#had to clean up and have yet to put the glitter back in the bottle tbh

[deityofhearts]

various bits and bobs from my “faerie pouch” (it’s a pouch of this stuff that I keep around for good luck, I have too many good luck charms and things)

[lunarmoves]

one of the things you’ll never get over is just how teasing the daycare attendant can be. 

whether it may be through pokes at how tiny you are in comparison to them, little flirts that set your face aflame yet are completely innocuous, or putting you in situations where you’re forced to rely on them, the daycare attendant seems to find delight in your many different reactions and emotions. you’re not quite sure why. but it has grown just the teensiest bit frustrating. you’ve done your best to try to retaliate and turn the tables on them, but none of your efforts seem to work on them like they do on you. they are, at times, very difficult to read—what with the static smile and all. not like a robot can blush, either. 

it’s gotten to the point where you’re willing to try anything—and after watching some parents greeting their kids at the door for pickup, you finally get an idea that you think might just work in your favor. so long as you pay extra close attention to their reactions. 

it’s finally after hours for the daycare; the last child had been picked up a few minutes ago. you and sun are wandering about, gathering up stray toys and crayons. you notice one of the small coloring tables has an unfortunate glob of glitter glue pasted to it and call out to sun to grab his attention. your eyes watch him like a hawk’s. 

“can you grab me a rag and some cleaning spray, baby?” it’s said as casually as you can make it. 

you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile when sun freezes in place for a moment, then spins his head around properly to look right at you. “i beg your pardon? what did you say?” 

you pinch at the side of your thigh to stop a smile from breaking out on your face and busy yourself with picking up more crayons. you know he heard you perfectly. robot hearing, and all. “i said can you grab me a rag and some cleaning spray. baby?” 

wide, white eyes stare at you for what feels like an eternity, then his rays do a delighted little spin. he straightens up and gives you a salute. “can do, friend! i'll be back in a jiffy!” 

you snicker to yourself at the enthusiasm in his voice. “thank you my love.” 

sun makes a sound—a strange sound you’ve not yet heard before—that you honestly can’t identify. a whirr of sorts, maybe. then he bounces off to the supply closet tucked in the corner of the daycare, where all the cleaning materials are stored. you pretend to bend down to grab another crayon, your eyes flicking up to follow sun's movement. once he disappears around a playset, you take a short, quiet moment to stuff your fist in your mouth and bite down a giggle. you manage to collect yourself right as he returns, your hands dumping the crayons you've collected into their designated bin.

"you're in a mood today!" sun says brightly as he hands you the spray bottle of cleaner and an old, blue rag. he sways animatedly from side to side and clasps his hands together in front of his chassis once his hands are free.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you reply as straight-faced as you can and crouch down next to the table, "honey," you add after a short second. you give the glob a few sprays of the cleaning solution, then start to diligently work away at it with the cloth. at least you have an excuse to turn your face away from his perceptive gaze.

sun's shadow looms over you. there's a clicking sound as his faceplate rotates. "i think you do, friend!"

"what," you snort and peer up at him from the corner of your eye, "you want me to stop?"

sun's head tilts farther to the side and his smile seems to get larger. "on the contrary, actually!"

you can't deny that his words make you flush slightly, so you turn back to the table to swipe your rag against it a final time. can't let him turn the tide on you like this. you're saved from responding to him when the daycare lights suddenly go out to signify closing, hoping against all hope that moon hadn't been paying attention.

those hopes get quickly dashed when you notice the table you'd finished cleaning has taken on a red glow, and long fingers abruptly grip onto your shoulders to tug you up and spin you around.

"what," moon hisses lowly at you, face close to your own as he stares directly at you with wide maroon eyes, "are you doing?"

"me?" you answer innocently, your hands holding the cloth up between the both of your chests as though in a feeble attempt at a defensive wall. the rest of the daycare is dark and it's only by moon's eyes and the dim light from the windows leading to the rest of the pizzaplex that you're able to see him. "i'm not doing anything, sweetheart."

"that," he emphasizes and gives you a little shake, "is not nothing. you're up to something."

"i promise i'm not buttercup," is your smooth reply. moon twitches slightly—his grip gets a teeny bit tighter. and there's something in the way he's holding himself that lets you know he's more affected by your words than he lets on. the corners of your mouth curl up slightly, but you force them back down to maintain your innocuous look.

moon only growls at you, voice rasping out a "troublemaker."

you stick your tongue out at him. "cutie pie."

"nuisance."

"darling."

"brat."

"snookums." your smile starts to creep back up your face when you notice he's slowly drawing closer in the heat of the little back and forth.

"little gremlin." his expression dares you to retaliate.

you choose not to respond right away, letting his last pet name hang in the air for a quiet, tense moment. your eyes stare directly into his own fuzzy ones and you take in a deep breath to prepare yourself for what you're about to say.

"kitten." you grin wildly when moon absolutely recoils and releases you from his grip. immediately, you latch onto the sound of his servos whirring in his chassis—a cooling system kicking into place. and that, you realize, is their form of blushing.

"oh?" your eyes squint upwards in delight as moon just looks at you with wide eyes, his hat low on his face so much so that you only see the lower halves of his optics. "embarrassed? my little kitten?"

"shut up!" moon hisses at you and it makes you finally break down into laughter at the irony. his hands twitch sporadically before he stills them. "pain in the neck! annoyance!"

"kitten! kitten kitten kit— WAJHSDKFJDF!" you shriek as you narrowly dodge a swipe from moon and immediately make a break for the door. he growls something rough at you in lighthearted jest, but you can't hear him over the sounds of your loud laughter and your pounding footsteps against the floor.

and as moon chases you out of the daycare—your little victory triumphantly stashed under your belt— the knowledge that they have a certain weakness for adoring pet names gets stored in a mischievous part of your brain for later.

[think-like-a-poet]

can you please do a Carlos imagine where Carlos and Y/N are out partying after a race. Y/N gets approached by a drunk and inappropriate guy who either trys to touch her says some inappropriate things, and Carlos steps in. He’s the crazy protective boyfriend, and he ends up getting into a fight with the guy. Carlos gets cut by a broken beer bottle during the fight, so Y/N gets to care for his wound, and basically gets to play nurse on Carlos

Bar Fight

Carlos sainz x Femreader

Summary: After a race you are out partying with your boyfriend. When you get approched by a man who doesn't take the words no, a fight happenes.

