#anyways for now just have these two trying their best to figure out what the other one is thinking

[bizbat]

Kill for Her - Jason Todd x Reader - 1

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ Reader's appearance is not described.

~ Parts one, two, three, and four, as well as my other works, can be found here!

~ Also please lmk how i can improve the masterlist if you do end up checking out my other works!!! (:

~ Thank you so, so much for everyone who requested more crazy jason! ILLYYYY (p.s. thank you for being so patient with this, ik it took forever omg)

~ Wc: 1.4k

~ Tw: (Very) Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics and All that Comes with it, Mentions of Having Children, Jason Todd is Not a Good Person in this, Pet Names, Nausea, Angst, Blood and Violence, Variety in Themes, Cringe maybe (lmk)

"Break up?" You think you can just "break up" with Jason Peter "I've never been in a real relationship bc I died as a teenager and I have serious deep running abandonment issues stemming from my more than troubled childhood" Todd?

Funny.

Real funny.

But yk what he doesn't think he really likes that joke and maybe you should actually never tell it again, okay? ((:

It doesn't matter what way you try to approach the subject. Kind, playing into his delusions about being a real couple? You're overthinking things, but that's fine, he loves you anyways.

Yelling, crying, screaming for him to get the fuck out of your home and go die? You're probably just being dramatic, but that's okay, you're sassy, he's sassy, match made in heaven!

The man is kookoo. He genuinely believes that you're destined to get married to each other and either have or adopt a ton of children and he's gonna be the best dad ever and you'll be a wonderful mom ever and blah blah blah blah.

And I've barely scratched the surface of all his crazy, it runs deep.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

He'd kill for you. Without a doubt.

He's always figured, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he might have to go back on his word to Bruce for your sake, that he might have to further stain his own soul and hands to keep yours clean, to protect you, to protect your relationship. It's not something he's too particularly worried about, to him, you might as well be the only living person on the planet anyways. Don't get him wrong, he loves his family, to the moon and back and more (don't tell them that), but if there were two people left on the planet, and one of them was you, and the other was him, he thinks the world might finally be fair. That life might finally be kind to him.

And with reasoning like that, whispered into your hair at night when he thinks you're asleep, how could you be so cruel as to break his heart? How could you when he begs, begs you not to see how evil he thinks he is at night when he's been up too late and his brain starts to tell him cruel things about himself? When he brings you a gift every time he sees you. Granted, they're stolen, and granted, he broke into your home. But they're exemplary of his devotion to you nonetheless. Or at least that's how you see it, that's how you see him.

It's true, Jason has lived a life more than deserving of pity, of kindness and support. That's part of why you feel nauseous right now, your hands, slightly clammy, nervously wring the hem of the shirt you're wearing. It's big on you, hanging down past your thighs. You can't remember if it's his or yours. Your tongue feels too big in your mouth, and your knee is bouncing so much you're sure the muscles in your calf are well defined by now.

The reason you feel so ill as you wait for him at 12:48 AM, your eyes flicking back and forth between the clock on your phone and your TV currently playing reruns, is because tonight is the end of it. The end of Jason breaking into your apartment with a spare key he had made without your knowledge, or your window when you switch your lock for the umpteenth time. The end of you waking up next to him in your bed when you know he wasn't there when you went to sleep. The end of his overly personal nicknames that allude to a relationship you've told him time and time again that you Do. Not. Have.

Tonight you're "breaking up with" Jason Todd. If you weren't on edge you might laugh at the thought. You and Jason have (at least in your adamant opinion) never agreed to date. He never asked you out, he just started, well, acting the way he acts; breaking into your home, stealing random articles of clothing that he has a particular interest in, acting like your boyfriend. But it's been months. You're tired.

"Jason!" You say, surprised at his sudden appearance. You guess you got too caught up in your thoughts. He smells like metal. You're worried about what he might've been getting up to, but that's not your main focus at the moment.

He hears your voice sing his name as he walks into your shared apartment, through the door this time. He knows how much you hate it when he comes in through the window. He's happy to see you, albeit a little surprised, you're usually asleep by this time. You must've stayed up for him, a smile rises to his lips at the thought. "Hiya doll, what're you doing up so late?" He's clearly exhausted, even though he's turning in relatively early, it now being 1:29, he's already had a long, long night. A long, painful, violent night.

All he wants right now is to lay beside you, to rest his head on your chest and hear your heartbeat. It's his second favorite sound in the world. The first being those gorgeous noises you make when he's got his head between your thighs and your fingers in his hair-

He's pulled from his thoughts at the sight of your lip tucked between your teeth, the worry on your face more than evident. His smile drops as he hangs up his signature leather jacket on the coat rack beside the door, and slowly makes his way over to you. "You okay, doll? What's wrong?" He asks you with such sincerity, like he really does care. And the worst part is you know he does.

"We . . . we need to talk, Jason." He can hear how nervous you are just by the way your voice quivers as you address him. It always makes his heart hurt when he hears that. You avert your gaze, unable to look at him at this moment. You breathe deeply, trying to calm your heart and quell the bile fighting to come out. You need to do this, and you need to do it now. "I . . ." You barely manage to warble out, clenching your jaw before bracing yourself. "I want to break up with you Jason." You say after taking a deep breath through your nose.

This is it, you did it. You can feel the saline tears rising to your waterline, but you aren't sad at all. You swallow the massive lump in your throat as you wait for his response, your hands furiously gripping your shirt, an unreadable expression on his face. He just . . . stares for a moment. He doesn't blink, he doesn't frown, he doesn't start sobbing, fall to his knees, beg you to change your mind.

He doesn't do anything. The longer his stillness goes on, the more and more your confidence deteriorates. Your shoulders drop from their tense state, your lip quivers, and your ears ring from how dead silent the room seems to be. "Jason . . ." He's barely blinking, his head slightly cocked, his hands limply dangling at his sides. "I said," You clear your throat, not favoring how weak you sound. "I said I want to break up with you. I don't want to date you anymore." You know he heard you, but you repeat yourself nonetheless.

The longer the two of you sit in silence, the harder it is to stomach it. Your hands shake as they grip your shirt, the fabric wrinkles in your tight grasp, your chest feels like all of your ribs have turned into snakes and started squeezing and constricting around your pounding heart. His eyes pierce your soul, the usually deep pits now shallow and glassy. Eventually, the second that he sees a single drop of water fall down your cheek he seems to snap out of it.

The life, the color returns to his face and eyes, as if he was just woken out of a deep trance at the mere sight of your tears. Then, perhaps most disturbingly, he laughs. A cold, icy chuckle that slides off his vocal cords and freezes the room. It sounds almost plastic, rehearsed, like he's practiced it in the mirror hundreds of times in preparation for moments like this. "That . . ." he wheezes between bouts of fake laughter. "That was really funny, babe, you almost had me there."

Jason runs a hand through his hair, disguising the act as if he's trying to gather himself when really, he's resisting the urge to grip on the strands of inky black until they rip from his scalp. He's still pretending to collect himself as he slips past your form, still standing almost perfectly still, into your room. You don't even remember the rest of the night. You don't remember what either of you said, what either of you did, all you remember is following him into the room, being coaxed into bed, and resting your swirling head on his chest as his arms wrapped so, so tightly around your shoulders.

Jason doesn't sleep well that night, even with you safely tucked into his arms. It was a joke, it was a joke, it was a joke. That's what he tells himself. Over and over in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull; it was a joke, it was a joke, it was a joke. It must be, it has to be. His sweet Y/n, who knows what he's been through, who knows he's never had anything, and anything he has ever had was ripped from his hands, his Y/n would never be so cruel.

She'd never leave him. He couldn't let her. Not when he'd die for her, not when he'd kill for her.

[iceandpeaches]

head counsellor duties; luke castellan

a/n: i've been away so long i feel kinda bad but i've so busy.. anyway here's something that has been sitting in my drafts

pairing: luke castellan x demigod reader (godly parent unspecified)

as the eldest, first to be claimed and head counsellor of your cabin, you were tasked with the responsibility of taking care of your younger siblings. and to your acquired knowledge, you were definitely not your parent’s favourite. you felt that your claiming was so your other siblings had a big sister to depend on. your cabin was empty till your parent started claiming your half siblings, your heart growing heavy from all the burden you felt. from then on, your cabin bustled with noise almost every second of the day which honestly gave you a bit of a headache. but anything for your siblings, right?

“rae! could you help me this?”

you nodded, hands now holding the item your sibling needed help with. it takes you some time to figure out but eventually you solve it. you hand it back to your sibling, which leaves her excited and now embracing you tightly. your arms wrap around her small figure, giving her a gentle pat on the back.

“you’re the best, rae!”

“thanks, i try to be.”

you smile, the young girl pulling away and running off to her other siblings. you let a sigh leave your lips as you pinched the bridge of your nose, wishing you had an older sibling to look up to. 

“you holding up okay, rae?”

the familiar male voice made your lips curl into a gentle yet tired looking smile, watching as he sat down beside you. his expression grows weary of your own, wearing a frown on his face as he examines the frustration that was evident to your face.

“i’m alright luke, you?”

luke patted your back, you leaning into his touch. luke understood the pressures of being head counsellor, but seeing your dark circles and tired figure made him worry about you tenfold. in comparison to his cabin, the campers in yours were no older than 11; so he understood the need for your siblings to depend on you the most they could, at least until they were more independent. 

“what activity do you have next?”

“sword fighting training, with risse.”

“so, you’ll be free then?”

“one of my kids needs my help since they're a little too small to be on their own, unfortunately. why?”

luke frowned, he knew that after more of your siblings got claimed; the lesser time you had to just be alone. the lesser time he had to spend with you as well, but he never gave up on trying. 

“well.. i was thinking, maybe we could.. you know, go pick strawberries together?”

“i’d have to bring my kids along, you know. they can’t stand a second without me.”

