attention swiftly returned to Spencer, “So you like her then?”

“I do like her. She’s smart and cool,” Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly on the boy, “Just like you.”

Jack came closer to him and in what he seemed to think was a hushed voice said, “Did you know that sometimes when people really like they get married…?”

“And then….” he scrunched up his face and whispered, “They make a baby.”

Spencer’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened in what Jack considered to be genuine surprise.

“I know, right?” Jack stepped away and began picking up a blanket and stuffed animal to take downstairs with him, without looking up he added, “Do you think you and Y/N will get married?”

Spencer’s mind went completely blank. None of the dozens of courses he had taken over the years would provide him with any sort of answer that would satisfy Jack. Part of him wanted to say yes and not give any of it another thought but reason quickly squashed that idea. And yet…

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no either. It was far too permanent and left no room for the small bead of hope he hid away in the back of his mind.

“Maybe…” he answered finally, “I don’t really know though…”

Jack pulled the blanket and toy behind him and giggled, “I hope you do!”

Spencer’s stomach did a somersault and he scooped the small boy and his blanket up into his arms before he could notice the strange smile emerging on his face. I do too.

~~~

“I swear that kid is pure energy,” Y/N said, shutting the door behind them and stepping out into the cool night with Spencer.

Y/N pointed a somewhat accusatory finger at him, “And don’t say something like ‘technically we are all energy since we’re made of mass.’’

He rolled his eyes at her with a smile, “I was going to say that while he may have been more energetic than I expected- I had fun hanging out with you guys.”

She couldn’t help the smile that immediately bubbled up to the surface of her lips, “I had fun too. I’m glad I didn’t completely waste your Valentine’s day.”

“Never,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Y/N said when they reached the end of the driveway where Spencer’s car was parked.

His eyes narrowed slightly on her, “What are you doing? How are you getting back to your apartment?”

“Oh I have an uber coming in a little bit. I”m just going to wait here until they get here.”

“You want me to leave you here on the side of the road and drive away?” he questioned.

“No,” Y/N corrected, “I want you to leave me at the end of my dad’s driveway.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Spencer said definitively, “I’ll drive you or we could go back to my apartment and watch awful romcoms and start working on the mound of candy Rossi and Garcia got us.”

She blinked at him, “Really?”

“Yeah,” his movement suddenly became awkward and choppy, “I mean you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” Y/N smiled, “I’m just surprised. You spent the past five hours with me and my hyperactive brother and you want to hang out more?”

“I always want to spend time with you,” he said shyly.

“Sometimes I just forget that you’re you, Spence,” Y/N shook her head slightly and took a step closer to him.

“I hope that’s not a bad thing,” his eyes were slightly wider than usual.

“No, not at all. It’s the best thing actually,” Y/N smiled up at him, “And just so you know, I’d gladly spend every moment of every day with you.”

He looked down at her, not able to suppress the smile growing on his face.

“You know,” Spencer said, clearing his throat slightly, “Jack said something to me earlier and I didn’t know how to respond to him.”

“Oh gosh…” her voice faded into a slight chuckle.

“He was asking me all these questions about you. Like if we were friends and if I thought you were nice,” Spencer watched as Y/N glanced up at him, “I said yes to both of those… but then- then he asked if we were going to get married.”

Y/N’s lips let out a silent “oh.”

She blinked and glanced down at the ground momentarily, “What did you tell him?”

He scratched absently at the side of his head, “Well I wasn’t sure what to say so I told him maybe?”

Y/N’s face broke into a smile and near laugh, “You told him ‘maybe?’”

“I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, no,” she let out the rest of the laugh, “I just think we should go on a date before you start promising these kinds of things to my brother.”

Spencer blinked and swallowed before looking down at the ground, “Would you have said yes if I asked you out?”

“Yeah,” a soft smile settled on her lips, “I mean of course. Don’t tell Jack but you’re kind of my favorite person in the world.”

“Really?” his eyes settled on hers.

“What? Did you think I’d say no?” Y/N asked with genuine concern.

“I don’t know I just thought that it would make things difficult since we work together and-”

“Spence, hey, hey, stop it!” she said with a slight laugh.

A beat passed where she just looked at him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Y/N smiled, “I just want to remember the moment right before I kiss you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly.

“Is that okay?”

He nodded not sure if she was referring to the moment or the kiss but it didn’t matter either way. She smiled up at him again, looking into his eyes and her hands moved up till they met behind his neck. After inhaling slightly, Y/N perched on her toes and gently pulled Spencer’s face down until their lips met each other.

[happiest-hotch]

omg would you please do a domestic morning fic where they make breakfast for Jack , and someone from the bau drops by (they haven't told anyone about them dating yet)

yessss i'm a sucker for some domesticity

Your mornings are always best when they're spent at the Hotchners' apartment, getting a taste- that always left you wanting more- of what it would be like to live there permanently.

"Good morning," Aaron says cheerfully as you walk into the kitchen where he's making coffee, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you to him.

"Hi, handsome." You reply, cupping his cheek with one of your hands and standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. "Coffee for me?"

He nods, handing you your designated mug. "Can't have you without caffeine." He jokes.

You hit him on the shoulder. "You can't be mean to me this early in the morning."

"Sorry." He apologizes, smirking at you. "I'll wait, what, another hour?"

"I'll give you half an hour if you're making breakfast." You counteroffer.

He laughs, the type of laugh only you and Jack get to hear. "You drive a hard bargain." He says before leaning down to kiss you. "But deal." Another kiss. "If you're helping."

You love cooking with him, too. Although, you probably do more sitting on the countertop distracting him than you do helping.

Before you can ask what you're making, Jack joins your hug, wrapping his arms around both of your calves and pressing his cheek into your legs.

You bend down to pick him up, properly hugging him while Aaron watches fondly. "Good morning, mister. How'd you sleep?"

"Good." He answers. "I even had a dream."

"Really?" You pull back to ask him. "What was it about?"

He reaches out to hug his dad while talking animatedly to both of you. "I was at one of those places where you can eat all types of food."

"A buffet?" Aaron clarifies.

Jack nods before continuing. "And I was having ice cream with my broccoli." He breaks out into a laugh that sounds like his dad's and it makes both of you laugh, too. "It was pretty silly." He agrees.

"So that's what you want for breakfast?" You propose. "I think there's some chocolate in the freezer."

He screws up his nose in disgust like you're serious, shaking his head. "I want... pancakes or waffles. I can't choose."

It's a big problem for a six-year-old, and it's one you know how to solve. "We could have both. We each make one, and you get to be the judge."

Aaron's eyes meet yours, and there's a spark of competitiveness in them. "I dibs pancakes."

He's taking the option with the greatest likelihood of winning. It's what Jack usually likes the most and it's what he's best at making. With the odds stacked against you, you still need the glory and bragging rights that come with beating him. "Game on."

Aaron offers you a handshake to officiate the deal which you accept before getting started on your task while he seats Jack on one of the barstools.

There's never a breakfast without lots of talking from Jack. Sometimes, you're sure he came out chatty. You're pretty sure you're going to win your little competition as you narrate to Jack how delicious your waffles are going to be while holding a hand over Aaron's mouth whenever he goes to do the same.

When there's a knock at the door, he goes to get it, assuming it's a package delivery of something they don't need but you ordered anyway.

Unfortunately, the design of the apartment means that as soon as you walk through the foyer, you can see right into the open-plan kitchen and living room, and that's exactly what Morgan does.

Jack gets down off his seat when he sees him, running to hug him, oblivious to the surprise on all of your faces.

"What is L/n doing in your kitchen at 8 in the morning?" Morgan asks Aaron, in a little bit of disbelief. You both know he's actually talking about the reason you're in your boss's house in pajamas.

"Cooking waffles, Derek." You answer with the blatant truth. It makes Aaron smirk behind him.

"Wanna stay?" Jack offers him. "I'm getting pancakes and waffles."

Morgan looks between you and Aaron again. "I can't, sorry, little man." He regrettably turns down the offer. Still, he's smart enough to know Jack's predilection to talk. "I am going to have some questions for you later."

"About what?" Jack asks obliviously.

"Y/n and your dad." He answers.

Jack totally throws you both under the bus with his honesty. "They kiss a lot." Yeah, he's pretty much driving the bus.

"Okay." Aaron cuts him off before he can continue gossiping. "Say goodbye to Derek, and then we can eat."

It's the not-so-polite way of kicking Morgan out. He gets the hint, saying goodbye to Jack and walking mostly out of the room before looking at you both again with his stupid smirk. "I'll see you two on Monday."

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Flannel (hanjisung)

You lock your phone and smile to yourself, nervous and excited at the same time for you did purposely forget a tiny little detail about your situation: you were currently wearing no bra. And this really wasn't the way you wanted Han seeing you topless for the first time.

But past you really did not think it through when you attempted a new cool trick while doing rhythmic gymnastic the other day. And ended up falling badly from the high bar. The excruciatingly white hot flashing pain you felt from your elbow down in those first few conscious seconds after the fall fortunately only l lasted briefly before you passed the fuck out and only woke up when you felt your team mates splashing water on your face as the paramedics brought out the stretcher in wich they carried you out to the ER.

That was over 3 days ago and the pain had subsided, mostly. You really had underestimated how much a broken bone could hurt and thought you could have just gotten your cast and be done with it but no. You still needed painkillers every night cause each time you laid down your whole shoulder and neck tensed up sending painful shockwaves down your stiff arm, tightly wrapped in layers of gauze and that sticky powdery white stuff they used to glue together your plaster cast.

The thing was heavy, smelly and it made any movement next to impossible. Hence why your roommate decided against even trying to help you putting on a bra last night, figuring you would be going to sleep anyway. Except she totally forgot you still needed to leave your apartment and you felt way too bad to ask her to come help you this morning.

You had been dating Han for a little while now, the both of you were very independent people and that's probably why you clicked so well, you hated asking for help cause you really did not want to bother anyone and since your relationship was still so new you really did not want to burden him.

When you hear a knock on your door you basically leap from the couch and scramble to the hallway, trying to adjust yourself the best you can, considering the large flannel you were wearing paired with your teddy bear printed red pajama pants and your still fairly freshly washed hair that got a little kinked by the pillow you were resting on earlier.

"Hi baby!!". Han's smile was so bright and heart shaped when you opened the door it made you instantly forget about your nervousness and your dishevelled state, even as he awkwardly tried to give you a hug, "I really wish I could give you a big squeeze but I also don't want to crush your arm even more", he apologises, chuckling nervously as he manouvers around you while you giggle and invite him in.

"Thank you again for coming on such a short notice too, I owe you one", you say sheepishly, leading him to the kitchen where you try your best to one handedly pick up two mugs and fill them up with the coffee you had made earlier, "oh yeah you can definitely pay me up in kisses. I'll let you know how many I request on a daily basis until you covered up your debt. I also want dinner tonight", he quips, winking at you and helping you pour the coffee without you even mentioning needing his help, which only makes you swoon even harder.

You spend a a few quiet hours just drinking your coffee and chatting, Han occasionally stopping mid sentence just to purse out his lips, silently requesting one of the many kisses you already shared, making you giggle each and every time. There's a sort of warmth and comfort, a quiet complicity building up between the two of you and you honestly forget all about your arm.

Up until a loud notification on your phone finally brings you back down on earth and makes you check the time: "oh. It's almost 6.30 pm already. Would you mind if we started getting ready? It might take a while for me to get out of these" you ask, pointing at your pajamas.