Warning: Alcohol, fight, inapprociate touching, harrasement.

A/n: Hope you like it

You stood proudly watching from the podium where Carlos stood. The Spanish anthem was playing, and you sang the words softly. Your boyfriend had just won his first race of the season, sharing the podium with his teammate.

After he finished his interviews, you both went back to the hotel to clean up. "There is a party tonight. Do you want to come?" he asked as he walked out of the bathroom.

"Wouldn't it just be the drivers? I don't want to bother," you asked. There have been parties where you just stood on the sidelines watching it happen because there were only drunk drivers around. "You'd never be a bother. Lots of drivers take their girlfriends, so you have someone to talk to, and it is a public club," he said, taking your hand in his. "I just won. I'd love to celebrate it with you." You smiled and agreed to go to the club.

That is how you find yourself in the middle of the crowd with Carlos' arm around your torso. You had decided on a black mini skirt and a red glitter top (Can always picture something else). Carlos had wanted to take it off you the minute you walked out and just bailed on the party. You had to remind him that the party was for him because he won the grand prix.

Carlos walks you towards where the rest of the drivers were seated before engaging in a conversation with his old teammate. You stood there a bit awkwardly and already wanted to drown yourself in alcohol to get the anxiety away.

Your head shoots up at the sound of your name. "Come, we are going to do shots," Kika says and drags you away towards the bar. You laugh and let her lead the way. You see Alex and Lily already at the bar and greet both of them. Kika asks the bartender for four shots, and he places them for each of you.

"3,2,1" Lily counts and you all take a shot. The liquit causes a burning feeling in your throat and your faces shows a frown.

After the shots you four make your way towards the dance floor. Swinging your bodies to the music, laughs coming out of your mouth. The songs kept going and your feets start to hurt. " Come lets get closer to the stage" kika says but you decline.

You don't see the girls anymore and want to walk back to Carlos. You turn around and walk into somebody. "Well hello, baby. Wanna dance?" The boy asks with a disgusting smirk on his face. His presence isn't that great and you want to leave as fast as you can.

"No, sorry. I just want to head out." You try to leave but he takes your wrist and stops you. You try to take your hand back but he just puts his hand on your hips to pull you closer. "Don't leave, baby. We haven't even gotten to the beat part yet." You panic as he keeps pulling you closer to him, trying to grind against you. You look around but don't see anyone you know. I should have gone to dance with Kika.

"Just let me go. I don't want to dance with you." You pinch his side and wiggle out of his grip to take a step back. The boy only walks back to you with an annoyed look on his face. "You little Bitch." He tries to grab you again but before he can get his hands on you, a fist flies in his face. He stumbles back and his hand flies towards his nose.

"You look up to see who punched him and see Carlos standing with an angry face. 'I heard her say no, idiota," he says. He stands in front of you to shield you from the boy. The idiot groans as he sees Carlos. He tries to hit him back, but Carlos blocks him and pushes him down.

"Of course, a slut like you has a boyfriend. Don't be surprised to get asked to dance looking like that,' the boy says, looking you up and down. You awkwardly move your arms in front of your body. Carlos's expression darkens, and if looks could kill, that boy would have been dead. 'She can wear what she wants to wear. Clothing isn't an excuse to do anything,"Carlos says before turning around to ask if you are okay. You nod and want to take his hand to leave, but the idiot has other plans.

He taps on Carlos's shoulder to make him turn around and throws a beer bottle against his hand. Carlos groans in pain as he stumbles against you. You let out a gasp as you see a bit of blood forming on his forehead.

Fortunately, someone had called security, and they took the boy by both arms. He struggles like a fish out of water as they take him away. 'You can't take me away. She was asking for it."

"Are you okay?" you ask, scared as you see more blood on his head. You take a tissue out of your bag and press it against the wound. Carlos winces and takes your hand to walk away from the scene. "I am as long as you are. That dude deserves to go to jail for harassment.'"

When you get back to the rest, Max is the first to ask what happened. "Some dude wasn't taking no for an answer," Carlos answers, still looking ready to kill someone.

"I think we are heading back. Got to check this out," you explain as you pat his head with your hand. The drivers gasp at the wound.

"Carlos in fight mode," Lando says, too drunk to think completely straight about what he is saying. "I would have punched him again if he didn't get taken away by security." You take him by his arm and together you walk out of the club.

The cold air hits your face, and a chill runs down your back. Carlos takes off his jacket and puts it over your shoulders. "Are you sure you are all right? We can go to the hospital," you look up at him with a worried voice. He shakes his head and starts walking towards the hotel.

When you enter the hotel room, you point for Carlos to sit down as you grab the First Aid kit. You walk back to the living room and don't see Carlos sitting down. "Carlos, what did I tell you?" You sigh and hear footsteps approaching you. Carlos walks in with two glasses of water and puts them on the coffee table. "Sorry, I just went to grab some water. Don't want to have a hangover," he sits down and gives one of the glasses to you.

You thank him and take a sip before opening the kit. "This is going to sting a bit," you warn as you put a cloth with rubbing alcohol on it. Carlos winces as the wound stings from the touch. "You shouldn't have hit him. You wouldn't be hurt," you clean the dried blood from his head and put on a bandage.

"And let him talk to you like that. Not happening. I would punch him over and over again," he just laughs and takes your hand to give it a kiss.

After you put the kit back, you both change into some more comfortable clothes. Carlos puts on a movie and falls asleep with it playing in the background.

[miheartsedthings]

Song: Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Billy x Shy (slightly) Nyctohobic Reader SFW (Minors DNI)

Summary: You and Billy only met a week ago (the day you started community service) and you never talk to him, that is until the night you're cleaning the community center and the power goes out. 

My submission to @corroded-hellfire Valentine's event! ;)

Words: 3,365

“It's your own fault, but 500 hours for parking tickets is fucking bullshit.” 

Carmen takes a generous pull from her cigarette, a bright red cherry glowing in the dark. She draws the smoke in deep and lets it billow from her nostrils like some great dragon. As if it were purer than the air around you. The baseball field is dark, an orange lamp post on the little street beyond the fences. You sit on the ice-cold bleachers, chill biting right through your thin sweatpants and pullovers, numbing you to the bone. 

“I can't believe you're going.” 

You say to the dark. You reach for the bottle of crown between your sneakered feet and take another swig. 

