#correct response to someone trying to get you to work on your day off btw

[crehador]

i can already tell he is going to be an enormous mood

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him. 

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache. 

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right? 

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but… 

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it. 

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her. 

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.” 

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs. 

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?” 

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.” 

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him. 

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand. 

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.” 

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out. 

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table. 

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober? 

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do? 

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you. 

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it. 

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink. 

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked. 

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared. 

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled. 

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.” 

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.” 

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you. 

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid. 

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible. 

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth. 

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused. 

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader. 

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him. 

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -” 

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you. 

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question. 

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly. 

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath. 

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.” 

Oh. 

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you. 

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky. 

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.” 

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh. 

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you. 

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental? 

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command. 

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile. 

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered. 

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest. 

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right? 

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again. 

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head. 

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather. 

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise. 

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you. 

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle. 

Oh, he liked you a lot. 

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it. 

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you. 

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch. 

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked. 

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered. 

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture. 

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books. 

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer. 

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move. 

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers. 

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now? 

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too. 

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now. 

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises. 

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.” 

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out. 

“Yep.” 

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?” 

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face. 

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it. 

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about. 

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair. 

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low. 

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star. 

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled. 

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered. 

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. 

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath. 

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone. 

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face. 

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“My shirt,” he stated. 

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.” 

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips. 

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again. 

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.” 

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it. 

“Y/N?” 

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again. 

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it. 

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool. 

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts. 

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request. 

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood. 

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right? 

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.” 

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight. 

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him. 

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?” 

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive. 

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?” 

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying. 

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.” 

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began. 

You started to smile. 

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.” 

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.” 

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back. 

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.” 

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips. 

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?” 

[cherrynwinesk]

I NEED THE PART TWO OF THE HC "LIGHTS OFF" (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠), i reaally love how u write, so, You will not get rid of my male!s/o requests (⁠´⁠⊙⁠ω⁠⊙⁠`⁠)

Hope ur well!! I'm fine too, btw (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

─ 🐭

🍒: All your resquests with a male reader are welcome :D

Lights off ~ Quackity pt.2

pt. 1 here

Story g: sfw / soft

Language: English/Inglés

⚠️: None (?)

CC's: Quackity

Reader g: Male reader

📝: All the content is fictitious and an attempt is made to adapt the PUBLIC personality of the cc's, that is, the personality that is shown in front of cameras, I do not know the true personality and any resemblance to reality is mere coincidence.

🍒: Hello, writing requests are always open, if you want something in particular, ask without fear. I clarify that English is not my main language, I apologize for any error and I accept corrections to improve the quality of the content

Master List

"I just want to know if everything that is circulating on the internet is true..."

Quackity left his cell phone next to his mouse, he had thought so much about sending you that message, he was afraid if this situation was just nothing more than a "ship" from the fans, that he was being ridiculous for thinking beyond a friendship with you . He send that message while work was trying to consume his mind, taking advantage of the opportunity to have a thousand things to do so as not to fall into the anxiety of your response.

He wasn't 100% sure what he was feeling, you had always been special to Quackity, someone he admired for his great talent, impressed how each of your songs matched his taste in music, feeling the need to show everyone how amazing you were .

And today, exactly two days after going to see you at your concert, among the thoughts of how to fix this problem on his YouTube channel, you came to his mind. Thinking about why he had felt so nervous about seeing you again.

That night of the concert Quackity drove to the auditorium, his sister accompanying him and talking some anecdote, but Quackity could only feel the pressure in his heart as he approached the auditorium, inadvertently ignoring his sister's words.

Both of his hands rested on the wheel of his truck, feeling his arms tingling, feeling his hands numb and heavy with nerves. He was able to relax a little by the time the night breeze hit his face as he got out into the auditorium parking lot. His extremities finally had the circulation they needed.

And today he was typing quickly on his keyboard, there was no one at home, you could only hear the click of each key on his keyboard, the place completely silent. But his mind was being noisy about why he felt that way that day. Clearly remembering the feeling of his made his body begin to feel the same way, as if he went back in the past right at that moment. His head envisioned the dark dashboard of his truck, the way he let go of the wheel to wiggle his fingers for better circulation, his stomach rumbling and heating up in sharp pain. Unconsciously the problem he was working on was being fixed automatically.

Under other circumstances, Quackity would never have sent that message, not even his mind would have put him in such a situation.

But when you sang "Once more to see you", things changed. Quackity was standing in the VIP area when the basic instruments began to play, one more song for anyone in the place but for Quackity it wasn't at the moment you started singing. He could see you looking in his direction at times, you looking directly at Quackity, he noticed, and the feeling you put into each verse. Quackity could feel your energy and that was what got him sinking between feelings of doubt.

"Maybe it is"

Quackity received your message and immediately his throat tightened and his chest began to press.

"Let's see each other, we have to talk"

He turned off his cell phone once he received a positive response from you, he needed to get away from everything for a bit. Quackity felt so confused, because it was the first time he felt all this about a boy, he didn't even know what exactly he felt.

By the next day Quackity was ready to leave, letting his sister know that he was going for a walk to get rid of work and that he would go alone. He took the drive in his car to the east of Los Angeles, driving could clear his mind.

You and Quackity arrived at the place, you decided to meet in a park, the day was cloudy and it had rained a little, so the streets were empty, the park was perfect since the fresh air would help with tension that you were about to have.

Wondering about how the day was going, avoiding at all costs the real reason you were there. Until Quackity spoke about it, wanting to rush things to end the nerves in his stomach that would cause him discomfort at any moment. 'Bad time, good face' as the saying goes.

You started talking about how you didn't realize when you started thinking about him, that the whole feeling of some of your songs had been inspired by everything Quackity made you feel. Being you as sincere as possible.

And Quackity talking about how he almost drove back to his house that night because of the nerves he felt seeing you again, that he felt scared by these new feelings for you. Quackity in love for the first time with a boy, be patient, he is very scared.

You both agreed to try to be together, because you are young men after all, and you were going to let yourself fall if necessary, learn from this new stage, from new emotions. 'Cause failing and learning is what life is all about

This time, Quackity was the one looking at you

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Hi hi! Flynn, ultraviolet, and soft please! Ily

Thanks love! For @joyandthephantoms More soft verse! Flarrie this time :D They're like 26 here btw. Enjoy!

Flynn’s neck deep in paperwork when her desk phone rings.

She ignores it— that’s what her secretary is for— and after a few rings, it shuts off. She takes the opportunity while she’s already distracted to shake out her hands— she’s been typing so much today, her wrists are starting to seriously cramp up— and then dives back in.

The phone rings again.

Flynn blows out a sigh and gives up, sitting back in her chair. She waits, and when the ringing doesn’t stop, she leans even farther back, craning her neck toward the office door, and calls, “Margie! The phone?”

No response, and although the phone stops ringing— Flynn dares to hope— it starts up again a minute later, somehow louder this time, like it’s purposefully trying to piss her off.

“Jesus fuck,” she grumbles, scooting her chair back up to the desk. “Someone tell me what the hell I’m paying a secretary for, seriously.”

But she makes sure every ounce of frustration and late-night exhaustion is out of her voice when she picks up, “Half and Main Funeral Parlor, Flynn Taylor’s Office. This is Director Taylor speaking. How may I help you today?”

“Your greeting’s way too long, babes,” Carrie Wilson says on the other end of the line. “Your secretary has it down to like four words, you should ask her for some pointers.”

Flynn drops her chin to her chest, rubbing at a sudden crick in her neck with her free hand. “Really, Care? Calling the office phone? You know I’m working.”

“You weren’t answering your cell!”

“Because I turn it off when I’m working!” Flynn says, but grabs her phone out of her bag to check for missed messages anyway. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be working? I thought your hippie wedding was today.”

“My non-traditional wedding,” Carrie corrects, “was this morning. It’s over now. Now, let me in, the door’s locked.”

Flynn’s head snaps up. “What? Carrie, I’m not home, I’m working.”

She can practically hear the famous Carrie Wilson eye roll. “I know that, I’m not home either. And I told your secretary to go home cause it’s 8:00 on a Saturday and there’s no way you pay her enough to work those kinds of hours. So get off your butt, shake off those pins and needles, and come let me in the door.”

Flynn splutters for a moment, then gets it together enough to push away from her desk. Part of her is certain Carrie’s just messing with her— it’s one of Carrie’s very favorite things to do— and yet, when she rounds the corner from her office into the main lobby, there she is— Carrie Wilson, in the bright pink bikini-skirt combo she was gifted for the hippie beach wedding she planned, sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat completing the look, standing behind the glass doors of Flynn’s funeral home, a plastic cup of something purple in each hand.

Flynn hangs up the phone and pushes the door open in one motion. “You’re impossible!”

“You love me,” Carrie corrects, and holds out one of the purple cups. “Ultraviolet protein shake, from the place that catered the wedding. You’ll like it, it tastes like blueberries and caffeine.”

“Always a good combo,” Flynn allows, taking a hesitant sip— and sure enough, the explosion of icy flavor on her tongue wakes her up like nothing has been able to all day. “Shit, that’s good.”

Carie smirks. “You love me,” she repeats, and shoulders past Flynn into the building. She looks ridiculously out of place in the dimly lit lobby, in her sandals and bright colors, but then again, Carrie can make any place look like she was born there. “Come on, then. If you’re going to insist on working till all hours of the night, the least I can do is keep you company.”

Something warm blooms in Flynn’s stomach— not butterflies, not the way alloromantic people get butterflies, she’s pretty sure, but love nonetheless.

Carrie turns around and raises an eyebrow, barely visible over her sunglasses. “I’m serious, Flynn. Nick has a date tonight, and I am not spending a Saturday evening alone. The faster you get your work done, the faster we can go home and get drunk.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Flynn says, and takes another sip of her smoothie for good measure before she plants a cold, blueberry-flavored kiss on Carrie’s mouth as she walks past. The noise Carrie makes is worth all the stress of today put together. And Flynn will definitely be getting her work done as quickly as physically possible.

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs 

[midgardianweasley]

Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[whorror-barbie]

Horrible boss (AU! boss salesman x Accountant! fem reader) part 5

Summary : what's his deal?

Warning: quick masturbation, profanity. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, AND IF ANY OF THE WARNINGS TRIGGERS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ FURTHER.

A/n : it's been a minute since I have been writing...eh I tried lol,but I am working on part 6 to this btw. Enjoy! :)

Your mind starts to wander while chewing on your pen cap absentmindedly at your desk. You've been daydreaming about your boss way too often lately despite the fact that He's been a bit stand offish towards these couple of days and he hasn't talked to you since the evaluation,but it doesn't stop you from thinking about him though, Why is he being so cruel?

"oh...maybe I should get something to eat " you say quietly to yourself, realizing your pen cap is all chewed up. so you get up,making your way to the break room, and upon entering, you see Seok-woo sitting with his beautiful secretary alongside the other coworkers at his table, chatting it up until he makes eye contact with you which makes you give him a bashful look in return. finally, he smirk, but swiftly turns his attention back to the secretary. that small interaction made your heart flutter, you were feeling hopeful that he still wants you. getting too distracted when all of the sudden you bump into someone.

Realizing you knocked a food tray out of Jun-ho's hands. "oh my gosh, I'm sorry" getting on your knees to help him " oh, it's fine" he tells you understandingly, looking at you with caring eyes. the both of you finally got done clean up the mess "next time try not to make it so obvious that your googly eyes for our boss" he teases you which makes you smack one of his shoulders, getting all pouty " I was not looking" he laughs in response "sure, sure" Jun-ho flashes his cute smile that makes your heart, god you missed sex with this man. you shake your dirty thoughts off " well anyways, I brought some of my cooking from home, we can share if you'd like...I packed too much of it" you smile brightly at him.

"Are you sure? I can just go back to the food bar" he says, looking at his dull tray in his hands. " Yes, I am..unless it's not ok with your girlfriend" you tease him lightheartedly "I mean... I do miss your cooking" hearing his flirtatious tone in his voice which makes you giggle, so you go get your lunch from the refrigerator then you both look around to figure out where to sit until you see Gi-Hun waving to come over, he's with Ei-Yun and Ali at the table. The two of you start walking towards the table, but little did you know, you were being watched by Seok-woo for almost that whole interaction and he doesn't look very happy. " You alright, sir?" His secretary asks him. Seok-woo flashes his charming smile and nods with a yes, continuing his conversation with her.

💚

The day is almost over as you're at your desk, crunching the numbers and making sure every calculation is correct. You glance at the time on your phone." Oh, I need to give him the report" so you quickly get up to make it to his office. while opening the door, you're still looking down at your paper, making sure everything is right "oh si-" you hear moans and grunts which makes you look up in shock " oh I'm so sorry", cover yourself with the papers, looking down immediately while closing the door so fast. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you just witness your boss hammering his secretary Doggystyle on his desk. The image of him still fucking her with his signature smirk is embedded in your mind. a mixture of hurt, jealousy and sadness washes over you, just wishing it was you in her position.

Wanting to lift your mood, you decide that it was a good idea to get your small vibrator out of your purse and go straight to the bathroom to take care of yourself. Now in a stall, you turning on the vibrator while putting it to your clit, and feels amazing. you get all relaxed as Your eyes are closed, fantasizing about Seok-woo treating you like his personal cum dump,just pounding you over and over hard on his desk.

moaning softly to yourself, putting the vibrator on full speed now, getting closer to your amazing orgasm until you hear the door opening up. Panicking, you turn the vibrator off immediately "I knew this was a bad idea," you thought in frustration, hearing the stall open and close right next to yours, great. you fix yourself up, putting the vibrator in your skirt pocket and then leave the stall to wash your hands. you're in a really annoyed mood. looking at yourself in trance when the bath stall opens up and it's the secretary coming out of it, she's walking pretty funny,and you nervously dart your eyes everywhere else, not wanting to make eye contact with her. You go to dry off your hands and leaving bathroom swiftly with no words exchanged to her, making your exit.

10 minutes went by as you decide to try visiting Seok-woo's office again, but you knock this time. " Come in" he says through the door and you do just that while looking down at the paper" Here's the report for today, sir." You place it on his desk, and Seok-woo picks it up to looking over it " I did all the expenses for the past weeks, and made some corrections were I see fits" you look at him, waiting for confirmation. " It looks great, sweetheart" he says in a exhausted low tone while looking at you, you try to keep composing, knowing exactly why he's tired "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" You ask him obediently.

Seok-woo hums at your response " I could think of few things" he says with suggestive tone that makes your face get all hot " but no, not at the moment" He put the report down then continues "which means you don't have to stay here tonight." You did alittle jump of joy which causes your vibrator to fall out of your skirt pocket, hitting the floor and it turns on, buzzing about on full speed. It felt like all this happened in slow motion, you were mortified. damn, you forgot to put it back in your purse. Seok-woo looks in confusion at first,but realized what it is, and he start to smile as you pick it up pretty quickly, placing it in your skirt pocket again with it still buzzing. trying to turn off but it's not working "Oh fuck me" you thought. meanwhile, your boss is looking at you with amusement. You bow quickly "thank you so much, sir"

turning pretty fast, "hey, I didn't say you could leave yet, now did I?" He tells you in a slight stern voice. You mouth out the word damn and then turned around facing him" no, you didn't sir" he gets up from his chair to approach you. With every step, your heart is beating faster. " I don't know how I feel about my pretty little accountant playing with her sweet pussy at work..I think a punishment is in order." You look at his handsome stern face nervously ,waiting for what he's about to do when he holds out his arm out . " Hand it over" you look at him with confusion " but sir I-" "I won't say it again" he's getting little bit more stern than before. You can cave in and give him the vibrator that's still buzzing now in his hand. Seok-woo turns off as he return to his seat.

"this is a warning, I'll give it back when I think you've earned it" he puts it in his office desk, doesn't he know you could just buy another? but that is your favorite one though,damn it "2 more warnings and I'm not going to be so kind" he gives you mischievous smile, and you gulp at his statement. " Yes, sir" you bow to him. " You're dismissed" he tells you and you make your exit. Finally leaving his office with relief, taking a deep breath against his door when you see the secretary staring at you. This is awkward,so you just walk right pass her, getting ready to leave this hellhole.

[youngbloodlisk]

Two Dresses // Ten

- Ten in a maid outfit

- female reader, also in a dress (hence the name)

- dom/sub themes

- a bit of sub ten but more dom ten

- oral, male rec

- mirror sex

- some hair pulling

- pull-out method (be smarter than a fanfiction and practice safe sex plz)

- some aftercare

@kxnkxmoon 😚

"Hey... is it too late to maybe... change our group costume plan?"

"Nooooo..." Sarcasm laces my roommate's voice "No, Halloween is just two days away and all of us have our costumes already except who? You."

"I'm sorry! It's surprisingly hard to find a maid costume. With maid costumes being trendy all of a sudden, they're sold out everywhere."

"Check a resale sight. Surely someone is trying to get rid of one... Oh, and filter by local pickup! You don't have time for shipping anymore."

"Fine..."