Han silently follows you upstairs and into your bedroom where you pick out the easiest clothes to put on you can find, opting for another checkered flannel shirt, a non sleepy time flannel at that, and a pair of cotton sweatpants that shouldn't be too hard to pull up your legs by yourself, "aren't you going to be cold with just that on?", your boyfriend holds up the shirt, an unsatisfied look on his face, "it's a bit chilly outside, you should wear a t-shirt underneath, maybe an oversized one, or is that too complicated to put on?".

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod quietly, your heart suddenly feeling uneasy as the thought of you being half naked in this awful state of yours resurfaces again, " ye-yeah no it's okay I should actually dress warmly", you concede, making a beeline for the bathroom where you intend to freshen up a bit and at least put on your pants by yourself.

With a bit of an effort you manage to strip out of your pajama pants and wear your sweatpants, giving up on tying up the strings and just sticking them on the underside of the hemline, you brush your teeth and comb out the front pieces of your hair while you try to compose yourself. Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths. It's just Jisung. He's not going to judge you, you keep repeating in your head over and over.

"I'm - I'm ready for you to come in", you announce timidly, trying to resolve in the least strained smile you can muster when Han steps inside, "right, so is there a specific way you want me to go about it? Do you want me to pull out your arms or you head first?", he asks giggling, "uh... you choose? I don't mind. I uh - I...",  you nervously bite at the inside of your cheek again and shut your eyes for a sec, "I'm not wearing any bra. Just a heads up".

You can tell Jisung is instantly blindsided by the way he squints his eyes and his ears go deep red. He swallows a few times and blinks away the stunned expression pervading his face, "oh? O-okay I did not know that. Didn't notice", he mumbles, his eyes quickly scanning you up and down, "I'm sorry. I didnt mean to freak you out I sort of... Well it's really uncomfortable. To put on and also to just wear right now, the straps dig and pull at the elastic band of my sling and I can't fasten the clasps of a strapless bra right now. I just figured it was too unconvenient but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You know what? I'll just keep my pj's on and add a warmer jacke-".

Your rambling is cut off short by Han kissing you then and there. To say you're bewildered would be an understatement. You look at Han completely puzzled and he just chuckles," it's okay, I promise. I don't want to make you uncomfortable either. I'll help you undress and then close my eyes if you want me to, though I cannot guarantee I'll be much help if I can't see where your sleeves holes are supposed to go".

You both start laughing in hysterics. Probably in part to relieve the tension and awkwardness of this whole thing. And it works. Him making you laugh like that makes you feel way more relaxed. "I'd rather you kept your eyes open, please", you admit shyly as he nods his understanding, "okay then, let's get this bread- I mean this shirt". His remarks are so funny, he's so naturally hilarious you actually feel the nervousness melting away, leaving you feeling all jiddy.

Han tentatively starts unbuttoning your shirt, nimble fingers slender and beautiful as he kneels down and works his way up to your collar, now you're eye level with him and you can see that even if he's clearly still a bit nervous he's trying his best to make it quick and easy for you. Once he's done undoing your shirt he steps away to the side, not without locking eyes with you first, silently asking if you're still doing okay, and you nod slightly, extending your good arm out for him to pull the sleeve off of.

"This really isn't the way I imagined you seeing me topless for the first time, so anticlimactic, so dull. I feel the opposite of sexy right now ", you mumble, huffing and puffing a bit when you two finally manage to pull your cast arm free. Han giggles and gently drapes the t-shirt upside down over your shoulders so it covers you up a little before he brushes some of your fly aways away from your forehead, which you find so endearing and sweet of him, "you are gorgeous", he says, his voice a little deeper and raspier as he goes through the motion of slipping your other arm inside the sleeve first, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second as he smiles warmly at you.

In a few minutes you're fully dressed and ready, and Jisung's cheeks are a little blushy but you haven't caught him "slipping" once. The whole time he helped you get undressed and then covered up again, he not once let his eyes wander nor his hands linger on your exposed skin, you actually felt quite comfortable throughout it all: "thank you. I really truly appreciate how kind and respectful you've been. I'm sorry I didn't warn you earlier", you blurt out, gently brushing his high cheekbone that juts out now that he's smiling that million dollar heart-shaped smile at you, his eyes all wrinkly and squinty as he beams at you.

"You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing. I'm glad I could help and-", he grabs your hand and kisses each of your knuckles, "I can totally pretend this never happened if it makes you feel a little better, I don't ever want you to feel embarrassed when you're with me. I have the memory of a goldfish anyway so I'll easily forget all about it", you laugh out so loud and you half hug him to the best of your abilities, "hahaha you don't have to! Hopefully next time I'm half naked I'm also all in one piece".

[storiesofsvu]

Cherry Blossoms

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: minor language, alcohol consumption, just pure fluff. Covers a the "rainy day" bingo square and a req from @strongsassysexysloane

Emily had sworn up and down that there was no way she was going to have to work this weekend, that her phone would remain on silent and there was nothing that would call her away from you. You’d been rescheduling your date day for what felt like weeks already and she was sick of it, wanting to make you her main priority.

Which is why when you rolled over Sunday morning, slowly waking up with a big yawn, you stretched out your body, expecting to feel her in the bed with you. Your eyes shot open when your hand hit her empty pillow and you frowned, glancing around the bedroom and for the briefest moment you grumbled. Your senses awakened, your ears picked up the music and quiet clattering coming from the kitchen and your lips curved up into a grin.

Pushing back the covers you shivered a little, frowning at the chill in the air, it was supposed to be spring, the weather was supposed to be warming up. You snagged a spare hoodie of Emily’s from a nearby chair and tugged it over your head before padding down the hallway to the kitchen. Your arm looped around her waist from behind while she was at the stove, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Thought you’d ran off on me.” You greeted, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and her free hand found your arm, squeezing softly.

“Not this weekend.” She assured, “I made a promise and there was no way I was gonna break it.”

“That’s why I love you so much.” You murmured, your head turning to look out the window, “awwehh.”

“What?” Emily stalled, spatula halfway to the pan in front of her, “I made them steamed sunny side up, just the way you like.”

“No.” You laughed with a small huff, kissing the side of her head before nudging at her to look to the side, “it’s raining. And like… really raining. That’s not gonna let up and I really wanted to go see the cherry blossoms today.”

“I know.” She flicked off the burner and turned in your arms, tilting your frown up to kiss you softly, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have the perfect date day without leaving the apartment?”

“Oh yeah? You got a plan b?”

“I do.” She smiled, leaving a kiss on the tip of your nose, “and it was supposed to start with breakfast in bed, but I guess the couch will have to do.”

“You’re a sap, anyone ever tell you that?”

“No one who survived.” She teased back with a grin, nudging at your hip, “go get cozy, I’ll be right over.”

You happily dropped down onto the couch, pulling one of the blankets from the back of it down, happily tucking it around your legs, leaving the side open for Emily to easily slide into a few moments later. She first handed you a mug of coffee, made exactly how you liked it, letting you get those very needed first sips in. She watched with a smile at the way your shoulders dropped, your entire body relaxing at the warmth spreading through your veins.

“Perfect.” You smiled across at her, placing the mug on the coffee table so you could take the plate from her. The aforementioned eggs, extra bacon and homemade pancakes covered in a berry compote and side of fresh fruit. It was honestly a surprise she’d gotten that much done before you woke up. “Baby this looks amazing.”

“It had to be special.” She replied with a shrug, stealing a quick kiss before the two of you started to dig in.

Plates soon were strewn aside onto the coffee table as you sunk into the crook of Emily’s arm, burrowing under the blankets while she pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head. You let out a content sigh as you relaxed into her embrace, your gaze trained on the large living room windows, watching the rain dance down the glass.

“You know… it is kinda pretty.” You murmured and she hummed, lips brushing across your temple.

“It is. Maybe it’ll let up this afternoon, if it’s just drizzling we can still go out.”

It was directly after she finished her sentence that thunder cracked through the air and you let out a sigh, watching the way the droplets got bigger, hitting the glass with more ferocity.

“Are you sure you’re not some kind of witch?” You grumbled with a tease and Emily chuckled, pinching at your side.

“We’re already cozy here. Let’s throw on a couple of movies, our watch list is getting far too long.”

“That’s because someone keeps falling asleep halfway through.” You teased, prodding at her ribs as the two of you readjusted on the couch so you were facing the tv.

“Not my fault you’re just that comfortable.”

“Yeah, okay.” You laughed, curling into her side, your head resting on her shoulder while she grabbed the remote.

You settled on a romantic comedy to start off with, and Emily would spend the rest of the weekend teasing you because you were the one asleep within twenty minutes. Clearly that teeny sleep in this morning hadn’t been enough for you. Still, she left the movie playing, her hand softly rubbing up and down your back as you slept, your breath even and low. She couldn’t help but gaze down at you adoringly, watching the way the corner of your lips would twitch up into a tiny grin as you dreamt.

It was halfway through the movie when Sergio leapt up onto the couch, nuzzling himself in between the two of you, Emily’s free hand giving him a little scratch between the ears. She thought he would settle in but instead he let out a loud meow, nuzzling his face right against yours before licking your cheek and your face twitched as you started to slowly wake up.

“Hey bud.” You yawned, giving him a few pets before he head butted you again, turning to Emily to let out an even louder meow. “Did you forget to feed him this morning?”

“He still had food in his bowl from last night.” She replied with a shrug. In retaliation Sergio headbutted her, harder than yours and let out a rather annoyed meow. “Okay, okay.” She laughed, “calm down, I’ll give you some lunch.”

She left a kiss on the top of your head before scooping him up and slipping from under the blanket, making sure it was tucked around you properly before wandering back to the kitchen. She occupied Sergio with a couple of treats before making sure his water bowl was fresh and filling up his food bowl. She realized her stomach was starting to rumble and was sure you’d be feeling hungry soon too so she pulled open the fridge. Before either of you had bothered to think about checking the weather the night before, you’d prepped some mini pita sandwiches, wrapping them in foil to take with you down to the cherry blossoms. One glance out the window told her that likely wasn’t happening today so she grabbed them before returning to the couch.

“Hungry?” She asked, holding out one of the packages.

“Kinda, yeah.” You smiled up at her, leaning forward for a kiss, “thanks.”

She settled back onto the couch, arm winding around your shoulders as her gaze returned to the tv, “you want me to rewind this?”

“Nah.” You shook your head, “it was one you were more interested in anyways.”

Not much longer after lunch the first movie wrapped and you continued into the next one on your list. Sergio, satisfied with his feeding hopped back up onto the couch to snuggle between the two of you, purring at the endless pets and cuddles he received during the rest of the afternoon.

Emily offered to cook dinner but you squashed her plans insisting on pizza instead, your motivation being that you didn’t want her to leave the couch. You were a tangle of limbs at this point, only moving when one of you absolutely had to, multiple blankets wrapped around you to combat the chill of the rain outside. She cracked a bottle of wine when the pizza arrived and you were thankful to be enjoying some delicious food and fancy wine while curled up on the couch. Your third movie of the day started to come to its close, the credits beginning to roll on the screen and you felt Emily shift beside you as her gaze redirected to the window. She squeezed softly at you,

“Hey… I think it stopped raining.”

“So?” You asked with a laugh, looking outside, “it’s nearly eleven. We can’t go out now.”

“Who says?” She laughed, leaning down to kiss you gently, her hand stroking at your cheek, “besides I’m craving ice cream from that place on seventh, and they’re open til midnight.”

“Well if you’re promising me ice cream…”

“Baby you’ll be getting a lot more than ice cream tonight.” She grinned back and you laughed, gently nudging Sergio off your lap as you sat up.

“Alright, let me grab some leggings, I feel like its too cold for pj shorts.”