“Yeah well, no one told you to get community service right after graduation. Otherwise, you could start with the rest of us.” 

“Who knew Hawkins took parking so seriously.”

She chuckled, her face obscured by smoke and darkness. She chuckled and didn't even cough.

“Talk to Hargrove yet?”

You took another long drink and cringed a little. 

“Nope.” 

She chuckled again, but louder, blossoming into a full-hearted laugh. 

“Seriously? You lost that bet fair and square. If you don’t tell him, it’s friendship treason.”

“I swear, I’ll tell him.”

“How?” 

“I’ll figure it out.”

She shook her head, then put out her spent cigarette and grabbed your hand. You walked that way; hands clasped, joints stiff with cold, the way you had every night since graduation a few months back. Be it from parties or hours on the bleachers talking about any and everything. Carmen had been your best friend since moving there from Chicago mid-semester. In the morning, she'd be going off to college and you already missed her so much it made your throat ache.

You stopped on her darkened lawn and she turned to you. 

“Do me a favor,” she said, fishing her crumpled pack of lucky strikes from her front pocket and slapping them into your hand. “Keep my last lucky.” 

You look at the white and red pack, it's plastic crinkled, the integrity of the carton broken down into a soft, malleable thing. 

“For luck?” The question isn't a question and you smile when you look at her, pocketing the pack. A slow grin spreads across her face. 

“Hell yeah. Good fuckin luck.”

 

. . .

The clouds are dark and low, threatening rain at any minute. 

“It’s child endangerment having us out here in a storm.” Ricky, one of the other ‘volunteers’ sneers this at the probation officer, interrupting his speech about your assignment. 

The officer cuts his eyes at him. 

“A, you’re working inside the community center. B, you’re 23. All of you are old enough to know better.”

You're messing with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your orange jumper. The sky does look sinister, and you’re here much closer to sunset than normal. The community center wouldn’t reschedule their afterschool program, leaving the group to wait until dinnertime. 

“You’ll work in teams of two. Two on the second floor, two on the main, two in the basement.” 

The girl beside you raises her hand, her pink manicure glittering in the sun. 

“My doctor says I can’t be in dark, dusty places. I have a note.” 

The officer regards her with annoyance. 

“Jess and Thomas, take main,” he says, “David and Ricky you two have the attic, and.” 

It’s then that he looks around, realizing you're the last person there. He rolls his eyes. “Anybody seen Hargrove today?”  

Of the fourteen days of service, Billy has only shown up about 8, and only half of those was he on time. When you’d first moved to Hawkins, Billy stood out immediately. The California transplant who took over the school. It’s a shame he insisted on acting like a dickhead because he was a serious hottie, and there was a lack of eye candy around here. In any case, your paths never crossed. However, that didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar and developing a strong, embarrassing crush. Then, there’s the thing only Carmen knows about. The it you're required to confess to him. Somehow.  

The probation officer goes inside to make a phone call and the rest of you relax. You and Jess hop up to sit on the railing along the wheelchair slope. 

“You think he’s coming today?” You ask her. She’s adjusting her jumpsuit, trying to make it look more flattering somehow. 

“If he does can we switch partners? All Tommy talks about is friggin Dukes a Hazard.” 

You laugh. 

“Be my guest, his energy is a bit much for me, anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah.” her eyes twinkle mischievously “It’s a lot, right? But in a good way. Like a mouth full of hot pizza.” 

“You like that feeling?”

“You don’t? It’s nice to be a little overwhelmed sometimes.” 

Just as she’s saying this, you get a whiff of smoke, and then she yelps, scrambling away from the rail and grabbing her buttcheek. Billy stands on the other side, grinning, a mostly-gone cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“What?” he asks “Too much?” 

His jumpsuit is hanging down, bunched around his waist. His white tee shirt is taut across his chest. Jess giggles and goes back to lean against the bar, she and Billy getting close. 

“You like sneaking up behind girls and pinching their asses?” 

“Only the cute ones.” 

“Mr. Hargrove,” The probation officer is making his way over and you hop down from the railing “Nice of you to join us. You’re in the basement.” 

“Um, actually, mister," Jess says "Y/N said she doesn’t mind switching partners.”

“Well, actually, I mind. Hargrove and L/N, in the basement.” 

. . .

Billy is whistling while he lazily pushes a skinny vacuum across the short blue carpet. It had started raining the moment we got inside and it raged against the little storm windows near the ceiling. The basement is a small space with a chunky green couch in front of an old TV. Shelves of board games line one wall while on the other is a shelf of movies and an old stereo. You're dusting off the shelf and then move to the stereo, its buttons are all dirty and gross. 

“God, this thing is old.” You say, not expecting Billy to hear you, but he does. He switches off the vacuum and comes over, leaning down over your shoulder to look at it. He's close enough to feel his body heat. You smell his cologne and the familiar cigarette smoke. 

He glances at you, and even though you look away quick you know he caught you staring.

“Let's see what we got.” 

He flicks on the stereo and navigates to a station blaring metal.  

“Fuck yes,”

He cranks the music up and starts bopping his head and swirling his hips. You can't help but laugh, and when he sees you looking pleased he smirks and hams it up even more. 

“This is not a party!” The parole officer yells down the steps as he comes down. He rounds the corner but Billy doesn't bother to stop dancing, in fact he turns and aims his rolling hips at the officer. 

“What's wrong with a little party?” He asks.

You turn the radio off and Billy looks at you like he's surprised you're obeying. You look away. 

“Thank you, Ms. L/N. Now, I'm gonna step away for a little while, I'm needed at the courthouse. Can I trust you two to stay down here until the job is done?” 

“When exactly is that?” You ask. “I mean, are we supposed to be dusting everything? Cuz that's gonna take all night.” 

He sighs. 

“Look, just straighten up, clean the windows, make it look nice.” 

“Do we have glass cleaner?”

“Are you gonna sass me all night?” 

The officer’s tone clips, suddenly, stinging. It makes you look down. 

“We got it covered, why don't you run along?” Billy says, already turning his back on the officer, who stares angrily after him for a moment before leaving. 

You get back to dusting, embarrassed into silence. Billy wasn't even pretending to work anymore. He rifled through the board games and then sauntered over to the movies and did the same. 

“What’d you do, anyway?” He asked, coming up beside you. You looked up at him, and he smirked down at you like he expected something bad. 

“Parking tickets.” 

His face fell. 