“they’ll be with clarisse rae, i’m sure they’ll be fine.”

you huff, nodding slowly. you got up from the bench you were sat at, rounding up your siblings then escorted them to sword fighting training with luke following by you. you hum, watching as your siblings interacted with the hermes counsellor; lips curled into a grin. you both were close, but never were more than that. once your siblings were with clarisse, luke whisked you away to the strawberry fields.

for a while, you two picked strawberries in dead silence. you needed the quiet after hearing your siblings fight and scream at each other. and luke desperately wanted to talk to you and yap your ears off in hopes to make you feel a little better. luke stopped picking the crimson berries, his basket lowered and now watching you; which made you stop too.

“what’s wrong, luke? unwell? injury? need a tissue? fever?” 

you frown, the back of your hand already pressed against his forehead. luke shook his head, gently holding your hand and putting it down. he wasn’t surprised by your reaction, that’s was part of their duty as head counsellor.

“i’m okay rae. i just.. hope you are too.”

his arm wrapped around your shoulder, you leaning into him; a sigh leaving your lips. you felt him rubbing your shoulder, eyes peeking up to look at him. 

“were your siblings like this too? clingy and overly dependent?”

“they look up to you, rae. you’re their big big sister after all. plus, it gets better when they get older. they’re all what.. 9? 10? they’re gonna grow up to do fine, rae.”

“i wish i wasn’t though. i’d be fine being second, but not first. they expect me to bounce back from the pain immediately, i wish they knew how much i hate it.”

luke pursed his lips, nodding at appropriate junctions; brows knitted in focus as he listened you speak. he hummed, hand moving to touch your silky hair. you let your mind wander, imagining a life where you weren’t head counsellor of your cabin – running around the fields, sword fighting with clarisse almost everyday and maybe even swimming in the lake at night. but you had to be the responsible head counsellor, stripped of all these desires. 

luke’s lips met with your forehead, glancing up at him; heat staining your cheeks. you gently pull away to look at him, to admire his chiselled features. your lips pursed as you admired, attentively observing him. 

“what? something on my face?”

you giggled, slowly shaking your head; glancing down at the discoloured ‘camp half blood’ printed on his shirt due to how old it was. he ran a hand through his curly locks, your arms moving to his waist bringing him into a tight embrace; which caught him off guard.

“woah woah dove, at least tell me first.”

he chuckled, bringing her in and hugging you tight. he could get used to this, if he were to admit. 

“i’m just gonna.. stay like this for a bit.”

“people are gonna start looking, dove.”

“since when did you care?”

“hmm, i do. don’t knock me down though.”

you giggle, ruffling his brown curls. 

“okay. enough hugging please.”

you both pull away, his arm now wrapped around your waist. you grab your basket half filled with red berries, continuing to pick more of the vibrant berries. one of the ares campers ran over to you, telling you that your siblings were asking for you. you nodded, shoving your basket of berries into luke’s chest.

“gods, i’ll see you later luke.”

luke leaned in and kissed your cheek, you frozen and unable to react; blinking in confusion and luke watching your reaction. a chuckle left his lips as he rubbed your shoulder, 

“go get your siblings, rae. they’re waiting.”

you snapped out of it, nodding vigorously while still being in a daze from the earlier interaction. you hoped your siblings didn’t see. 

“right right. see you later.”

you smile, running off to the training ground to gather your siblings. the young campers were excited to see you, all running up to you and hugging your arm and some your leg. they were mostly about as tall as your torso, with the exception of a few of the boys being slightly taller than the others. your lips curl into a gentle smile, mumbling a headcount under your breath to ensure all of their alive and well. you lead your siblings back to your cabin, putting some of them down for a well needed nap which was suggested by some of the apollo kids at the infirmary. for the younger ones, at least. 

“okay, the rest of you. don’t get yourselves in trouble, okay? it’s free time for all of you, go find your friends to play with. i’ll be with the other counsellors if any of you need to find me.”

the group of older children nodded, running out of the cabin after permission was granted to them. phew, finally some time to yourself. you sat on a step outside your cabin, watching as your siblings played with other campers in the distance. you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction, you just loved them so much; you'd kill a minotaur for them. 

“there you are, gods.. i’ve been looking all over camp for you.”

you grin, turning to the direction of the voice. luke once again sat by you, gently leaning his head on your shoulder; his curls tickling your neck.

“tired already, castellan?”

his eyes glanced up at you, looking sleepy yet energetic at the same time. you grin, gently running your hand through his soft yet tangled hair. you definitely needed to recommend him a conditioner and maybe some other hair products, but it’s fine. that would be a later you’s problem. a hand of luke’s was set on your knee, nose scrunched as you continued to watch your siblings play. you imagined a life away from camp, preferably in the countryside; with two kids and possibly luke as your husband. 

“hug.. please?”

you heard luke say, your brows furrowed and eyes squinted. luke’s eyes dilated, his pupils now huge. you giggle, slipping your arms under his and pulling him close. you were so close to his chest, that you smelled the musky firewood smell of cabin 11. it smelled so warm and comforting. it was a scent you definitely could get used to, reminding you of times when your mortal parent would roast marshmallows with you in the early days of your time at camp. 

“you know i could easily get used to this, castellan.”

“i could too, dove.”

you hum, glanced up at luke’s lips, then back at him. in that moment, you felt your imaginations come to life.

[sidekick-hero]

Here it is, the next chapter of my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai 💜💜💜 Her prompt was 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone'. Shout out to @acasualcrossfade for being the best beta reader there is!

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 2 (4.5k) under the cut

They all went out for dinner and drinks afterwards, and it turned out to be a great night. Robin and Chrissy both went into full planning mode, while Steve and Eddie decided to let them have their fun. Steve figured that if anyone besides himself knew what he wanted for his own wedding, it was Robin, and Eddie seemed to feel the same way about Chrissy.

It’s only after they'd all said their goodbyes that Steve takes a moment to let it all sink in.

As he lies in bed, the pleasant buzz of the fruity drinks he's had to celebrate slowly fading, he begins to realize what it will mean to marry Eddie. To have a real wedding.

Because a wedding ceremony means he has to tell people. It will be official. And while he's not exactly hiding that he's bi, he's not exactly out at work either. It just never really mattered, because in the two years he's been working at the station, he hasn't seen anyone outside of hookups and a few failed dates. Most of those were with women anyway. So he hasn't exactly lied, just not told the whole truth.

That would have to change now, he guessed. Because even if he didn't invite his team to the wedding - which he will, because they're his family, too - Captain Hopper would know because of the paperwork. Steve knows that if he asked Jim, he wouldn't tell the others. But he would also look at Steve with disappointment and hurt because he would feel that Steve doesn't trust them, and the thought of letting down the man who has become the closest thing to a father figure he has in his life aside from Robin's dad is unfathomable to him.

Which means he's going to have to tell his team, and sooner rather than later.

Just as he somehow accepts this and decides to go talk to Jim before his next shift, another thought hits him.

Max.

He's going to have to tell his little sister. Worst of all, he doesn't even know what to tell her, because either he'd make her an accomplice to his scam, or he'd lie to her and pretend that he and Eddie had been together for a while. Which would make her think that he has been lying to her for months and hiding his relationship from her.

Then he remembers that the same goes for Dustin, the kid he used to babysit and who has become as much his little brother as Max is his little sister. The family he chose. He's either going to have to lie to him, too, or drag him into this whole mess.

Fuck.

After tossing and turning for what feels like hours, his mind racing, Steve finally gives up trying to fall asleep and rolls out of bed again. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, he shuffles over to Robin's room. Selfishly, he's glad that Chrissy went home with Eddie tonight, so he can just walk into Robin's room and crawl into bed with her.

"Dingus?" her sleepy voice greets him, already scooting over to make room for him.

"Yeah, it's me. Couldn't sleep."

She turns on her side and forces her eyes open with what looks like great effort. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," he answers, only it sounds more like a question. The truth is, he doesn't know what to say.

Robin just hums, and after a long moment of silence, he speaks again.

"It's just. Chrissy said nothing has to change, but that's not true. Things will change. I have to tell Hop and the others at the station. They don't even know I'm bi, it's like high school all over again."

Robin makes a sound in the back of her throat and takes his hand in hers. "No, it's not. You were outed against your will in high school. What that asshole Hagan did was a complete dick move. These people are your friends, your family. Even if you tell them that about yourself, I'm sure they won't feel any different about you, Steve."

Deep down he thinks he knows that. Or at least he hopes it's true. But it's still nice to hear Robin say it.

"Maybe. But they're going to hate that I lied. They'll probably think I don't trust them."

"Well," Robin begins, choosing her words carefully, "can you blame them? There must be a reason why you haven't told them yet."

"It just never came up," he justifies.

"Steve," she says, her tone clearly saying 'come on now'. "I've been to the last two Christmas parties at the station, and I met your team at your birthday. You talk about your dating lives and your hookups and even your childhoods. They know about Max and your bad relationship with your parents. Don't you think you could have said, 'Yeah, I don't talk to my parents because they're total scumbags who kicked me out the minute they found out I liked men too'?".

He sighs deeply, defeated.

"You're right. I was afraid they would look at me differently. That they'd think less of me, like -"

"Like your parents did. I know. But Steve, not everybody is like your parents. They don't know what an amazing person you are. A wonderful and loyal friend, a selfless and brave man who risks his own life every day to save others, and a loving and caring older brother who is more of a role model than they've ever been."

Steve feels his eyes burning and his throat tightening with emotion.

"And yet you wouldn't marry me," he deflects, and Robin punches him in the shoulder.

"Way to ruin the moment, Dingus."

"What can I say, it's a talent," he says with a wink before sobering up. "But seriously, thanks, Robs. You're the best friend I could ever ask for. I would totally crash and burn without you."

"I know. For the record, you're not so bad yourself. And as for things changing. You know change doesn't have to be a bad thing, right?"

They've talked a few times about his aversion to change. It scares him because he's always afraid it means he's going to lose something. Or someone. He's working on it.