Twenty minutes later you were leaving Pitango Gelato with a decaf latte to share and a gelato each, cherry dark chocolate for Emily and matcha green tea for you. You thought you were headed back home but Emily suddenly made a left turn instead of right and your head tilted in confusion.

“Where’re we—”

“Don’t worry about it.” She replied with a soft smile, squeezing at your thigh and you simply smiled in return, figuring she had some other late night craving she needed to satisfy.

Ten minutes after that and she was pulling into the parking lot at Tidal Basin’s reservoir and you let out a soft gasp.

“Em…”

“What?” She asked with a small smile, glancing toward you as she undid her seatbelt, “you very specifically said you wanted to see the cherry blossoms today. And my girl gets what she wants.”

“You fucking sap.” You giggled, lurching forward to kiss her before slipping out of the car.

You’d basically finished your gelato on the drive over, more hungry for a sweet than you’d realized, dumping the empty container in a garbage can not far from the car. Which meant you had a free hand to carry the coffee while the other quickly wrapped around Emily’s arm as you began your walk. The pathway was quiet due to the late hour, light reflecting off the water of the lake and the rain water left on the ground. There was a calmness in the air, moonlight shining down bright over the two of you as you nuzzled close to Emily.

“It’s almost even more beautiful right now.” You murmured as you reached the cherry blossoms, glistening with rain drops in the moonlight. The rain from earlier had caused some of the petals to fall from the trees, coating the pathway with them, it was as if you were stepping into an enchanted forest.

“You know what the best part is?” Emily asked, her gelato now gone, snagging the coffee from you.

“What?” You asked with a grin, glancing up at her.

“Look around.” She nodded, taking a moment to place the coffee down on a bench before she stepped back to you, grabbing your hand in hers and she twirled you under her arm. “Right now… it’s all just for us.”

You let out a small giggle, watching at the way the petals around your feet flurried up when Emily spun you, pulling you close to her. A gust of wind picked up, blowing through the trees and you both glanced up, watching as the flowers shivered in the air, tree branches shaking and petals danced down through the air onto both of you. It was a complete moment of bliss, enamoured both with life and with each other, a sense of serenity washing over you because you both knew there was absolutely nowhere else in the world you would rather be than in this moment, right now, in each other’s arms. Pink petals decorated Emily’s hair like delicate snowflakes and you couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful she looked. You plucked one off, holding it in your palm before you glanced up to her,

“Make a wish.” You prompted and she chuckled, but the grin stayed on her face as you both silently made your wishes and with a small nod from you, you both blew the flower off your hand, watching it get caught in the wind and carried off into the night sky.

“What’d you wish for?” Emily asked, pulling you tight to her, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and you poked at her side.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” You replied with a giggle, turning to face her, your arms looping around her shoulders. “But what I can tell you, is that this was the greatest date day I’ve had in a long time. And that I love you to the moon and back.”

Emily smiled, practically melting as she gazed at you, eyes sparkling in the moonlight as she ducked down to kiss you tenderly, lips moving with ease against yours in an all too familiar dance you both adored. “You’re my everything and I will love you forever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

——————————

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @going-gray y @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @heidss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @aws-l @akingcalledkris @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @regalmilfs4me

[albertasunrise]

Day by Day - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (Shorter chapter but I hope you still enjoy! 🤣)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Frankie took things day by day. 

There was no other way. Here he was as a new father, having to navigate what should be the best time of his life without you. He was supposed to be doing this with you. The night feeds, the changes and the firsts were all supposed to happen with you beside him but instead, he had Will and Ben popping over on their free days just to give him a little extra support. 

No... This isn't how he'd expected this to go. 

After your funeral, he had found tooth and nail not to let himself spiral like he had when he'd left the army. You have been there to support him back then. Sat with him as he came down from his coke high and finally being the one to force him to choose between the drugs and those that he loved. Because of you, he had quit cold turkey with little or no help from anymore but you. 

He owed you his life.

Without you, he'd surely have been six feet under but now. So that's what made this all the harder to come to terms with. If anyone deserved to be dead for the choices they made it was him... Not you. 

Never you. 

You were all light and sunshine. You had made his life worth living. Given him something to fight for and now he was left without you to help guide him through this new journey. A journey that really you should have been leading. 

"Esme's down for her nap." Said Ben as he walked into the Kitchen, noting how Frankie was staring off into space "Fish?"

"Hmm?" The older man hummed and turned his head so he was looking directly at the younger Miller. 

"You okay man?" 

"Mhmm." He hummed in response and Ben sighed. 

"It's okay not to be ya know?" Ben stated as he walked over to the coffee machine to pour himself a mug "We all miss Titch but-"

"I said I'm fine Ben." Frankie growled as he got to his feet "I have to be!" 

"Titchy is so lucky to have you as a dad... She couldn't ask for a better one but it's okay to need help." Ben said as he placed his mug down and walked over to wear Frank was leaning against the counter "We will do everything we can to help you brother but you need to let us in." 

Frankie couldn't fight back the tears that threatened to fall. His dam was breaking and he didn't have the strength to keep the waters at bay any longer. 

"I just..." Frankie trailed off as he felt one stray tear fall. 

"You didn't expect you'd have to do this alone?" Ben asked and Fish nodded his head "Look I get it... Titch and you were meant to be, everyone could see that, and I can't even begin to imagine how you much be feeling right now but I want to help man... I need to do right by Titch." Ben choked "I loved her too." 

Frankie nodded before his head dropped and he allowed himself to sob openly. Benny pulled him into a tight hug, holding him as he allowed his own tears to fall and then after a short while they pulled back and gave each other a small nod. 

"You're not alone in this Fish." Ben repeated, "Titchy is going to be the most loved and spoilt little princess that ever lived!" 

"You're telling me! Will already has a giant stuffed panda arriving tomorrow." Frankie chuckled "Apparently he just 'couldn't help himself'... For such a big guy... Huge softy." 

"I have a confession to make..." Ben trailed off and Frankie's eyes narrowed as he waited for the younger man to elaborate. 

"I bought her a Giant giraffe!" 

Frankie laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It made Ben smile to see his friend genuinely smile and it made his heart swell to see it. 

"She's going to have a zoo at this rate!" 

...

Scaling the isles and balancing keeping his now two-month-old entertained whilst searching for the items on his list was quite the feat. It transpired early on that Esme did not like the supermarket. She started to well up the moment he laid her in the baby seat attached to the trolly and he had had to come up with imaginative ways to keep her happy as well as grab what he needed to feed himself. 

And today was no different. 

He was walking around pulling faces at his grumpy daughter whilst glancing down at the list and grabbing items as and when he spotted them. 

"Frankie?" His name being called pulled his attention away from the task at hand and to the voice's owner. 

Mary stood there, giving him a sheepish look as her eyes flitted between him and Esme. 

"How are you?" She asked as she braved another step forward, her hands wringing as she waited for his reply.

"I'm getting there." Frankie replied as he gave her a weak smile "Hard grieving the woman you loved whilst trying to raise a newborn baby." 

Mary gave him a grim nod, her eyes drifting to Esme again and she looked at her longingly a while before she returned her attention to him. 

"I've missed you." She started and Frankie sighed. 

"Mary I-" 

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." She interrupted and he stopped in his tracks "It was wrong of me to try and replace her... I just, I wanted to have that with you. Be a family. But I realise now that it was her all along." She sighed "And I don't blame you for it. You loved her and you lost her and I cannot even begin to imagine how you must be feeling but I just need you to know that I am here if you need a friend." 

"Just friends?" Frankie scoffed and Mary's eyes widened. 

"I mean it." She defended "I know that you and I aren't on the cards but I want to be there to support you if you need it! Help with the baby or just-" 

"I have the Millers for that but thanks." He stopped her, knowing that this conversation needed to stop "It was nice seeing you, Mary." 

"Nice to see you too Frank." She replied, her voice barely above a whisper "And you too Esme." She finished before waving at the baby and turning to leave. 

Leaving Frankie to dwell on what had just happened. 

He finished his shop. Successfully managing to avoid any tears and grab everything on his list. Paying for the items he then left the market, chatting away to Esme who was grinning up at him from where she lay. He then looked up in an attempt to spot where he had parked his car and stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there, smiling at him from across the parking lot. He was frozen to the spot as he watched your hand raise up and lay flat, inviting him to hold it. 

"Come back to me." You uttered, as your smile widened and then a car horn sounded beside him and his attention was torn away from you and to the car that was waiting for him to move out of the road. 

He quickly jogged forward before looking up again, his heart sinking when he found you weren't there anymore and then he shook his head as he remembered that it couldn't have been you. 

You were dead.

Esme's cries soon pulled him back to the real work and he was quick to sprint back to the car so that he could scoop her into his arms and attempt to soothe her as his own heart ached. 

"I'm sorry baby girl." He said as he rocked her in his arms "I'm sorry I just thought I saw someone." He choked, supporting her head so he could lean her back to place a kiss on her brow "It was just Papi seeing things." He finished before placing her in the car when she finally settled. 

After packing his truck, his eyes drifted to the spot where he had seen you standing. You had seemed too real. Like he could just reach out and touch you. Then his mind wandered back to what you'd said to him. 

Come back to me...

What did that even mean? 

...

2 weeks later... 

"Stop hogging the baby man!" Ben grumbled as he tried to pry Esmerelda from his brother's arms. 

"How am I hogging the baby?" Will scoffed, grinning at Frankie who watched the two men fawn over his daughter with amusement. 

"You've been cuddling her for like... the whole evening!" Ben whined, "I want Titchy snuggled." 

"Titchy?" Will Scoffed "Surely bubbles would be a more appropriate nickname for her." He chuckled as he looked at Esme who was blowing raspberries at a child sitting in the chair behind her. 

"I think Titchy suits her." Frankie defended, winking at Ben before his eyes locked onto someone familiar standing at the bar. 

"Well, I guess she is pretty teeny." Will stated as he finally relented and handed over the infant to his brother, grinning at the smile that filled her features as he took her into his arms "You're definitely her favourite." 

"Damn right." Ben agreed as he lifted Esme enough to blow a raspberry on her round tummy. 

"Fish?" Called Will when he noted how Frankie was staring off towards the bar, his eyes then following the man's to see what it was that he was looking at "See someone you recognise?" 

Frankie didn't answer. He kept his eyes fixed on the figure at the bar, his heart thundering in his chest when they turned around and your face came into view. You were in different clothes from the last time he'd seen you. Dark blue jeans and a cream linen shirt that made you look effortlessly beautiful. 

"Titch..." He mumbled, his eyes widening as yours locked onto his and then he was standing. 

"Fish... what the?-"

"Can't you see her?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of you as he straightened his spine and smiled sweetly at you. 

"See who?" Ben asked, his eyes then drifting to where his friend was looking. 

"She's right there." Franky choked as he started to take small steps towards you. 

"Who is?" Will demanded again as he stood up to follow his friend, grabbing Frankie's arm to stop him.

"Titch." Frankie growled as he turned his head back to look at him "Can't you see her?" He growled as he motioned at you. his chest heaving as he glared at Will. 

"She's not there Catfish." Will sighed and Frankie practically growled.

"Yes, she is! She's right..." He trailed off as he turned his head to see that you weren't there anymore "She was right..." 

"Maybe we should head home brother." Will said as he tried to steer Frankie back to the table. 

"I'm telling you she was right there!" 

"No one is there Francisco!" Will growled, the use of his full name taking Frankie by surprise "Titch is dead!" 

"I know that!" Frank yelled, his eyes welling up as he shrugged his arm out of Will's grasp "I know that okay it's just... I swear she was there... I saw her as clearly as I can see you." 