“Fuckin tickets? Damn, and here I thought you were interesting.”

Your stomach dropped. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” You moved over to the TV and started brushing it off with a paper towel. “What'd you do? Fight somebody?” 

“Is that what I look like, to you?” He teased, following you, “You think I'm some jerk who goes around lookin for fights?” He circled in front of you, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling. 

“Ya know,” He leaned against the TV, looking up at you with those ocean-blue eyes. “I remember you.” 

You stare at him in disbelief for a moment, flustered by his undivided attention. 

“Yeah?” You got back to dusting, nervous about the way your blood was rushing. “Well, I was around, and you were around,” you rambled. He closed the distance between you again and snatched the paper towel from your hand. Balling it up, he tossed it around his back and caught it over his shoulder like it was a tiny basketball. 

“You gave a speech at that assembly.” 

“You remember that?” 

You try to hide how pleased you are.  

“What, among all the other thrilling shit going on at Hawkins High?”

“I thought you were more of a ‘parties and babes’ kinda guy.”

“Yeah, well. That shit gets boring, too.” 

He takes a step closer, trailing his gaze up to your eyes and lingering there with intention. He can tell that his presence makes you nervous, and in the quiet moment that settles, he smirks a little. Thunder claps, making you yelp and jolt, you’re so close to Billy that you can’t help bumping into his chest. He catches you, his hands on your arms. 

“Whoa,” he says with a chuckle “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little storm?” 

You push away from his touch. 

“Of course not.”

You went to the little bucket of cleaning supplies near the vacuum to look for glass cleaner you already knew wasn’t there. It was dark out, and you were trying not to make it obvious that you were worried about getting home. The bucket offers paper towels, wet wipes, and a couple of sponges. What exactly are you expected to do with this?

“I thought you’d be back in Chicago by now.” 

Billy was settling onto the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. Wind howled against the building and you looked to the storm window just in time to see a flash of lightning. Good, this time when the thunder comes you won’t jump like an idiot. 

“Yeah, me too. But we’re residents now, and there’s no way my parents can afford out-of-state tuition.” You sigh and look back to the bucket, eager for something to keep you busy. “Not like I miss it, anyway.” 

“Not a big city girl?” 

“The weather sucked half the year, and people were weird. Maybe it was just my school but it seemed like everyone wanted to take advantage whenever they could. Just trying to use you and get to the next best thing.” 

“Sounds like LA. Buncha wannabes.” 

“I thought you came from the OC?”

A slow smile drew across his lips. 

“Torrence,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “What else do you think you know about me?” 

Your secret flashed through your mind. 

“I’m sure you know what kind of reputation you have.”

“Fuck,”  He grumbled, half a broken cigarette between his fingers. 

“Your last?” 

“Wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t my fuckin last.” 

Your hand went to your pocket. Thank you, Carmen. 

“Here.” You went to him and offered the pack. He looked up at you, the split cigarette hanging from his perfect lips. He smirked and accepted the cigarette.

“Look at you, bein unpredictable.”

You gave up on cleaning and sat next to him. Just as he was lighting the cigarette, the room went dark. You jolted, letting loose a little yelp. Upstairs, Jess shrieks. The room is so dark for a moment you can’t see anything, then Billy flicks his lighter and you can see a little of his face. 

“Knew it. You’re scared.” 

“We should check on Jess.” 

You stood, but there was barely any light coming in from the two storm windows and you could barely see in front of yourself. Billy’s hand came to your waist and you jolted again. 

“It’s just me,” he said calmly, wrapping his arm around your waist, which you allowed. Let’s face it, you're creeped out and his body feels solid and warm. The two of you make your way to the stairs, only to reach the top and find the door locked. 

“Jess?” 

You knocked hard, hoping she could hear you. 

“Y/n?” Her voice came to the door. You heard her try the handle. “I can’t open it!” she yelled, on the verge of panic. 

“All the doors up here are locked,” Tommy added. “Dave and Rick are stuck in the attic, too.” 

“Dammit! I can’t be under this pressure!” Jess cried. 

“Do you have to yell?”

“Shut up Tommy!” 

 The two went on bickering on the other side of the door. 

“Why don’t you two freaks break a window or somethin?” Billy yelled, shutting them up. 

“We-we’ll give it a shot,” Tommy called back “Give us a sec.” 

Their voices receded, Billy groaned and the cherry end of his cigarette glowed as he took a drag. you were close in the narrow stairway, his arm still around you, as if it belonged there. 

“Since when d’you smoke?” He asked. 

“I don’t. That’s courtesy of Carmen Bailey.” 

“Ah, yeah. I remember her. Her mom’s at the pool every day in the summer.” 

The thought makes your stomach fall.

“Did you ever…?”

Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s smirking. 

“Just another rumor.” 

You wonder what would happen if you told him right now. It could go well. If what the woman said so long ago had been true, then it had to go well. But what if she was lying? A shiver ran through you. 

“You cold?”

“Hm? No. I’m fine.”

He pulled you closer, your shoulder against his chest. God, he’s so warm. A loud bang made you jolt again and Billy stroked his thumb against your side, filling the stairwell with lucky strike smoke. What a thing when cigarette smoke becomes comforting. Another loud bang. No shattering glass. 

“It didn’t work!” Jess cried with desperation in her voice. 

“Fuck,” Billy mumbled. 

“What do we do?” Tommy asked. 

“Just wait for the officer to come back.” You said. 

“Have you seen what it looks like out there? He’s not coming back. Fucker just left us.” Jess might’ve been crying real tears. 

“At least you’re not in the basement,” You added with a little laugh. 

“As if I wouldn’t kill to trade places with you.” She said. 

You and Billy went back down to the couch and settled in. Officially stuck. He kept his hand on you in some way, on your hip and then on your thigh when you sat down. You sat together in silence, and you watched the glow of his cigarette wind down to his lips until it was gone. You don’t know where he put it out. Then there was just the sound of the storm. The rain and an occasional flash of lightning. The thunder which made you tense for just a moment each time. Billy could feel that tension, you knew because every time he would message your thigh, reminding you he was there.  

“I’m really glad you never hooked up with Carmen’s mom. She’s my best friend and it’d be really awkward.” 

He laughed. 

“Best friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Since day one. You weren’t here the first couple of days I started but it was weird. This town treats new people like aliens.” 

“Think I don’t know? Weirdass cornfield fucks.” 