After a few hours of on-and-off searching through different sites, it's a page reload around 5pm that I finally find a listing.

Posted one hour ago, cheap, pickup in my area... but horrible photos. Bad angles, bad lighting, you can barely tell what the damn thing is. No description either. If the title didn't say "Maid Costume with Garters and Collar (Good Condition)", I wouldn't know that it was exactly what I was looking for.

But, that being said... it is exactly what I'm looking for... and it's here and available.

I message the seller to ease my nerves about the product before buying it.

"hey, do you have any other photos of the maid outfit?"

It's around thirty minutes later before I get a response from Mr. 1_0LeeCha.

"i can take some but i won't be home until tomorrow. work until late and im staying at a friend's house tonight to help him with something. i have a few from when i wore it at a work Halloween party last year that i can send in the meantime?"

"that would be awesome, thanks"

"sure one sec"

I wait a few minutes as the three typing dots remain on the screen, telling me that he's scrolling through his photos to send one.

My phone vibrates and I look back at my screen to see... something I did not expect to see.

A slender, fit body in a loose maid dress. The boy is on his knees in front of a mirror with his legs spread apart. The dress is pulled up to fully reveal the black lace garters on his thighs. The hand that isn't holding a phone is holding his dick through the fabric of the dress skirt. His face isn't visible in the photo, but his neck is stretched to the left to show off the black choker.

"OH NO no no no no no i'm so sorry i did not mean to send that one"

"lol it's okay, mistakes happen. to be fair it's still a pretty good photo of the dress. btw is that a wayv album behind you?? signed?? my roommate is a fan lol how did you get that?"

"it's a long story. im kinda close with Ten."

"my roommate says that's cool lol"

"haha yeah i guess. do you want the costume or do you still need more pics of it?"

"are the other pics gonna look like that one?"

"no!! fuck no i swear i wouldn't do that to you on purpose lol. btw i deep cleaned it after i took those photos dw"

"lol no worries i was just playing. i'll take it. pickup and pay in cash tomorrow?"

He agrees and sends me the address, telling me that any time works for him as it's his day off.

I get off work around 5pm the next day and set off straight from the diner towards his address, having no need to go home first.

It's a chilly, but thankfully short, walk in my classic blue waitress uniform.

I check the address about five times before I knock on the door, to make sure I don't show up at the wrong person's door asking for a maid costume...

That would be less than ideal.

I hear someone say, "No, no! I've got it! It's for me!" behind the door before it swings open.

"Hi! Maid costume?" The slender boy, with a body I recognize a bit too well now, cocks an eyebrow.

"That's me."

"You must be freezing out here. Come on in, it's up in my room. You can just follow me."

I nod and comply, following him inside. He closes the door and leads me down the hall to the correct room.

I recognize the dresser and window from the photo, as well as the angle of the mirror leaning against the wall by his door.

He notices the way I lightly chuckle upon recognizing the scene.

"Uh- yeah..." He laughs nervously, picking up the bag with the costume in it. "That's... embarrassing..."

"Why were you taking them anyway? Personal enjoyment?"

"Uh... long story... Listen, I'm really sorry about that-"

"I'm not."

His breath hitches and he hesitates to respond, seemingly wondering if I really just said what he thinks he heard.

"H-Huh?"

"I'm not sorry you sent it. It was pretty... and pretty hot." I take the bag out of his hand.

"Oh, really?" His head cocks to the side, his confidence returning.

Suddenly, it feels as if you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

"Really. I wouldn't have minded if you HAD sent more, in fact."

"Oh? You liked it? You liked seeing me in that costume?" He boldly locks his hands behind my neck.

"I did..." I take the dress out of the bag, dropping the bag to the floor. I straighten the dress and hold it up to his body. "Do you wanna wear it one last time before saying goodbye to it? For me?"

He leans in, only an inch away from my face.

"You're still gonna buy it when we're done with whatever we're about to do, right?"

"Does it really matter?" I meet his lips for a moment.

When I pull away, he takes the dress out of my hands. He reaches down to pick up the bag which still holds the garters and choker, presses a finger to his lips playfully, and disappears into the connected bathroom.

I look around the room while I wait.

This guy has a lot more WayV albums, as well as NCT albums, all of which I recognize from my roommate's shelf.

He has a lot of books that look worn. No telling if he reads a lot or if he just bought them used...

I spot a framed photo on one of the dressers. It looks to be him and his friends (all male) in princess/similar costumes. All of them are smiling or making a funny face.

The guy I recognize looks to be in an Alice in Wonderland costume, which makes me wonder where that costume could be.

The bathroom door opens, calling my attention and making me turn around.

There he is, in that maid dress, leaning against the doorframe. He tosses the clothes he was previously wearing into the corner of the room.

I can't help but notice the orange and gray striped underwear in the pile of clothes.

"You look even prettier in person, especially now that I can see your face. I didn't expect a boy so pretty."

"Well I didn't expect you to be so pretty either... much less wearing a 50's diner waitress outfit. That's for work, right? Or did you get all dressed up to come see me?" He playfully saunters over to me and places his hands behind my neck again, in the same way they were before he changed clothes.

"Cute. And what do you do for a living?"

"Long story." He begins to close the gap between us again.

"You seem to be full of those."

"Maybe I'll explain them all next time."

"Are you implying you already want there to be a next time? We haven't even done anything yet, tiger. Are you really that needy?"

"Are you gonna keep running your mouth or are you gonna kiss me?"

Instead of responding either way, I grab his waist and turn us both around. I push him gently, but hard enough to make him fall back onto his bed.

I quickly crawl on top of him, hungrily attaching my lips to his and straddling him.

His hands run up my thighs and under my dress, resting on my hips.

Things escalate quickly as he presses his hips up, the maid skirt falling to expose his hardening cock, and he grinds against my underwear.

"So desperate, aren't you?" I quickly comment before returning to his lips.

He hums as an agreeing response.

I grind down onto him to create more friction which causes him to moan into my mouth.

I move from his lips to his jaw and slowly down his neck to his collarbone, all while still grinding roughly against his hard dick.

Soft moans leave the boy and his breathing gets progressively faster.

His shaking hand starts tugging my underwear down, and I stop and sit up to take them off for him.

Once the blue underwear are tossed into the corner with his clothes, I resume my previous action of grinding into him. This time, however, his cock is running through my folds, making me moan.

"Oh, it feels so... so good..." He chokes out, breathlessly, grabbing onto the sheets with both hands. "Please..."

He begins to rapidly buck his hips up, matching my grinding perfectly, until his body begins to shudder and his movements become jerky.

"I'm c-cl- I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me, sweetheart." I brush his hair out of his eyes, which gloss over as a sticky substance covers our respective dresses.

He catches his breath for a moment, but his energy returns fairly quickly. Good stamina, I assume.

I slow my movement on him, but continue to seek the friction his shaft was giving me, until he firmly grasps my hips and holds me still.

I can usually keep my cool, but this action definitely shocks me... especially when I look into his dark eyes.

"And w-what do you think you're doing?"

"I sub for my own benefit, not yours."

"That's actually not very subby of you."

"Your voice is shaking. That's actually not very dominant of you... but it makes sense. Did you think telling me to put on a maid costume meant you were gonna take full control?" He scoffs, swiftly flipping us over and pinning me under him. His bare knee slides between my thighs, pushing against my wet pussy, and he holds my wrists against the mattress on either side of my head. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers... "You're dreaming, honey."

His knee slowly rubs against me and I can feel the garter which is falling down his leg.

The lace brushes my clit as he moves, sending a shiver down my back.

He doesn't let me enjoy it for very long, however.

He gets off of me and stands up, telling me to get up as well.

I stand slightly confused, and extremely sexually frustrated, next to the bed as I watch him pull his white desk into the center of the room.

He pulls off the falling garter, and starts to take off the other one until I quickly tell him to stop.

I bend down on my knees in front of him and carefully take the lace between my teeth.

Looking up at him, he's practically drooling watching me slowly drag the garter down his leg with my teeth.

Once it reaches his ankle, I let go and he kicks it off to the side.

Before he can even speak, I lift up his dress and wrap my lips around his tip. His knees buckle for a moment at the sudden sensation.

He leans back, grabbing onto the edge of the desk behind him for support.

I take as much of him in my mouth as I can, almost on the verge of gagging, and try to handle the last part with my hand.

I can tell he's trying to resist the urge to grab me and fuck my mouth, so I try to make it worth it with the way I suck and lick and stroke him.

When I look up at him with innocent eyes, he shudders and pulls me off of him, also pulling me to my feet in the process.

"If you keep that up, I'll cum again... and I'm not cumming again unless it's because of your wet little pussy. So, bend over the desk."

As I follow his instruction, I realize what he did.

He placed the desk in front of the mirror. The same mirror from the photo which started all of this.

He positions himself behind me, flipping my skirt up and running a slender finger over my pussy.

"So wet..." He sticks that finger in his mouth and licks it clean. "And so delicious too."

He runs his finger through my folds a few more times and sucks them clean as he lines up and pushes into me.

The stretch burns in the best way possible.

I grip the edge of the table as he starts to rock his hips.

My back arches and my eyes shut tightly, but he tells to look in the mirror.

The way the mirror is angled, I'm able to see under the table and watch him fuck me. I watch him disappear inside of me and come back out, which only makes me realize more just how big he is and how deep he's reaching.

He places one hand on my hip and the other on my shoulder before he picks up his pace and starts to fuck me harder and faster.

I can't hold back my moans, feeling him so deep and watching it all happen in that mirror.

I notice his cocky smile.

He removes his hand from my shoulder and reaches down to rub my clit, causing my legs to start shaking. My orgasm starts to approach.

"Look at you..." He smirks at me, locking eyes with me in the mirror. "So pretty and getting ruined by a boy in a maid dress. I'm sure you expected this to go differently, didn't you?"

I let out a loud guttural moan and avert my eyes to the desk right under me, my head facing down.

"Baby, I can feel you clenching. Are you getting close?"

I shakily nod my head and feel his hand leave my clit for a moment as he takes a hold of hair at the root and pulls my head up to look at the mirror again.

"Watch it. Watch yourself cum all over my pretty cock."

He lets go of my hair, clearly expecting me to remain looking in the mirror, and he starts playing with my clit again.

My toes curl and I have a hard time keeping my head up as my orgasm finally rushes through my body. I clench around his dick and he helps me ride out my high before pulling out and jerking himself until he cums on the back of my uniform.

I feel almost limp as I lay across the table. My eyes are heavy, so I simply close them. I can't see anything that happens, but I can hear and feel that he goes to the bathroom and brings back a towel to wipe the cum off my clothes.

"Can you stand?" He asks gently.

I can, and better with someone to lean on, but my legs are a little shaky.

He uses the dampened part of the towel he got to wipe at the cum on the front of my clothes, before carefully having me sit on the edge of the bed.

He helps me pull the dress off of my sweaty body, tossing it to the pile of clothes.

"Wait here." He instructs, going into his closet.

He comes back with some comfortable looking sweats and hands them to me to wear.

I slowly dress myself and watch as he quickly changes his own clothes and then takes all the soiled clothes in his arms and leaves the room.

When he returns, the clothes in his hands have been replaced with a few bottles of water.

"Here, hydrate." He smiles, handing me one of the bottles. "I tossed the clothes in the wash. I hope you can stay for a bit, but if you can't then I can come bring you your clothes once they're dry-"

I don't miss the shining glint in his eye when I cut him off with:

"No, it's okay. I can stay for a while."

We both chug a couple bottles of water each before cuddling up in his bed to talk... which quickly turns into napping.

I wake up to a darker window than when I fell asleep, and I carefully pull myself away from the man to check the clock on the nightstand.

9:00PM.

I've been here for almost four hours, and asleep for almost three of them.

Quickly, a lot of thoughts come to mind.

One of us needs to put our clothes in the dryer.

I need to go home, I can't stay the night here.

Should I wake him?

As I watch his sleeping face, calmly breathing and mouth slightly open, I can't help but smile at how adorable he looks.

Before we cuddled up together, I placed my phone on the nightstand. I slowly and quietly pick it up, opening the camera and snapping a little photo of him.

I'll ask him when he wakes up if it's okay for me to keep it.

I brush a tuft of hair out of his face, which makes me remember when I did that same thing a few hours ago.

I feel my face heat up as I think back to what we did...

Around a half hour later, he's rudely woken up by his phone ringing.

Sleepily, he answers the call from a phone contact named "YangX2".

"What do you want?... Well, now I am... I don't know, uh-" He turns to me. "Are you planning to stay over?"

I shake my head, trying to be as polite as I can.

"She isn't... Yeah, I know... Obviously... Oh, thanks dude... Hey, that's mine!... I don't care that you found it, it was in my pants... Fine, if you've already spent it then-... Whatever... Yeah, thanks... Bye."

He hangs up and looks at me again.

"Good news and bad news. Good news, YangYang put the clothes in the dryer for us when the washing finished, so they're dry now. Bad news, he found money in my pants and bought him and Xiaojun some snacks at the convenience store."

I laugh with him about his stolen cash, which evolves into an awkward silence.

"Well, um... I should get going. My roommate hates being alone in our apartment at night."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll go get all your clothes for you." He gets up out of the bed and rubs his eyes as he leaves the room.

I make sure I have my phone and my bag, as well as everything that's supposed to be in the bag, while I wait.

Far too soon, he's hugging me goodbye next to the taxi he called for me.

My load is lighter by a couple monetary bills and heavier by a (clean) maid costume.

"Oh! I almost forgot..." I take out my phone and pull up the photo I took of him sleeping. "You just looked so peaceful and cute... is that okay?"

A smile lights up his face, as if somebody taking a photo of him asleep is the cutest thing anyone's ever done in his eyes.

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Good. I'll... I'll see you around..." I trail off, realizing he never even told me his name.

"Yeah, I'll see you around..." He also trails off, probably realizing that I never gave him my name either.

We share a look, however.

A look that says that some things are better left a mystery.

I get in the cab and close the door, giving the driver the address of an apartment building just a couple blocks from where I actually live.

The moment I open the door to my apartment, I'm attacked.

"Where did you go? What happened? Are you okay? I thought you just had work until 5 and then picking up the costume. So, why didn't you get home until 10pm?!"

I explain everything.

Well, not everything of course... but the general things.

"Oh my goodness... was he cute? You said he stans NCT, of course he's cute. Do you have a photo of him?"

"Yeah, actually..." I pull up the adorable sleeping boy on my phone and show her.

Her eyes about pop out.

"TEN?!"

"Huh?"

"That's Ten! That's a member of WayV!"

"Wait- what?"

I suddenly remember what he said when I asked about the signed album in the photo.

"Kinda close with Ten" my ass...

[lettersfromlcorp]

*looks around* *looks around* *looks arou

✔: What did your muse want to be when they were a child? Did they go on to do this and if so, was it everything that they hoped it would be? Or has this desire changed since, and why?

❖: What is the attitude and appearance that your muse presents in public? How does this differ from the attitude they have in private, when they are alone?

✿: Which one act in your muse’s past are they most ashamed of? Which one act in their past are they most proud of?

*places these on the floor. looks around one more time. skitters away*

for anyone btw

I think nowadays the temptation of Wellcheers's fishing boat is much more ideal than the work I have to do now. Sure, the work is important, and someone gets it done, but... maybe Griffin knows something I don't... - Eva

(everything else is under a cut so i don't obliterate the dashboard with my answers LOL)

❖: What is the attitude and appearance that your muse presents in public? How does this differ from the attitude they have in private, when they are alone?

Eva tends to present himself as imposing and unmovable, someone who fits the role of "leader" to a T. If he's strict enough, people will listen and take him seriously, minimizing potential catastrophe. When he's alone, he tends to be much more relaxed, taking things slowly to do what he likes. He's still quite orderly both in and out of public, but less strict and sharp when around friends.

Leesihan tends to try to watch over everyone in public, making sure they're okay and not trying to get themselves killed. She's overwhelmingly doting, almost taking responsibility for the welfare of her friends. When she's alone she's more carefree, doing things the way she wants, painting her nails, whatever. Not my business.

Julian's weird due to how much he goes through phases. Generally, though, he tries to seem as chill as possible in public, doing dumb things for laughs and cracking jokes at the drop of a hat. Sure, he's aware of his new responsibilities and takes his work seriously, but has fun while he's at it. When he's alone he tends to be a lot more focused and quiet now that he doesn't have a crowd to please. Still hums and whistles, but less annoying about it.

Narae somehow manages to be a dick in and out of public eye.

✿: Which one act in your muse’s past are they most ashamed of? Which one act in their past are they most proud of?

Julian: OOH boy. I'm very proud of making my way up to where I am. 0u< If you'd seen me on my first days you'd never have believed I'd be Info Team's fearless captain!I'm also real proud of taking down the Red Mist with only my pal Buggy at my side, only slightly scathed! Uh. As for that first one... pass...?

Don't tell the rest of the guys, but...anything I've done (or, what I'm thinking, have neglected to have done) in past time loops stays in past time loops.