"Frankie we all see people we miss from time to time." Will sighed, giving his friend's arm a friendly squeeze "Doesn't mean they're actually there. 

"It's not the first time!" He defended "I saw her a few weeks ago at the market." 

"Frankie-"

"Don't believe me!" Fish growled, stopping Will in his tracks "But I know what I saw." He sobbed "I saw her..." He trailed off before grabbing his daughter off of Ben and making his way back to the car. 

Will and Ben hung back a moment, sharing a look of concern before heading out to catch up with him. He was their ride after all. They knew grief could manifest itself in strange ways but seeing you around seemed a bit extreme. Even for Frankie. 

... 

"Frankie?" 

Fish woke with a start, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he looked around the room for the source of that voice. 

"Frankie, can you hear me?" 

"Where are you?" He asked, his eyes wide and wild as he continued to scan the room for the source of that voice. 

The voice he was sure belonged to you. 

"Come back to me." I said and his heart was racing so much he was sure it couldn't be good for it. 

"Titch?" 

Screaming pulled his attention away from the mystery voice and he turned on the bedside lamp before rolling over towards where Esme lay in her side sleeping cot. 

"What's the matter princessa?" He asked as he pulled her to his bare chest " Hungry maybe?" He asked her as he shuffled down the bed so he could get up, grinning when she started to suck on the skin of his peck "Take that as a yes." 

He couldn't help but scan the room one more time before leaving it to make Esme her bottle. He was sure it was you. Sure as he could be that that voice had belonged to you and as he perched at the breakfast bar feeding his daughter, he dwelled on those four words you said to him again. 

Come back to me...

What did you mean by that? 

He wasn't the one that left. You were. 

So how could he go back to you? Surely you didn't mean what it sounded like? You wouldn't want him to leave Esme. You would want him to keep living for her if not himself. So why did you keep asking him to go back to you? 

It didn't make any sense. 

So when Emse was finished at tucked back into bed he lay down and decided it was time. 

He had to visit your grave. 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[moonsanoverthinker]

Some more TMA headcanons because I’ve thought of some more. Also apologies if this list is a little more chaotic than the other one x (Here’s the first list I make incase anyone’s interested)

Also if people have their own that they’d want to add feel free to because I love reading other people’s x

There’s probably going to be some spoilers for but I’ve tried to keep it as broad as possible :) x

Tim used to steal Jon’s pens - Not because he needed them he did it to annoy Jon

Tim once hid a plastic spider in Jon’s desk then pinned it on Martin

Gerry liked to make puns, Gertrude didn’t like Gerry’s puns - Or at least she pretended not too

Peters changed the locks multiple times but Elias just keeps finding his was back in

Georgie has that really nice kind of swoopy writing - I kind of feel Sasha did as well

Distortion Micheal likes the animated Alice in Wonderland film - Can’t think why… (If I had any artistic talent I’d draw him as the Cheshire Cat but I sadly I don’t have any)

Melanie used to make loom band bracelets - She never gave them to anyone but she’d use specific colours with specific people in mind

Elias likes to shout peoples names then not answer them when they shouted back asking what he wanted

Jon owns a few packs of some nice playing cards (Like the ones with cool pictures and stuff) but no one’s allowed to use them - He let Tim use them once but after he slightly bent the corner of one they became off limits to them all

Jon drinks black coffee because it seems like the mature thing to do

Tim drinks the super sweet coffees because they taste nicer and look pretty

Elias has one of them big spinning office chairs - He’s definitely done the James Bond villain spin

Daisy once told Martin she knew a great place to hide his body - She then proceeded to leave notes around the archives to remind him - Jon would also take the notes down

Not necessarily a headcanon but I just imagine series 5 Jared Hopworth in the garden with a necklace of various body parts and bones

Occasionally Basira would just look out to the fourth wall - I’m imagining it like fleabag style

During their travelling Gerry brought Gertrude a mug from a tourist shop - She kept saying she didn’t like it but once she was back in the archives she would use it all the time

Just Jon wearing some sparkly green nail polish

On the topic of Jon’s nails imagine him with those pointy acrylics - He’d either be in his element or he’d have the same vibe as a dog trying to walk in shoes

Both Micheal and Helen just pinging rubber bands at the backs of peoples head (I’ve got no real explanation for why they do it but then again neither have they)

Jon appreciates badgers - He got a little desk calendar with different pictures of them every month

When Martin was staying in the institute Jon gave him a blanket. He took the blanket with him when he started living at home again and started using it

Tim kept every card Sasha ever gave him

Sasha has a little pot of fake flowers on her desk

Jon pretends to he surprised every time Martin gives him a present - Especially if it’s an out of the blue ‘I saw this and thought of you’ present

Sasha and Tim went ice skating together one Christmas - They claimed it was as friends but Tim did give her flowers

Also some random side notes - Slight spoilers for series 4/5

Listened to 170 and immediately started crying at the end / The descriptions in 172 made me feel physically ill as someone who really doesn’t like spiders / Also I saw a thing on TikTok where someone took Gerry asking to be called Gerry and paired it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski and it was more upsetting than I was expecting xx

[wandabear]

GIVE YOUR HEART A BREAK - WANDA MAXIMOFF X F!READER  

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 

Summary: A request based on the song 'Give Your Heart a Break'. Emobaby Wanda is trying. Enjoy @imnotasuperhero! Request here.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ As you know me, Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane.ㅤ 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 

Chapter I Chapter II

NEW YORK, 2016.-

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“That will be it, thank you, Jules.” The brunette thanked the waitress with a kind smile and stepped aside to wait for the order, putting back just one of her headphones.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ The rainiest day of September, Wanda left earlier the Compound that Monday, of course she took advantage of the free time to catch up on her book, and drink coffee at her favorite place. She needed to get out, needed to get rid of the pain that his death left in her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ A nice coffee with a bit of almond milk just to give it some flavor. Wanda was wearing a dark scarlet coat, a black dress and boots of the same color, one of the outfits that made her feel safe, Pietro used to say that it 'suited her'. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda sighed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The stress that she felt every day in those training sessions vanished when she got to the coffee shop and had her favorite drink; could breathe again and focus on the book. Escaping from reality, the reality where she was an avenger. Something that not even in her wildest dreams would have imagined.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The tabloids showed a picture of her exclaiming ' The new avenger: a young and inexperienced kid' or the 'Sokovian mutant' who now lived in the Avengers Compound was removed thanks to Stark a few weeks ago, she could once again enjoy her anonymity.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Wanda” Jules finally called.

Wanda took the coffee mug, it was her favorite. One with many stickers, some of them songs or books the girl liked but above all: the name of her twin brother, Pietro. She always carried it with her, it was one of the many things that Pietro had stolen for the people of Sokovia, but that mug was for her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Thanking the barista, Wanda walked over to one of the empty tables by the largest window, whose view included Manhattan Avenue, just between Central Park and Morningside Park. Leaving the coffee on the table, she took a book out of her bag.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

In the time Wanda was there, she chose to snoop around the top shelf in the Compound library, books that were or used to be her favorites and which she considered re-reading as a good hobby; get rid of Bruce’s stoichiometric formulas, or Natasha's Judo grappling techniques.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She opened that book on page 64; an automatic smile spread on those lips. Pietro's jokes about her every time he saw her reading a book came to her mind, the times he tried to cheer her up when they didn't have enough to eat, watching his sister read a book over and over again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Hello there. What are you reading?” A charming voice made Wanda look up. In front of her was a beautiful woman, with brown hair, a friendly smile and a coffee cup in her hand. “You seem to have more fun than anyone else here, or maybe I'm just really bored.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

How long has she been sitting there? How come she hadn't seen her? Was she too lost in the reading? Wasn’t even aware of what was happening around her until that voice spoke to her. Oh, Natasha would be furious.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda raised one of her eyebrows, but she looked down at her book again. But not intimidated by the Sokovian, Y/N continued.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Is that book good? What is it about?” The woman said before taking a sip of her steaming coffee. “Cool coffee mug by the way.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda just sighed. “I’m sorry, but I prefer to be alone, please.” The sokovian girl said with her accent, brought her book a little closer as well as the coffee mug, from which she drank a big sip before continuing to read.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Hoping those words would have an effect on the stranger, and although she didn't want to be rude, Wanda didn't really want her free time invaded by someone else. She was already under a lot of stress the last few days, the last thing she needed was someone she doesn't even know bothering her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Today feels like a good day to have a coffee, maybe a donut, I love donuts but the sugar sprinkled ones.” Y/N watched through the window as the trees moved slowly and the raindrops hit the glass. “I like rainy days, don’t you?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda didn't even look up again, just tried to keep reading, even annoyed by having to read the same page so many times because the woman in front of her kept speaking.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name… ”  The woman in the leather jacket nodded, leaning on the table to better see the cover of that book. “Well, you’re a bit quiet, I like that...”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N continued talking about the city, the weather, the coffee she ordered, the music video playing on the screen, but Wanda never answered.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ She pretended to ignore this woman until the stranger left, but it didn't seem like a good tactic after all since the stranger didn't seem bothered with Wanda’s indifference, she even said goodbye almost half an hour, flashing a sideways smile that Wanda barely managed to see out of the corner of her eye.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The Sokovian rolled her eyes when she was finally alone once more, but had to finish her coffee and run back to the Avengers Compound when she saw Natasha’s text saying they had ‘a job to do’.

Well, at least besides a tedious day of training, something different happened in her life.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The story repeated itself the next day and also the day that followed, and the next. Wanda drinking a large latte, a book in hand, and the strange woman with dark hair  who always came to sit with her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ The endless talks she seemed to have by herself, because Wanda never responded. She tried to read even though she didn't usually moved forward a single page because of that nosy annoying woman.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I like how that makeup highlights your eyes, and your jacket, red and black is really yours.” Y/N smiled and finished her donut. “Well I have to go now, but I hope you have a good day, stranger.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

That stranger chose to say goodbye and always leave there half an hour after sitting with her. Wanda returned to the Compound only about five minutes after seeing her leave.

And even though Wanda wanted to be alone with all her heart, that woman with the leather jacket was beginning to grow on her. Hearing her voice seemed… calming, and her sweet perfume was exquisite. And maybe getting a new routine wouldn't hurt at all.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Three days passed in the same way, three days in which Wanda decided to arrive always on time and hoping to see the stranger one more time, even though her presence seemed annoying and invasive. She discovered that the stranger's name was Y/N, she read it on the cup Jules gave her everyday.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

When Thursday came, Wanda decided to repeat the routine once more. Although she didn't usually come back to the city on Thursdays since Steve used to organize a movie night -so he could integrate the newbies-, Wanda decided to go anyway, at the same time. Even tried to look ‘good’, something casual but just enough to make her feel 'pretty', even trying new perfume after parking the car.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda didn't even understand why she did those things, but the truth is that she hadn't started a conversation with anyone since she lost Pietro.

That afternoon she decided not to use her mug and use a disposable one with her name, maybe that way Y/N would know it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Took a seat at her favorite table, starting to read her book hoping to hear that voice that was even more interesting than the pages of any book but to Wanda’s surprise that woman didn't interrupt her again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

'How strange' she thought.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Hey, Jules.” Wanda approached so she could chat with the girl. “Do you know if Y/N arrived today?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Smiling a bit surprised by the question, the barista shook her head. “Not today. It's weird, she comes every afternoon but she wasn't here today.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“OK thanks.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Do you want me to tell her something if she comes?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“No, don’t worry.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

The Sokovian looked around, her presence was distinctive, she just wasn't there.