You belly-laughed and he chuckled a bit, too. 

“Well, to be fair they didn’t stand a chance against you. Nothing could’ve prepared them for hurricane Hargrove.” 

“Hurricane Hargrove,” he said, testing the nickname “I like it. You came up with that?”

“It was here when I arrived. You’re the best thing about this place.” 

You hadn’t meant for it to sound so intimate, but suddenly there was just the sound of the rain and something fluttered in your chest. Billy’s hand moved a little higher on your thigh, kneading the muscle. 

“Anyway, Carmen’s great. That’s why I hate not starting classes with her. We’re supposed to share a dorm.” He doesn’t answer, his hand is still feeling your thigh and your face is getting hot. “Are you excited for school?”

“Did you hear the question you just asked?”

You laughed nervously. 

“I just mean, aren’t you looking forward to getting out of Hawkins? Starting your life somewhere else? I mean, what do you wanna be?”

He sighed. 

“Uh, fuck, I don’t know. I wanna…not be a prick.” 

“Decent goal.” 

He scoffed. 

“Should be easy, right?” He was quiet for a moment, and in the quiet, your hand came down over his. Your eyes were adjusting and you could make out his outline. That curly hair. “I’m here ‘cause of my dad. We got in a fight…that asshole started it but the second I fought back he said ‘You’re a man now, you’re gonna face real consequences for your actions’...called the cops. Charged me with assault.” 

You stroked your thumb over his knuckles. 

“Sounds like a piece of shit.” 

“Biggest I’ve ever met.” he said, “So, I don’t know where I’ll go, what I’ll do. I’m just not stayin here. And he’ll be lucky if he sees me on his deathbed.”   

You're filled with the urge to lift his hand to your lips, to kiss the length of his arm, and find his mouth in the dark. Would you get that far? Would he stop you? 

“There’s something I should tell you.”

The words popped out on their own, setting in motion this confession you couldn’t hold in. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice smooth and low, “Tell me.”

You took a breath. 

“Promise not to laugh.”

“That bad?”

“Please. Promise.”

“I swear.”

He squeezed your hand with a reassuring firmness.

“My parents took me to Navy Pier when I turned eleven and I saw a psychic there. She told me,” A rush of nerves made you cringe “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“Just spill it.”

You groaned, dying of embarrassment.

“The psychic told me I’d meet my soulmate one day and until that day I’d suffer nightmares every single night. And she was right. I had nightmares that night and every night since then…until I found my soulmate…” quiet stretched out between you as you found the courage to finish, “Until I found you.”  

The lights flicked back on, making you squint and cover your eyes from the sudden flare. Then you saw him. He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, recognizing someone. 

“How d’you know it's me?”

After a moment’s silent embarrassment, you swallowed spit. 

“You're in my dreams now. All the time.” 

He looked down, and you're so nervous you wanted to chew off your lip. You stood, only to have Billy stand with you. He kissed you, and his tongue was smoke and spearmint. His lips were soft, and he took you around the waist, pulling you into a distant, smoky cologne while your arms were slung around his neck. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. He pulled back, though not far, and there was so much tenderness in his cool eyes. 

“D’you think it’s stupid?” you asked. 

“Y’know…all kinds of crazy shit happens around here. Someday I’ll tell you about it.”

[kazucafe]

new year’s day. [ modern au ] — i want your midnights, but i'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day.

character: albedo x gn!reader genre: fluff, comfort author’s note: i know we’re literally in the middle of august but how can you expect me to wait until january to post this ?? anw i hope you enjoy reading!

it’s that time of the year again. people keep the city busy and awake as they wait for the clock to strike at midnight. the lights are ever so blinding and the music comes blasting from every direction. albedo meets you in the kitchen as you both rush to finish the party preparations.

‘is the cake ready?’ ‘are the dishes set on the table yet?’ ‘don’t forget to take out the trash!’ ‘guests are starting to arrive!’

all is well once the house is brimming with your families and friends, all glammed up and bringing wine bottles to share with the guests. you head on to the living room to catch up with what everyone’s been up to lately — ningguang is taking up a big project for her company; nilou recently got the role of lead dancer in a cultural festival performance; venti and zhongli traveled all around the world and tasted every existing wine; diluc has been expanding his tavern into different branches. the sound of lively chatter completely fills your ears that you didn't notice your partner until an arm wrapped around your waist from behind.

“‘bedo,” you greet him warmly, to which he responds with a smile. you dare say he looks ravishing in his suit and tie. “let’s sit over there.”

“you seem to be having fun,” he says in a sweet note as you both settle down on the couch. “and i must say, you always do look beautiful, my dearest.”

conversations on top of conversations took up the last hour of the year, and before you know it, midnight has arrived, and rounds of fireworks roared in celebration of the end of a year and the start of another. everyone talked and yelled and danced and sang and laughed, the sound of glasses clinking as they all cheered to a toast for a better year. sequin and silk dresses glimmering under the lights as brightly as the stars above you, cameras flashing amidst crowds, stiletto heels clicking and clacking against the hardwood floor, his fingers intertwining with yours, confetti falling like snow across the room— everything went by in a blur.

-

after what seemed like just a blink of an eye, morning light shines through the windows. the house now is a striking contrast to what happened the night before, only filled with the messy remnants of what used to be there — glitter and confetti scattered on the floor, empty plates and wine bottles, used glasses, dim lights, polaroids plastered on the walls and tables. you sit in silence for who knows how long, trying to take it all in, how it all happened so quickly and changed drastically overnight.

“good morning,” albedo yawns, distracting you from your thoughts. “let’s clean up after breakfast?”

you smile. all but one changed. all but one, and that was all that mattered.

minutes later, the smell of coffee welcomes itself into your system, and albedo calls you to eat with him. breakfast was relatively silent, but in a way that was comfortable. your thoughts from earlier came flooding back, but this time with a different emotion associated with it. you realize that albedo has been by your side not only on your highs and lows, but also on the days where nothing happens, where everything is as mundane as every other day of the week. he stays long after the party has ended, after the guests have all gone home.

after putting away all the dishes, sweeping the floor, and removing all the decorations, you both sit on the couch and turn on the tv (which hardly had any of your attention). albedo has long noticed your thoughtful silence, but chooses not to interfere until you break the silence.

“albedo?”

“yeah?”

“‘bedo.”

he smiles. “yes, darling?”