"Yeah. I know." Theoretically, he adds quietly in his head.

"And you know you won't lose me or Max or Dustin just because things change, right?"

“I-” he starts, almost hating the way Robin knows him so well. “I guess?”

"But I might have to lie to them, Robs. I can’t drag them into this mess. What if they end up hating me when they find out I faked a marriage and lied about it? Or what if they’re mad because I never even mentioned this ‘relationship’ with Eddie before?”

"They won't hate you, Steve. They might be angry or hurt at first, but they would get over it. They love you, okay? Just like I do. No matter what happens. Even when we’re not living together anymore, it doesn’t mean we won’t see each other all the time or that we won’t be as close. You’re my best friend, my platonic soulmate. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Her words soothe something deep inside him, where his heart has never quite stopped aching since the day his mother silently closed the front door in his face, leaving him standing there with his hastily packed bag after they told him to leave and never come back. As all of her words fully register, he involuntarily squeezes her hand.

"What do you mean, 'when' we're not living together anymore?"

The longer it takes for Robin to answer, the faster his heart starts beating, until he thinks he might have a heart attack.

Just as he's about to ask again, Robin answers. "I mean, now that you and Eddie are getting married, Chrissy and I thought that, well, Eddie would probably move in with you, and that I, um..."

"That you'd move in with Chrissy," he says flatly. It's not a question.

"Yes," she whispers, as if afraid he'll break if she speaks too loudly. He very well might.

They lie quietly in Robin's bed, the darkness around them like a living, breathing thing.

He has never felt so lost. It's not that he doesn't get it—he does. Robin and Chrissy have been together for four years now, and having separate apartments has worked for them so far. But Steve understands that they'd want to share a life and an apartment at some point. He just didn't think that time would be now. But it makes sense, because he and Eddie are supposed to move in together when they get married.

It's just that, in his mind, that didn't equate to Robin moving out.

"Steve," Robin tries again, clearly worried but determined to fix this. "I don't have to move out right away. It was just an idea. It doesn't mean it has to happen right away."

"No. No, you're right. It makes sense. It's just," he hesitates before pressing on, "whenever I thought about one of us getting married, or at least moving in with a partner, I still thought we'd be living together. It's silly, I know," he adds hastily, because he does know that, "and way too co-dependent."

"It's not silly, Dingus. I won't deny that it sounds pretty co-dependent, but it's not like that's, I don't know, new for us?"

That makes him laugh, if only half-heartedly.

"And who says we won't? Maybe we can, y'know, try the whole living apart thing, and if we don't like it, we'll work something out. It's not like there aren't options. We could get a house for the four of us. It doesn't have to be all or nothing."

Drawing Robin into his arms, Steve makes a thoughtful sound. "I'm pretty sure you're right, because you usually are. Just give me a little time to get used to the idea, will you?"

It's a testament to how well she knows him that Robin—guessing he's feeling raw right now and needs the physical reassurance—settles into his embrace without a fuss.

"Of course. It'll be fine. With your team and Max and Dustin. And with us, too. I hate that your parents made it so hard for you to trust people's love for you, you know?"

He kisses her forehead gently, putting all the love and gratitude he feels into the gesture, and murmurs into her hair, "Me too."

The next day, after a hearty hangover breakfast, Steve decides to bite the bullet and face his little sister's wrath. After his talk with Robin, he came to the conclusion that he’d rather risk Max and Dustin being angry at him for seemingly lying to them about his love life than involve them in his own mess and make them accomplices to his wedding scam to get his inheritance.

Even though part of him would prefer to do this over the phone and not look Max in the eye when he tells her, a larger part of him knows that this is something that needs to be done in person. So he makes the trip to her campus and finds her in her room, nose deep in her studies, when her roommate opens the door for him.

It's not often that he comes to visit. Not because he doesn't want to, but because she insists that she doesn't want her older brother hanging around and embarrassing her in front of her friends. He would be more offended were it not for the fact that Max regularly comes to their place for game nights like the secret dork that she is. Besides, he's pretty sure that Max just wants more of a reason to hang out with Robin, not just him. She never had many girl friends, just Jane, her best friend, and Steve thinks that Max looks up to Robin. Which is cool, because in Steve's eyes, Robin’s the best person ever and Max could have much worse role models.

Things were a little tense when Robin first started dating Chrissy, probably because Max felt threatened by the new woman in Robin's life. But she got over it surprisingly quickly, and now Chrissy joins their game nights more often than not. That's how Max knows Eddie in the first place, because he makes a habit of showing up mid-game to join them, claiming he was bored all alone at home, abandoned like a badly behaved dog. Steve doesn’t really believe him, because he knows well enough that Eddie has friends and gets out quite a bit, but it's not like he minds Eddie hanging around. He just wonders sometimes why he would lie about it.

"Hey, little sis! Studying on a Saturday morning? Sure we're related?”

Max looks up from her textbooks, a mixture of surprise and suspicion flickering across her face at the sight of her older brother dropping by unannounced. "Hey, Steve. What's up?"

On the way here, Steve had thought about how to open the conversation, but hadn't been able to make up his mind before entering the dorm. Should he just say it, get it over with, or should he ease her in? Start with some small talk? Max isn't really the small talk type, but it feels wrong to just say, 'Good to see you. Guess what, I'm marrying Eddie, the guy who hangs around the apartment sometimes and you had no idea I was even dating. Surprise, I guess.'

Yeah, no. Small talk it is.

"Can't I just go visit my little sister and see what she's up to?" Steve deflects, flinching at Max's raised eyebrow.

She looks thoroughly unimpressed as she replies, "Steve, we saw each other three days ago. It may come as a shock to you, but college isn't exactly like those stupid movies. So, spill it. What's so important that you had to drop by unannounced?"

Well, he should have known this wasn't going to work on Max. She's always been way too smart for her own good, and her bullshit detector is unparalleled.

Steve takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the bombshell he's about to drop. "So, remember Eddie? The guy who's been crashing our game nights with Robin and Chrissy for the past four years? The guy who eats all of the good snacks and leaves the rest of us with the salty popcorn?”

Max nods slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, funny story... He and I, uh, we're getting married."

Max's jaw drops and she almost chokes on the coffee she just took a sip of. "Wait, what? You’re getting married? To Eddie?"

Steve winces, realizing he might have botched the delivery. In his defense, he’s not sure there is a better way to deliver this kind of news. "Yeah, I know it's a bit out of left field. But hear me out..."

He starts explaining his thing with Eddie, weaving in a story that's only partly made-up. Steve talks about how he's kinda had a crush on Eddie for a while but never really thought Eddie felt the same. Max doesn’t look surprised at that part, just nods like she’s saying “Duh,” and Steve wonders how transparent his feelings for Eddie really had been.

Before he can get lost worrying about that, he goes on, making up some romantic-sounding story about how one night, they were just watching a movie, and boom! Next thing he knows, their hands are both going for the chips, and suddenly their fingers are all tangled up, swiftly followed by their lips. Max rolls her eyes so hard that Steve’s afraid she’s hurting something, but he also sees the corner of her mouth ticking upward. Robin once told him that she and Max had watched a few rom-coms together when he wasn’t home, so he thinks she secretly likes these kinds of stories almost as much as he does.

He finishes his story by shrugging his shoulders and admitting that he’d been the one to ask Eddie to put a ring on it, eager to lock down the guy he's been into for ages. It’s exactly the kind of self-deprecating joke he needs to lighten the mood, unable to endure the building tension in the room.

"And I know what you're thinking. 'Steve, you never even mentioned you were dating!' But trust me, it's not because I didn't want to. I just... didn't know how to break it to you."

Max's eyes narrow, her hurt evident. "So, what, you don’t trust me?"

Steve's heart sinks at the hurt in Max's voice. God, he never wanted to hear her sound like that again. It dredges up memories of all they've been through with their family, the wounds still raw. “No, Max, that's not... Damn it!” Steve curses, frustration and guilt knotting in his stomach. “I'm screwing this up. That's why I didn't tell you in the first place. I just... I didn't know when to tell you. You've always been there for me, especially after Mom and Dad...” His voice trails off, heavy with the weight of it all. “It's my fault you lost them. I didn't want you to lose anyone else because of me, so it felt like a big risk to bring someone new into our lives.”

Max's expression softens, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh, Steve. You’re an idiot." She sighs, rolling her eyes for effect. "It’s not your fault I stopped talking to them. I chose you over them because you're my brother, and they are bigoted assholes who hurt you."

Max's words feel like balm on his frayed nerves, but at the same time he is consumed with guilt for using their shared history and pain to make her believe his lie. He knows why he's doing it, but suddenly the phrase "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" makes a lot more sense to him.

It seems that some of this has registered with his sister as well, because Max isn't finished yet.

"But I also call bull. This isn't about me. You're scared. Scared of getting hurt again, of letting someone in and having them leave. You didn't tell anyone before because that would have made it real."

Steve swallows hard, the weight of Max's words hitting him like a ton of bricks. His relationship with Eddie isn't even real, but her words still hit him. They've been through too much together for him to deny that she's right. He owes her that if he can't tell her the whole truth.

"Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that… I’m scared of messing things up, I guess. With you, or with Robin..."

"Or with Eddie?" Max adds, a sad smile on her face.

"Or with Eddie," Steve agrees, realizing it's true. He doesn't want to screw this up, even if it's just a scam. Eddie is still important to him, and he doesn't want to lose him because of some scheme to get his inheritance.

Max reaches across the table to grasp Steve's hand, her touch as comforting as when she first stood in his door, declaring she told their parents to screw themselves before hugging him, clinging to him for dear life. "You won't lose me, Steve. I'm here for you, no matter what. And Eddie seems like a good guy. He would be even dumber than I thought he is if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you. So, if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. And if you tell anyone I said that, I'll shave your head in your sleep."