Eva: Not really proud of my lack of management in the first few days of the Control Team resulting in a death. Proud of the shrimp scampi I made yesterday evening.

Narae: Hey there. I don't really care to make an intro post yet so I'll just butt in, don't mind me~ I'm proud of every abnormality I've managed to take down alone--that's right, alone. No matter how rough the going gets, I can manage. Everything I'm not proud of comes form my shortcomings and stumbles in the past that I've meticulously corrected to never repeat in the future. Remember, call me if you need me.

Eva: ....Please fuck off.

[ceridwyn2]

This may seem like a stupid (and unpopular with some) question, with AO3, is there a way to filter out some writers in search results? I’m doing a search through a particular fandom (no, not stating which one, as I’ve seen it across more than just one fandom) at the moment, and there is a lot of crap there amongst the good gems. I’m picky when I read fanfic 😅 , and a lot of times I don’t have time to wade through hundreds/thousands of stories to look for the good ones.

By the way, this ended up being a lot longer than I originally intended 😂 as I was thinking it through. What I like in the stories I read as follows:

A) Be grammatically correct

B) Spelling correct

C) Sentence & paragraph structure correct. Dialogue for each character in separate paragraphs.

D) Point of View: maintain one person’s point of view either for the whole scene or whole story. Especially important if stories are written in first person (I/My/Me) or second person (You/Them/They). These stories are often harder to write and maintain throughout well. If it’s first person, you’re only writing from one character’s point of view: on how *I* see/hear/experience the things around *me*. *I* don’t/can’t know what the other characters are thinking/feeling other than what *I* see/observe in their behaviour, unless they tell *me* what they think/feel. Writing in second person is equally difficult to maintain unless you’re very skilled at it. You’re writing as though your addressing the reader/person directly, as if you know them personally, intimately (does not need to be sexually) by using *you*. / Example: You love to write; you should do it more often. / If you’re of a certain age and remember the ‘choose your own adventure’ child/young adult books of the 70s-90s, they were in a person point of view.

Majority of fanfiction, and fiction in general is written in third person. Third person is like you’re the audience watching a tv show/film/play/book. You’re a non-active participant of what is happening and cannot affect the direction or outcome of the story. The primary subject of the scene is referred to by their name or rank and their pronoun(s), and is often the first character mentioned at/near beginning of the scene / Example: DCI Cassie Stewart walked into the incident room of her Historic Cases Unit, with a quick glance at her officers before heading into her office. It wasn’t long before her second in command, DS Sunil Khan, or Sunny, as he preferred, wrapped on the glass window pane of her office door. / That scene is dictated from her point of view, how she directs those around her and how those around her interact with her. Had it been slightly different, but same scenario: /DS Sunil Khan looked up as the door to the Historic Cases Unit opened and saw his boss, DCI Stewart, make her way to her office, glancing at the team as she did. Having got some new leads on their current case overnight, Sunny headed towards her office to notify her ahead of the day’s briefing. / This obviously changes whose point of view is the primary for that scene to Sunil.

Third person It allows the writer to explore different perspectives and viewpoints of different characters to move the story forward. However, that being said, to avoid reader confusion, pick one character - a main character, supporting character, or a villain - as the primary character of that scene and stick with their focus/perspective for the duration of a scene/chapter. If you want to express multiple character’s reactions or points of view to a specific same scene (like say a team of detectives coming onto a murder scene) and if it makes sense to do so, you can write the scenes same but different as each character will have their own take on what they saw/perceived/when they entered/exited the scene - but each character that you’re writing about will have a separate section, separated by punctuation marks, above and below the change of perspective. However, that can easily come across as too repetitive for the reader. Might be best to put that in a notes page each scene of how each sees the same scene - because you as the audience can visualise the characters as being there, when they arrived and what they observed. When you write the scene, write it from one character’s point of view, but as you have the other characters interacting with them, they can comment on what they saw observed, contributing to the overall pieces of information, without repetition, unless it contradicts or adds to a specific point being made.

E) Age correlateable. By which I mean, if someone’s going to write about established characters that are in their 40s, 50s, etc., their life experiences, maturity, have them act/respond to each other as such. I have read stories - or rather attempted to - but the mental maturity of the author was showing through characters in their 40s, 50s, and it was obvious the writer hasn’t grasped that maturity of the characters. Listen to the character’s voices (what they’re saying, how they’re saying, even what they’re not saying but expressing visually) you’re writing about. This really comes out when writing arguments and sex scenes, btw.

F) Physical/mental characteristics: If a character has an illness or physical disability, or like affecting joints or paralysed limbs, amputations, or anything that affects movement, be aware of that, esp if writing a sex scene (a whole other rabbit hole of bad writing exists there, see next item). If in an argument, you’re trying to express the character throwing something in anger, like a mug/glass, etc., for example, and the character has an injured/disabled arm, their strength to throw is going to be limited. Show the character’s frustration that the action they wanted had less effect at releasing that anger/frustration. If the character has a visual (partial or full blindness) or auditory disability (eg. hard of hearing, deafness in one or both ears, over-sensitive to sound/volume), take that into account. Esp in arguments, if one of the people in the scene has a tendency to mumble, they may not be understood as words run together are not easily decipherable either by sound or lip reading. Mental health /illness (eg PTSD /complex PTSD [cPTSD], depression, anxiety affects physical health responses. If the characters have mental health disorders, be aware and maintain that continuity through the story. Don’t need to mention it all the time but be aware it can affect movement/physical responses, behaviour. And unless you’re House, you don’t need to include every odd, weird, very rare symptom he seems to need to diagnose something for the character 😂 .

G) Sex scenes: some are done so well that it’s seamless and flows well with the other parts of the story, where the intimacy blends well. Others, very much no so. Unless it’s a specifically written PWP (plot, what plot) story, and those can work when written well. Trust me, I’ve read otherwise well-written stories ruined by a sex scene that reads like a bad porn with characters that otherwise had physical limitation(s) in the rest of the story but were suddenly able to pull off manoeuvres of someone 20 years younger and fully able-bodied. Like someone just tacked on an explicit sex scene on that didn’t mesh with the story as if they were two completely different people that happened to have the same names as the ones in the rest of the story.

H) Continuity. Whether your story is short or long, be aware of where your characters are/what they’re doing. Having a sense of timing. Helpful to have a notepad (digital or paper) sometimes to keep track of movement. They can’t be in two concurrent scenes at the same time. Passing off information between the characters; don’t assume one character (or group of characters) knows what the other(s) are doing, unless they are in contact with each other (visual/audio/both/text). Cause/effect. Action/reaction. There may be delayed effects or reactions (over scenes/chapters), but reference them back to the original cause or action and why there was a delay. For example, somebody witnesses or experiences a tragedy, war, fire, sexual assault, accident, or other traumatic experience, and it triggers a delayed emotional or physical response hours, days, months, years later. The character may or may not be able to explain to their partner, colleague, friend what it was that caused effect/reaction. Similarly, following onto earlier example of a thrown glass/mug/vase, if it smashes there could be subsequent injury from ceramic/glass/etc. like a cut finger/palm of hand if picking up the pieces/cleaning the mess. So maybe it requires a bandage or wrap. Continuity would include making further grasping of things discomforting or painful, maybe a comment from another person inquiring what happened later on if they’re noticing a bandage that wasn’t there the last time they saw them.

I) Alternate Universe stories. I don’t mind AUs when done right - so that even if the characters are placed in a different setting, their general personality traits are very recognizable. I’ve read quite a few that nail this perfectly. Others, not so much. When it works, it works. Otherwise it’s just slapping familiar names onto original fic just to get more eyes on a story.

[taliaquinn]

Hamilton AU Part 1

Hiya guys!!! Guess what I decided to write this One shot series that is loosely based in Hamilton!! Basically this is what I think would happened if you mixed Adrinette and Hamilton, with sprinklings of Batfam. I’ve noticed a Lot of similarities between Adrien and Alexander Hamilton (Bad fathers, Dead mothers, growing up alone, insecurities) and decided to seize the opportunity. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Marinette stomped around his home. Ripping portraits off the wall. Throwing them discarding them to the side. Of course, she avoided ones that didn't include him. How COULD he? How could Adrien have done it? Betrayed her, her family,Their children? And for what reason? For a secretary, Not even his secretary, the secretary of a business partner?

At the thought of the identity of the secretary, Marinette let loose a scream and tore off another portrait. Letting the glass shatter when it crashed on the floor.  She was someone that had always done her best to make her life miserable. Marinette thought that she had washed her hands off her when she graduated Lycee. Guess she was wrong.

Adrien never hesitated, stepping into that hotel room. Marinette watched the footage through tears, there wasn't a millisecond of hesitation... He didn’t pause at all. Pause to think of her, his wife. Pause to think of his children. Pause to think of how it would break them all apart. Marinette was watching her picture-perfect family burn.

Did Adrien care? No. He just followed Lila right into the hotel room. It wasn't even once he’d go to her house so often you might as well call it a past time. He even had the nerve to bring that girl into their home. Into their bed. Well, Adrien has forfeited his right to her bed, and her heart. He can sleep in his office instead. She didn't care.

Marinette couldn’t help but let out a breathless chuckle. After 12 years Lila won after all. She got what she wanted the most. Adrien.

You know what? Marinette was fine with that. Adrien can be Lilas completely.

Marinette already sent the paperwork needed to file for divorce. Already got the paperwork to change her name back to Marinette Dupain Cheng Wayne. She’s going to make sure that her children’s last names are changed as well. She was going to cleanse herself of Adrien Agreste completely.

On second thought She’s going to pack their bags and head to Gotham. Adrien wouldn’t dare follow them there or try to see her.

Right now Marinette only wanted was to never see him again. She needed to see her siblings and father.

Marinette quickly got to work. Moving around her home she stopped packing their bags. She needed to get rid of the filth. She changed course and started to gather pictures, magazines, and letters.  Once she made sure to grab everything Adrien related she plunked herself right next to the fireplace and started to sort through everything letting her mind wander to the events of the week

Oh, she was late so late. quickly hopping out of bed she made sure to put on a suit and get her bags and purse ready for her trip. Taking a peek into Emma’s room she was slightly worried when found the bed empty. She made sure to stop at Louis and Hugo’s room. She was surprised to find the bed and cribs empty as well. Did they wake themselves up? She walked towards the living room and heard voices.

“Sweetheart you're playing the wrong scale see, look at me une deuce Trois quart cinq six sept…..” 

Marinette stopped to smile at herself. Adrien was home. That was rare these days. He was teaching Emma piano. That also rarely happened these days. He was always so busy. She knew from the lack of response from Emma that her daughter was soaking up all the attention as much as possible and focusing on getting the scale right. She started to hear the beginning of a simple melody. Quickly stopping to check over her suit and makeup she made her way towards the living room.

Once entering she couldn’t help but smile. Adrien was in the corner sitting next to Emma at the piano. Hugo was in his high chair eating cereal, rather messily too. Louis was sitting on the couch watching his morning cartoons. Everything was perfect. Her family was perfect.

Marinette jumped. Her phone was ringing... Checking the caller Id to make sure it wasn’t another reporter or worst  Adrien before answering. she let out a sigh of relief once she saw who was calling. She quickly picked up.

“Hey Damian hows it going” she responded softly, she hadn’t expected him to call. He was currently off-world with the Titans.

“Skip the pleasantries, beloved sister, I am here to help you and my nieces and Nephews and also handle that scoundrel of a cat,” Damian Said in a brisk tone.

All business and ready to return to Earth and terminate a certain blond-haired green-eyed model. Oh, Damian swore that when he got his hands on him he was going to unleash the Fury of an al-Ghul Wayne. Maybe sending a few assassins would be necessary-

“No assassins Damian” uh oh was he talking out loud??

“yes you were and no assassins Damian, he’s still the father of my kids, I don’t want to have to explain to them why uncle Damian is in prison”

“tt as if I would get caught, If anything it will probably be the fools Todd sent who would get caught” Damian knew how to keep his hands clean. The fact that his sister thinks otherwise is insulting.

“Wait. Who did Jason send!?  Call them off Da-” Oof Marinette was going to have to Call Jason and get him to call off any potential hitmen. Oh, who was she kidding she’s going to have a long list of friends and family to call and make stop any plans of hurting Adrien.

She grabbed a postcard that Adrien sent her. From Germany. It was from a couple of months ago. Marinette counted back. Ah if her math was correct then Adrien was “meeting up” with Lila at the time. Ignoring the ache in her heart she flicked the postcard into the fireplace. Watching the fire overtake it,

“Marinette I insist that you and your children come back to America at once and leave that awful city, Pennyworth has already prepared your old room along with the kid's room,” Damian said, yanking Marinette's attention from the glowing embers.

For all Damian cared he would let Todd's fools get caught, as long as they completed their task.

“I have to get the kid's Bags ready and I can’t leave without telling my parents but that's difficult enough since there off on their anniversary trip across Europe”

"Humph I'm sure they will understand the need for you to get away from the city, from him, I swear Agreste knows no bounds he had the nerve to cheat on you with some secretary,”

“It wasn't just some secretary, it was Lila Rossi” She spat out with heat evident in her voice. “She got what she wanted after all these years” she chuckled. She kept on flicking magazines, posters, and pictures that had Adrien's face in them into the fireplace. She hoped that Adrien's reputation would burn. After all, isn't that the reason why he revealed his affair to save it?

Anyways that’s it for part one. It was intended to be longer but I split it into two parts in order to not spoil you guys. I might connect this AU to another, as in a Law and Order:SVU one. Comment if you want to be added in the taglist!!!

A Why Me!? Chapter is coming out soon so be on the lookout for that :) 

Btw if you noticed that the paragraphs are much better written, I owe it to @unmaskedagain who I took inspiration from for writing cues :) 

Stay Safe and Healthy!!!

Taglist: 

@damianthebratboy @purplesundaze @silvergold-swirl @k-poplunardreams @pepelachanel @laurcad123 @maribat-is-lifeblood @kass-is-weird @another-fan-of-anotherplan @damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox @miukiiu @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @thezestywalru @dreamykitty25 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @mochinek0 @shamefullove @mochegato @souleateralicestein @thestressmademedoit @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @aestheticnpoetic @mysupporthyperfixations @itsmeevie01

[janetbrown711]

Do you think you could write a little something for your "Angelina I lives" AU where maybe we see one of Angelina I's lessons with Yakko, but AFTER the whole fiasco of when he bit her? To see how they would interact? Love your AU btw <3

Yakko wasn't one to use the word "hate" lightly, but he could say with all the confidence in the world that he hated his grandmother.

At first, he had been willing to give her a shot. After all, she was his grandmother and people were supposed to respect their elders and those they were related to. He had been willing to listen, to take part in her lessons, and see if what she said made a little bit of sense.

However, the moment she hit Wakko, all of his respect for her evaporated.

He lashed out and bit her. He didn’t think when he did it, but afterward, he had no regrets. It was only fair.

Sure, his mother told him he shouldn’t do something like that ever again, but Yakko knew that if she were to try and lay a finger on Wakko ever again, he wouldn’t hesitate. After all, it was his dad who told him an older brother’s job was to protect. 

So, naturally, when his mom informed him that he still had to take lessons with his grandmother, he was upset. However, his mother reminded him that none of them really had a say in it and Yakko understood it was just something he was going to have to do, especially when he saw the pain in her eyes. He didn’t want her to worry about him any more than she already did, so he agreed to do it. 

However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do this his way. 

“Remember what we said: you aren’t going to try anything with your grandmother,” his father practically read his mind. 

“Why not?” Yakko sighed dramatically. “She deserves it.”

“Because we care about you very much and don’t want what happened to Wakko to happen to you,” William explained softly. 

“So no biting?” He asked. 

“Definitely no biting. Her arm is still healing from last time,” Willaim suppressed a chuckle. 

“Just... remember, it’s often better to fight with the pen rather than the sword. Much less blood is spilled that way,” William said. 

“So... you’re saying it’s never okay to bite?” Yakko asked. 

“Not exactly... there are certain situations...” William said cautiously. “It’s just... your grandmother is one who prefers the sword over pen, and it causes people to fear and hate her, and none of the issues actually get solved,” he explained. Yakko nodded. 

“But that’s not to say there aren’t moments where your hand is forced... like, for example, if invaders were in the castle and people were attacking. Then it’s okay. Self-defense is perfectly fine,” William said, nodding to himself. 

“Or if someone were to attack Wakko?” Yakko suggested. William caught onto what he was doing and smiled a little. 

“Or if someone was attacking Wakko, that’d be alright too,” He winked. 

“I’m not saying what you did was wrong, Yakko. I’m just saying that there’s a very large risk factor in attacking your grandmother. Whether or not we like it, she’s in charge, and if you attack her she’ll likely attack back. That’s why words are better than getting physical with her, because no matter what, you won’t be ready for those consequences,” William explained, and Yakko finally understood. 

“Okay... I won’t bite her,” He said. William gave him a side hug as they finally arrived at Angelina’s study. 

“Well... we told her we wanted someone to go in with you at all times, but seeing as she has no respect for us or our wishes, there probably won’t be,” He sighed. “But you’ll be on your best behavior, correct?” 