“‘bedo.”

you repeatedly utter his name, and he patiently plays along in between bouts of giggles, simply endeared by you. 

when you stop, you look at him. not his hair, or his vibrant eyes, or how he smiles at you, but him. you look at the person to whom you promised a lifetime’s worth of devotion and love. you stare at him as though he would disappear if you shift your eyes anywhere else, saying a silent prayer that he would always be the home you crawl back to after a long day at work, that he would stay with you through all your new years, through all your afterparties, through all your tuesdays.

poor albedo. intelligent as he may be, he has yet to find any clue as to what could be plaguing your mind so early in the morning. 

“dearest, is there anything bothering you?”

“... it’s not really bothering me,” you pause. “i’ve just been thinking.”

he blinks in anticipation of what you might say afterward, but you remain silent. instead, you approach him in an embrace. maybe, just maybe, your thoughts and feelings can reach him with just this.

“i hope i’ll never have to hear you laugh,” you whisper. “and only have memories of you to go back to.”

he caresses your hair before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

and in that silence, you found something timeless.

[writtentodeath]

Here’s a fun short story I wrote for my sister- tws for skin and descriptions of peeling it (no blood or gore, just like, extreme exfoliation) 

putting it under a cut bc it’s ~long (like 1700 words)

Please Stop Peeling the Skin Off Your Feet

Every day I come home from work and find peeled skin in the kitchen. 

The kitchen. 

Now, I told Barney that if he really had to, he could peel his skin, but only in the bathroom where it can be thrown away. I don’t want to deny him his coping mechanisms, see, I’m not about that type of thing. I’m not. 

But no, he couldn’t stop there. 

A freshly peeled pile of skin sitting on the counter. 

Barney must be some kind of olympic athlete to be able to contort into whatever shape necessary to get his foot onto the counter. I don’t even wanna think about the alternative- that after peeling the skin off his foot, he then scooped it all up and put it on the counter in a little artistic pyramid. 

I don’t like Barney very much. 

He lives in his room. I don’t see him very often, I just hear the sound of crime procedurals coming from his room. 

Barney’s an interesting guy. 

“Hey, Barney?” I knocked on his door. “Hey, I don’t mean to bother you, but I noticed what looks like a pile of skin on the counter- I’m pretty sure it isn’t mine, so is it yours?” 

“What- Huh?” Something fell over in Barney’s room. A second later, he opened the door. He had a piece of sandpaper in his hand. Dust sparkled in a sunbeam illuminating the small room. 

“I don’t mean to bother you,” I began. “I just got home. Remember how we talked about not, uh, leaving your skin in the kitchen?” 

“Oh yeah!” Barney said. He held up a square inch of translucent tan. “Look at what I just got off the boys!” 

“Please don’t call them that.” 

“They’re real flaky today.” 

“I gathered. Or you did. On the counter. In a pyramid.” 

Barney grinned. “Nice touch, right? I’m trying to build up valuable skills.” 

A nagging sensation started in the back of my mind, specifically about the dust glittering in the sunlight. 

“I don’t mean to be harsh, but don’t you think it’s a little unsanitary?” 

He shrugged. “I mean. We use our hands to eat things. Skin doesn’t seem to bother you when you’re using it to pick up food.” 

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I said, “okay, good point!” and left. 

The skin was still on the counter. 

Was it bigger than when I first saw it? 

No. Not unless Barney had managed to sneak out and add to it during their discussion, and I’d had my eye on him the whole time. 

“It’s your mind playing tricks,” I said to myself, and got out a little handheld broom and dustpan. I love my handheld broom and dustpan. Big brooms are great for the floor, but when you’ve got something small that you need to deal with, the handheld broom and dustpan is the way to go. 

Mine is blue. 

The pyramid collapsed onto the dustpan when I moved it off the counter, and then I deposited it in the trash. I also swept the rest of the counter, clearing off several meal’s worth of grime. 

When I first moved in with Barney, I would bleach the counters after finding his little droppings. I still do, but it’s a different kind of cleaning now. It’s like painting a wall versus doing the dishes. You expect to paint a wall once every few years. The dishes have to get done all the time. 

I have to sweep up little pyramids of foot skin peelings all the time. 

My friends tell me I’m being judgmental. Am I overreacting? Barney does have a point, it’s just skin, and we all have skin. Some burn victims probably don’t have skin. 

I just don’t know what to do anymore. 

I came home from work to find yet another little pile waiting for me. In fact, it wasn’t just one pile. There was a whole trail of them (they were small) leading from the front door, one about every 8 feet, to the kitchen and then to Barney’s room. 

Ever seen a breadcrumb trail made of tiny skin pyramids?  I thought not. Live a little. 

I knocked on his door again. “Hey, Barney?” 

A minute later, he opened the door. A light brown bottle was in his hands. Some kind of honey scrub, most likely, maybe even mine. My honey scrub. 

 “Sorry, is that my scrub?” 

He looked at it in surprise. “This? Nah, man. I don’t think so. I keep it in here.” He gestured to the dusty room behind him. 

I shouldn’t have asked him. It was a stupid question. “Sorry for asking,” I said, and beat a hasty retreat back to the kitchen. “It’s cool!” he called after me, “We’re all dust in the end!” 

Barney unnerves me sometimes. 

Maybe I’m being too harsh. Yes, the guy shaves skin particles off his feet and makes little sculptures with them. I saw a skin rubber duck in the shower the other day. Nearly threw up. But that’s not all there is to him! I mean, we all have our vices. I, for instance, don’t like seeing skin rubber ducks when I’m trying to wash myself. It feels too intimate. 

But Barney is pretty understanding when I like to keep things clean. He even sorts out the silverware the way I like. We all have to make sacrifices for each other. 

I asked him, one day, why he does that. “Do what?” he said, the very picture of innocence. I almost believed him, except he was sculpting what looked like a playset out of skin. 

“Y’know,” I said. “The thing. Y’know. Shaving your feet. Peeling off the skin. Is it like a nervous tic? You just like the feeling? What’s up with it?” 

He chuckled. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Well- no, I’m not worried, just-” 

“Sometimes we want to feel the world around us,” Barney said, looking straight at me, his newest sculpture abandoned for the moment. 

“Oh- oh,” I said. I didn’t expect him to respond, much less with any seriousness. “Like, you can feel better through your feet without all that skin?” 