Wanda pouted a little bit and decided to continue reading but the silence distracted her even more than Y/N. Wanda slammed it shut, glanced at the watch on her left wrist and decided to wait.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

5:30 pm Wanda arrived at the coffee shop. 5:45 pm when Y/N didn't appear in front of her. 6:00 pm when she finished her coffee very impatient. Couldn't even concentrate on reading.

6:30 pm when her hopes began to fade and... 7:00 pm when Wanda left the place.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

A sigh and confusion accompanied her back home, thoughts that were tangled like cobwebs impossible to decipher. Come on, she should be glad because now she could return to the book, having some peace, enjoy the solitude and tranquility but on the other side felt a small thorn of disappointment and did not even understand why. Someone else disappearing from her life in such an unexpected way.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda was an expert in pushing all feelings to the bottom of the abyss, so she did it one more time, avoiding thinking about what happened with Y/N. Just went back to her mornings training with Natasha and Steve, the lonely lunches, being alone in her bedroom, avoiding Vision and visit to the coffee shop on Friday afternoon.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Jules handed over her coffee and a bagel, Wanda took a seat at the table by the window and opened her book to page 70 since she hadn't gone too far since Monday. But as soon as she started the first sentence the door opened and something in her head screamed for her to turn around.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N entered that place with that presumptuous walk, that side smile while Jules took her order, Wanda didn't even know how those expressions were familiar to her, perhaps she paid much more attention than usual…  More than she wanted to admit.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

The Sokovian settled into her seat, her emerald eyes fixed on the letters, hoping that like every afternoon, Y/N would take a seat in front of her.  But as soon as she looked up again, she realized that Y/N sat somewhere else. One of the tables in the corner.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda wrinkled her nose a bit confused, and although her expression indicated how upset she was, just decided to give up and keep reading. She should be happy, right? Y/N was finally leaving her alone.

She read perhaps two pages before reason left her body, because what she did next didn't seem coherent at all.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Closing the book - stronger than she expected- Wanda got up and walked over to the table where Y/N was. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed, her arms crossed. Wanda Maximoff looked at Y/N, who didn't get her attention until the sokovian cleared her throat.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Oh, hey.” Y/N settled into her seat.  “Do you need something?” Y/N asked, her eyes met the sokovian emerald eyes and although Wanda didn't understand why she felt a little tingle when she looked at the stranger, it was overshadowed by her obvious annoyance. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You didn't show up yesterday.” Wanda was encouraged to say out loud, still with her arms crossed and without looking down for a single moment. She was not going to lose this battle. Who the hell did she think she was?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

She was Wanda Maximoff, she was an avenger and one of the strongest ones. Strange moment where Wanda felt proud of herself.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N put aside some papers that she seemed to be going through, the look of surprise and confusion on her face made Wanda hesitate a little this time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You didn't come and now you are sitting here.” The Sokovian mumbled but no other words seemed to come from her lips for a moment. She swallowed and opened her mouth, but it was Y/N who spoke:

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

 “What do you mean I didn't show up?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You stood me up!” Wanda finally confessed, using a rather high tone of voice, which earned the attention of some curious glances, but as soon as those words left her mouth, Wanda wished she had bitten her tongue. She pressed her lips together and swallowed once more, though decided to take a seat in front of Y/N to avoid making more of a fuss than they already had.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Come again?” was the only thing Y/N answered, her frown changed to a smile of amusement. Oh, that Sokovian accent drove her crazy.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You stood me up yesterday and now you are not sitting with me, why are you avoiding me Y/N?” Of course, staying silent had never been an option for Wanda, her mouth  made her brain want to hit itself. Wasn't Wanda Maximoff good at hiding what she felt? Bullshit.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“The h- I’m not avoiding… how do you know my name?” Y/N narrowed. “Weren't you the one who wanted to be alone?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I just said that the first day, I didn't even talk on the next ones but I...” She crossed her arms.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Oh, that’s right. You kept ignoring me so I can’t see the difference. Now you can read without me bothering you.” Y/N waved her hands, shooing her away. “I’m busy, enjoy your afternooon and your book, miss.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I wasn't ignoring you...” Wanda answered in a low voice, she was telling the truth, even though she tried to read or even seemed not to pay attention she remembered everything Y/N said.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I really wasn't...” Wanda sighed.  “The first day you told me you like the donuts here, I tried them, but I think I prefer bagels. You also asked me about my book, it's not as interesting as you, but it's about some invasion or something where mind control it's the principal weapon. I don’t know, I don't think I chose a good book this time. By the way… I’m Wanda.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

The Sokovian offered her right hand to Y/N and they finally shook hands. A tingle ran through her body, a strange feeling that was initiated and provoked by Y/N’s touch and although Wanda tried to ignore it, she didn't let go for a few seconds.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda allowed herself to open up little by little, of course without telling her that she was an avenger or who she really was. She was grateful that Y/N didn't even seem to recognize her, so grateful for Tony Stark's pressure to keep her face out of the media.

Little by little Wanda allowed herself to smile, something she hadn't done since Pietro died. She wasn't going to deny that Y/N did everything to see her laugh.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Very good, Wanda. That has been fantastic.” Natasha nodded her head after seeing how the girl managed to get rid of two agents without using her powers. “That's all for today, guys.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda nodded proudly, fixing her hair to tie it in a ponytail.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“That was great, you're improving a lot.” Nat smiled as they both walked out of the gym.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Thank you.” Wanda nodded a bit shy.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I'm glad what you're doing every afternoon is paying off.” The Russian winked and then she walked away to go to her own room.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Of course, that didn’t go unnoticed in the Compound, Natasha noticed the mood change in Wanda.  Like her every day she woke up early so she could have some breakfast on time and train with her.

Of course, she knew what Wanda was doing outside the compound every afternoon. Hell, Natasha was a spy, and seeing how Wanda smiled in that girl's company made Natasha finally feel less worried about her new friend.

Y/N made her feel better, but Wanda was sure of one thing and it was that she wasn't ready to allow herself anything else.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

The brunette put her motorcycle keys in the jacket’s pocket and walked next to Wanda. That afternoon they decided to do something different, instead of staying in the coffee shop they decided to take it to Sutton Place Park and watch the river for a while.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“How was your job today?”

That question caught Wanda off guard, of course she hadn't told Y/N the truth of who she was.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

How to do it? Hi, I'm Wanda and I'm an avenger. On top of that, I'm a mutant who can read minds and move objects. I could read yours but I don't want to be disappointed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Too much complexity, she wished for a world to escape to and Y/N was that now, the woman became her escape every day. She wanted to keep it to herself, or at least that was the advice Natasha gave her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Good. I'm tired, but it’s something I’ve to do, as always, how about you?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Cool, I've been working quite a bit on the project they gave me in class.” Y/N shrugged.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You work so hard for it, it will turn out great.” Wanda smiled a little tired and a little nostalgic. “Sometimes I wish I could drop my joob and just… go to college or something.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Noticing the sorrow in Wanda's eyes, the brunette pursed her lips thinking if what she was going to say next would be the right thing or if she would destroy everything.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“That leads to the question I wanted to ask you, do you have Saturday off?” Y/N asked a bit nervously, hiding the blush as she sipped her latte. It tasted really good and especially with the cool breeze blowing against her face.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I don't have much to do.” Wanda wrinkled her nose, leaning against the railing to get a better view of the river.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Nodding, Y/N reached into her jacket pockets for something and held it out to her. “Then the timing is perfect to give you this.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

In her hands Y/N held two tickets to Cigarretes After Sex, really good ones. As if she were a light in a cold and dark place, Wanda's eyes lit up and allowed herself to smile.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Nobody had been interested in that way before, besides Pietro, of course. No one had ever paid attention to her musical tastes before.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“They’re playing at Webster Hall.” Y/N smiled widely.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Are you inviting me to see one of my favorite bands?” Wanda pushed her gently, taking the tickets to get a good look at them. She wasn't going to deny that that gesture made her heart race. “What is this kindness, Y/N?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“A date.” She answered without further ado, of course, it left her lips so quickly that it made Wanda and herself blush. “It means I want to ask you out on a date, if you accept.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“A date…” Wanda hesitated. “Y/N, I don’t…I don't know what to say.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yes? Maybe?” The brunette stopped facing her, the difference in height was something that Wanda found charming. “You can say yes.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I just…” Wanda looked down, her hands hold those tickets as if she were holding an eternal treasure. “I don't think… I don't think I'm ready for this, and I don't want to hurt you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Even though Y/N might have taken it the wrong way or could be upset, as Wanda thought she would, Y/N just smirked.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Hey, don't push yourself. You're not going to hurt me.” Y/N put a hand on the sokovian's shoulder. “Baby steps.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Baby steps?” She murmured in that Sokovian accent; Wanda frowned.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Look, I know you don't like all this.” She wrinkled her nose. “Letting people into your life and I know that for sure it is because of the loss of your brother.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“It’s not just my brother… I don't think it's fair…” She remembered the last time Pietro was by her side, remembered pushing away the girl who flirted with him.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘Does every girl in Sokovia getting a dress from Paris?’

‘You’re jealous you’re not getting a dress’

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda swallowed hard at that memory.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I know.” Y/N was quick to say. “I don't want to pressure you here, I like you.” Y/N smiled when she realized that she had said it. Finally. “Wow, I can finally say it. I like you, Wands. Yeah, I do… and although you’re an amazing friend, you are… different. I know the big heart that hides under that melancholy gaze. Just... let's go to a concert. That's it. Give your heart a break.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Those words paralyzed her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I know that it is surely not in your interest to be with someone right now.” The taller woman shrugged. “But…just come see the band with me. We don't lose anything, because I assure you that even if you don't want to... you're not going to lose me. You're my friend.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda studied her face, detailing every part of it. She was so beautiful. Oh, she wished so badly to read her mind but she didn't feel like it was good breaking it like that. She had to trust Y/N, not everything was solved by getting into people's minds.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“It's a free trial.” Y/N said again, taking Wanda's hand to caress it for a moment and walk away again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“A free trial…” Wanda shook her head smiling. “You are truly something else.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yeah, maybe.” Y/N smiled and they both leaned on the railings to see the river and feel the breeze, moving their hair.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

The smile on Wanda's lips and her slight blush showed that without a doubt, she was going to try it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

And that Saturday Y/N kissed her for the first time, to the rhythm of 'Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby' in the background. And her hearts beat together as if they were part of the melody. Their lips complemented each other so well, and their hands intertwined the love… one that would never go away.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Let me give your heart a break” She whispered in her ear as Wanda hugged her, hiding her smile. Feeling happy for the first time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

After that date they decided to go eat some pizza together; Wanda laughed like she never laughed before and she felt how her heart was breaking all the ice barriers to let that warmth invade her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Two weeks where they got to know each other, some dates which were great. Y/N was proud as they walked hand in hand together. Wanda Maximoff's warm hand against hers as they walked through the cool New York night.

They took the subway together from the Bowery to Soho, but when they left the station the storm began to fall on them, making the girls laugh out loud.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Nooo! Come on!” Y/N complained taking off her jacket and trying to cover Wanda but was imposible. Laughing they ran through the streets, splashing with each step, pushing each other, playing and just having fun.

They tried to call some taxis but neither stopped when they saw that these two were both completely soaked.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I didn't even want to go in that junk anyway!” Y/N yelled, amused when the last taxi just honked and sprayed them with even more rainwater.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“What do we do now?” Wanda asked, taking refuge under the roof of a Chinese restaurant when she heard the loudest thunder of her life, a lightning lit up the city.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“My apartment is near…” Y/N proposed, trying not to sound too bad. “If you want, sure.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

And she was grateful that her brain allowed to speak. Y/N sighed when she saw Wanda with her wet hair, hugging herself. She looked so…amazing.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Biting her lower lip, the Sokovian nodded wordlessly before beginning the walk to Y/N’s home. Together.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Even though the guilt of not telling Y/N who she was or what she did sometimes choked her, Wanda finally had something of hers. Something no one could touch, something she couldn't lose.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

In the warmth of the home, they shared a slow and passionate kiss, slow music and the storm accompanied them all night. A night where they made love, where Wanda really got to know what it was like to be loved, needed and touched delicately but also passionately.