“As best as I can,” he chose his words carefully, still intent on doing it his way. 

“Good,” William smiled. “You’ll be alright then, won’t you?” 

“Bye dad,” Yakko gave his dad a hug before going in. 

“Yakko. There you are,” Angelina looked at him with an unsettling smile.

“Here I am,” He said, not knowing how to respond, and he quickly sat in his usual spot. 

“We’ll begin with dining etiquette- What are-?”

“Salad, then dinner on the left. Salad knife, spoon, soup spoon, then oyster fork on the right,” He grinned. 

“That wasn’t what-”

“Oh! Hors d’oeuvres, amuse-bouche, soup, appetizer, salad, fish, first main course, palate cleanser, second main course, cheese, dessert, and mignardise,” He listed off. Angelina shot him a look. 

“Your impertinence is dually noted, Yakko. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” She said. 

“Whatever do you mean? That was what you were going to ask me, was it not?” He said. Angelina huffed. 

“It’s not proper to-”

“-to speak over one’s advisor, yes, but I argue that this is a much more efficient way to get through lessons,” he shrugged. 

“I’d argue otherwise,” She said dryly. “Now, how do you-”

“Fan folds are done by folding a large square napkin in half to create a rectangle, creating pleats, then folding in half again so pleats are on top, then folding upper left corner down and tucking behind the center pleat, which creates a triangle, then releasing and letting the pleats fan out,” He said with his eyes closed. “However, I don’t really know why you’d want me to know such things, as napkin folding is traditionally done by servants of the castle and not done by the host.” 

“I instructed you to only read until the third chapter,” Angelina pointed out. 

“Why? So you’d set me up for failure so I wouldn’t know anything of what you were going to quiz me about?” Yakko smirked. 

“You forget who you are speaking to,” Angelina’s eye twitched. 

“I’m speaking to the queen, am I not? Or is the real queen somewhere hidden, because that would explain quite a few things-”

“That is enough, Yakko,” she glared, and Yakko wisely pulled back. 

“Well, seeing as your already so far ahead, why don’t I quiz you on your knowledge of history instead. What can you tell me about King Winston?”

“He’s dead,” Yakko said. 

“No-”

“He’s alive? Why isn’t he in charge then?” Yakko looked around the room. 

“No, he’s not-”

“Make up your mind, is the man dead or alive? Goodness,” He shook his head. 

The queen growled. “Did your mother put you up to this?” she asked, borderline fuming. Yakko raised an eyebrow and shook his head. 

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I’d recognize that smartassery anywhere,” She glared. “If that impertinent child doesn’t stop, I swear-”

“No! I did this all on my own,” He quickly said. “Mom had nothing to do with this.”

“Trying to be the hero now?” She raised an eyebrow, before a little smile grew on her face. 

“Perhaps this will get you to pay attention then,” She said, going to one of the shelves and selecting a book. Yakko bit his lip nervously. 

“Tell me, Yakko, what do you see here?” she said, showing him an illustration in the book. 

“A really tall tower? Why are you showing me that?” He questioned. 

“It’s a special room in the castle for those who disobey my orders. However, seeing as you love to play hero, if you don’t stop with the smart talk, I’ll throw your little brother or maybe even your mother in there for a week with no food,” She explained coldly. 

“You wouldn't do that to your own daughter,” He said. 

“I’ve done far worse than your little head can imagine,” She said, taking the book from his hands. 

Yakko felt a wave of empathy for his mother. 

“So... are you going to let me talk now? Or are you going to continue with the smart talk and have your brother and mother punished?” She grinned. 

“Dad would free them. He’s strong,” Yakko pointed out. 

“Oh? So you’re saying I should lock him in the dungeon underground while they remain above? What a splendid idea,” Her eyes shone. 

“No!” He protested. 

“Then do we have an agreement?” She asked. Yakko bit his lip once more, partially considering just biting her again. If he could just even the playing field just a little bit...

“Whether or not we like it, she’s in charge, and if you attack her she’ll likely attack back,” His father’s words from earlier rang in his mind. He probably should’ve listened so this threat wouldn’t have happened. Yakko sighed. 

“Yes,” He said, taking a silent vow to make up for this minor setback in any way he could- to attempt to lower the playing field just a smidge. 

“Good,” She smiled. “Let’s return...”

Queen Angelina then began to lecture, and Yakko stopped paying attention. Instead, he thought about what to do next. 

Perhaps him and Wakko could set up elaborate pranks around the castle, and watch her go mad trying to figure out who did it. 

No, she’d probably know it was the only two children in the castle, and Wakko would be punished. 

Maybe he could talk back in a more subtle way.

No, that was him trying to be subtle. It was very clearly not his strength. 

Maybe he could try talking her into giving him different tutors?

That wasn’t likely to work, as she made it clear from day one she was to be in charge. 

Maybe if he let her choose?

No, she’d never agree to that much. 

He was stuck with her. For the moment anyway... perhaps he’d think of something better in time when she cooled down and wasn’t expecting anything. 

Yes, that was what he’d do; wait a month or two for her to relax, act like her perfect little prince, and then start back with the quips, but not too strong like today. He’d work on his “i’m not technically wrong” strategy too, it clearly needed work. 

Yes, that’d work. Maybe if he wore her out or drove her insane over time she’d leave him and his family alone. 

He could only hope anyway. 

Yakko sighed, feeling bad for his mom and dad. This whole protector business was hard work, and they’ve been doing it as long as he’s been alive. 

That was why he had to do it though, they deserved a break. Yakko could handle the responsibility. 

He was going to wear her out so slowly but effectively she would no longer want anything to do with any of them, and then they could all be happy and his parents would never have to worry about her ever again, not if he had anything to say about it. 

After all, it’s a big brother’s job to watch over and protect, and that was what Yakko intended to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

[tobiosmilktea]

hey! i really love your headcanons! can i request osamu, atsumu, and sakusa with a female s/o who's into ballet? like how would they react when their s/o perform or how would they feel when they see their s/o put so much effort in her career as a ballerina. thanks before! 💖

ballerina girlfriend w/ osamu, atsumu, and sakusa

a/n: finally my years of binge watching the royal ballet youtube videos have come in handy ✨😌

— m. osamu

his guilty pleasure is watching ballet performances on youtube occasionally

honestly, it wasn’t his fault because you were the one who pulled up a video of the variation you were trying to learn on his account and all of a sudden he started getting ballet videos all over his recommendations

he doesn’t mind tho cause he finds them kinda relaxing

and whenever he watching a performance of one of the variations you’ve been working on, he’s genuinely shocked you could even do every move

he loves watching you practice whenever you’re not at the company

lowkey, osamu would probably be one of those people who don’t actually do the dance/sport but still point out if they made a mistake or not (like watching the olympics type beat)

“isn’t your leg on the forth attitude supposed to be devant??” or “it’s a forth position croise, maam.” or “i dunno, y/n, your bouree could be better” (i don’t know if any of this is correct btw 💀)

i think he watches a little too much royal ballet lmao

he’s really proud of you when he finds out you were promoted to principle as it’s one step closer to becoming a professional (once again idk if this is accurate)

it had been your dream since you started ballet so osamu has been really supportive of you the moment you two started dating

whenever you forget something in your kit or if it runs out (maybe like tiger balm to ease the soreness) know that osamu is on his way to save the day

he always asks if you’re feeling alright whenever he comes to pick you up from rehearsal cause he knows you like to give it your all when you’re dancing

unlike atsumu, osamu knows audience etiquette when watching your performances and only claps the absolute loudest whenever your variations are over

he tries to go to every performance you have no matter what, but he did have to miss one of your performances cause he was in tokyo for nationals

but he still supported you despite being five hours away

bonus: you sometimes get sick of osamu being nit-picky whenever he watches you practice so you make him learn a few ballet moves

he’s lowkey decent for someone who has never done ballet ngl despite almost rolling his ankle trying to land a pas de chat

— m. atsumu

homeboy thought he had it pretty hard balancing volleyball and school work but you honestly took the cake on this one

atsumu always knew that you were a hard worker and is usually really busy, but i guess he didn’t really notice that the majority of your time went into ballet when you weren’t focusing on school

he didn’t notice how much effort you put into your hobby until your ballet company’s performance was only two weeks away

literally the moment the school’s bell dismissed classes, you were already out of the classroom door trying to get to rehearsal on time considering you’re a principle and you wanted to warm up for the hours of practicing coming your way

there were days where you and atsumu only see each other during lunch breaks at school because your schedules often overlap

you two try your best seeing each other and sometimes surprise one another if someone’s practice ends up being shorter than usual or if the season isn’t in full swing yet

lowkey i could see atsumu leaving vb practice asap just to see you practicing

since homie is STRONK™️, he would help you break in your ballet shoes

his favorite part is when you let him beat the absolute crap out of the toe box (i.e hitting it against the concrete floor or stepping on it) so you can have a softer landing when you dance

however, sometimes you have to stop him from overdoing it our else the toe box is too weak to even support you anymore (it happened once and you didn’t have time to break in a new pair)

after a long days worth of practice, the ones where you could barely walk, atsumu would be there holding you up and walking with you everywhere

and this happens often even if you feel fine cause his practice always ends before yours so he’s always showing up at your ballet company to pick you up cause he’s a responsible bf

atsumu is such a supportive boyf, but definitely a loud one

the first performance he saw of yours (let’s say you did esmeralda’s variation) he would be clapping along to the beat as if he was in a russian audience

he ended up getting shushed at BUT when you did Don Quixote, he was having the time of his life clapping during the act 1 finale when you were doing pirouette’s across the stage

after each variation that you are in, he’s so loud like 🥺🥺

wow we love a supportive mans

afterwards he would give you the biggest bouquet he could afford and takes you out to a celebratory dinner cause he thinks you’re absolutely amazing

bonus: he would try some basic ballet moves but he’s honestly not that flexible

his ankles said bYE

— s. kiyoomi

sakusa’s super respectful of your hobbies and that you’re generally a busy person when it comes to it

he tries to spend as much time with you even if it has to do with ballet

whenever he’s over at your house and you’re rehearsing a variation, he loves watching you even if you do mess up

sometimes you would ask him to double check what the next move is just to tease him cause you know he doesn’t know shit about ballet

“sakusa, what’s after the arabesque?”

and he’s like “um... i think you go on your toes after that”

wow thanks for the help dude,, very descriptive

unlike the twins, his support is more on the quieter side

he isn’t one that’s into ballet like osamu or loud and chaotic like atsumu, but you’re aware of his support

he tries to attend every one of your performances and often times gives you massages after a very harsh rehearsal

sakusa even lets you ramble about the shit that goes on in that ballet company of yours and he acts like he understands half of the stuff you’re saying

“can you believe that yuri got principle instead of naho?? literally, naho did the sugar plum pas de deux with haruto better than yuri did. like her bourees are soo clean, i’m jealous”

principle?? pas de deux?? bouree?? lol just nod and agree sakusa,, we’ve all been there

this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t try his best to learn everything that you’re saying as you practically did the same for him with volleyball

you deadass learned how to play (not that you’re any good), learned all the positions, the possible calls, and all the rules just so you could watch his games and understand them

sakusa likes things to be mutual so he tries learning balle terms but all the french is kinda throwing him off a bit

despite going to a lot of your performances, you don’t push him into going since you know how he feels about crowds and such

especially when everyone is walking in or out once the show is over, you know sakusa is going to get overwhelmed and you always tell him that he doesn’t have to go

but he wants to prove to you that he’s a good bf that’s supportive so he pushes through either way

on the plus side, it’s easy to spot sakusa in the crowd cause he’s the only one wearing a mask

you don’t even have to see his face in order to know that he’s proud of you 

bonus: because sakusa is trying his hardest to know the basics of ballet, he basically forces you to teach him some moves

when you teach him all of the positions, he’s surprisingly good esp at fourth and fifth position

you knew he had flexible wrists but you didn’t know it also applied to his ankles too LMAO

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x02-- Once there was a court...

Season five is off to a great start. I’m feeling more energized about TGF than I have in ages, maybe since the beginning of season three. After the mostly standalone premiere, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the rest of the season. Episode two introduced a lot of new elements that I’m intrigued by and excited about, so here’s hoping the rest of the season can sustain that energy. (Many) more thoughts under the cut.

And, again, since the most consistent thing about Tumblr is its inability to roll out new features that are actually helpful, here is a link to view the post so you don’t have to read it all on your dash. (Omg, Tumblr, not only do you force people to keep reading on their dashes but you also jump down to the middle of the post when the full version opens? Do you have ANYONE beta test these features?)

Reddick/Lockhart is bustling when the episode opens. The fact they’re calling it Reddick/Lockhart seems like an indication that Liz chose to partner with Diane—it's not. The firm just needs a name, and it can’t have Boseman in it. (The signage still says RBL... for now.)

Everyone in reception is talking animatedly, except for Carmen Moyo, who’s just taking it all in. You might be tempted to read her as nervous. You would be very, very wrong. But we don’t know that now. Right now, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume she’s Maia 2.0. This scene strongly parallels Maia’s first day at the firm (opening with the reception saying “Good morning” and the firm name, then showing new associates waiting for an orientation by David Lee). And in that scene, Maia is absolutely nervous, like you’d expect a new hire might be.  

Carmen focuses on another associate’s hand. I assume this is meant to be a parallel to how Maia fidgets with her rosary ring in that initial scene. Carmen then peels a price tag off her portfolio—possibly another Maia parallel, since the portfolio Diane gives Maia is such an important symbol in Maia’s arc.

I also see shades of Alicia and her first scene here—Alicia's silent and focuses on small details (the thread on Peter’s jacket) too.  

I don’t say any of this in hopes of comparing Carmen directly to either of those characters. Carmen is not like any other character this show has had before. But these parallels are quite good at establishing character, building intrigue, and showing contrast (even if you don’t see them as parallels, we’re still getting a lot about Carmen just from watching her reactions, even if we don’t yet have the context to understand how to read Carmen). Since I’m now thinking about Maia and Alicia, I’m also now thinking about how Carmen is different from them and triangulating her spot in this universe—that's a good thing. She’s not a copy of either character, but I understand a little more about what the writers are telling me about her from the parallels.

The RBL sign in the background is being taken off the wall. It falls and adds even more chaos to reception.

David Lee walks in and screams, “Stand up! Those seats are for clients.” This is the exact same language he uses in the 1x01 scene; this is definitely an intentional parallel.  

Btw Carmen already has more personality than Maia and she’s been in one episode so far! I didn’t hate 1x01 Maia, but I will say that nearly everything that intrigued me about early Maia was that I could project more about Alicia (whom I, obviously, care a lot about) onto her. I can and will compare Carmen to Alicia, but when I do, it won’t be because Carmen is an interesting lens through which to analyze Alicia... it will be because Alicia is interesting precedent to use to understand Carmen.  

I still hate Maia, yep.

David Lee accidentally instructs a client to stand and then has to save face, heh.  

In David’s tour of the office, we see the partners squabbling. Sounds about right. And STR Laurie is still a thing, which explains why David is there (though not why he is giving a tour).  

Throughout the tour, we get a lot of shots of Carmen. Again, she’s silent and looks like she could be nervous. (Spoiler: this is a fakeout and when you rewatch this scene, you can see what new cast member Charmaine Bingwa is doing here—expertly putting on a face that looks like anxiety in one context, but is actually just Carmen calmly sizing things up.)

Marissa eagerly joins the tour. “That’s right. They’re letting you play lawyer, Marissa. How nice,” David says. Carmen takes this in, too. “Fucking prick,” Marissa mutters. Carmen hears.

David Lee introduces “someone from HR” which is a great sign that HR is very effective at this firm.  

In the conference room, the partners are still arguing about who should replace Adrian. Diane tries the “all options are open to us and we plan to decide in the next 48 hours” strategy, but this audience is too smart for that. Madeline asks about the new leadership structure. (I am kind of hoping that one nice side effect of having to kind of shoot the season in a COVID bubble will be that we’ll get more small recurring characters. Madeline’s been around for a little while but we’re already seeing her get to do more this year.)

“Diane and I are going to run the firm together. For now,” Liz says. Oh, no, Liz, do not open the door to change. Letting the partners know you’re not sure is probably the worst strategy. You’ve gotta decide or they’ll sense weakness.  

“Just the two of you? A black firm being run by a white woman?” a partner asks. “Well, I’m not running it alone. I’m here to assist Liz,” Diane says, trying to deflect. “Really? Because she needs assistance?” he counters. Diane doesn’t know what to say, but she and Liz both know these questions aren’t going to go away.

HR is running an orientation for the new hires and it involves having them all take pieces of toilet paper. Man, I hate ice breakers. Carmen takes a moderate amount and then passes it to Marissa, who takes only one square. Carmen notes this and makes eye contact with Marissa. And this is where it starts to become obvious that Carmen is not nervous—just observant and not chatty. Carmen knows Marissa is one to watch from how David reacted to her presence. She gives Marissa a look that’s meant to be noticed and start a conversation. It works, and Marissa explains that for each square you take, you have to share a fact about yourself. Carmen hates this and hides the rest of the toilet paper so she only has one square.  