Barney shook his head violently. “No, no, no, that’s not it.” Without warning, he suddenly reached into his shirt and pulled out a scroll. “Ancient scripts. From dust we came, to dust we shall return.” he shook open the scroll and a thick cloud of dust blew into the air. “We are one with the earth- our bodies are just creators of what we came from, constantly making more dust. It’s our destiny.” 

This was the most Barney had ever spoken, so I said, “Wow! That’s really cool! Is that a bible verse?” He fixed me with a stare like it was the first time he actually looked at me. “The Dust is older than your Scriptures.” 

I didn’t really sign up for that, so I said, “Good gracious! That’s pretty old!” 

Now, I know what you’re going to say. I would say it too, if I was as predictably cruel as the average person. It’s not my fault that I will occasionally say things like jeepers or golly gee or blimey or good gracious, it really isn’t. My excuse is that my grandparents still curse like the old people they are, and I revert to my roots when I’m a little nervous. 

Barney makes me a little nervous. So I didn’t ask him about it again. I think it was a good decision.

He made a Leaning Tower of Pisa the other day. Honestly, the sculptures are starting to grow on me. I still sweep up any pyramids I find, but he left the Leaning Tower on the kitchen table the other day and I haven’t moved it. I put up a little paper towel barrier. It was cool. 

Barney really annoyed me today. I went out to eat yesterday and didn’t eat everything, so I put my leftover indian in the fridge to save for later. He ate it! He didn’t even ask!! I’m very mad at him right now. I told him he needed to grow up and stop leaving his skin everywhere, because even if he didn’t see a difference between it and dust I sure did, and it was gross. I may have been too harsh. But if it gets the job done, who’s gonna criticize me? 

I feel bad, though. He isn’t a bad dude. 

“Hey, Barney?” I called, knocking on his door. “Hey man, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to snap, that was unfair of me.” The door swung open. Barney stepped back. “It’s cool,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He seemed entirely unbothered. “Come on in.” 

I didn’t really want to, but I did anyway. A peace offering, if you will.

The room was thick with dust, though there wasn’t that much clutter about the room. I could appreciate that. 

The scroll was open on his bed, and for a moment, the way it caught the sun made it look like it was glowing. Obviously, it wasn’t actually glowing.

“Here,” Barney said, pushing the dusty, yellowed scroll in front of me. “Read.” 

So I read. And then all I felt was dust. 

Dust coated every surface of my body. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t feel it, but it was there. Maybe I was the dust. Maybe the dust was me. 

Was there anything under the surface? 

Did it matter if there was? 

“If the whole world is dust,” Barney said, giving me a knowing look. He held out a sandpaper brick. 

As if in a trance, I got to work churning dust into the sunbeams. 

I swept it all up, of course. My trusty blue handheld broom and dustpan is always by my side. The feeling was nice, and though at first I just felt sandy, now I feel fresher. Cleaner. I like feeling clean. 

Barney feels clean when he feels connected. I guess I get that. I’ve told him that I’m not going to continue shaving my calluses except maybe after I shower, so he can stop trying to get me to see his perspective. 

I didn’t have to clean up any skin pyramids today. You know, I really think we’ve found a balance. 

Barney is a pretty cool guy. I think I like him a lot. Sure, you have to get past the skin thing, but how bad is that, really? 

Not bad at all. Not bad at all. 

[the-al-chemist]

Happy spooky season 👻

Can I have Trick - candy for Dante?

Oh no, I’ve been tricked! 😈 thank you for the prompt - I’ve put a cut before the story because it contains some slightly mature topics - references to alcohol, exotic dancing, and swearing - well, it is a stag do! Reva and Dylan (in mention) Amari belong to @lifeofkaze

Candy

A mop cleaned the floor of the Hog’s Head Inn without anyone’s input while Dante and Reva selected which bottles they wanted from shelves behind the bar.

“It’s unlike you to leave this sort of thing to the last minute.”

“Not my fault. I’d have sorted this out two hours ago if I hadn’t been distracted,” Dante replied to Reva’s comment, and she raised her eyes over the top of a bottle of tequila. “And besides, aren’t you supposed to be the best man? Shouldn’t you be the one organising this whole thing?”

Reva smirked. “As if you’d let me do it by myself.”

“I remember what happened last time you organised a party.”

“Just as well I have you to help me then.” There was a knock at the door, and Reva jerked her head towards it. “And Tav, obviously.”

“Obviously. And how does the groom feel about this?”

“I’m not actually certain that Dylan knows.”

It being his bar, Dante strode across to the door, and opened it to reveal Rory McTavish, his old school friend, Reva’s teammate, and chronic pain in Dylan the groom’s neck.

“Oi, Reva. You’re not meant to be here,” Rory called out, sidestepping the mop as he crossed to the bar. He picked up two bottles of whiskey and looked at the labels before putting one down and taking a swig from the other. Dante closed his eyes and exhaled. “You’re banned.”

“Banned?”

“Aye. It’s a stag do, only men allowed.”

“Oh, really?” Reva’s eyes glittered. “What about Candy?”

Dante frowned. “Candy? Who’s Candy?”

“The stripper,” Rory said, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle.

“You’ve hired a stripper?”

“Technically, Reva’s footed the bill, but aye, we’re having a stripper. Little treat for Dylan, ken?”

It seemed to Dante that this ‘treat’ was more for Rory than it was for Dylan. He nodded slowly, his frown deepening.

“Will Dylan actually enjoy a stripper?”

“Everyone enjoys a stripper, Dante,” Rory informed him. He craned his head to look at the stairs that led from the back of the bar to Dante’s flat upstairs. “Where is she, anyway?”

“She isn’t here yet,” said Reva. Rory only looked a little deflated. “Should be here any minute.”

“Good. That’s the only reason I came here early, you know.”

Dante’s lips twitched as he watched Rory help himself to a third mouthful of whiskey.

“Say, Rory, have you ever heard of toxic masculinity?”

“What’s that, a band?”

“Something like that,” Dante muttered, as Reva let out a noise halfway between a cough and a snort.

“Right, if you’ll excuse me,” said Rory, straightening up and putting down the whiskey bottle, “I need to go and powder my nose. Got to make sure I look my best for Candy, after all.”

The moment he had left the room, Dante took a cloth and started to clean around the neck of the bottle Rory had been drinking from. Not even a minute had passed before there was another knock at the door.

“That’ll be her,” said Reva. Dante continued to clean the bottle. “Are you not going to answer it?”