Even as he laughs at Max’s threat, Steve's eyes mist over with tears, overwhelmed by Max's unwavering support. "Thanks, Max. You have no idea how much that means to me. Threats and all."

Max squeezes his hand gently, a small smile playing on her lips. "Anytime, big brother. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Please don't let this turn into one of those rom-com clichés where everything goes horribly wrong because no one just talked to each other."

Steve chuckles through his tears, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best, Max. I promise."

As much as he’d dreaded this talk, he’s glad he came over to tell Max. He feels lighter now.

Some days, he hates how often Robin is right about the important things in life, considering that she also believes that Bigfoot is real.

He's already out the door a few minutes later, after Max basically kicked him out so she could learn, when she gets up and walks over to him. “Oh, one more thing. I’ll be bringing someone to your wedding and I want you to remember that you owe me and not ask a single question. I’ll tell you when I tell you, just like you.”

“What? Who're you -” Steve starts, totally flabbergasted.

“Not a single question, Steve. See you soon, take care, say hi to Robin, and tell Eddie that I’ll break his hand if he breaks your heart.” With that, she closes the door in his face.

He probably deserved that.

Talking to Dustin the next day goes something similar.

Steve can't visit him on campus because the little genius just started his master's degree in bioengineering at MIT, a year ahead of his peers, because of course he is. So he has to resort to a phone call.

He skips any attempt at small talk, though, mostly because Dustin is doing the talking for both of them, telling him all about something that is way over his head, but makes him smile for all the passion he hears in Dustin's voice.

"That sounds... very cool, man. I have no idea what it all means, but I'm pretty sure you're going to be cooler than Batman pretty soon." Before Dustin can interrupt him to explain whatever he just said about DNA replication, Steve continues, "I also have something to tell you.”

That, at least, piques Dustin's interest.

Steve tells him the same version of his and Eddie's origin story that he told Max, and just like Max, Dustin doesn't seem to find it particularly hard to believe that Steve had a big ol' crush on Eddie and proposed to him over it. What he finds much harder to believe is that neither Steve nor Eddie told him about it.

"I can't believe Eddie didn't tell me either; we tell each other everything!"

Steve seriously doubts that, even though he knows that Dustin and Eddie have become quite close over the last four years. They hit it off right away, bonding over their weird little fantasy game that Dustin's been playing with his friends for as long as Steve's known him. Eddie apparently ran a club for the same game in high school, and before Steve knew it, Dustin and Eddie had become best buds. Dustin's passionate stories about how great Eddie was should have made Steve jealous, and they did, a little. But they also fueled his crush on the other man, because nothing in his life could ever be simple.

That's probably why Steve finds himself defending Eddie by throwing himself under the bus.

"I asked him not to tell you guys. I'm sorry, man. It's just..."

Dustin's silence on the other end is unnerving. Steve can almost hear the gears turning in his brain. He can picture Dustin sitting in his cluttered dorm room, probably surrounded by textbooks and lab equipment, frowning in concentration.

"It's just what, Steve?" Dustin finally asks, his voice a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"It's just that I was scared," Steve admits, the words coming out in a rush. "Scared of messing things up. I mean, this thing with Eddie... it feels huge. I never felt that way about anyone before. And I know it sounds stupid, but... it scares the shit outta me, man. And I know how much you like Eddie, too, so, yeah. I didn't want to risk putting you in a position where you felt like you had to choose sides or something if it didn't work out, I guess?”

The line goes quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he's said too much. Especially because he has no idea where this is all coming from. He also finds it harder and harder to remind himself that it’s just a story and that he and Eddie aren’t really together. But then Dustin sighs, and it sounds like the weight of the world is in that sigh. "Steve, you idiot. You know I love you, right? You and Eddie both. I’d never take sides, I’m way too mature for that. You should have trusted me."

"I know, I know," Steve says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just... didn’t think this through, I guess."

"Yeah, well, that’s why you have me. You don't have to handle it on your own," Dustin says firmly. "We're a team, remember? And that means relying on each other and not keeping secrets."

“You’re right, okay? I’m sorry, Dustin.”

Apparently, that’s exactly what Dustin wanted to hear, because Steve can hear the smug grin in his voice. “I know. And it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Steve feels too much relief to be annoyed at Dustin’s ego. To know that he has Dustin's loyalty and support like that mean the world to him. It’s like balm to the wounds his parents and grandma left on him, to learn that not everybody leaves just because he hasn’t been perfect. "Thanks, Dusty. I don't deserve you."

"You're right, you don't," Dustin retorts, but Steve can hear the smile in his voice. "But you're stuck with me anyway. So, when's the wedding? And don't even think about getting married without me there."

Steve laughs, the tension finally easing. "Don't worry, you'll be there. I wouldn't dream of having it without my groomsman."

"Groomsman, huh? Damn right I am," Dustin says, and Steve can practically see his chest puffing out with pride. "But wait, who's the best man? If you say it's Eddie's old dungeon master, I'm gonna lose it."

"Robin," Steve clarifies, chuckling. "She’s my best man, or best woman, whatever you call it. And before you ask, I’m pretty sure Eddie’s best man is Chrissy."

"Ah, makes sense," Dustin says with a satisfied nod in his voice. "I can accept that, I guess. But you better tell Eddie that if he hurts you, I'll kick his ass. And you tell him I mean it, too."

"I will," Steve promises, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Dustin. Really."

"Anytime, Steve. Now go tell Eddie that I’m still angry at him for not telling me and he better make it up during our next campaign."

Steve hangs up the phone feeling lighter than he has in days. At least until he remembers that he just told Max and Dustin a story about him and Eddie getting together that he hasn’t discussed with Eddie yet. So what if Eddie also told people but used a totally different story?

Well, fuck.

Grabbing his keys from the side table by the door and putting on his shoes, he texts Eddie that they need to talk and that he’ll be over in twenty minutes.

[hees-sweetheart]

|~ Slowly but Surely. ~|

──Pairing: !f1 racer heeseung x reader

──Genre: angst ? / VERY SUGGESTIVE.

──Synopsis: you're heeseungs f1 racing manager, and starting to have a crush on him !

──A/N: 2nd fic !~

"Lee Heeseung, if you dont get over here right now.. i swear to god i will smack you."

Heeseung looks at (y/n) through the corner of his eye, a playful smirk on his face. It seems as if he was thinking for a second, debating on whether to obey her, or get smacked. He took the first option.

"Yes, (y/n) ?" He says, acting like a child as he does.

"My god, you arent six. Anyways, we need to go over the directions around the course for the upcoming race." She looks at her clipboard, but Heeseungs eyes are glued on her figure. The way your dress hugs your figure in the most perfect way, makes him feel a little tingle.

He snaps back to reality, as (y/n) calls out his name. "Oh uh, yeah?" He says, scratching the back of his neck.

"were you even paying attention at all..?" Shes asks, clicking her pen and writing on her clipboard. "Or do i have to explain it all over again?"

"Eh.. explain it.. please." He says, and embarrassed look plastered on his face.

(y/n) and Heeseung had always had a tumultuous relationship. (y/n) was Heeseung's manager, tasked with keeping the fiery F1 racer in check. They constantly butted heads, their personalities clashing like two storms colliding in the sky.

But, beneath the surface of their bickering, there was an undercurrent of attraction that neither could deny.

(y/n) found herself drawn to Heeseung's determination and competitive spirit. Despite his fiery temper, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made her heart flutter.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was secretly enamored with (y/n)'s cool and collected demeanor. The way she handled every situation with grace and confidence, even when dealing with his impulsive behavior, was admirable.

He tried to hide it, of course, burying his feelings beneath a facade of mockery and teasing. But it was evident in the way he secretly sought out her company, craving their approval and validation.

As they worked together, the tension between them continued to grow. The late-night strategy meetings turned into heated arguments, their faces inches apart, bodies charged with electricity. Every touch, every glance, sent sparks flying.

Heeseung would test (y/n) with his words, pushing her buttons to get a reaction. But beneath the teasing, there was a hint of pleading, a wish for something more than just a professional relationship.

(y/n) tried to resist, reminding herself that it was unethical and unprofessional to have feelings for their client. But every time Heeseung smirked at her or sought her comfort and support, her resolve grew weaker.

One race day, everything came to a head. Heeseung had a difficult time during the race, and his frustration was off the charts. After the race, he came storming into (y/n)'s office, anger radiating off of him in waves.

"Why didn't you warn me about that turn? I could've won that race!" Heeseung yelled, pacing back and forth in front of (y/n)'s desk.

"I did." (y/n) says, a cold expression on her face. "YOU were not listening."

Heeseung's anger flared at their sharp retort. "I was too busy focusing on driving! That's your job, isn't it? To give me the best information?"

He slammed his hands down on her desk, towering over her with seething irritation.

(y/n) met his gaze, their composure unwavering. "I did give you the information. It's not my fault you decided to ignore it just so you could try and be the star of the show."

Heeseung's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think? That I was trying to showboat?" His voice was low, almost a growl. "You really think I'm that shallow, huh?"

(y/n) leaned back in her chair, crossing their arms. "What am I supposed to think when you ignore my advice and act like a stubborn child? You think just because you're a superstar racer, you can do whatever you want and blame everyone else when things go wrong?"

Heeseung's jaw clenched, anger and frustration battling inside him. "You wouldn't understand." He turned away from her, his voice quieter now. "You're not the one out there, risking your life every race. You don't know what it's like to have everyone watching your every move, waiting for you to fail."

(y/n) softened, her expression gentling. "You're right, I don't understand that part. But that doesn't give you the right to take your anger out on me. I'm on your side, Heeseung. I want you to win as much as you do."

Heeseung turned back to her, his anger slowly fading. "I…I know. I just…I get so frustrated when things go wrong. It feels like everything is riding on me, and if I fail, then it's all over."

(y/n) stood up and walked over to him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch soothing. "I know it's hard. But you don't have to carry that burden alone. That's what I'm here for. We'll figure it out together."