Liz tries to say there will be a discussion about the partnership, and Daniel (that’s what the captions call him, though they do reference him as “Barry” at one point but I'm like 99% sure I know which actor is Barry and it’s not him) says it feels like they’re just being told what the new state of things is. Liz says she hears him but right now they need a senior associate to backfill Lucca.

Daniel doesn’t think they need one. I don’t get why, unless it has to do with the budget cuts.  

“We need someone with real experience to take on her caseload,” Liz notes. Hell yeah you do!

Liz asks if any of the partners want to take over family law. None do.  

After the meeting, Liz asks Diane if she can call a head hunter. Diane approves. David Lee pops up to ask which one of them is taking Boseman’s office and they haven’t discussed it yet. I love that they managed to order a sign with their names on it before they’ve talked about how being partners will actually work.  

(Also, Adrian’s office is quite obviously going to end up with Liz. And it would be weird if it were Diane, anyway, because it’s Diane’s old office from Lockhart/Gardner and it would look it if she sat there again lol)

David notes that an empty corner office looks like failure. He is correct. He gives them until Friday to decide.

Marissa does not like the ice breaker at all and pointedly notes she only has one secret, and it is that she used to be married to a mime. She makes a whole bit out of it and then whispers to Carmen, “I usually just make things up.”  

Carmen’s next and she finally gets to speak her first words of the series. You know who else didn’t speak at all in her first scene? Alicia Florrick. Very different scenes, but I can’t help but think this is intentional. From what I’ve seen of Carmen, both she and Alicia use silence strategically and are comfortable with quiet. Alicia’s first scene is silent because she doesn’t need to use words to be expressive, but it does establish that she’s going to be a character with a lot of internal thoughts she won’t vocalize and that she’s observant and tries to maintain composure. Sure, you can watch the first scene of Pilot and just see a woman who’s stunned into silence, but when you watch it knowing Alicia and realize how much of the essential parts of her character are in her totally silent intro sequence that kicks off the show... it’s kind of amazing.

So comparing Carmen’s introduction to that? I mean this as a huge compliment. Carmen deploys silence for reasons both similar and different to Alicia. While Alicia uses silence to maintain some kind of boundary between her inner thoughts and the outside world, Carmen uses it to get a chance to observe and take things in without showing her cards. (We do see Alicia do that as well, especially at work, but I would call this a side-effect of Alicia being a quiet person rather than her intention; Carmen seems to be more conscious of how she uses her silence.)  

Carmen is from Victorville, California. That means nothing to me but I’m sure there’s some significance. Carmen mimics Marissa’s response when asked for her secrets—she also responds with, “secret,” emphasizing she only has one. But what she says next also shows her in contrast to Marissa. She says her secret is she hates games. We already know so much about her and she’s said like ten words!  

I think it’s smart to set Carmen up as a contrast to other characters. I know who Carmen is not because of how she differs from more familiar presences like Alicia, Maia, and Marissa. Marissa hates ice breakers, but her reaction to them is to use them as an opportunity to say something funny and over the top. Many others (including probably both Alicia and Maia) would likely resent the activity but play along and say something unremarkable (I could see Alicia overthinking it and sharing something surprisingly quirky though!). Carmen just does not give a fuck, and in a different way than Marissa doesn’t give a fuck. Marissa insinuates that she thinks the whole activity is stupid... Carmen just flat out says it. I would not pull this move on my first day of a new job! And that is the point—who is this person who is so self-assured she’s willing to insult HR on her very first day of her very first job as a lawyer?  

ALL OF THIS FROM A FEW WORDS AND SOME WELL-ACTED GLANCES! As I said, I’m very intrigued by Carmen. I have some questions about the logistics of this plot, her endgame, and how she’ll function when brought into the firm drama/debate plots, but for now, I only have good things to say.  

Liz interrupts the ice breaker to announce that everyone will be assigned a mentor. She then pauses to greet Marissa, which Carmen, again, notices. Liz is really there to say that they’ll be working on client maintenance that day, and each new hire will get to help with one of their clients. When she reads off their top clients, all the hands shoot up—except Carmen’s.

Madeline’s last name is Gilford. Noted. John’s last name is Wilson.  

No one raises their hand to assist with Oscar Rivi, who is in a maximum-security prison. Carmen confidently raises her hand.  

Barry’s last name is Poe. Noted.

Marissa and Carmen exchange glances. Super curious to see how this evolves. There are too many Marissa/Carmen exchanges in this episode for the writers to not plan to have them interact more in the future.

I’m kind of loving that it seems like the show’s leads are now Diane, Liz, Marissa, and Carmen. Diane’s obviously great, Liz is someone who’s been deserving of leading material for ages, Carmen seems interesting, and I’m so impressed they have managed to make Marissa, usually good in small doses, into a character who can handle larger plots without wearing on my patience (like that awful Elsbeth centric episode of Wife).  

Diane has a client who received a summons directly, which Diane finds strange. But, since she is already working with this client on the same case (teaching kids during COVID) in another court, Diane is optimistic about this second suit. She thinks it could set a good precedent.  

Diane introduces Phoebe, an associate who will help out on the case. Diane says she’s not personally going because it’s a formality and Diane needs to work on the brief. I’m like 99% sure Diane isn’t personally going because Diane’s role here is to convince the client she’s getting senior-level attention while having junior people do the work, but nice story!  

Diane asks Marissa to go along with Phoebe. Marissa thinks she’s going to get to argue in court... Diane says no, Marissa gets to hand hold a client.  

Oscar Rivi is basically Lemond Bishop, which is the only explanation I have for why RL would represent him. And, you’ll recall, I didn’t understand why RL would represent Bishop either. But we’ll just have to go with it.  

(I think representing multiple drug lords is probably a bigger PR issue for RL than having a white partner! How come no one ever talks about this! Actually, new complaint: wasn’t Liz, who now has more power than before, the one who was most against representing Bishop?)  

(I guess it may make sense that she’d be more okay with this Rivi dude than Bishop. Whatever Rivi’s done, I don’t think he’s threatened Liz’s kid like Bishop did!)  

(Also, I’m fine with them switching it up and suddenly having this new drug kingpin. Mike Colter is obviously unavailable since he’s a lead on Evil, and I was tired of Bishop anyway. If the writers stop using Bishop and Sweeney as shorthands for corruption I will be very happy; I don’t think there’s much more mileage left there. Speaking of, Dylan Baker popped up in 2x02 of Evil!)  

“I don’t want you to be intimidated,” Barry tells Carmen as they arrive at Rivi’s prison. Carmen reads articles about Rivi on her phone, saying she’s taking notes. Barry tells Carmen to “sit, listen, leave.” But then he discovers his ID is expired (he didn’t get it renewed during the pandemic) and he can’t go visit Rivi as a result. Carmen says she’s fine alone—she'll sit, listen, leave. She’s calm and not at all cocky as she says it, and it really takes until she’s actually talking with Rivi to realize that she’s not (just?) a hypercompetent law school grad trying to impress. She doesn’t seem to care at all what people, no matter how powerful, think of her, as long as she’s able to find security of any sort. (Tbh, it is kind of amazing she doesn’t get fired in this episode.)  

(I’m getting ahead of myself but in Alicia’s first ep, she also changes up strategies on the partners. Alicia does it almost without realizing she’s gone against their wishes—she's just sure of the right strategy—and Carmen does it much more intentionally.)  

Marissa and Phoebe can’t locate Judge Wackner’s court. Marissa asks a security guard she’s friendly with (of course she is) for help. He says there’s no Judge Wackner there, and the security guard notices that it’s a summon for a “9 ¾ Circuit.” The guard laughs at the Harry Potter reference; Marissa is not amused. They leave the courthouse when Marissa spots a sign for “9 ¾". She follows the sighs down an alley. Phoebe wants nothing to do with this; Marissa and the client are intrigued. They end up in a store called Copy Coop and are directed to a warehouse.

In the warehouse, an argument is resolved through Rock, Paper, Scissors. Then it’s Marissa’s turn. She asks for a continuance just like she was supposed to, but she uses the wrong phrasing. Judge Wackner notices. That’s when Marissa notes she’s not a lawyer, and Wackner responds that he’s not a licensed judge. So it’s fine that Marissa isn’t a lawyer.  

Marissa tries to protest again that she’s not a lawyer, and Wackner basically tells her to proceed anyway. The client wants to stay, weird as this fake court seems.

Carmen reads with Rivi. She stares at him, getting him to speak first. His translator asks if there’s another lawyer with her; she just introduces herself. The translator does a terrible job of translating Rivi’s complaints, sharing very little of what Rivi said with Carmen.

Unsurprisingly (to me at least, because scenes like this ALWAYS have the twist where a character doesn’t let on that they speak the language until the exact right moment), Carmen speaks Spanish.

She lets Rivi know she speaks Spanish AND insults the translator in one go. Pretty big move. That gets Rivi’s attention and he kicks out the translator. He asks who she is and she repeats her name again (characters reacting like this will never not remind me of “Who are you?” “Kalinda.”).

Carmen notes that she’s just out of law school, explaining that’s why she’s eager to help. She doesn’t reveal that by mistake—she's using it to her advantage.  

Credits! As I predicted, things are blowing up again this week like normal. No more kittens and puppies. There’s a new couch that blows up in the credits. Wackner’s desk also makes it in. I can’t remember if the purses were in this position before; they might be new. All the exploding TVs show footage of January 6th (which I hear is going to be a major theme of the season, though it’s not heavily featured in this episode). And the zoomed in shot of the closet (that I’ve never really liked) is gone, as is the falling curtain!  

I still hate the font of the logo for this show. I also don’t understand why the show seems to have three logos—the one that’s the TGW logo but with “fight”, the one in the credits, and whatever the one they’ve come up with for this season’s marketing materials is. I like that they’re trying with the marketing of this season but I don’t get why the show has three logos.  

While I’m talking about the marketing, can we just talk about the “Goodbye Lucca” graphic the official social media account posted? It had a fucking crown drawn over her head like this is a 2013 Tumblr shitpost!!! Who are they targeting with this?! WHO ARE THEY MARKETING TO? DOES THIS WORK ON ANYONE??? It literally says, “Chi-Town” on it. I cringed so hard. Sometimes I feel like the marketing of this show is meant to cater to the people who would, like, watch the credits of last week’s episode and be like, “Yes! It IS all now puppies and kittens! Everything bad in the world has been resolved!”  

But hey, at least it’s better than the absolute trash they used to post for TGW. Remember when there’d be episodes about Alicia making career moves and they’d be like, “#TeamPeter or #TeamWill????”  

OR, OR OR OR, the fucking time they tried to crosspromote TGW and the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show (yes) with a tweet that read, “All ‘Saint Alicia’ needs is a pair of wings&she practically turns into an Angel.” I... have no words.  

Hey, Caleb is back! I was not expecting them to actually wrap up his arc with Liz. I think I’m actually pretty thankful it’s ending like this—he comes back for what I assume is one last episode and I don’t actually have to deal with the Liz/Caleb plot. Apparently the writers were setting that up so they could do some plots about power dynamics and interracial couples and who is seen as having power. Caleb and Liz were going to have an encounter with the police, who were going to listen to Caleb instead of Liz even though this encounter would’ve taken place in Liz’s house and Liz is the name partner and Caleb the employee. Interesting enough, but anything boss/employee just squicks me out and I don’t need it around and Liz deserves better.

But I did like Caleb as a character, so I’m glad he gets an exit, unlike past characters who have just disappeared. (Remember Robyn Burdine? Or that time Taye Diggs was a major character for two seconds?)  

Liz was NOT expecting to see Caleb as a candidate for Lucca’s old role. Things are instantly awkward. I guess Caleb left STR Laurie?  

Diane immediately senses that things are awkward with Liz and Caleb. Caleb is very professional throughout all this. Diane gets an important call and leaves the room, so Caleb and Liz can chat privately.  

Caleb says he thought Liz was reaching out; Liz says she should’ve reached out but things ended abruptly. Love that Caleb checks that no one else is in the room with Liz before getting even more personal. He says they should just act like nothing ever happened between them and Liz asks if he can do that. “I’m the employee. Of course I can,” he says. This is why you don’t sleep with employees.  

He says he really does want the job and he liked the firm. Liz says she’ll talk to Diane. Caleb says if it doesn’t work out he’ll be fine.  

Phoebe tells Diane about 9 ¾ and Diane does not understand... at all. “If it has no power, and it doesn’t have jurisdiction, what does it have?” Diane wonders.  

A little more on the case: RL is representing a woman who taught a small group of students during the pandemic, and some parents are suing her for preaching socialism at the children.  

The woman suing did NOT like being called a Karen by her daughter or being compared to the family from Parasite. She wants a refund.  

Marissa objects and makes up her own grounds, realizing that since it’s not a real court, she can object for any reasons she wants—as long as they follow common sense.  

These scenes could so easily feel ridiculous, like a gag that goes on for too long. They do not. There’s just enough zany humor and theatrics to make the 9 ¾ court feel surreal. And, most helpfully, Wackner is a GREAT judge. He is engaged with the work and only concerned with the facts and arguments rather than politics. He’s tough but fair. He’s direct and he maintains control over his court. He’d be one of the best judges in a normal court. His sincerity is enough to make you wonder why courts DON’T operate like this. It’s easy to see why the characters are sold on this BS-free, rational, and effective system, even if it makes no sense that it would exist and it has no power. It’s simultaneously idealistic (if only things were resolved fairly) and threatening (how can something like this exist?! What does it mean that the real courts are so ineffective that there’s a need for something like this?! What happens if this goes beyond what are basically mediations for simple issues?).

This type of thought experiment is where TGF excels. I think they were going for something like this with Memo 618 (which hasn’t gone away!), but that arc always felt like it was on the verge of going off the rails. Mandy Patinkin’s performance and the writing for the 9 ¾ court already have me more invested in this than I was in Memo 618.  

Marissa tries yet again to wait for help to arrive, but Wackner insists that they keep things moving. She tries to stall and ends up referencing George Clooney. Wackner cuts through that, too—he hates speeches “unless I'm giving them, and even then I’m just trying to stall.” Then he holds up a sign that reads, “CUT THE SHIT” and the audience laughs. He says this isn’t the kind of court where you can just run out the clock. Kind of ridiculous that real court IS that kind of court, no? (And that’s why this is an effective device so far.) (I say so far because I have watched content from these writers for long enough to know that things that work in small doses or initially can go wildly off the rails.)  

Marissa changes strategies and does what she does best: she goes on instinct and adjusts her strategy as she goes. She eventually catches the woman accusing her client of teaching socialism in a lie about Parasite. It’s very Legally Blonde and very smart of Marissa. And I’m rather proud of myself for seeing what Marissa was doing (getting the woman to commit to a time frame and then baiting her to talk about a moment that proved the time frame fake) before she revealed what she was doing.  

Sarah Steele is so good in this scene. I love her smile when she realizes the woman took the bait, and that she reacts with “AHA!” instead of something more proper. This is pretty much the perfect court for Marissa.  

Diane and Jay arrive; are confused.  

Carmen leaves Rivi after quite a bit of time has passed, making Barry nervous. Carmen tells him very little and repeats that she sat, listened, and left. She told the translator to go fuck himself (almost in those words) so she’s gotta know that Barry will hear what happened from someone. She does not care. She lies to Barry like it’s nothing.  

Diane does not understand the 9 ¾ court, nor does she understand why a non-lawyer like Marissa is arguing. She does not understand why losing in this venue would matter or why a lawyer she knows (ha, I looked him up to see if he’d been on Wife or Fight before, and he has... as a totally different character!) is there.  

“Okay, I’m losing my mind. Look, this is not legal. We have got to get out of here,” Diane says. Toni, the client, wants to stay.

I don’t actually know the answer to this—would there be repercussions to someone who is a member of the bar participating in something like this? Everyone knows it’s not real or binding, so nothing is being misrepresented, but this FEELS illegal?  

Toni notes that a lot of people suing her are there watching, so walking out or losing would look bad. She also likes Judge Wackner because he is “better than the judges in real court.”

“Diane, what is real?” the client asks when Diane points out again that this court is fake. The client’s spent 8 months on this case in limbo, so this feels like reality to her. Fair point.  

Diane chats with the other lawyer and asks what he’s doing here. He says he’s getting paid—with business down and court dockets backlogged (how much would that affect a large firm that settles most cases out of court? I’m actually curious about this), it’s a good source of money.  

Diane realizes it’s basically arbitration. Then says she doesn’t understand anything anymore. The other lawyer replies, “Sure you do. That’s why this is throwing you. Welcome to 2021.” Yup.  

Diane goes with it. A former teacher is on the stand. He’s got a grudge and wants money, so he’s helping out. He tries to say something that is the most obvious hearsay ever... and Wackner has no problem with it. Marissa likes that.  

Wackner basically says he’s fine with hearsay because he can use his brain to figure out what’s real and what’s fake, just like we all do every day. Crosstalk is also allowed.  