The Sokovian's pale, bare back arched as orgasm hit her, and her girlfriend's warm lips traveled down her neck and chest to go with her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

A mischievous smile that they both shared almost all night, caressing each other, snuggling and sharing warmth.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I have to go.” Wanda whispered smiling when she saw that it was already late, stretching her neck so that Y/N would leave those soft kisses on her bare skin. “Natasha is going to kill me if I’m not there.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Come on, call your work, say you're sick.” Y/N begged between kisses. “Stay with me.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda wished she could.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Can't.” The sokovian pouted and kissed Y/N’s lips, the lips of that woman who little by little won her heart. Completely hers.  “I'll call you later so we can talk… I promise we'll see each other tomorrow.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Are you sure?” Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully, watching as Wanda got up from the bed. Smiling at her from time to time; oh she was so damn beautiful. And Y/N was so whipped. “I'm going to miss you, Wands.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I'm going to miss you too, detka.” Wanda replied before kissing her lips once more, leaving that room behind with much regret. But then she smiled, knowing that she could come back later.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Right?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

With a bouquet of flowers that she chose specifically for Wanda, Y/N went to the cafe ready to see the girl she kept thinking about.

Jules smiled when she saw her once more and gave her typical latte.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Here's yours... Wanda hasn't arrived yet, do you want me to make hers now?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“She hasn't arrived yet?” Y/N frowned. “No, I'd better wait for her.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Somewhat confused by the delay -something very strange in Wanda-, Y/N sat at her special table so she could wait for her beloved.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

But the minutes passed and her coffee got cold. Y/N's gaze remained on the window, waiting to see the brown hair go by, and breathe in relief.

But that never happened, she waited an hour and decided to call her but Wanda didn't answer.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘The person you are trying to call is not accepting calls at this time’

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

What the hell was going on? Y/Ntried to send her endless texts, she called Wanda even more times but only heard the voice of the answering machine tell her the same thing over and over again.

She looked at her texts and as if by magic -or a very good hack system- everything disappeared. As if their chat never existed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘The person you are trying to call is not accepting calls at this time’

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

She was about to go crazy. Or maybe she was overreacting?

What was happening?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘If you lose your one and only… There's always room here for the lonely’ Neon Moon by Cigarettes after sex was playing on the radio.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N lowered her head to look at her second black coffee of the evening, noticing her reflection in it and realizing that maybe destiny was giving her a sign.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Y/N, you should see this.”  Jules, who seemed surprised looking at the TV, decided to turn up the volume on the News.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

But Y/N didn't pay attention until Jules called out to her again. This time in a more serious and desperate tone.

And when Y/N finally saw the television, she got up from her seat to get closer and get a better look. Not being able to believe what she was watching right now.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Criminals? Criminals, that's just the word I was looking for them, Janet. As you can see, now they transfer Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff and Samuel Wilson to a prison for enhanced people called 'The Raft'. For collaborating with Steve Rogers who is right now an enemy of the United States. Being an avenger doesn't give them the right to break laws. And whoever breaks the rules in America will have consequences. Let this be a message for everyone out there.” Said one of the NEWS reporters.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Oh, no. Please no.

I hope you liked it, this is a request from my friend @imnotasuperhero. 🐻

the cutest and lovely people tags ✨@blckrwidow @imnotasuperhero @wandsmxmff @dudaaaluthor @marvell-love​ - @ etheriaaly - @idcplss - @how-to-disappearrr - @simp4nat - @scarletwitchofthewilds - @cristin-rjd - @lonewalker17 @zairaaaa @mrscromanoff @kacka84 @helladumbsstuff @dandelions4us @karsonromanoff @trikruismybitch @danicarpediem

I can’t remember who asked me to tag them in my fics, if you want, comment and I’ll tag you.🐻

If you all have more requests, feel free to send them to me.

[mega-punani]

For your Pirate AU, what are all the boys favourite food/dishes/treats/fruits/veggies and drinks(alcoholic and non alcoholic)? I don’t think anyone has asked this, but I was curious, for all of them? Sans, Papyrus, Blue, Stretch, Red, Edge, Razz, Cash, Bear and Cinnamon?

Also are people allowed to use your vers of AUs or even your AUs in stories with different twists?? Like say pirate AU(since I already mentioned them), and like doing the dragged from they’re universe of one piece to a total new that’s kinda modern time? Dealing with an MC that’s trying to keep them outta trouble as well as hide they’re secret but also it’s where a true pacifist route happened??

And of course give you credit but can they use your make, vers, variant, au, whatever you wish to call it in this case, in stories and other works?

Yaw! People can use the pirate stuff for whatever honestly. The au is kinda my idea but not really cause I'm just smashin 2 things together lol. I don't mind. Of course, designs are made by @the-skeleton-in-ur-closet so if you end up drawing or using the designs you GOTS to credit them (or I will hunt you down /hj) Also, the dragging the pirate au to a modern Y/N would be so FUCKING FUN. I loooove those tropes saur much.

FAVORITE FOOD AND DRINKS:

Sans: Anything greasy and bready. Bro loves his carbs. Is a big fan of Ketchup too! Favorite drink is a hot mug of cocoa.

Papyrus: SPAGHETTI! And a wide range of pastas. He is also a huge fan of anything tomato. Looooves drinking iced teas, refreshing and sweet!

Blue: Huge fan of sugary and carbonated sodas but hates sparkling water. Blue is also a great enjoyer of greasy foods loaded with meat (like tacos). Likes fruits that are sweet and tropical.

Stretch: A refreshing jug of beer and potato based foods. He also has a deep love for spicy foods, even if he can't handle them well.

Red: MEAT. Bro loves him some bbq, steaks, and grilled goodies. He doesn't really have a favorite drink, but he'll enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning. 2 cubes of sugar and a dash of cream.

Edge: The stronger Edge's morning coffee, the less he will yell at the crew. This man needs his caffeine NEOW. Pasta is his guilty pleasure but he tries to suppress the fact that he wants to eat it constantly. He must set a good example by eating healthy...

Razz: Tea, wine, and cheese. Razz's holy trinity. Will nibble on a block of cheese in the middle of the night (scaring tf out of Bear)

Cash: A lover of alcohol. Every to all, especially the strong ones. He's a little embarrassed about this, but chocolate. Just cause he didn't get much as a kid,,,

Bear: Spicy foods and dairy. Spicy foods cause he can feel a strong kick from the food and it makes him all warm on the inside. He likes his dairy because it is still pretty new to him. (unfortunately, he is mildly lactose intolerant-)

Cinnamon: Desserts of all varieties. He loves him some sweet pastries, and he loves him some fudgy brownies. Cupcakes, muffins, cakes, donuts. Cinnamon got quite the sweet tooth. All of it can be paired with a hot cup of coffee that is 4 times more cream than coffee.

[brighttears]

Battery II Charged

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

No physical description

Summary: On the road, your ease lasts only a couple hours before your luck runs out. An overhead confession from Joel leaves your head spinning. 

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: mention of Joel’s pill abuse, mention of death, suicide, and grief

A/n: not super exciting tbh, good stuff’s at the end. i’m gonna be fucking with some cannon stuff just so i’m not just rewriting scenes from the show so some things are changed/missing! don’t worry Joel stops being an ass like halfway through this and then we will have soft Joel from now on (mostly, probably)

—

You’ve been up for hours before anyone else wakes, Tess being the first, wandering into the room, obviously having just opened her eyes. 

“Hey.” She says when she sees you.

“Hey.”

“Coffee?”

“You have coffee?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she chuckles, strolling into the kitchen to start a pot.

“Thanks,” you say as you get up from the couch, stretching. 

“Joel’ll be up soon. Just has to shake off those pills.”

“Does he take those a lot?”

She nods, “Can’t blame him.”

“Why not?”

She turns to you, resting her elbows on the counter behind her. “Let’s just leave it as I can’t blame him.”

You nod. Not your business. Just as long as he doesn’t take them on the road. “Are they coming with us?”

Tess shakes her head, “Nah, he’s not stupid.”

As if on cue, Joel emerges, looking lost. He glances at you, double takes, eyes still almost half shut, and then shambles over to Tess, placing his hand on the handle of the coffee pot.

“It’s not done yet. Just put it on.” Tess tells him. He grumbles incoherently and then goes to slide into a seat at the table, rubbing his hands over his face. “You gonna be good to get outta here soon?” He nods slowly, face still in his hands. 

“I can help you guys get packed up if you want,” you offer. 

“Sure, you can help me get some stuff together. It’s all under the floorboards in the bedroom.” Tess answers. 

Joel speaks up, audibly groggy, “No. She doesn't need to touch anythin’. I can handle it fine myself.”

You sigh, unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, and Tess chuckles. 

“Whatever you say, sir.” You salute him. Joel stares at you, then looks to the floor, shakes his head, and peels himself out of his seat to trudge into the bedroom. You ignore the scraping of furniture on the floor and choose to join Tess at the table. 

“Is he always like this?” You whisper, sipping the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had, granted you haven’t had one in at least a decade. 

She shakes her head, making a face as she sips from her own mug, “He’s better once he warms up to you. But, he’s kinda just that kind of guy, you know? He’s a good guy, and he can be sweet, but, world’s really fucked with his head, you know how it is. He was a whole different person before.”

“You knew him?”

“No, but I knew his brother. He told me what he used to be like. Huge softy, if you can believe it.”

You nod and sip, trying to picture that in Joel. “So, what’s the whole story with him and his brother?” You whisper. 

“Well,” she sighs, “they were together from day one. I met them a few years ago, we ran with a crew for a while, met some Fireflies, and Tommy wanted to split and go with them. They kind of had a falling out, Joel and I stuck together, came here. They were communicating through the radio towers but Tommy stopped responding a few weeks ago. That's when we started looking for a car, go out and find him. Just got a tip he might be somewhere in Wyoming, so that’s where we’re going.”

“You think he might be somewhere in Wyoming?” You repeat back, giving her a leery look. You’re not in love with that plan—Wyoming is very far and a big state, there might already be nothing to find there. But, on second thought, you don't really care. You’ll be in a car with two capable people, and that is more than you can ask for. You’re fine just being along for the ride. 

“You got anything better to do?”  

“Nope.” You chuckle, and she returns one, smiling into her cup. 

Yeah, you guess you are friends. The thought almost makes you choke on your coffee; a whole year with nothing like this, only passing faces, fake friends created for the sole purpose of getting something out of it, and, well, Rat King. But now, you’re exchanging an honest smile and chuckles with a woman over coffee. What a lucky break, to have met Tess.

Ruining the moment, Joel plods back into the room, filling up a mug and choosing to lean against the sink rather than take a seat at the table with you. 

“I’m not infected, you know.” You say to him. “Not contagious with anything. And if I smell, you smell worse.”

“Fuck are you talkin’ about.” He says into his mug, squinting. 

“You’re acting like if you come too close I'm gonna put a knife to your throat.” You stare at him in all his beheaded glory, marks from the sheets not yet faded from his cheek. “I don’t bite.”

Joel just stares back, then, finally and reluctantly, he takes a seat across from you at the table. 

“Ok, I’m serious,” Tess says, setting her mug down, “you two better not keep this shit up. It started off cute, but now it’s getting real fucking annoying.”