Heeseung's breath hitched at her touch, his frustration melting away under her comforting presence. He stared down at her, swallowing hard. "Why are you always so good to me? Even when I act like a jerk."

(y/n) chuckled, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Because I see who you really are, beyond the competitive racer and the hot-headed attitude. You're passionate and dedicated. I admire that about you."

Heeseung's heart swelled at her words. No one had ever seen him the way she did, understood both his strengths and his flaws. It was both terrifying and liberating. "(y/n), I…I don't deserve you."

(y/n) placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You don't get to decide what you deserve. I know what I believe. And I believe that you're worth fighting for."

Heeseung's eyes widened at her statement, his heart racing in his chest. He'd always been so used to people expecting greatness from him, that he'd forgotten what it was like to have someone simply believe in him. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

(y/n) let out a soft gasp as he pulled them against him, their bodies pressed together. She could feel his breath hot against their neck, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Heeseung…" She whispered, her voice trembling with sudden vulnerability.

Heeseung lifted his head, his eyes locking onto hers. "I…I can't resist you anymore." He murmured, his grip on her waist tightening. "I've been trying to deny it, but…I can't pretend I don't feel something for you."

(y/n) felt her heart flutter at his confession, a mixture of surprise and relief flooding through her. "You're not the only one." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying so hard to keep my feelings in check, but it's been impossible."

Heeseung let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, his expression a mix of relief and nervousness. "So we're both idiots then." He said with a chuckle, resting his forehead against hers.

(y/n) barked a surprised laugh. "Yeah, I guess we are." She lifted her hands to cup his face, her thumb tracing his jawline. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent. "What do we do now?"

Heeseung leaned into her touch, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of her skin against his. "I don't know." He admitted, his voice filled with uncertainty. "But I know I don't want to hide these feelings anymore."

(y/n) nodded, her fingers tracing the slope of his nose, his cheekbone, his earlobe. "Neither do I." She murmured, her body pressed flush against his. "But it might not be that simple."

Heeseung sighed, his fingers playing with the edge of her shirt, rubbing idle circles against their skin. "I know. We're both professionals. We have a job to do. And…well, I'm not exactly known for being the most stable guy."

(y/n) smirked at that, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You say that like I didn't know what I was getting into." She teased, lightly swatting his shoulder. "I've been dealing with your temper tantrums long before these feelings came into play."

Heeseung had the decency to look sheepish at that. "Yeah, yeah. You know me too well." He chuckled, his hands moving to grip her hips. "I still can't believe you put up with me. You're either a saint or a masochist."

(y/n) chuckled, her hands sliding up to wind around his neck. "I don't know if I'd go that far." They joked, her fingers lacing together at the nape of his neck. "Maybe I just have a thing for stubborn, hot-headed racing prodigies."

Heeseung's eyes darkened at their words, his grip on her hips tightening. "Is that so?" He smirked, his face inches away from hers, his breath hot on their skin. "Are you saying I'm your type?"

(y/n) swallowed, her heart racing at his proximity. She tried to keep their expression light and nonchalant, but the way her body was reacting betrayed her. She could feel her own pulse racing, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "I…uh…I didn't say that." She stuttered, her cheeks flushed.

Heeseung's smirk widened into a cheeky grin as his lips teased over hers, just barely touching. His breath mingled with hers, their faces so close that they were sharing the same air. His gaze locked onto hers, studying her reaction, waiting for her to take the bait.

(y/n) resisted the urge to shiver, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his lips against hers. The feeling was electric, shooting sparks up and down her spine. She found herself leaning into him, her body craving more. But before she could fully surrender to the moment, a small part of her brain nagged at her sensibilities. They were still in her office, anyone could walk in at any moment.

As if sensing her hesitation, Heeseung pulled away, his eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. "You're thinking too hard." He murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her hip. "You always do that."

(y/n) opened her eyes, her expression a comical blend of flustered and guilty. "I can't help it." She muttered, looking away from him. "What if someone sees us? We're in my office, remember?"

Heeseung rolled his eyes, a scoff slipping through his lips. "As if I care who sees us." He leaned in closer again, his body pressing against hers. "I want to kiss you, right here, right now. Screw anyone who walks in."

(y/n) gasped as he crowded her against her desk, his body practically pinning her in place. "Heeseung, we can't…" She protested, her voice weak and unconvincing. Her hands came up to grip the front of his shirt, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip. "We…we have to be professional…"

Heeseung chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pressed even closer to her. His lips found the sensitive spot below her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Does this feel professional to you?" He whispered, nipping gently at her earlobe.

(y/n) let out a shaky moan, her resolve crumbling with every press of his lips against her skin. "N-no…" She admitted, her hands gripping his shirt even tighter. She knew she should put a stop to this, push him away and resume their professional relationship. But her body had other plans, arching towards him, seeking more of his touch.

Heeseung smirked against her neck, his hands roaming over her body, tracing every curve, every dip. "That's what I thought." He mumbled, his lips trailing a path down to her collarbone. He nipped at the exposed skin there, his teeth grazing over a sensitive spot, eliciting a gasp from her. "You may try to act all professional, but your body tells a different story."

(y/n) bit her lip to suppress another moan, unable to resist the effect he had on her. "You're a…a menace…" She managed to stammer out, her voice wavering as his hands continued their exploration. "We really…really shouldn't be doing this here…"

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers finding the hemline of her shirt. "You're not exactly protesting, are you?" He said, starting to slide the fabric upward. His hand was warm against her skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation wherever he touched. "In fact, I'd say you're enjoying this just as much as I am."

(y/n) swallowed hard, her head tilted back as she surrendered to the sensations he was igniting within her. His touch was like a spark of electricity, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She was torn between indulging in the moment and her nagging sense of propriety. "We…we have to stop…" She said weakly, her body arching against his.

Heeseung chuckled against her skin, his fingers now tracing the edge of her bra strap. "Or what?" He challenged, his tone playful. "You'll fire me? Stop giving me those amazing strategies?" His lips moved to the base of her neck, nipping at her pulse point. "I think we both know you won't do that. You love this too much."

(y/n) inhaled sharply at the mixture of sensations - his lips against her neck, his hands on her body, his words in her ear. She couldn't deny it, she was enjoying this far more than she should. "We…we at least…need to lock the door…" She panted, half-conscious of her dwindling restraint.

Heeseung pulled away slightly, a sly smile on his lips. "Smart thinking." He murmured, his eyes glinting. Without waiting for her response, he turned away from her, walking over to the door and locking it. When he returned to her, he caged her in with his arms, his body pressed against hers again. "Now, where were we?"

(y/n) found herself trapped between him and the desk, her heart hammering in her chest. She had never seen Heeseung so assertive and dominant before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. Her hands came up to grip his biceps, her body responding to his proximity of its own accord. "You…you're playing dirty…" She accused, her voice soft and breathless.

Heeseung smirked against her lips, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He wasted no time in taking control, his kiss deep and demanding. All the suppressed desire and tension that had been building between them exploded into that single moment, their lips meeting in a fiery collision.

(y/n) moaned into the kiss, her body melting against his. Her hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper. All her earlier reservations melted away under the heat of his touch, replaced by a hungry need that coursed through her veins.

Heeseung responded eagerly, his tongue delving into her mouth, seeking out her own. His hands moved over her body, mapping out every contour, every soft curve. He drank in the sounds she made, the way her body responded to his touch, fueling his own hunger.

"You're gonna be the death of me.."

[writingquestionsanswered]

Stuck Anon. Thank you for your wonderful advice. I feel relaxed. Maybe I am trying to force my story to be perfect.

But based on what you said, instead of focusing on one part of the story and waiting until I like it enough to move on, is it better to just draft it anyway?

Let's say I know my characters, but I'm uncertain of the conflict. I brainstorm, look for inspiration, and note down anything that pops into my head. Usually, this is where I work hard on those ideas, judging them by how much I like them and if I think they suit the characters - really just whatever causes that tingling sensation of excitement in my nervous system.

But instead, is it better for me to just draft an outline, synopsis or even the whole story (if i have enough) with all of the ideas?

Focus on One Part of the Story or Draft All At Once?

There's no "one size fits all" answer here. Only you can figure out what works best for you, and that might change over time or from one project to the next. Personally, if you're feeling that tingle of excitement by following those ideas now, I think it's worth doing that. As long as you're not losing motivation by the time you get to the outline, in which case it probably is a good idea to go ahead and outline or alternate between the two.

As frustrating as it is, it can take years to hammer out a writing process, and like I said, your writing process can change from one project to the next or may evolve over time. So always be open to trying new things and seeing what works. Never feel like you have to do something a certain way if it isn't working for you. And, writing advice is great, but when something doesn't work for you, you can take what does and chuck the rest out the window. :)

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[fallinginvictus]

do you have any wips at all for the time loop au? 🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday Andrew & Aaron Time Loop AU

I haven't had time to write lately so I only have a tiny little bit of the first part of chapter 3 and I'm not actually sure that's how it's going to stay when I actually post the whole chapter but I'll post anyways.

part one

part two

tw: character death, suicide, mention of drug abuse, Tilda, suicidal thoughts

“You're a parasite,” his mother had told him once when he was five, her head resting on the couch, her black eyes staring at the ceiling, her clouded mind lost in the high. “You suck everything out of me and then still expect me to give you more of my love.”

Aaron stood there for a second, his puffy little hands holding tightly onto the drawing he had been trying to show her, the mother he had drawn staring lovingly at him, the mother in real life taking a puff of her cigarette, her eyes never leaving the ceiling, never looking at her son.

“I just wanted to give you the gift that I made you,” he tried to defend himself with a pout on his lips, hoping his mother would want to look at it, look at him. Hoping she would smile and thank him for his thoughtfulness, for his kindness. Hoping she would acknowledge his existence.

“I just wanted,” his mother repeated mockingly, grey smoke slithering out of her lips. “That's all you do, Aaron. You want and you want and you want and you never once think about how much you take from people. As long as you get what you want you are willing to suck me dry.”