Wackner also doesn’t allow for bullshit breaks where lawyers tell clients what to say, because he “likes the truths found in sudden utterances.” All his rules make a lot of sense. They are all also counter to every single sneaky legal strategy these characters tend to use.

Toni made a comment that she “couldn’t fall in love with anyone who voted for Trump.” That gives a point to the plaintiff. Diane notes that this belief is shared with most of the country, and Wackner asks her if she shares it. “I’m not the question,” Diane replies, because she definitely doesn’t want to talk about her husband who worked in the Trump administration.  

Wackner flat out tells Diane that Marissa should argue instead of her. “Marissa is not a lawyer,” Diane tries to say. “Well, I’m not a judge!” Wackner responds. And that’s it for the day.

Diane asks Jay for intel, and then we get one of the most effective Jay scenes in a while—he bonds with the Copy Coop security guard, who only has good things to say about Wackner. I like how the writers use COVID in this episode—they treat it like it’s recent past (fingers crossed) and reference it when it makes sense, like how the courts are backlogged, or this guard was laid off.  

The security guard notes that he thinks Wackner is building something good in his spare time. He also notes that Wackner is a big Grateful Dead fan.

Carmen takes it upon herself to visit someone else in prison to help Rivi. She points out they’re under surveillance and convinces this other dude to take the fall for Rivi so he can go free. It’s very smart. I assume this is all her own strategy, as we see her look up this other dude before she’s even met with Rivi, though it’s possible Rivi came up with some of it.  

There is something about Carmen’s demeanor when she deals with clients that is very Alicia-like in interesting ways. She’s very direct and unflappable in a way that people seem to take to (remember how all the creeps loved Alicia?), and she only shows emotion when she decides to. The similarities stop there. Carmen doesn’t seem remorseful or conflicted (Alicia always did). Sociopathic definitely isn’t the right word for her, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it didn’t cross my mind. Carmen knows that her clients are bad guys. That doesn’t trouble her. And she doesn’t try to take the easy way out—she does more than she needs to. I don’t know what she’s really trying to do here, but I suspect she does.  

Carmen is 28, just fyi.  

Liz gets a call from Charles Lester. Obviously, Lester now works for Rivi, because Rivi is New Bishop. (Usually I’m a bit against saying any character is the new version of an old one, like how Lucca was not the new Kalinda (even if she was brought in to bring new energy to the space Kalidna occupied) or how Carmen is not the new Lucca (same), but I’m pretty comfortable saying Rivi is New Bishop. He’s not the same personality, but he... is New Bishop.)  

Lester notes that Rivi only wants to meet with Carmen from now on. Liz does not understand this and she’s not thrilled with it. She notes that Carmen is a first year who has been there for two days, but she doesn’t want to lose Rivi’s business so she goes along with it. Was that Carmen’s endgame? Job security? Does she not care about the RL job and see a good opportunity to... just represent Rivi without a firm behind her? I can’t tell.

(This is where I could see this arc faltering. I get why Liz keeps Carmen on—she doesn’t want to lose the client—but I don’t really understand why Liz wants Rivi as a client. Losing Carmen who’s been there for two days and Rivi who she probably doesn’t want to represent seems like a fine outcome to me. And, beyond that, if Carmen doesn’t care about the firm and also doesn’t need them, what’s in it for her to stay? I don’t think she really cares that the firm would have more resources to use in defending Rivi. Like, why isn’t the outcome here just that Carmen teams up with Lester and leaves RL behind?)

Diane listens to the Grateful Dead and writes down lyrics she can use in court. Kurt gets home from work. Diane asks him if he thinks she should give up her name partnership since it’s a black firm. Kurt asks if she’s the best lawyer there. She says no, but she’s one of the best, and besides, it’s a bad look and she wants to do what’s right for the firm. “You and I disagree on so much. You obviously ask my opinion because you know that I will argue something you know you won’t,” Kurt says. This is a very good, and very accurate, response.

Diane keeps going, though. Kurt plays along and starts talking about identity politics. Diane starts debating back, ignoring that Kurt is not really wanting to play devil’s advocate. Kurt doesn’t give Diane an easy out and tells her she’s right—she should step aside. That’s not what she wanted to hear. Kurt laughs and then goes to take a shower.  

Liz is eyeing Adrian’s office when Carmen walks up. She’s invited Carmen to talk to her. She asks her how things are going. Carmen just wants to know if she did something wrong. Carmen says she likes the firm and it’s great to be out of the legal clinics.  

Liz shares the news that Rivi only wants Carmen going forward. Carmen is pleased and says that’s surprising... though she looks more pleased than surprised.  

Liz suggests maintaining a professional distance, to which Carmen replies “I’m very professional.” “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Liz tries to backtrack. “Is the firm dissatisfied with my work?” Carmen asks bluntly. Liz says no. “It’s my intention to treat all my clients like humans. Even the ones who might be murderers, or definitely are murderers. And I think Mr. Rivi might be responding to that because it’s something that he hasn’t received at this firm previously,” Carmen notes. This is QUITE the tone to take with your boss.

One question I have—and this is mostly inspired by the recap at I think Vulture?-- is to what extent Carmen knows what she’s doing. It seems like a lot. I can’t tell how much Carmen knows vs how much Carmen THINKS she knows. She’s definitely smart, and I don’t think she is an idealist (when she says her intention is to treat her clients like humans, she means that’s her strategy), but she is young and new to the law and only out for herself, which makes her vulnerable.  

Liz does not take well to Carmen’s talk and notes she’s talking about her personal safety. Carmen thanks her and says she’d understand if Liz doesn’t want her on the case.

There is something a little unnerving about Carmen. She keeps saying things that are boldly inappropriate but masked by how professional and correct her arguments sound (like the line about treating clients like humans). And she has a way of gaining power over a conversation. Liz squirms way too much in that conversation and loses some of her control as a result.  

I just need to know more about her!!! The fact that I can’t understand her makes her immediately interesting.  

Diane and Liz interview Julius for Lucca’s position. They all know it would be a demotion for him, but they’re seriously considering it. I feel like this would look awful for the firm and they are going to handwave it anyway after a few lines about how bad it would look.  

Diane quotes the Grateful Dead in court and it works. The other lawyer tries to quote songs too... it does not work.  

Carmen gets Rivi a bunch of candy bars from the court vending machine so he can have a snack he enjoys. The security guard doesn’t want to let Rivi eat them, but Carmen is right that this is permissible. The guard smashes the bars in defeat. Carmen opens one for Rivi.  

It is a little distracting to see the main characters pretend that COVID is in the past when the extras have masks, but honestly, that’s kind of what life is like right now?

Carmen zones out a little in court—not sure if she just does that or if she is trying to look unfamiliar with the rules so people will go easy on her/have low expectations. I think it’s a combination of both, considering that we’ve seen her laser-focus on things elsewhere in the episode AND she tells the judge it is her first day in court.  

Court stuff happens; Carmen’s strategy works.  

The judge tries to give Carmen advice and a warning. Liz is also there, watching, which is good because I was shocked anyone would let Carmen do this unsupervised.  

Carmen is also kind of like if you removed all of Maia’s worst traits (her selfishness, her spoiled brat attitude, her sense of entitlement) and skipped right to her willingness to partner with Blum.

Liz and Carmen talk again, this time about the reputation of the firm. Liz notes that Carmen is clearly capable and reminds her sternly that she needs to conduct herself in a manner that does not put the firm at risk and that’s the only reminder she’s going to get. Carmen twirls a pen and stares at it instead of listening to Liz. She says she’s just listening like she’s perfectly innocent. It’s the right thing to say and, again, it’s SUPER UNNERVING.  

“Wow. You really don’t give a shit what people think about you, do you?” Liz says in frustration. “I’m here to do a good job for my clients,” Carmen notes. Is she??? Does she just not care who she’s representing and want to do a good job, and that’s her whole motivation?? I would find that interesting but I need more to believe it. She’s so perplexing.

(Again, I don’t really get why Liz hasn’t fired her, because if she and Carmen keep having these interactions, Liz IS going to end up ceding all of her power and looking weak. But maybe Liz is as intrigued as I am.)

Liz also tells Carmen she’s going to be her mentor. Carmen says thanks and that she respected Liz’s father. Liz does NOT take that well. Audra’s reaction—a mix of shock, irritation, and confusion—is perfect here. I think Carmen is trying to say that she respected Carl Reddick—but she has no such respect for Liz. (It could also be about the sexual harassment, but I don’t think that’s public knowledge.)  

I noticed earlier that the courtroom was #305 and was wondering why they chose that number (it’s similar to Courtroom 302, the book that inspired the bond court arc, which is why 305 stuck in my mind). I see now that the Copy Coop’s address is 305. Heh.  

Turns out that the woman suing Toni is someone who would break COVID protocol and be generally terrible. I’m shocked.

Wackner decides to skip closing arguments and rule. He sides with Toni.  

See, this is where this kind of thing is dangerous. Wackner is great and fair. But you can’t really replicate a system like this (though I also think this system would fail if replicated on too large of a scale; the reason it works is that everyone involved is buying into it and if it were to be corrupted no one would buy into it unless forced to—and if people are forced to buy into an extrajudicial system then that’s its own problem). What if some other judge were to just decide to skip closing arguments or decide suddenly a trial was over? That could be unfair in so many different ways.  

After the resolution of the case there’s clapping and even Diane is surprised at how reasonable the verdict was.

Wackner then insists that everyone shake hands because “the thing we all crave most is respect and acknowledgement.” They also have to say, “I respect and I love you.” And they do! And no one even seems that unhappy with it Marissa and Toni are super into it.

And, someone in the gallery wants to get Marissa’s number because she did such a good job. Yep, sounds about right.

Diane fills Liz in, and Liz can’t believe it. Liz wants to hire Wackner (jokingly). Then she says she wants Julius since they know and trust him. Diane’s good with that, but she also chooses this moment to playfully let on that she knows Liz slept with Caleb. We’ve seen Diane observe Liz’s reaction to Caleb/mentions of Caleb all episode, and I don’t think it’s coincidental that Diane brings this up now, and in a friendly way. Diane doesn’t need to bring it up. I don’t think Diane needs the answer. I think she just wants to throw Liz off without making it obvious that’s what she’s doing.

I really, really hate to say it, because my whole thing about this season is wanting to see Liz be a great manager, but I don’t... actually think... Liz is a great manager? She’s second-guessing herself far too much. She’s more thrown in this scene than Carmen, who has like two days of experience, is by anything she encounters. And worse, she doesn’t hide it when she’s thrown. I think Liz is very smart and capable, but this episode is a pretty good case for why she might not be able to manage alone.

I know I’ve said that I want to see Liz manage and think she’d be good at it. I still think she could be. But I’ve also tended to think that Liz is a good manager and Adrian talks down at her, and I’ve dismissed some of her less strategic ideas as the fault of the Adrian/Liz dynamic. But nothing in this episode seems out of character, so now I’m less sure. (And to be clear, Liz not being a great manager isn’t a problem with the show, it’s actually pretty interesting to me.)  

(Here are some of the things Liz has done in this episode alone that she needs to stop doing to be more effective: 1) Everything about her reaction to Caleb (and the fact she slept with him-- and yes I would, and did, say this about Will too so this is not a double standard!) 2) Not having a clear plan when meeting with the partners, even though she—and not Diane—is the one who is seen as having power. 3) Not being able to hold her own nearly as well as she should be able to with Carmen. I’m curious to see how the other partners hold up, and in fairness to Liz, I may be able to make this criticism of any character who doesn’t just immediately fire Carmen.)  

And, I say all of this now because Diane in this scene is SO smart and SO strategic. She mentions Caleb to disarm Liz, then casually notes that she thinks Liz should take the corner office since it’s a black firm.  

Liz isn’t sure if she should thank Diane for that (it is a little patronizing) but she does anyway.

Diane has another “last thing” to say, and it’s that she wants to bring on another partner, a black one. She wants to be in the discussion and to retain a name partner position. Liz says yes, as long as she has any power over the decision. This is a very smart move for Diane. It’s a compromise that’s to her benefit, and she makes the request of Liz at exactly the right time. I think Diane likes Liz as a person and wants to work with her, but she’s definitely buttering her up. This is kind of like an audition to show Liz that she should stick with Diane—Diane will be friendly with her! Diane won’t judge (but definitely knows about!) her indiscretions. Diane is reasonable and not power-hungry! Diane is understanding!  

(And again, to be clear, I don’t think Liz is falling for Diane’s trap or anything. If Diane is smart enough to plan all this out, Diane is absolutely someone you’d want to keep on as a name partner. It’s just that Diane showing how smart she is, is a pretty stark contrast to Liz getting disrespected by a first-year associate.)  

(And, because I feel like I'm being quite harsh on Liz, I don’t think Liz has handled the Carmen situation badly... yet. I just see signs that Carmen is able to shift the balance of power in her favor without really trying, and that Liz is getting flustered. I think Liz mentioning the mentorship is a way of Liz asserting power, and I think/hope that now that Liz knows the situation, she will try to regain control. And, I could very easily see this same plot happening but with Diane—it's just that there are a few other plots where Liz seems flustered in this episode alone, so it feels like a pattern. I’ll be looking out for more of this.)

Marissa and Carmen, both with large folders of casework, get in an elevator together. “So. I guess it begins,” Marissa says as the episode ends. I very much want to see more of Marissa and Carmen interacting. Mostly, I just want to see what Carmen does when she’s in situations that aren’t about representing a client or defending her work. I know what type of lawyer and employee she is, but who is she as a person?  

Wow, this might be the most I’ve written about characters on TGF—as opposed to plots—in quite a while. I think that’s what has me so excited about this season. Carmen is interesting as a character because she’s so unique (or, perhaps, because she feels so much like a part of this universe yet so little like any other character—that's why I keep trying to compare her to others and find out where to place her). The 9 ¾ court is interesting because Wackner is so grounded, because it challenges Diane’s sense of reality in a way that’s new and interesting (this whole series is about making reality seem like it’s shifting under your feet; this is a new take on a familiar theme), and because it is a great match for Marissa’s personality and will give her a lot of opportunities for growth. It seems like we’re heading for some interesting material with Diane and Kurt, and there’s been a little bit of a tense undercurrent in their interactions in these first two episodes—I truly can’t tell if it’s supposed to be part of their banter or if there are mounting frustrations; I think the former but could see it being the latter. And, as I’d hoped, Liz is getting a lot more material.  

[pomegranates-and-blood]

The Holly And The Ivy

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: “I had this idea where Sigurd (or any of the brothers really) were to marry a Christian, but their marriage is dry and more political than anything, but Ivar is fascinated by her attitude (being opposite of him) and her love for life and simple things. He hears the reader and who she's married to talking about how she loves Christmas and he shuts her down, but Ivar decides to let her pick out a tree from the forest and put it up in the Great Hall and decorate it any way she wants. And the ending would include a kiss under mistletoe? If you can work with it.”

I’m very sorry if I dissapoint you anon, but the story was easier or smoother for me to write as a Modern!AU. I really hope you don’t mind. I can try something in the actual time period still, if you are not happy with au’s.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit. Also, a part is not smut or explicit but getting closer to it than most of my work, so that too.

A/N: I really hope I don’t dissapoint whoever requested this. Also, I made this way more complicated than it needed to be, bc I always do, and for that I’m also sorry. Hope you like this, thank you for reading!

The title is from a Christmas carol, cause why not lol

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius​ (I realized you once asked to be tagged on my Vikings works and I forgot, sorry)

“When we are done with this trip we’ll go back home.” Sigurd points out one night as you both say goodnight, in some hotel somewhere in Norway.

“Home?”

“To my mother’s, in a week. Family time and all that.”

Before you are to leave for your own room, you call out, “For Christmas?”

The blond shakes his head, “Yule. You can celebrate your Christmas when we return.”

“That’ll be after the New Year!” You complain softly, offering a smile because you cannot help it.

“I will have to deal with Ivar and my mother, you can deal with this.” Sigurd sentences, the harshness startling you and prompting you to accept the words with a nod.

He mutters a goodnight again, hesitating for a moment on his bedroom door, as if questioning whether he should say sorry or not. You choose to relieve him of that choice, going into your own room and closing the door with a quiet click.

As if it were waiting for the door to close, your phone lights up on your nightstand.

How’s Oslo?

You type a quick response,

You could just ask me if we’ll be attending your mother’s celebrations, you know.

The response takes a while longer, and you cannot help the smile that pulls at your lips.

…Are you?

I expect all those lessons of yours with Floki to come to use. I’m going to need to learn about Yule, apparently.

So I’m supposed to teach you?

Who else?

Your fiancé. Is the reply you get, so fast you think he already knew what your reply was going to be before you even sent it. After a moment, before you can even think on what to answer, another message comes through. Nvm, my brother is useless. I’ll do it.

Your lips pull into a wide and stupid smile, and God, not even the shame at the quick beating of your heart or the warmth that spreads through you could make you be any less thankful for this, if anything. For him.

Thank you. Are you going to be there by Christmas?