“Cute?” Joel says, screwing his face up, and you say over him, “I’m not doing anything.”

“Alright, alright,” Tess puts her hands up, “we’re gonna cut this shit out now. You two, shake hands.”

“What?” Joel screws his face up again. You sip your coffee, looking between them.

“Shake her hand.” Tess gestures, raising her eyebrows at him. Joel moues. It’s been nothing more than irritating so far, but now, it’s starting to hurt your feelings a little. You haven’t done anything wrong. For god’s sake, he should be on his knees thanking you for what you're doing for him. What is it about you that’s so wrong? 

Finally, he offers his hand, and you shake, his hold firm and warm. 

A shock suddenly runs through you as if he was a live wire, and you feel like your skin is melting in the most delightful way possible. The moment of contact is over in a second, but you feel that something inside of you has shifted. You can’t put your finger on what it is, but it feels like trouble. You set your hand on your leg, but it’s as if the warmth from his hand has been transmitted through your skin and onto your thigh. You quickly take your hand away to place on your mug, warm like it’s supposed to be. Your eyes are stuck on each others, but neither glares. Just, stuck. His are brown like dark bark in the sun, rich, deep, pretty. You look down at the table. 

“Alright, we got that taken care of?” You hear Tess.

“Yeah.” You answer, eyes still on the table. Joel clears his throat before he copies your response, his tone devastatingly unrevealing. You will your gaze back up only to be caught in his again, and you look around at the wall, down at your coffee, and back up, all in a second, only to be caught again. He holds it for a moment before looking down at the table. Whatever this feeling he’s giving you stinks to high heaven of trouble. 

“Alright, good, then let’s get the fuck outta here.” Tess concludes. 

You bring the battery back up on your back while Joel and Tess carry the rest of everything you’ll have for a while, abandoning your coffee, not even bothering to place the mugs in the sink. This place will be left exactly as it is, but neither of them seem to mind leaving all of this behind. You leave the apartment and then follow the two wordessly through a maze that eventually leads out past the gates, ending in emerging from a literal hole in the ground. Once outside, still crouching on the ground, you take a deep breath of fresh air, free from smoke and ash and stink. The dawn is breathtaking, being seen for the first time in years, half of the sky barely past midnight's shadow, pulled up like a shade by blood orange leading down to the peachy halo of the sun somewhere behind the toppled buildings, speckled and tangled with green. A flock of birds pass overhead, dancing in the smearing sky. You could laugh. 

“Focus,” Joel hisses, looking at you over his shoulder, also crouched, scowl back in play, though it’s understandable in the stress of the moment. You nod. He’s right. Plenty of time for this later. Right now, you’re still not quite in the clear. 

The three of you scamper silently through the badlands between the Boston QZ and freedom. As you venture out, though, your excitement begins to fade, realizing that you’ve been looking through rose colored glasses for a while now. The QZ is a shithole, but out here is just a much wider shithole. There's less people, no rules, but neither of those pluses are as good as they had been sounding in your head. Less people, because they’re mostly dead or infected, the rest being not much more than animals who know how to talk sweet. No rules, means, well, no rules, no morals, just the loose goal of ‘survive’, which translates to fight dirty, do anything you can, anything to survive. Live to fight another day. 

“How far’s the car?” You ask, the first to speak. 

“Not far.” Tess responds, distracted as she scans your surroundings. You're in the city now, the remains of it at least, weaving around crashed cars and large, rocky craters, twenty years of weather and neglect preceded by bombings and a storm of hysteria. You were expecting Joel to say something like ‘We’ll get there when we get there’, but he stays silent, eyes also scanning around. You seem less fazed. Are you not scared enough? Or have they just been inside longer than you have? You do feel like an animal in its natural environment, ears knowing what sound to look at, eyes knowing what movement to check, agile feet over the broken mounds of rock and glass and all of the other debris out in the open broken world. 

“The car’s supposed to be at the church on Park Street. Few minutes walk from here.” Tess finally answers you. 

“I know where that is.”

“Good for you.” Joel says. 

“Fuck off.” You reply.

“Excuse you,” Joel looks at you, screwing his face up. 

“Hey,” Tess interjects, shooting both of you a look, “Jesus, I feel like the parent of two disobedient kids. Knock it off.”

Joel huffs and looks at the ground. You smirk to yourself, seeing him again as a pouting dog being checked by his owner. 

It’s silent until you reach the church, red brick with a steeple reaching high into the sky. Parked directly in front of it, as if on display, is an old Dodge Caravan, white with fake wood siding, dusted with dirt, wheel wells caked in dried mud. 

“This thing looks like it’s from the 90s,” Tess comments. “You think it’ll run?”

“It better.” You say, shoulders aching with a vengeance from the battery still hanging from them.

“You said that right.” Joel adds gruffly. 

You stop at the front and lower yourself to the ground to unload the battery from your bag. Finally free of the thing, you stretch your shoulders back with a deep sigh. 

“Surprised your back’s not broken by now.” Joel says as he comes to squat next to you, looking over the battery.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’,” he glances at you, “jus’ maybe we shoulda traded bags.”

“I can handle it.” You retort, though he sounds honestly well intentioned, “I’m not weak.”

“Wasn’t callin’ you weak. What, I can't say anythin’ without it bein’ an insult?”

“That’s all it’s been so far.”

Joel just sighs, then stands to open the hood of the car. You stand to look inside with him; all looks right, though you’re not sure you know enough to make a judgment. 

“How’s it look?”

“Looks fine.” Joel says, then bends down to take his pack off and dig through it, pulling out a couple tools which he sets on the ground before hefting the battery up and into the empty space under the hood, grunting with its weight. 

“You came prepared, huh?”

“Sure did.” Joel mumbles as he picks up the tools and leans over the engine to start working on it. 

“How do you know how to do all that?”

“Used to be a mechanic.”

“I thought you were a contractor.” Tess questions, coming up beside you.

“Before that.” Joel replies, “When I was in high school.”

“I can just see you now,” Tess chuckles, “jumpsuit all covered in oil, you name embroidered on the little pocket.”

You laugh at the thought—Joel leaning over a car, jumpsuit tied around his waist as he works, dirty white t-shirt straining against his back muscles and those broad shoulders—”Fuck,” you say to yourself, startled by your own thoughts. 

“What?” Joel looks back at you, panic in his eyes. 

You dart your eyes away, shaking the thoughts of him out of your head. “Nothing, nothing, sorry.”

“You sure?” Tess asks, raising her eyebrows at you. 

“Yeah, yeah, it was nothing, really, sorry. Is the car ready?”

“Just about.” Joel replies as he leans in close to continue with a wrench. 

“You sure you remember how to do it right?” You say, recovering yourself. He pauses to glare at you but doesn’t respond. 

“Let’s hope he does.” Tess says. 

He glares at her too, then states, “I know how to do it. Just give me a damn minute. 

“Alright,” Tess chuckles, raising her hands defensively, then steps back to examine the van. She slides over the side door to step inside, “Damn, look at this thing. We could sleep in here.”

You come over to peek next to her, “How the fuck did you score this?”

“Beat it outta someone.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Must have been a good beating.”

“It was.” Joel calls from the front, then drops the hood down and comes around to get into the driver's seat. A pair of keys fall into his lap when he drops the visor down, and he takes a deep breath before easing the keys in and turning the ignition. The van roars to life, and you all laugh with delight, Joel clapping his hands and whooping. 

“Hol–ly–shit,” You laugh, half of it being at Joel’s sudden enthusiasm, “look at that.”

“Look at that.” Joel repeats, and you watch his grin through the front mirror.

Just as he catches you, Tess says, “Alright, let me out.” You step back out and she walks around to get into the passenger seat, “Alright, grab your shit and let’s go before our luck runs out. 

You and Joel nearly bump into each other as he gets out and he mumbles a sorry before you both go to gather your things. He hands you your bag and you mumble back a thank you. The relief from having a working car must have flooded all the resenting sarcasm out of you, and you actually almost smile at each other as you both get back in. You flump onto the backseat, sighing as you rest against the cushion, rolling your aching shoulders again. 

“Thank god I don’t have to carry that thing anymore. N’ I’ve got plenty of room in my bag for all the shit we have to pick up now.”

“What’s our first stop?” Joel asks, adjusting the mirror to look at you.

“About twenty miles west.”

“What am I lookin’ for?”

“Gas station. BP. Next spot’s just the same, gas station about thirty miles west from that one.”

“Alright, perfect, we’ll see if we can find some gas.” He says as he puts the car in drive and starts out, rounding the corner, “We’ll be there in no time.”

You lean back in your seat and let yourself smile. It all worked out. With a car, dare you say, it looks like smooth sailing from here. 

“Lemme see if I can find some music,” Tess says, digging through the glove box. “Oh, shit,” she chuckles, pulling out a CD, “Don fuckin’ McLean. Were you ever into him?” She asks Joel.

“Shit, is that American Pie?” He asks hopefully, glancing at it held out in Tess’s hand, “Oh shit, put that on. I love this album.”

You chuckle from the backseat. Such a wholesome little moment, and as Tess slides the CD in and the music starts to play, an air of ease falls over the cabin. Morning sun cascades through the windows and you squint through the dirty pane, watching your surroundings start to speed up past you. On the road again, heading somewhere far, finally free again. No more curfews or guards, no more fucking ration cards or deals in basements. You look ahead to the front seat at your new companions, catching a small smile on Tess’s lips. All you can see of Joel is his shoulder and his hair, wavy and stroked with silver. In the mirror, his eyes are locked on the road, but his brow is relaxed, and there might even be a smile of his own hidden under it. Leaning back in your seat and looking back out the window, the music in your ears for the first time in many years filling you up with giddy warmth, you think you could get used to this.

—

The next couple hours are in fact smooth sailing, both stops being stress free and bountiful, two crates, found exactly where you’d left them, full of food, guns, and ammo next to you on the seat with two red jugs full of gas on the floor below them. 

The car breaks down just past the border of Massachusetts. 

“Shit.” Joel seethes, waving the gray smoke away from his face as he slams the hood shut. “T’s done.” He announces, looking at you and Tess. 

“Fuck.” She mutters, closing her eyes and dropping her head. 

You watch the fumes slinking out from the hood. It was foolish to think this thing would take you all the way across the country. Of course it would break down within two fucking hours. Why not?

“Come here and help me get this shit out before the car explodes.” You say, going back to open the side door and start packing whatever you can fit into your bag. You shove another gun into the back of your jeans and empty half a box of bullets into your jacket pocket. Joel is behind you when you back out, and you shove a crate into his hands, “I got most of it. Just take whatever else you can fit in your pack. Same with Tess. We’ll probably have to leave some behind.”

Joel does as you ask, kneeling to unload the contents of the crate and dividing it up for the two of them. Once everyone’s pack is filled to the brim, you leave only a few things behind, set in crates next to the car, and set off on foot. 

Joel traces his finger over the folded map found in the glove compartment as you walk. “We’ll just follow route 20. Maybe take a turn at, uh, Albany, ‘bout  a day's walk. That’s the next real town, pretty much just farmland for a while.”

“Great.” Tess says through tight lips. 

—

At dusk, you decide to call it a day, though you’re only a few hours away from Albany. You set up under an overpass and light a small fire before nightfall takes away the option. Everyone is all deep sighs as you sit back to rest, no one used to all that walking. Your shoulders are still throbbing, a lasting consequence of that damn battery, and you pull your shirt down to see red bruises covering both sides, flashing like a mockery in the light of the flames. 

“Damn, that battery really did a number on you.” Tess comments, leaning over to examine the bruising.

“I can’t decide if it was even fucking worth it.” You say, readjusting your shirt with a huff. 