“I-I wasn't asking to take anything,” he said softly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a gift to make you happy.”

At those words his mother's gaze finally turned towards Aaron, her black eyes looking straight through him.

“To make me happy?” she scoffed before extending her long, pale fingers towards him. “Show me then.”

Aaron hesitated for a second, his hold on his precious drawing getting tighter, the paper wrinkling in his hands.

“Come on now,” his mother tilted her head, a grin painted on her thin lips, her coral-red lipstick a little smudged. “You wanted to show me my gift, so show me my gift.”

Aaron stepped forward, a spark of hope lighting inside of his chest, the drumming of his own heart echoing in his ears, a little smile forming on his lips as he carefully handed the drawing to his mum. He had worked on it for hours that morning while she was busy getting high, he had picked his best colours and tried his hardest to stay inside the lines. It was a drawing of his mum and Aaron holding hands, big and happy smiles drawn on their faces, colourful butterflies were dancing all around them and a big yellow sun was shining on the top-right corner of the page.

“This is me and you,” he said as he shily pointed towards the two stick figures on the paper and then he placed a kiss on her cheek, his soft lips meeting the hardness of her cheekbone, his warm hands gently holding onto her cold shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“You made this just for me,” she said, arching a perfectly trimmed brow.

“For my mummy,” he nodded while smiling at her. “A gift to make you happy.”

“Oh, to make me happy you say?” she chuckled. Her tone made Aaron take two steps back and he stumbled a little when his naked feet got tangled in the black carpet. His mother's eyes were cold, the black of her pupils drowning the light brown of her eyes, none of the softness that he sometimes saw in them was visible.

“Yes I-”

“So you didn't give it to me so that I could thank you and tell you how good you are?”

Aaron didn't reply. He hadn't made her the drawing to get compliments but a part of him had still hoped for them, had hoped to hear nice words and receive warm smiles. Had hoped for warmth and love, for attention.

“See Aaron?” she said, her eyes burning holes into his skin. “You pretend to be such a lovely boy who only wants to please others but you can't fool me, I'm your mother. I know you like nobody else does. I put up with it because I love you, but no one else other than me will ever be able to put up with your selfish behaviour, with your endless needs, with your wanting and taking. I can see right through you.”

☆☆

As he lays on his unmade bed, the darkness of his room engulfing his body and his mind, Aaron finally feels light and free, the weight of the sky no longer resting on his shoulders, the cloud of darkness that had for so long engulfed his lungs finally dissipating.

He stays there for a while, staring at the darkness, searching for a crack in his heart, an ounce of doubt in his blood, regret in his mind. He searches thoroughly and critically, every thought gets analysed and pulled apart, every emotion gets dissected and categorised, and only when he's sure that nothing at all has been overlooked he finally gets out of bed, ready to face the final day of his life.

He takes longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot streams of water untangle his muscles, warm his bones. He uses all of his shampoo and conditioner, until there is not one drop left inside the bottles. He lets the water wash over him until it starts to turn cold, until there is no hot water left at all. When he finally steps out of the shower, condensation has filled the air and all of the glass surfaces and mirrors are fogged over. Aaron prefers it that way, he doesn't want to look at his face, doesn't want the reminder of what he's leaving behind. Of who he's leaving behind.

When he looks at his phone it's thirty-two minutes past seven in the morning and Aaron's heart stops beating for a few seconds: Andrew had called him five times.

A few seconds later it rings again, the phone vibrating in his hand as the ringtone fills the air, covering the sound of his now racing heart.

“What? Is something wrong?” Aaron asks as soon as he picks up the phone, worry crawling under his skin and spreading throughout his body, rooting him to the ground. Andrew would never call him of his own free will, he would never contact him unless something had gone terribly wrong.

“Are you still clean?” is what Andrew says from the other side of the line, his voice sounding strange, strained.

“What?” Aaron's blood turns into ice, freezing his veins. His thoughts drift towards the hospital's supply room, towards what he knows will take place that afternoon. For a second, for a naive and stupid second, Aaron feels touched and warmth tries to melt his frozen veins: maybe Andrew still cares for him, he thinks, maybe he still wants for Aaron to be safe.

“Just answer. Are you still clean?”

“Yes, I am. Almost 10 years.”

“Do you feel like using again?” The question feels like a trick, a trap.

“No,” he says and smiles a little: he doesn't feel like using again but it doesn't mean he won't.

“Good. Don't,” Andrew says before hanging up the phone.

Once Andrew's voice is gone and only silence can be heard in his empty house, Aaron feels hollow again. He wants to call his brother back, to hear him talk about his day, his week, his life; he wants to tell him about his annoying neighbour and his stupid little dog that barks all day and night and won't let Aaron rest; he wants to go to a café and eat three different types of cakes and discuss with him which one is better; he wants Andrew to trust him and confide in him; he wants to confess his pain and tell Andrew that there is a tiredness in him that won't ever leave him, that drags him down. He wants Andrew to burst through his door and save him. He wants and wants and wants and he hates his mother for being right: he's a parasite that will never be satisfied. Aaron won't suck Andrew and Nicky dry like he did with his mother.

☆☆

When he was thirteen, Aaron discovered that he had a brother, a twin, and something that he thought had long been lost sparked in chest again after years of laying dormant between his ribs: hope.

The whole night he paced around his bedroom, up and down and down and up, his whole body buzzing with that long forgotten feeling, thoughts getting tangled in his brain as he tried to organise them, to make sense of them.

He had a twin brother.

He stood in front of the broken and dirty floor-length mirror at the side of his room and stared at himself for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes: in front of him stood his reflection, dark circles under his eyes, hollowed-out cheeks and sharp cheekbones, rosey lips and messy blond hair. Soon enough there wouldn't just be a mindless reflection standing in front of him, but a real-life human with feelings and thoughts, a brother that looked just like him, a twin that had once been part of him, with whom he had shared the first nine months of his life.

He walked towards his desk and ripped a page from his chemistry notebook. He stared at it for a while, thinking about what he should write. He knew he was an unlovable child, he knew his personality was unlikeable and his mere presence exhausting; he wasn't friendly and he wasn't funny, he was neither sweet nor cute and he had never once been good at making friends, but he was desperate, the need to make a good first impression was burnings in his veins.

He picked up a black-ink pen. He had stolen it from one of his classmates, it was new and expensive, the gel ink rich and deep.

Five different times he began to write his letter and five different times he ripped out the page, his hands shaking, his breaths getting erratic. Aaron had never been a writer, had never liked reading, had never cared about literature, often falling asleep during Mr. Jackson lessons and now he could do nothing but curse at himself for such oversight: he didn't want his brother to think of him as an illiterate idiot who couldn't string two sentences together.

Aaron had never felt more dumb than he did on that Thursday evening as he tried his best to present himself as someone that Andrew could love, someone that was worthy of love.

☆☆

“You look happy today Doctor Minyard,” is the first thing he hears when he walks in front of the nurses station. “Did something good happen?”

Aaron smiles at Nurse Mary, “Just a good day,” he shrugs. Maybe it is a lie or maybe it isn't, Aaron isn't sure anymore.

The day passes slowly and then all at once, a strange feeling buzzing under his skin, electricity licking up his veins. He wonders if it's anticipation or dread, joy or sadness. He wonders if maybe it's a mixture of every emotion that he has ever felt throughout his life. It had been so long since he had felt so much and so strongly; it had been so long since he had felt something other than emptiness and loneliness for a prolonged period of time. He can't decide whether he enjoys the feeling or if he despises it.

He feels guilty as he walks towards the supply room: all around him are those afflicted by unimaginable sicknesses and pains and every day and every night they fight as hard they can to keep their lives: they hold on tightly onto a thin rope that is on the brink of snapping, their knuckles white, their hands bloody, their muscles aching from the strain. And here Aaron is, forfeiting his life as if it means nothing.

The keypad beeps four times, short and loud, and then a third time as the door opens. Aaron takes a deep breath as he steps inside and closes the door behind himself, the dim light inside the small room casting shadows on his face, the stale air making him feel as if he's going to suffocate at any moment. There's a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and a slight shake overtakes his hands as he tightly grips the glass vial. He stops for a second as the syringe sinks into the grey rubber stopper, his laboured breaths the only sound inside the quiet room.

There is a second after Aaron sinks the syringe in his body where flashes of Nicky's warm smile and Andrew's concerned face dance behind his eyelids, a moment where he could change his mind, put the syringe away and walk out of that room alive. But the faces disappear as quickly as they had appeared, smothered by the knowledge that he would only suck them dry, that his wants and needs would only ever hurt them. No matter how hard he tries to keep his wants sealed inside of his chest, beneath his ribs, Aaron knows that they would always find a way to escape. He's a parasite, his existence would only ever bring pain to those around him.

He pushes the morphine in his veins.

That morning he had told Andrew that he didn't feel like using again and while it had been true it hadn't been the full truth. Aaron had long since learnt that a drug addict could never stop being a drug addict. He could get clean and he could stay clean, but the addiction would never fully leave him, a part of him would always crave the drugs, the high, like a broken bone that had never healed quite right and would ache when it rained and when it snowed.

When the morphine finally makes its home in his veins, Aaron welcomes her like an old friend. He lets himself feel the euphoria as it rushes through his body and down his veins, as it reaches his every cell. His body goes limp and he slumps against the wall, the syringe slipping from his fingers. Aaron had forgotten what happiness felt like but as he lays on the snow-white hospital tiles, he thinks he has finally found it again. Maybe drugs, he ponders, had been his only real friends.

His brain goes numb after a while, a dense fog making its way inside of his mind, clouding his thoughts, blurring his vision. His body feels heavy and he lets it fall to the ground, the sound of his head forcefully hitting the ground echoing inside of the silent room. Aaron doesn't even notice. Nothing hurts anymore, the constant and unbearable ache that is his loneliness now hidden inside of the dense fog that is clouding his brain.