This time the answer takes a while longer, and the indication that he is typing appears and disappears a few times.

I don’t know. Before you can ask anything, or send anything, a new message pops up. Princess, this doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know if I can.

Tears rise in your eyes because a part of you knows you’re meant to say goodbye at the end, and every time you are reminded, either by the pain in your own chest or Ivar’s words, that you are on borrowed time; you realize that end is close than you think.

Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Ivar.

____

You find yourself being driven to that massive and fancy house by your fiancé.

You toy with your engagement ring as the car approaches the house. You know, rationally, that you have nothing to fear. The brothers have never been mean or hurtful -well, most of them haven’t-, and Aslaug has always been courteous and kind and…incredibly performative.

A part of you never ceased to feel like an outsider looking in. Between the pariah that a stupid business practice will be made into Sigurd’s wife, and the silent and soft woman they ignore as if she were another piece of furniture, you’d much rather be the latter.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?” Sigurd teases as he turns off the engine, motioning with his head to the rings on your left hand.

You don’t say anything in response, simply getting out of the car in silence. You know he meant well, he always does.

But a part of you that is hopeful and childish and still looks at the snow that starts to fall lightly over the ground as some miracle that means Christmas is upon us…that part of you cannot help but feel bitter about it all. Regretful, or, maybe, resentful.

You never imagined life would be this, engagement -marriage- would be this. You thought of happiness and warmth and fidelity.

Foolish hopes, really. The hopes of a child that watched her parents dance to the light of the Christmas lights, to the music of the soft music her father hummed. Nothing but foolish hopes.

So, when Sigurd steps out and hesitates in offering you his hand, you offer a smile and take his hand in yours, choosing to appreciate that at least the man you will be forced to marry is one you might call a friend, a partner, one day.

It is easy to forget, it is easy to let your heart be light and just enjoy the adorable giggles of Björn and Torvi’s children, the sympathetic smile of Margrethe, the warm and brotherly embrace of Hvitserk.

You are sipping on wine and watching Ubbe throw Asa over his head as she yells for him to throw her higher when a presence stands by your side and a wine glass clinks with your own in silent toast.

“I know you know about Sigurd and me,” Margrethe whispers, “And I want you to know I am sorry. But…I won’t leave him, not until he asks me to.”

If a year ago someone told you that you’d spent Christmas Eve being told by your fiancé’s mistress that she refuses to stop seeing him, you would have assumed the world turned on its head.

It did, but…you still find it in you to love this world that hurts you, this life that tests you.

You offer a smile, “I know you love him. It started as…”

“Gold-digging?” The blonde supplies, a sheepish grimace on her face.

“I wouldn’t be as unkind as to-…”

“You should. That’s what it was,” Her smile loses the edge, and she falters, “At first.”

You accept her words with a nod, and another sip of your wine.

“Then as long as you are discreet, I don’t mind. Keep him happy, Margrethe, he deserves it.”

You start to walk away when she stops you with a call of your name.

“And you don’t? Deserve to be happy, I mean.”

You hesitate, faltering for a few seconds too long. Her blue eyes are big and uncharacteristically honest as they look at you.

“I…”

You take your gaze off hers, because it feels like she will know something she shouldn’t, something you don’t want her to; but your eyes betray you, it seems.

“Oh, him. Well-kept secret, that one,” She states, and when you open your mouth to argue, Margrethe shakes her head, “It’s okay, I don’t…I don’t blame you. Even if I don’t understand at all how that came to be.”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” The blonde supplies, and you allow yourself a smile, you loosen your shoulders and close your eyes with a deep breath.

“Ivar, he…understands me.”

“But you two are nothing alike,” She states, and at your shrug, concedes, “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” You offer, and after a breath, because bitter regret at being the thing that keeps her from the man she loves chokes you for a moment, “Margrethe, I…”

“Don’t you even think of apologizing to me,” She laughs, “Gods, woman, you truly are a soft thing, aren’t you?”

“I have the privilege of being it.” You offer with a kind smile, because you’ve seen the scars, because you remember her when she was more fragile.

Margrethe shakes her head, “The burden.” She corrects, and with a soft squeeze of her free hand on your arm, she walks away.

____

It’s on the day before Christmas that the last of the Lothbrok arrives. You walk down the stairs to a very early breakfast, and jump when the front door opens to reveal Ubbe and Ivar.

He came.

“You are up early.” Ubbe comments as he passes you by, dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You greet Ubbe absently, your eyes on his brother. Numbly, you hear him say something about telling Aslaug that Ivar has come home, and quick steps carrying him up the stairs.

Your lips curve into a smile, or at least they try to, “Hi.”

“Hello, Princess,” Ivar greets, what months ago would have been a smirk curving his lips. Now, now it’s more tired and worn than anything. “Just in time for your…Christmas, right?”

You nod, feeling the stupid urge to cry, “Yeah. Means a lot, you know.”

“Well, I could feel you pouting over the phone, love,” His eyes check the stairs before he moves aided by his crutch towards you with a wince of pain -the cold, you remind yourself, the cold making his legs ache-, and once he is before you, a hand that shouldn’t feel as tender as it does cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his. “I couldn’t leave you alone here. You always find ways to embarrass yourself.”

You chuckle, burrowing your head on his chest as you embrace him.

“I may have fucked up a few times,” You concede, eyes closed as you take in his scent, his warmth, “But I’m cute, I get away with a lot of things.”

____

As the timer on your phone dings, you get up from the couch, leaving a warm but strong drink behind, and make your way to the kitchen, ready to take out the sponge cake -no, a voice too alike Ivar corrects you, Bûche de Noël-.

Uneven steps behind you let you know of who walked in behind you, and you turn around with a slight frown on your brows, meaning to ask something before he interrupts you.

“He’s groping and kissing her in front of you, and you say nothing?” Ivar demands, anger shining clearly in his blue eyes.

“Sigurd and Margrethe?” You ask, and shake your head, “Why would I say anything?”

“You know about them.”

“Of course I do. He doesn’t hide it from me, and he shouldn’t hide it from his family. He loves her, and she loves him.”

“You don’t care that he’s humiliating you?” He presses, and you sigh.

“Everyone here knows how things truly are between Sigurd and me.”

Ivar’s mouth curls into a snarl, and cruelty spews from his lips, “Well, if you had let Ragnar know you had no problem letting your husband fuck whoever he wants, you might have been able to marry Björn, like your father wanted.”

You close your eyes, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, hm? Like someone that’s watching the woman he-…What am I supposed to be then, hm? What would make you happy?” He accuses, not losing the cruel edge in his voice even if you both know what he stopped himself from admitting. When you don’t answer, Ivar takes a deep and angry breath through his nose, “I’ve always been jealous of my brothers, you know this. Growing up their poor crippled brother is nothing to knowing Sigurd gets you and doesn’t even know what he-…what I’d do to be him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make him be the man you deserve!”

“He’s not the man I want,” You point out before you can keep the words trapped behind your lips. Ivar is inexplicably stunned by your words, it seems, and you lower your gaze. Resting your hands on the counter you drop your shoulders and shake your head, letting go of the previous argument and returning to…peace, or as close to it as one can get with Ivar. “Your brother deserves to be as happy as he can, with the woman he loves. It will not hurt me to see him with her. As long as-…”

“‘As long as it is discreet’, yes, I know. My mother and Ragnar have the same agreement.”

“It works for them, does it not?”

Ivar meets your gaze and doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that dread sets in your chest and questions arise in your mind.

Eventually, on the side of his jaw the clear tell of gritted teeth, he replies,

“Not as well as you think.”

“Well, Sigurd and I are friends, we…things will work out. They have to.”

“They have to, of course,” He mocks, moving his head as he rolls his eyes, “Anything to keep Ragnar and your father happy, hm?”

“Ivar…”

His eyes search yours, searching for the answer to a question he has not yet asked,

“I-If I asked you not to do this, if I…if I asked you for more time…” He leaves the words hanging between you, and you blink past helpless tears. He knows the answer, you know the answer.

Thankfully, you don’t have to remind him -and yourself- of the world you live in, of the lives you were meant to live, because the door to the kitchen opens and Aslaug walks through.

You keep your eyes firmly set on the tray before you, even though you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, demanding an answer. When he realizes he will not get one, he grunts, a clenched fist hitting the counter once before he walks away.

“I’m sorry.” You offer the matriarch as she keeps her all-seeing eyes on you, but Aslaug offers a smile. A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

“The cold gets to Ivar, it makes him irritable. It is not your fault.” She soothes, but the smile you offer her in thanks still trembles. You both know these are lies you are sharing with one another, and though it makes you falter and stumble, Aslaug moves gracefully from one lie to the next.

“I’ll-…” You point behind you, to the living room, but the woman shakes her head.

“Surely you have time to help me with this?” She asks. It feels like walking into a wolf’s den when you nod your head and approach her.

“Of course.”

She watches raptly as you assist her in preparing the Yule Log, and you focus on doing your best to keep your hands from trembling.

“For someone that doesn’t follow the Gods, you know a lot about tradition, girl.”

“I…It was the least I could do, learning about what is important to your family, to Sigurd.” You offer, and whatever she -who always has the look of someone that sees beyond what normal eyes can- can sense in your words makes Aslaug stop.

She turns to you, and surprises you with a hand on your cheek. The woman towards over you, but the gentleness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, they help you to not feel threatened.

“Still loving the world that hurts you, sweet thing?”

“It’s all I know how to do.”

Aslaug’s smile is almost sad when she looks into your eyes, “To love, yes, I know. Wish I saw that sooner,” You don’t know what to answer to that, so you offer her only a shaky smile and a shrug. Aslaug chuckles gently, “And you love my son, don’t you?”

The terrifying thought that she knows what she’s doing when not saying any names, the realization nothing gets past her and neither did whatever is between you and Ivar, it all settles in your stomach with a dead weight.

Still, whether she asks about Sigurd or Ivar, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”

One as a friend, a partner, a man you can learn to respect and build a life alongside of. The other, as everything you ever wanted, as someone that will always make you wonder about the ‘what if’s.

She shakes off whatever takes a hold of her, and before you can ask what she means, why it pains her, she steps back from you and turns her back to you.

“You know, Ragnar isn’t the only one in this family with an eye for business. I was once in the same position you are now, the heiress to an empire,” Aslaug’s smile seems to thaw as she hands you a refilled glass of wine to match hers. Resting her backside on the counter behind her, she continues, “My parents were able to teach me a few valuable lessons before their death.

She grabs your left hand, stopping you. Her eyes look deeply into yours, but her thumb rolls your engagement ring on your finger.

“Like how to understand when I can’t make any more moves. And when I can change the wording in a deal to make it favor me.

Your lips part, you think to say something, but Aslaug stops you with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’ve learned the same lessons, my dear.”

____

Ubbe is dancing with Asa standing on his feet, and you watch with a smile on your face as the family enjoys time together, and celebrates the holidays in their own way.

A part of you misses the Christmas lights, the decorations you’d help your parents put up when you were a kid. A part of you misses how simple life was back then, how in this time of year you could forget there was a world past the snow drifting down and the warmth of a hearth and a home.

Ivar comes right up to you, but doesn’t sit next to you, choosing to remain standing.

“Grab your coat,” He orders, and at your confused frown, he rolls his eyes and amends, “Please.”

The most insincere please in the history of pleases, but you know you get more than most, so you don’t comment on it.

Still, you have to ask, “Why?”

“I-…a surprise,” He says, and insists you move with a gesture of his head, “Come on.”

You follow him to the small house the Lothbroks have by the pool, a cozy little home of big windows. When Ivar motions for you to go in ahead of him, a part of you is suspicious, but you still skip your way inside and try not to ask questions as to how it is so warm here when it should be vacant.

Ivar turns the lights on, and you find in the middle of the living room a Christmas tree.

The tree is bare, but still lively and familiar.

You turn to Ivar with tears in your eyes, because you cannot help it.

“You did this for me?”

“You love your Christmas,” He mumbles, embarrassed at the reaction his -to some, uncharacteristic- thoughtfulness got out of you. “I figured you deserved to have some of it with you here.”

“Did you buy Christmas lights?” You ask softly, almost moving up and down in the balls of your feet in excitement, eyeing the bags on a chair nearby.

Ivar chuckles, endeared, and nods, “Go ahead, Princess.”

You skip your way to the bags, quickly looking over the goods and already planning on how to decorate it, how to make it look pretty, how to make it yours.

You don’t truly know how long you spend on it, gleefully putting up Christmas lights, and little ornaments. During the whole time you spent excitedly decorating the tree, you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, and when you look back at him you find him staring with a strange softness in his gaze.

You choose not to think too much on it, and instead ask his opinion on the decorations, that he gives gruffly and with a very poor attempt at making you believe that -either because Christmas grew on him, which you find very unlikely, or because of your own happiness- he isn’t happy to be here.

____

You smile at the warm and twinkling lights, and burrow closer to Ivar’s warmth, refusing to take your eyes off the dancing lights and refusing to put your feet back on the ground.

Refusing to step out of the fantasy that this could be your life.

Ivar shifts his position, and you lift your head from the juncture between his neck and shoulder and meet his eyes in question.

His eyes give away so much, always have, at least to you. And now they reflect the warm sparkle of the Christmas lights, and they reflect hesitation, fear, uncertainty, love.

Before you can ask what is wrong, Ivar leans in, his hand previously around you tangling in your hair as his lips claim yours.

His kiss is always demanding, but this time it holds desperation in the way Ivar begs for your lips to part with his own, it holds an urgency in the way his tongue dances with yours, it holds a ragged edge in the shaky breath that he lets out through his nose, it holds a goodbye in the way he ends the kiss as if forcing himself to pull away from you.

You try getting your breath under control and your voice to be yours again, but he’s so close, and warm, and yours; and all you want to do is kiss him again.

Kiss him again, and make the furrow in his brow, the pain in his eyes, go away. Kiss him again, and pretend you are not living on borrowed time.

So you do.

You kiss him, and take control of the kiss, and make him groan lightly against your mouth when you tug on his hair, and whimper his name against his own when you straddle him and feel him getting hard underneath you.

When your need for breath makes you part from his kiss, Ivar wastes no time trailing fervent kisses down your neck, panting breaths against the hot skin that he kisses and licks and bites.

You moan his name, forgetting everything but the touch of his lips on your skin, forgetting everything but the scent and taste and feel of him.

Either at the sound of your voice or the grind of your hips against his hardening cock, Ivar’s breath stutters and he breathes your name back at you, voice low.

His brow rests against your collarbone as he takes deep breaths, and your fingers toy at the hair that flows down to his shoulders.

“You know…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss that makes you shiver right on the dip between your collarbones, “There’s nothing I want more right now than marking this pretty neck of yours. Leaving you with…” His teeth scrape against your skin, a tease both for you and himself. Ivar does it a few more times, and moves up your neck again. Your breath shudders past your lips, and you tug on his hair to remind him of what he was saying. You always did love hearing him speak. For all the months you spend apart, his voice telling you what he’d do to you, what he’d have you do to him, is all that keeps you warm. Ivar chuckles, but continues, “Leaving you with my mark all over you, where everyone can see, so…so that they don’t doubt you’re mine.

His hands tighten on your waist, before they travel down, caressing your thighs as he sighs.

“But you’re not, are you? And I can’t…I can’t do any of that. I can’t-…”

You interrupt him before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can twist himself into knots about the situation you are both in.

“I am yours. Only yours.” You remind him softly, your lips by his ear. You lean back so you can meet his eyes, and seal your promise with a soft kiss over his lips.

Ivar’s eyes search yours when you pull back, with the same look as before. Uncertain, lost, tender and yet almost sad.

“Marry me.” He whispers, keeping his eyes on yours.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide. He couldn’t have…he knows that…none of this makes any sense.

“Marry me instead of Sigurd,” He insists, and as if remembering the part he forgot, he curses and hurries to fetch something from his pocket. He offers you a simple but beautiful ring, and swallows, “I-I can make you happier than he ever could, I…I love you.

I know you can, you already do.

I love you too.

But you can’t say any of that, because your breaths are shallow and your head is filled with thoughts and…and you need space.

You scramble to stand, to put distance between the two of you. After a few controlled breaths, you return your eyes to Ivar, whose hand has now fallen back to his lap even if he still holds on to the delicate ring.

He grits his teeth, the obvious tell at the side of his jaw, and he seems to want to divert his eyes from you, but he only blinks and keeps certain eyes on you.

“Your father wants you to marry one of Ragnar’s sons, he doesn’t care who. I…have talked with my father, he agrees that if you want to, we can…” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture, “Mother says any backlash from breaking the engagement can be handled.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Of course I have, y-you’d be Sigurd’s wife if I didn’t think of something,” A twitch of anger, of uncertainty, of fear, on his face, and then he amends, “You still can be. But I want you to be able to choose.”

Choose me, is what he doesn’t say.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and you try a few times before you can finally speak,

“Ivar, we haven’t…it’s been only a few months.”

“And it will not work out, that’s what you’re saying?” He huffs, defensive, “It won’t work out if you marry my brother either.”