“Well, commendable act.” Tess sighs, resting her arms over spread knees. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, not used to genuine praise. 

After a moment, Joel says, “You look tired.” You look up at him and he’s staring with puppy dog eyes, probably unintentionally, but puppy dog eyes just the god damn same. 

“I am.” You mumble, not meaning to be honest about it. 

“Well,” he grunts as he stands, pulling his gun out, double checking it’s loaded, and leaning against the concrete wall, “I’ll take first watch. Tess, I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

“This is starting to sound like you still don’t trust me.” You say. 

“T’s not.” Joel says, “You just look the most tired.”

You sigh, torn between a longing for sleep and hesitancy to be in such a vulnerable position. 

As if reading your mind, Tess assures you, “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna kill ya or split. We’re in this together now, and we need you sharp. Get some sleep.” She nods her head to the ground. You pause, then obey, curling up on the hard ground with your hands between your knees and pack under your head. You’re out within minutes, being more exhausted than you had realized. 

—

An almost silent scuffle is enough to wake you up and tense every single muscle in your body, but the two familiar, faint voices relax them just as fast. It must just be Joel waking up Tess for her watch, chatting in between shifts. Their low tones tell you this isn’t for you to hear, but you listen anyway. 

“She’s jus’… she’s just so damn… pretty.” You hear Joel. Who is? …Who else would it be, but you? At this realization, your face lights on fire. Tess starts to chuckle, but then it turns into cackling, as quiet as she can manage. 

“Sh!”

You can hear the wild grin on her face as she whispers, “You have a crush on her!” 

You want to squirm, twist your legs up, but you stay still. You don’t understand the impulse, but you don’t like it, either. You feel like a fucking highschooler; a callback to an alien world, but you haven’t felt anything like it since. 

“No, I do not, now be quiet before you wake her up.”

“Yes, yes you do,” she continues to stifle laughter. 

“No the fuck I don’t.” A pause. Then, “Shit, maybe I do.” He groans, voice muffled, “I’m fucked, aren’t I, god, I’m so fucked.”

Oh, shit.

“Yes, yes you are.” Tess chuckles. 

The worst part is that you’re just as fucked as he is. It seems to be hitting you both at the same time. A crush, yes, that’s what the young aliens used to call it. A fucking crush. Maybe it’s due to time, being much, much, older—hundreds of years older, it seems—but this crush doesn’t feel like any one you’ve had before. Maybe because it’s Joel, like no one you’ve ever met. But, how, exactly? You’ve met damaged people, you’ve met people just as cold, just as standoffish. No man has exactly been this standoffish to you, though; most men you’ve met on the road have tried something within a couple days, even if it’s been in a group. Warm bodies. Hungry animals. Horny survivors. 

There’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. Your mind is spinning, gyrating, tying itself into knots. Joel, Joel, what is it about him? You’ve met handsome men. You’ve slept with a couple handsome men. You even held one of their hands once. But, Joel, you’ve barely even touched.

Pretty. That’s all he said. Is he just another horny survivor? None you’ve known have confided in anyone, cared to discuss it with someone. And not anyone has ever used the word crush. Come to think of it, most of them only use the word sexy to describe you, just to say, hey, you’re so sexy, let me fuck you. That’s about it. 

Joel, Joel, Joel, shit, what is it?

“Ah, Jesus,” Joel says. 

“A crush, wow. Gotta say, I was not expecting that from you. I always thought you were a pork ‘er and move on, never say a word about how you actually feel kinda guy.”

“Hey, you callin’ me a slut?” Joel says. Tess tries to muffle her laughter but it burst out of her hands. “Sh!” She sounds like she has her hands pressed firmly against her mouth, but she’s still laughing. 

“Yes, actually, I am calling you a slut.” She finally manages to say, “I mean, with us, it was never like that. I mean, did you have a crush on me? Because, I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t call it that.”

“No,” Joel whispers. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, you know I… care about you, all that. But, yeah, y’know, it was jus’…”

“Yeah, we’re on the same page, don’t worry.”

“Jesus, Tess, this is… goddammit, I don’t have time for this shit. I mean, what should I—what should I do?”

“Don’t look at me, loverboy. I’ve got nothin’. Are you gonna tell her?”

“Fuck no.”

Tess chuckles, “Why?”

“Why on earth would I? This is my problem, not hers. You think shit’s tense now, imagine how’d it be with that piece of fuckin’ information hangin’ in the air.”

“You don’t think she likes you back, do you?”

“Of course she doesn’t.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I—well, I mean,” Joel stammers, “why the fuck would she? Look at me, I’m just some fuckin’... old man, who—who—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Joel. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a good guy. You’re handsome. You’re kind. You’re gentle. You’re a fuckin’ badass. You’re—holy shit, you’re blushing,”

“Would you keep your fuckin’ voice down?”

“Aw, you’re killing me, Joel. I’ve never seen you like this. Never. She has got a fucking hold on you, doesn’t she?”

“Tess, stop fuckin’ around, and just tell me what to do.”

“Hey, I told you, I’ve got no advice on this one. Crushes are not my strong suit. I’m sorry, but you’re on your own on this one.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that. Shit, Tess, come on,” he nearly whines, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, why don’t you just sleep on it?”

There’s a pause, then Joel sighs, and you hear him shifting into place on the ground behind you.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This is bad. But it feels good. But it feels bad. You’re almost nauseous with the number of wings fluttering in your chest, almost dizzy, and you realize you’ve been biting the inside of your cheek so much it hurts. Half of your brain is having a party while the other half is looking for a knife to stick in its chest. What does this mean? What’s going to happen? What do you want to happen?

What do you want?

Joel is the first word that comes to mind, and you want to bang it out of your head and into the ground. But there it is, sticking like a bullet under your skin. Should you talk to Tess about it? The only person you can talk to? Tell her you heard everything? Or should you tell Joel? Oh, god, you don’t even know how you’d broach the subject to him.

What, are you two gonna start holding hands now? What else do couples do—oh, god, couples, what, are you gonna start dating? You almost laugh to yourself but you catch it before either of them realize you’re not asleep like you’re supposed to be. This is all like an out of body experience. None of this exists. 

Your mind wanders to the one time you have seen something like this—Agatha and John, who you met on the road along with a few others; the lovers, everyone always used to call them. Joined at the hip, linked by their hands almost all of the time. You used to make fun of them for their googly eyes at each other, but they never minded. They were in love, and they knew it, everyone did. Marriage without the $25 piece of paper or veil and bowtie. There was always this rosy air about them, their love was enchanting, so real, so innocent, so sweet. 

And then John died. And then Agatha killed herself. 

The whole group fell apart after that. 

That’s why all of this, ever since the second you touched him, just that shaking of his hand, had given you such a bad feeling. Because you knew what it was, and even before you found the word for it, you knew it’d end bad. 

What John and Agatha had was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, even before the world ended. They found each other, and they chose it—love, despite everything, the ugliness, the loss, the loathsome world. And it was so pure, like an angelic little bubble that they floated in. The way they touched each other, the fleeting passes over waists and arms, they way they flowed like a living duet. The way they held each other, when they cried, when they laughed, just, whenever they could. You’ve never seen people sleep so peacefully. The love was tangible between them.

And then when John died, Agatha fell apart, like an angel from heaven, like a baby bird from a nest, into a pile of feathers and blood. She was a shell. For a week. And then she killed herself. She couldn’t live without him.

You envied her before. And then, immediately, you mourned her. 

These violent delights have violent ends. 

Love is dangerous. A crush is a bullet with god cocking the gun. 

[2willowlane]

i've been posting silly crack fanfiction on ao3 lately, and i decided to just upload this on my tumblr. it's inspired off of interstellartoaster's kalampokiphobia: fear of corn, and the mods harvey's irrational apple hatred and harvey hates apples.

fantastic works; mind you.

gender neutral reader, sfw; not really focused on romance, as it is just absurdity

tallying his profit, of which was a big fat zero, harvey sighed; pushing up his glasses. it's been a rather long week for him, considering no one wants to buy those energy tonic muscle whatever medication that he supplies. the only time that anyone has ever purchased such a redundant item from him, was whenever they misclick- accidentally bought it; and then just sold it again. the only way that he'll ever make a good buck out of his pharmaceutical care was if he just eradicated the valley's food supply... of which, did sound tempting, but harvey loves his pickles too much to give them up.

there haven't been any appointments placed recently, so he was having a hard time trying to keep up with the expenses. right now, he could so go for a bottle of fine wine... maybe it's because he's spending too much of his expenses on plane models, rather than actually trying to keep up with all of the financial records, like an actual adult should. huh, what a foreign concept. well, he's just going to go continue complaining about his money situation, until further notice.

with the door opening, he had to them correct his shrimp posture, as he then greeted you, the almost superhuman farmer, into the clinic. normally, you just like to go behind the counter and access rooms that are off-limits to regular patients, but there was something about your gumption that made you so lovable. even if you do tend to barge into private examinations, there was something that made you feel so rebellious; that harvey couldn't help but swoon over you! also, he's a pathetic beanpole of a man, so he'll probably get pummeled into the ground by your combat prowess if he ever rejects your blatant non-filtered view of what "personal space" meant.

you were about to get some items turned into the community center; as you were carrying a basket full of assorted goods (they ranged from something simple to five highly-graded melons, a still-flopping ghostfish, and poisonous mushrooms). oh well, with the poisonous mushrooms, those are harvey's choice of decoration during the autumn seasons; so, the doctor felt rather seen whenever he saw those clumped together. he grimaced at the fish, however. other than that, he was glad to see a good friend pop in now and then; he needed something to spice up his days, and he can always expect you at around 9am, or somehow always being in the places he's trying to go to... coincidence?

normally, you'd stop on buy and get him a coffee. either you've brewed it yourself, or stopped by gus', it was coffee. you wonder how many mugs harvey has, considering you also gift him a free cup alongside the sweet, sweet ground bean liquid. it really wasn't the healthiest thing to drink due to the sugar and caffeine levels, and you were pretty worried for the guy who has been through years and years of intensive schooling to know better about those dietary concerns. you assume he probably only has a cup twice a week, considering you have some type of intergalactic force keeping you from extending that quota.

you had some apples somewhere on your person, and it was probably the only thing he'd like; you'd figure. after all, they're just funky little guys. who doesn't like a good, crisp apple? even though they're supposed to be for the community center, you can always just get one later. you'd give harvey something else, but you decided that he deserved better than just countless upon countless liters of his favourite brew. you knew harvey appreciated a good foraged, natural good—especially with someone locally grown on your acres. fishing out an apple out of your pockets, you then present it to him.

"... i think i may be allergic to this."

as harvey looked like a sad shih tzu puppy, looking off to the side, your heart sank. he was allergic to apples? at first, you really wanted to make fun of him. he seemed like the type of person who'd be allergic to peanut butter, and be the kid that doesn't allow their classmates to bring in anything homemade due to those medical reasons. holding the red delicious apple in your hands, rotating it around in your palm, you decided to test that theory.

"may?" you inquiried, and with a look of horror, harvey began to shudder. yes, he's an anxious man at heart, but due to various interesting cases at the clinic, he's grown insensitive to many things. plus, he's in front of the one and only farmer(tm), and his crush. god, what an embarrassment he is. he didn't want to talk about his irrational hatred for apples; those disgusting overblown flower ovaries called "fruit" just sicken him to death, not to mention that the apples were the first to hate HIM—it wasn't his fault that his body rejects them!

"yes, yes! just- just get it away from me!"

"i don't believe you..."

and that's where you've learnt that the phrase "an apple a day keep the doctor away" was right.