Why couldn't you make me just a little lovable, Aaron asks God as he falls into darkness. Why do I always have to be alone?

[daily-odile]

staring

[pandora15]

life is cruel.

it's tragic, horrific, and unfair. it gives us the worst of things, causes us to feel and experience things that are so unspeakably painful that sometimes I can't even. I can't even.

and it seems even more cruel in those moments of pain and grief and loss when you see something beautiful, like fall colors, or the color of the sky at sunset, or how the holidays typically are meant to bring joy to people but all you can think about now is that every year when this time of year comes, you'll just think about how tragic it is.

and cruel.

and horrific.

and unfair.

and beautiful.

[essektheylyss]

Since I'm slowly reading Wonderbook, and am only really on the first chapter, I keep thinking about how I kind of passively refused to read books on writing for a long time, and I do think that can be a helpful approach if you're starting as a writer and you have ideas and excitement but don't have any technical know-how or experience sitting down and slogging through it.

Don't read writing advice. Don't read about other people's processes. Read fiction or even nonfiction that makes you think about what you want to write, and then write a shit ton of stuff that makes you excited without having any expectation that you'll do anything with it. Once you figure out what works at least somewhat, or if you find that you've still got the ideas but nothing's really working to get them on paper, then you can pick up whatever writing books you want, but it is really very valuable to figure out the skeleton of your own process before you invite in ideas from anyone else's.

[sheilaerinniperonista]

when I say Sheila E. I mean Sheila E. idgaf about those two others gay boys go get ur own fanfic this is about her

[arthur-r]

i went to sleep an hour ago but i can’t actually fall asleep for some terrible mixture of anxiety and caffeine and being scheduled wrong from all of the winter break sleeping incorrectly compared to school. anyway i have a stomachache (anxiety variety) scary high heart rate (anxiety variety? caffeine variety? just my heart being stupid as usual? probably all of the above) and also terrified of living with my dad for the next week. and i was drinking a caffeinated beverage past 5 pm today because. i was really stupid and let that happen without thinking about it. so there are so many things getting in between me and a good nights sleep to get to school in the morning. doesn’t help that i’m stressed about school itself too or that my irl friends are constantly hanging out like literally all of them i try not to be offended if like tara and elanor hang out together without me cause everybody is allowed to have smaller on their own engagements but it’s like literally every friend i have!! like i have maybe fifteen friends total in my school and there was like ten of them were all ice skating together on new years and went to a play together and did all of these things that i wish i were invited for. and so i’m stressed about a lot of things at once and it’s no good

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

sorry for diary posting so much on main but this is the last one today prommy

[montanabohemian]

do you ever start reading a fandom popular fic and within the first five or ten minutes, you start questioning why it's so popular?

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

masterlist

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[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: After you reveal the truth of what your relationship really was between you and Miguel, everyone's keen on learning more. So what better way to give a little more insight than a dinner at your shared home?

Warnings: None~ Just back again with silly shenanigans and the softest of fluff :3

A/N: Hello, everyone! After the first part of 'What's In Between' blew up (you can read it here, thank you so much by the way, you're all so sweet), many people have asked for a part two, so here it is! Enjoy <3

The moment you break the news to them, the volume of the table booms to a fever pitch as everyone begins talking at the same time.

“W-WHAT?!”

“Married? No way,” Hobie says.

“How long have you been together?” Pavitr asks.

“I can’t say I saw this coming…” Miles says, eyes widening in surprise.

Miguel had been watching you the moment you snuck up on the group, but with the newfound panic from everyone he couldn’t help but make his way over to the commotion.

“You’re all being loud, what are you yelling about now?” Miguel asks, walking over and standing by your side.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US YOU WERE MARRIED?!” Gwen shouts.

“You never asked,” he blinks, “and also, it’s none of your business.”

“Miguel, as your best friend I am deeply offended that you haven’t told me after this long, does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Peter says, hand on his chest in pretend hurt.

“You are not my best friend,” Miguel deadpans.

“After I opened up to you no less, I mean, you were the first person I told about Mayday! All the details-” he continues, ignoring the comment.

“Not by choice,” he mutters.

“Does no one know about this?? At all???” Pavitr asks, “I mean, you two are married.”

“I mean, Jess knows about it,” you gesture, and she only grins.

“And now all of you do too,” Miguel sighs. “Vida mía, I thought we talked about this,” he admonishes.

“Oh, c’mon, it was cute how they were all trying to figure it out for so long. I was starting to feel bad,” you say, smoothing your hair back. He only stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“Fine,” he relents, “Can’t do anything about it now anyway.” He smiles softly at you, and the group watches in awe as their cold leader softens in your presence, but his gaze quickly grows dark as he turns back to the group.

“One word of this to anyone outside of this group,” he says with a pointed finger before trailing off, allowing everyone to fill in the blanks as to what he might do.

Everyone’s faces pale like a sheet at the unnamed threat (well, except for Hobie, he only watches with blatant amusement on his face), but you only laugh.

“Miguel, don’t threaten the kids,” you giggle. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,” you whisper to them with a wink.

“Hey, that’s what I say!” Peter says.

“You are his best friend after all,” you grin.

“I have never said those words a day in my life,” he scoffs, but you ignore him, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Oh! I have a lovely idea, how about you all swing by our place for dinner later? We never have guests,” you suggest.

Gwen gasps, “Really?”

“This…maybe doesn’t seem like the best idea,” Miles says as he shrinks down in his seat at Miguel’s glare towards you.

“I have plans tonight…though I don’t think they’d mind if I cancel,” Hobie says nonchalantly, but everyone knew there was no way in hell he’d miss something like this.

“What am I, cat litter?” Jess asks. She was the only person to have been at your shared home, having joined around the same time as you, and being one of the few people Miguel fully trusts.

“You know it's not like that, Jess,” you turn to her with a grin.

“Absolutely not, it's already a liability that they know querida, now you want them traipsing into our home?” Miguel argues, and you narrow your eyes at him, never one to back down from a fight. While it got on his nerves, it's what he loved about you too. He needed someone that wouldn’t take his shit.

“Miguel,” you say, giving him a look. “All our enemies are literally in alternate universes who, aside from those small tears, have no way to go cross-dimensional, let alone find us in the expanse of a universe. Besides, I think it would be nice,” you say, and Mayday seems to agree since she climbs right up into your arms, babbling happily.

“And don’t think I don’t know you have a soft spot for this lil ragtag team,” you smile, bouncing up and down as Mayday laughs.

He huffs, “I am anything but soft, especially for them. They never listen, don’t follow protocol, are immature, and the list goes on.”

“He’s lying,” you whisper, covering your mouth from his direction as though that would stop him from happening. Mayday grabs your hand though, playing with your fingers happily. “See how his ears are turning red?”

At that, his ears turn more red and the group tries to stifle their snickers to no avail.

“Querida,” he warns. “Do you feel the need to share anything else about me? Or have you had enough,” he asks, poking your shoulder. You place a hand on his bicep with a gentle smile, and his expression softens much to his dismay.

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grin. “Alright, it’s settled then! You’re all coming over tonight.”

~

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, preparing the food for dinnertime when everyone would be coming over.

Then, you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck as a familiar presence makes himself known, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head rests on top of yours.

“Vida mía, the food smells good,” he says softly before sighing. “But I’m not very happy with you today.”

You let out a sigh of your own as you turn off the stove before turning around in his arms to face him.

“Miguel, my love,” you say, smoothing out the collar of the pullover he wore before looking up at him. “I know you well, don’t I?”

“More than anyone,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest amount as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Then it’s safe to assume that you’ve been wanting to hang out with more people in the Society apart from work-related things?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest.

“I can’t afford anything like that in this line of work, you know that querida,” he sighs, that familiar hardened look in his eyes for a moment.

“Miguel, your only friends can’t be me, Lyla and Jess,” you pout.

“Vida mía, you are my wife,” he says.

“Yes, and it's miracle enough that I was able to grow close enough to you to get to that point,” you chuckle, “so my existence in your life is proof itself that you are capable of growing close to people. I’ve seen you, I think you’re ready and deep down I know you don’t always want to be perceived as the cold and unfeeling leader of the Society. Why not start with them?”

“That’s not a decision for you to make,” he says, glancing away from you.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling a bit guilty that you threw Miguel into this without warning. “I should have spoken to you about it first but who knows. Maybe this is a good thing, opening your heart a little more,” you explain. “Don’t think I realize you’re the hardest on them because you believe in them,” you smile.

He huffs before pausing to think for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder when you snuck your little way into my head, querida.”

“Admit it, you’re growing soft,” you giggle softly.

“Never,” he counters, tickling your side which makes you scrunch up your face as you laugh breathlessly.

“OKAY! Okay, you’re one soft fluffy teddy bear, happy?” you say which only makes him continue with even more fervour.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever heard you say, querida,” he snorts but finally relents.

“Yeah….I can’t even say that with a serious face,” you chuckle. “But you do have your moments, tough guy,” you smile, leaning up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. That’s when the doorbell rings, and immediately your eyes light up.

“Oh! They’re here!!” you say excitedly, escaping from his grasp as you move to open up the door.

“Here we go,” he murmurs to himself, and you turn to face him.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Nothing, vida mía,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes in disbelief.

“Behave, Miguel,” you tell him.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replies, and you grin before opening up the front door.

There, you find Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter (alongside Mayday of course), Hobie and Jess all standing outside, chatting amongst themselves before turning to you.

Miles almost looks like he’s in disbelief like he couldn’t really believe this was your home quite yet.

“Hi!” Gwen starts.

“Took you lot long enough,” Hobie says. “Was starting to think we'd have to build a fire and cook it ourselves.” Gwen punches his shoulder, to which he lets out a little “Ow!”

“Sorry about him,” Gwen apologizes.

You just find yourself laughing at it all though.