“I-…this-…”

“Stop thinking of excuses,” He snaps, gritted teeth and hurt written in his eyes, “I’ll handle everything, no matter your answer. Just…just give me an answer, Princess.”

____

It is open ended cause there’s two ends to this, I wanted to leave the choice to you guys! So, follow the link for the epilogue of your choice:

Will you accept the proposal and be bound to Ivar, for better or worse?

Or will you stay with Sigurd, and be content with companionship and friendship?

Hope you liked this, even if it wasn’t very holiday-ey. I wish you all very happy holidays and a great (or decent, after 2020 I’m happy with decent) 2021!!

(Ik it’s like the 13th and I’m gonna be very much around here posting and bothering the whole lot of ya till the holidays and beyond, but holiday fic and all that, ‘twas the perfect time to send good wishes and all. Love ya!)

[sweetness47]

Almost Too Late

This is for @idreamofplaid and @girl-next-door-writes for their ‘They Belong to Us Now’ Challenge. Hope you guys like it! Congrats on your milestones btw.

Warnings: Swearing, death mentioned, dark spirits, kissing at the end, pining I’m going to say PG-14

Prompt #16: If You die, I’m going to kill you.

Theme: AU Castle

Pairing: Sam x reader

Life was good, or mostly. My friends and I hunt monsters, save people from the things that go bump in the night. This isn’t what your thinking though. We don’t drive places. Most of our travel is done by horseback or hiking. The industrial revolution came, left, and is in the process of being reborn, but it’s very slow going.

Every day is a new adventure. It’s just four of us: me, Dean, Sam, and my friend Charlie. Oh, and spoiler alert…I’ve had a major crush on Sam forever! Like seriously. I mentally drool when he talks to me, stands close to me, and my underwear is a sopping mess by the time the day ends. It’s super hard being so attracted to him, especially since he has no clue. I hesitate to bring it up, my worst fear is that confessing my feelings would ruin what we have.

That would kill me.

So I suffer silently. Charlie has noticed my pining, and has tried to get me to admit my feelings to him. But I’m terrified. If I lost him because I chose to share my attraction, I’d never be able to live with myself. I would lose the one thing in my life worth living for, besides friends, and that would kill me, literally.

I’ve pictured all the different ways I could approach the subject. I could casually just walk beside him and slide into my feelings. I could just jump him while everyone’s sleeping (my personal favorite…for obvious reasons) but what if he rejects my advances? I just can’t find an outcome where I’m not overthinking, where I don’t see chances of disaster, of rejection, of heartbreak.

Ugh. FML. Seriously.

**

Our travels bring us to a long abandoned castle. It’s creepy as fuck, but if properly fixed and cleaned up, it could actually be a really good home for us to work out of, a place where we can just hold up and crash, seek safety, keep our belongings we don’t usually need on hunts.

It’s really big, in an intimidating sort of way. I shiver as I walk closer and touch the stone walls. There’s a presence or two here, things that are tethered to this ancient land, to this castle. It’s dark, and dangerous.

And it knows we’re here.

“Guys? We’re not alone here.”

Sam, Dean and Charlie all turn towards me, and wait. They know I’m able to feel things, so if I say to be careful, they listen.

I continue. “I don’t know if there’s more than one, but whatever is in here is dangerous, like deadly. And it already knows we’re here. The good news? It hates light. Bad news though…the sun will be setting in a couple of hours. We won’t stand a chance if we don’t make a plan.”

“Is it worth us even staying? I mean, we could always find another place to shack up.” Dean’s voice tells me he’s going against his heart. He really likes this place as much as the rest of us, but he also knows not to take my feelings lightly.

“Maybe, but how often do we come across such a magnificent place? A lot of castles have long since been destroyed by one disaster or another. With some work, and luck, we could make this our home. I love the idea of having a solid place to rest once in a while.”

I love Charlie. She’s never one to beat around the bush. Straight forward and honest. I nod in agreement, but as I stare at the dark looming windows and the ancient structure of the castle, I can’t help but wonder if Dean might have a point. I personally have never felt something this dangerous before and frankly, I honestly don’t know how to deal with whatever dwells inside.

**

The human called YN is correct, something dark and dangerous does occupy this castle. Me. I am the biggest threat here, the banshee that recently sought refuge here is nothing compared to my dark power.

I am a void, a darkness, sentient and silent. I feed off fear and humans, the ones that are foolish enough to try and remove me from my home. Many have tried. None have succeeded.

I am near indestructible. I revel in the power I possess. I will never let anyone take it from me.

I used to be malicious, hell bent on finding the next willing victim to feed my hungry darkness. Then my brother entity, the one hunters dubbed “the Empty” made a deal with an angel, where the angel would help save what was left of this world and then go willingly into that void.

The anguish I felt from those the angel considered family was horrific. They mourned. I hated the idea that the one like me could be so cruel. We were made for harbouring souls, ones that had no other place to go. We were made to feed on those dead and lost, to grow and suck the life from them. But we were never to make deals to take a willing live being, no matter the end game.

That was what our creator told us. My brother didn’t listen.

I did.

I left because of that. And was punished for it.

Now I am tethered to this stone building. I’ve been here for a long time, and have grown quite fond of the peace and quiet. Most of my energy is gotten from stray animals, or the occasional human. But I absolutely refuse to leave.

So I prepare to fight. I won’t lose this home.

**

Sam peeks through the door and down the dark hall. “Sounds like fun. Shall we?” He grabs a flashlight and steps over the threshold. The moment he does, I feel the change in whatever has possessed this place.

I grab his arm. “Sam, be careful.”

He nods. “Always.”

I snort at that response, because for as much as I love the brothers, they have had a tendency to get into some stupid situations.

Dean follows Sam, then Charlie and I step inside. I’m blown away from what greets us. The first archway we encounter opens to a massive foyer, large enough to rival a grand ballroom, with corridors leading off in all directions, as well as a grand wide staircase, gleaming with gold accents and dark cherry wood railings. All I was missing was the fancy ball gown and a crowd of ballroom dancers to complete the picture.

Honestly it felt like we’d stepped into a fairy tale, but the danger looming in the background dispelled that notion pretty quick. And now that we were inside, I could definitely sense more than one. The first one, the dark presence that resided in the walls, it was intelligent, and it didn’t feel as threatening as the other. Spirit number two was restless, malevolent, and downright deadly.

“Guys, just a heads up. There’s two different entities here, both are dangerous, but one of them is more so than the other. Be careful. We go in pairs. Watch each other’s backs.”

Everyone nods, and Dean whisks me down one hall while Sam and Charlie explore the other. The moment we’re alone, Dean calls me out on what I didn’t say.

“Ok hotshot, spill. What aren’t you telling us?”

I sigh. Dean knows I have a thing for his brother, and has encouraged me numerous times to tell Sam how I feel. He also knows I have a habit of keeping important information from the others when I feel like it could jeopardise an outcome.

I stop and face my friend. “It’s just a feeling Dean. Honest.”

Dean purses his lips as if trying to figure out if my words are the truth. “Ok. But the moment that changes, you tell us. None of this hero bullshit you usually pull. I saw the look in your eyes. Your spooked. And you never get spooked like this.”

He’s right. It’s one of the reasons I’m good at hunting the things that go bump in the night. I don’t scare easily.

I nod. “I know. I promise to tell you if the feeling becomes more. Ok? Can we drop it now?”

He does, but only because I have a tendency to blow a fuse if I’m pushed too far. And I need to be on top of my game if I want to stay ahead of the dark.

An ear-splitting, high pitched scream echoes through the entire castle, the walls vibrating as it bounces off everything it touches.

Dean and I look at each other and say at the same time. “Banshee!!”

We radio Charlie and Sam. They confirm they heard the creature as well, and promise to keep a close eye on their surroundings. I can’t shake the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach though. It’s almost like someone’s going to die…

FUCK!

“Dean! We have to find Sam and Charlie now!”

He takes one look at my facial expression, and whatever he finds there is enough to convince him not to argue. Another banshee scream fills the halls, and we take off back to the main foyer as we try to radio Charlie and Sam. They don’t answer, so we head in the direction they took when we split off.

The horrible feeling grows with each step, and when we stumble upon a broken two-way radio, I swallow hard. Dean calls out, but neither answer. I look at the elder Winchester, who’s grim looks mirror my own.

Suddenly, we’re thrown across the room by the high pitched wail, having been too distracted to notice her presence. I recover quickly, my need to contain her is great, she is a road block in my quest to find my friends and make sure they are all right. I summon my will, and I throw everything I have, everything I am feeling, at my nemesis. Her screams fade as she disintegrates before our eyes.

It’s then we see Charlie and Sam, both of whom are lying on the ground, motionless. Charlie is moaning and attempting to open her eyes and sit up, but my focus is on Sam, or rather his lack of movement. I’m paralyzed by fear when I notice his shallow breathing, the struggles he has just trying to breathe.

I fall to my knees beside him. “Sam? Baby, talk to me.”

He coughs and smiles weakly, blood trickles out of his mouth with each wheeze. “You called me a pet name. I knew you liked me.”

Tears fell as I smiled at his attempt at humor. “Asshole! Don’t you dare try and distract me. I swear Sam, if you die, I will kill you. Do you hear me? I will fucking hunt your ass down and kill you!”

His answer is to chuckle, but it quickly turns to another bout of coughing, and more blood oozing from his perfect lips. He never gets to say what he’s thinking as his lungs give out, and he stops breathing.

My worlds stops. I can’t breathe.

A gasp leaves my lips, and quickly turns into a strangled cry. I fall over him, hugging his still form, begging him to wake up, to come back to me. I can’t live without him.

Why the hell did I pair with Dean? Why? I could have protected him! I’m such an idiot! And now I’ll never be able to tell him I love him, I’ll never hold him again, or kiss him the way I’ve always imagined.

Because he’s gone.

That’s when I feel the other presence, the heartache that mirrors my own. The entity within the walls is feeling my pain, which is weird in itself, like it’s mourning my loss.

So I engage it in conversation.

You…why do you mourn my loss? I ask it in my head.

There’s no delay in the answer I receive. I have felt human loss before, it saddens me. What makes this human special?

I love him. He is everything to me…the air I breathe, the life in my body. He’s my reason for living. Is my answer.

This time there is considerable pause before it talks to me. I can bring him back for you. All I ask in return is to be allowed to stay in these walls. I have grown to like it here.

Deal. If you can save him, I will not harm you. But you can never harm me or my friends for as long as we live in this place.

The entity agrees, and I feel it join with my mind, it’s darkness seeping into my body, taking my power and my connection to Sam. I involuntarily move my hands to hover over his chest, and close my eyes as power is released from me into him.

Sam’s body shudders and suddenly he gasps, sitting upright, his lungs taking in gulps of fresh air. He coughs then looks at me, eyes wide.

And I fold my arms around his neck and kiss him.

It takes about two seconds for him to kiss me back, parting my lips with his tongue. Kissing Sam is everything I imagined and more, he tastes sweet, like cotton candy. I’m crying again, but it’s tears of joy. I eventually tear my mouth from his, needing to say three words.

“I love you.”

His response comes immediately. “I love you too YN. Always have.”

He kisses me again, leaving Dean and Charlie cheering and teasing us to get a room. I look up, and a shadowy figure smiles in my direction. The entity.

Thank you. I manage.

It nods, then fades into the walls.

@idreamofplaid @girl-next-door-writes @drkcnry67 @lyarr24

[beenbaanbuun]

NCT DREAM’s reaction to their foreign S/O not wanting to call them ‘oppa’

This was such a fun request. Thank you so much (I completely agree btw) x

MARK

Mark never really minded you not calling him oppa, he was foreign too after all. He did, however, enjoy watching you get flustered whenever he called you out on not doing it. He often called you out on it, even though he really didn’t care, just to see you squirm in your seat and complain. He found it so sweet, and every time it happened he fell deeper in love with you.

“Hey, Mark, can you come and look at this for a second?” You glanced over to him, only to see that smile on him face. You knew what was about to happen, and you hated it. His eyes were filled with mischief, making you chuckle slightly.

“Aren’t I older than you, baby? Shouldn’t you be calling me oppa?” You glared at him causing a loud laugh to leave his mouth. Heat rose to your face, pink spreading over your face. Oppa was a word that you swore would never leave your mouth, but if it made Mark do what you wanted, you were willing to take the sacrifice.

“Oppa...”

RENJUN 

He’d be another one that didn’t particularly mind, but he found it cute whenever you would do it. You only ever did it if you really wanted his attention, and as soon as you say it, his attention would be fully on you. You hated saying it, but you would use it to your advantage if you had to, which you rarely did; Renjun loved smothering you.

“Renjun, can I have a hug?” You were sat behind him on his bed, watching him play an online game with the rest of the dreaming. All he did was groan in response, making you frown, before an idea sprang to your head. “Oppa, please?” A sigh left his mouth when he heard the word, knowing that you knew he’d do anything for you when you called him that.

“I’m going to have to go. I’ll be back later.” He was soon to turn of his computer and wrap his arms around you. “That was so unfair, (Y/N)”

JENO

He’d 100% sulk whenever you didn’t call him oppa, but you weren’t going to give in that easy. No matter how much he begged, you weren’t going to give in and that was that. He, on the other hand, knows you couldn’t resist his sulky face, and so uses it to his advantage all of the time.

“Jeno-” A whine cut you off, making you look back at your boyfriend. His lips were arranged into a pout, making you feel a pang in your heart. Were you really this cruel? You watched him for a few more seconds, as he stared at you, his eyes begging you. You sighed, knowing that you would hate the next few seconds. “Oppa.” A smile rose to his face.

“What is it, baby?” He grinned, leaving his seat on the sofa to come and stand next to you. “Tell Oppa what you need, baby.”

HAECHAN

Deep down, he doesn’t really care what you call him, but if you don’t think he will be petty, then you are incorrect. As soon as any name other than ‘oppa’ leaves your mouth, you are not getting a response from Haechan. You will call him oppa, even if it kills him to not listen to you.

“Donghyuck, can I have the TV remote?” You turned to him as you asked the question. Unfortunately, your boyfriend gave no response, nor did he acknowledge that he’d even heard you say anything. You had to roll your eyes at his childish antics, but you knew what you had to do. “Oppa, can I have the TV remote?” As soon as those words left your mouth, he turned to you, a beautiful smile resting on his face.

“Of course, baby. Why didn’t you ask before?” You shook your head, just taking the remote from his hands and changing the channel.

“You’re not getting it back now, Hyuckie.”

JAEMIN

He wasn’t particularly bothered until you said it to him jokingly once, and then it was the only thing he wanted to be called by you. Obviously he looked past the fact that you faked throwing up as soon as you said it the first time, because he was that desperate to hear it again. Thus began his plan; each and every time you called him something other than ‘oppa’, he would correct you, just wanting to hear the word from you.

“Jaemin, can you help me with this, please?” You heard him clear his throat, making you look back at him. He had an eyebrow raised as if he was questioning you, but you refused to give in that easy. You summoned him with your hands, desperately needing him in that moment. He strolled his way over, but as soon as he got near, he would say his usual statement.

“It’s oppa. Please call me oppa.” Sometimes you felt bad; he always looked so sad when you didn’t say it, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Sure.” You said before turning back to the book in front of you and pointing at the question you were on. “Anyway, Jaemin.” You continued, only getting a groan in response.

CHENLE

You’d never said it to him, but he always assumed he’d like you saying it. He only assumed this because he liked it when Jisung called him hyung. He tried his hardest, without trying to make it seem obvious. He was never as sly and secretive as he thought though; you knew when he was trying to get you to say it. Lets just say he isn’t very good at hiding his intentions.

“I just thing you should practice saying ‘oppa’ in sentences sometimes. You never know when it could come in useful.” God, he was so obvious. When would the word ‘oppa’ ever come in useful? You shook your head in disbelief, a laugh escaping you lips.

“Chenle, sweetie. I know what you’re doing.” A blush spread across Chenle’s face as you discovered his secret plan for what must be the 100th time. “It’s not working.” You added, looking at him frown slightly.

“One day I’ll get past you and your genius brain.”

JISUNG

He’d never had anyone call him oppa before, and he really wanted someone to. It just so happened that his first girlfriend wasn’t comfortable with it. He tried to be fine with it and hide the fact that he was kind of disappointed, which didn’t always work. No matter what, you always seemed to realise that he was disappointed when you said his name, and you didn’t know why.

“Sungie?” You called, turning around just in time to watch his shoulders fall. You frowned, not wanting to make him upset. He was your first serious relationship after all, and you didn’t want to mess it up. “What’s wrong?” You sat next to him, wanting to know what you could do to make him happy.

“It’s nothing, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Obviously, you didn’t want to pry, but you were so convinced that you were doing something wrong, that you felt it was your duty to find out what it was. You repeated the question, your voice more serious this time. He sighed before he spoke. “I just think it would be nice to hear you call me ‘oppa’ but I don’t want to force you if you don’t want to.” You smiled, realising that it wasn’t as serious as you first thought.

“I’ll try to say it more often... Oppa.”