“No apologies needed, we were a little preoccupied. Come on in, make yourself at home,” you say, opening the door a little wider for them to make their way through.

“Not too at home though,” you hear Miguel say, leaning into the foyer from the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ignore him,” you say, giving him a pointed look to which he just stares at you blankly. “Dinner will be ready soon, I just have to set the table and we can eat, alright?”

“It smells delicious,” Pavitr says, “I’m starving.”

Mayday seems to agree as she crawls up from the baby carrier onto Peter’s head, making grabby hands from the top.

“Someone’s hungry,” Peter chuckles. “Got anything she can eat?”

“I have a few things, don’t worry,” you smile.

“It really does smell really good though, but it always does,” Jess adds.

“It’s nothing special,” you say sheepishly. “Just some of Miguel’s favourites.”

You guide them all into the living room. “Settle in! I’ll be done in a snap,” you say.

As you make your way back to the kitchen (with Jess joining you to help out), back in the living room the squad of spiders settle in almost hesitantly, a watchful eye monitoring all of their reactions.

No one dares say anything, only sitting around nervously.

“So…nice weather we’re having,” Peter says, trying to lighten the mood but even Mayday gives him a deadpanned expression.

Miguel sighs. “You’re all acting like there’s a ticking time bomb waiting for you to speak before setting off,” he says, still leaning up against the doorway.

“We don’t know, mate. Is there?” Hobie jokes, but Miles’ face drops anyway.

“There isn’t, for the record. I can be harsh but I’m not evil,” Miguel scoffs before making eye contact with Pavitr who looks like he wanted to ask something but was holding back.

“One question,” he says simply with a nod.

“How long have you two been together?”

“…a little over 4 years now,” he replies.

“How did you meet?” Gwen asks.

“I said one question,” he says before your voice cuts in.

“My universe was one of the first he visited! He hated me back then, though,” you laugh as you walk back in. “Speaking of which!! I have some things you might all want to see after dinner,” you grin mischievously.

“I thought you said I was the one that had to behave, mi corazón,” Miguel says, a warning tone in his voice.

“And I am, aren’t I?” you say, poking his side playfully. “Anyway, dinner’s ready,” you say, leading them to the dining room. “I know it's not much but-”

“How in the hell is this not much??” Hobie exclaims, and you just shrug. “You should see dinner with my family, then you will think that it’s not much,” you say with a chuckle.

On the table sat a wide expanse of food, all of Miguel’s favourites from Mexico. Empanadas as the appetizer, alongside pozole, ceviche, enchiladas, and chicken with mole poblano all served with a side of rice, beans, or homemade corn tortillas depending on each person’s preference.

You can see Miguel’s eyes visibly brighten as he looks at the food, settling in at the head of the table with you by his side.

“Come eat!” As you say that, everyone sits down before beginning to eat, everyone heading straight to what appealed to them the most.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Miles says, eyes closed in bliss.

“Oye, don’t let your Mother hear that, kid,” Miguel says, but the corner of his lip was upturned in the tiniest of smiles. The most he would allow himself around this many people.

“Thank you, Miles,” you smile.

“This, uhh, how do you say it again? Poh-zuhl?” Gwen asks, and you laugh out loud as she turns pink, meanwhile both Miguel and Miles cringe slightly.

“I’m sorry for laughing, sweetheart. You’re almost there; it’s pronounced like ‘poh-zoh-lay’,” you say kindly.

“Ohh, okay gotcha. Pozole. It’s really good! Feels…comforting, almost,” she says.

“Yes,” you say, glancing at your husband with a soft smile, “it’s Miguel’s favourite. Says it ‘tastes like home’.” A chorus of ‘awws’ go around the table, while Miguel only holds the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the cheesy stuff, let’s get back to eating, yeah?” Hobie says before shoving his fork back into his mouth.

~

Once dinner was finished (and after both Miles and Gwen insisted that they did the dishes despite much argument from you), everyone was settled again in the living room laughing and talking together, and while Miguel only said a few things here and there and sat by your side like a lost puppy, he did seem to be enjoying himself.

“Alright! Now, before everyone goes back home, I have one more thing I’d like to show you,” you say once it quiets down a bit. Standing up, you make your way over to a large bookshelf you and Miguel had built together when you first moved in together.

“I’ve gotten tired of having only myself to show these photos to, so this is the perfect opportunity,” you smile.

“Querida-” Miguel says, holding out a hand to block your way but you look at him with pleading eyes, and he can’t do anything but relent. He couldn’t say no when you looked at him like that.

With a triumphant ‘haha!’ you grab a photo album labelled with a date and a single word; ‘Ours’.

Everyone crowds around as you place it down on the coffee table, and you open it up to the first page.

Gwen is the one that gasps first, eyes wide with awe.

“You both look so beautiful,” she says softly.

There, front and centre was a photo of you and Miguel on your wedding day. You were smiling wide at the camera, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand while Miguel only looked at you with an expression so in awe it was as though you painted the stars in the sky.

“You clean up nicely, big man,” Hobie comments, and Pavitr nods.

“Weddings, my favourite,” Jess says, a fond expression on her face as she thinks back to her own husband.

“I had a bird fly into my face at my wedding…but they are nice,” Peter says, rocking Mayday gently as she naps away after the hearty dinner even despite the commotion.

You continue to flip through the photobook, pausing periodically for a little anecdote about each one. Miguel had long stood up to make room for everyone else, but he looked at you in the same way he did on your wedding day.

Like you were the light of his life, the one good thing he had amongst the millions of universes parallel to his own. Like you were his everything.

~

“Admit it, you like them,” you smile, the house finally quiet after everyone headed home. He only rolls his eyes before pulling you into his lap, his face going into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“There is a big difference between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerating’, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing circles into your hip soothingly.

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Whatever you say,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling into his touch with a happy sigh.

You both sit there for a moment in silence, the two of you weren’t ones to fill silence with mindless chatter. If words needn’t be said then they weren’t.

“That was…nice, though,” he admits softly after a little while.

“I know,” you whisper.

~

~

~

“That won’t happen again for a long while though,” he says, pulling away to look at you, crimson eyes pleading with you wordlessly.

You can’t do anything but laugh.

Taglist (for those who requested a part two): @lotustv @mars-ifuknowmeirlplsgoaway @elliewilliamsactualgf @randomhumans-blog @iluvkonig @phillygraves @gothgirlziez

[greg-montgomery]

I would love a fic about Reid’s friend coming to visit him at work and as soon as Hotch lays eyes on her it’s love at first sight. But she’s like really girlie and bubbly so the rest of the team is so confused as to why Hotch is so whipped for her :)

“She said that to you?”

“Yeah…I mean the audacity of some people,” you said shaking your head. “I’ve had enough of her. And I promise you, next time I’m telling our manager.” As if to prove the harshness of your words you dropped on his desk a stapler you had been playing with to occupy your hands.

Spencer smiled, entertained as always from your stories involving your least favorite coworker.

“Anyway, enough with her. We can go now, right?”

“Yeah, just let me get all my stuff.”

A deep voice coming from behind you right before you opened your mouth stopped you from complaining. “Reid, that last report needs-

The fact that you turned around to search for the owner of that voice seemed to stop him from speaking any further.

You blinked softly at him melting under the man’s gaze. He was tall, handsome, and looked like he could easily kill you: just your type.  

“Hotch?” you heard your friend’s voice.

That was Hotch?

“You’re Hotch?

“Yeah,” he breathed out a laugh. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” Spencer introduced you to him. “Sorry, she’s just picking me up.”

“That’s alright,” Hotch replied to him while still looking into your eyes. “So I take it you’ve heard about me.”

“Only the best,” you giggled.

“Yes, I’m sure Reid has never complained to you about paperwork or having to work on a weekend,” he rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced.

“I haven’t!” Spencer defended himself.

Hotch laughed and a beautiful smile stuck on his face. No way this was the same man Spencer had talked to you about that ‘never smiled’ and ‘never blinked’.

“Um…you wanted to tell me something about a report?” your friend awkwardly positioned himself next to you trying to get Hotch’s attention.

“Right,” he said. “It’s…it’s fine. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.”

--

“Do you see that?” Penelope whispered, grabbing Emily with one hand and JJ with the other.

“What is it?”

“Look,” she said pointing at you from afar.

“Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“And why is Hotch looking at her like he’s about to eat her?” JJ added.

“It’s Y/N, Reid’s best friend.”

“Oh…well good thing she’s not his girlfriend ‘cause…”

“Right?” Garcia said. “Oh my God, do you guys think they’re gonna fall in love? It would be so cute…they will start going on dates and we’re gonna get the weekends off!”

JJ tilted her head observing the pair of you. “You wouldn’t think that’s his type. She looks so…sunshine-y.”

“Well, I think that’s exactly what Hotch needs,” Emily said. “Some sunshine.”

--

“Why didn’t you tell me he was hot?” you asked when you were finally out of everyone’s sight.

“Who?”

“Hotch!”

“Ew…he’s like my dad!”

“To you!” you said opening your car door. “How am I supposed to drive now? My hands are shaking.”

“Because…of my boss?” Spencer asked, sounding confused.

You got into your seat and started giggling, covering your mouth with your hands. “Fuck,” you sighed moving your hands to cup your own cheeks feeling their heat. “This has never happened to me before. I think I just fell in love.”

Spencer gave you a side eye. “We’re still talking about Hotch, right?”

You bit your bottom lip and pulled a little card out of your pocket. “He gave me his number.”

“When did this even happen?”

“When you were putting your stuff in your bag.”

“So he likes you too?”

“I guess,” you smiled.

For a few moments the two of you stared at each other before bursting out in laughter.

“And I always thought Derek would be the one going after you.”

You let out a heavy sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl. “He’s really handsome, Spence.”

“He’s a good man too,” he said.

“So you approve?”

“I would never stand in the way between you and my father figure.”

“Shut up,” you laughed and started your car.

part 2