“You hired her, Reva. She’s your stripper.”

“It’s your bar.”

“So we both answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

As the two of them opened the door, they laid eyes upon a clean shaven man standing on the street outside, three matching suitcases of various sizes at his feet.

“Uh, can we help you?” Dante asked him.

“I believe you’re expecting me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m Candy.”

Dante and Reva exchanged glances.

“Candy,” Dante repeated.

“I will be in a couple of hours, anyway. Right now I’m still just Keith.” Just Keith frowned at their confused faces. “Candy, as in ‘I, Candy’. You booked my ‘Confident as a Queen Masterclass’.” He looked up at the sign above the door and back again. “You are Reva, aren’t you?”

Reva, who had so far - for the first time since Dante had known her - been rendered speechless, blinked rapidly and nodded.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “Sorry, I was expecting you to be…”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I will be every little bit as fabulous as you’d hoped I’d be as soon as I’ve got my costume on and make up done,” Keith assured them. “So, are you the bride or the maid of honour?”

“Best man, actually. My brother’s the groom.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic. I’ve never actually done a stag do before, it’s usually all hen parties. You guys are going to have so much fun. Now, do you have anywhere I can use to get ready?”

Dante helped Keith carry the suitcases to the flat upstairs, and returned to the bar to find Reva looking incredibly sheepish.

“So,” he said, raising one eyebrow at her, “was this deliberate, or did you just-”

“No, I fucked up. I fucked up.” Reva put her hands in the air. “So, what now?”

“Well, it looks like Dylan’s having a drag masterclass instead of a striptease.”

“Do you think he’ll… like that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think he’d have liked either of those things,” Dante told her. His eyes drifted in the direction of the men’s toilets, and he smirked. “But you know what he will really like?”

“What?”

“Rory learning how to be confident as a queen.”

Reva fell against Dante’s chest in a fit of giggles. The two of them stopped laughing abruptly as Rory returned from the bathroom.

“What?” he asked. “Is it Candy? Is she here yet?”

Dante and Reva made eye contact, both grinning to themselves.

“She will be soon.”

[an-aura-about-you]

December 21st, 1999

The Joy We Hide from the King

Somewhere Else Under the King

In today's last entry, Martin wakes up and gets tea started for him and his husband:

Martin wakes up first. He is, somehow, fortunate enough to escape a hangover, but honestly there wasn’t much drinking going on last night anyway. In spite of the first day of winter bringing its expected chill, he is warm and blissfully content in bed. It’s difficult not to be when Jon is sprawled on him, still peacefully sleeping.

Jon is securely tucked in close with Martin’s arm wrapped around his waist. His head is pillowed on Martin’s shoulder, his hand resting on his chest. It’s the perfect angle to see his wedding band, and Martin takes a moment to brush his fingertips over the ring before resting his hand on top of Jon’s. Jon murmurs, but he makes no move indicating that he’ll be getting up anytime soon.

Martin smiles and presses a featherlight kiss to Jon’s forehead, holding him tight. He’s rewarded with a sigh of contentment from Jon that seems to hover between dream and wakefulness. And honestly, he feels something similar. It hardly seems like this is his. He can only just believe this gets to be his life now. He never wants to leave this bed.

Okay, that’s not literally true. They have a honeymoon to get to, even if they don’t have to leave terribly early to keep their reservations. They have to let their friends in to clean and watch the flat while they’re away. (Or at least, if they don’t let their friends in, their friends will break in. The frustration of having three friends trained in the art of theft.) And if they want to have a cup of tea in bed before they leave, then at least one of them has to go to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Martin whispers to him. “I’m going to put the kettle on, okay, love?”

Jon makes another murmur but only that.

Martin gives him another kiss and goes, “I’ll be right back.”

He carefully draws away, and Jon gently slips to the bed. He fetches his robe and pulls it on over his sleep clothes, watching as Jon shifts in his sleep and presses his face into Martin’s pillow. He brushes Jon’s hair out of his face, but it just falls back to where it was. He holds back his laugh and softly pads out of their bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him to keep the heat in.

The living room isn’t nearly as bad as it could be considering it hosted a wedding and reception. Granted, a small wedding and reception, but a wedding and reception nevertheless. The trash needs to be taken out, chairs need to be put back in their proper places, a few of the different gaming systems Martin’s acquired (including the formerly haunted Colecovision) are still out from an impromptu video game tournament, and there’s an obscene amount of glitter and confetti everywhere. The true saving graces are the dishes being relatively caught up and yesterday’s leftovers easily fitting in the fridge, those being just an unopened bottle of champagne they intend to take with them and the cupcakes Claire made as backup for her excellent cake.

A Polaroid photo taken right after the actual ceremony sits on the kitchen counter. Jon stands together with Martin in the center, the two facing each other with hands entwined rather than looking at the camera like most of their wedding party and guests. He was so wrapped up in his love for Jon in that instance that he didn’t even realize Jessica had hugged him to the point of nearly climbing on his back. Or that Claire and Jim had kindly put their hands in front of Trilby’s face to obscure his identity. Or that Frank and Lydia were already working on passing out mugs of mulled cider, the photo capturing the moment when Lydia offered one to Yarrow, who was kind enough to take the picture. Of all the moments they had yesterday, Martin is glad this is one that was captured immediately. The one problem is he doesn’t know where to keep the photo yet. But he does take a moment to write, “Our Wedding, 20/12/1999,” on the bottom before putting the kettle on.

Right as the kettle’s about to whistle, Jon wraps his arms around Martin from behind, pressing up against his back.

“Good morning, Mister Blackwood,” Jon says just a bit louder than a whisper directly in Martin’s ear.

Martin shivers, doesn’t even try not to. Why attempt to resist his husband’s sweet timbre, his warm breath tracing the words on the shell of his ear? He turns his head a little to see him and says what he knows Jon is eager to hear him say back, has been eager to hear since they got engaged: “Good morning, Mister Blackwood.”

Jon smiles bright enough to put the summer sun to shame before planting a kiss on Martin’s cheek. If he’s able to find room for it, that is, considering how wide Martin smiles in return.

“I should probably find a way to make you feel the same way that does for me,” Jon says.

“I could try your last name out,” Martin suggests. “Your unmarried name, that is.”

Jon’s eyes light up at Martin’s amendment. “It would be pretty ridiculous for us to simply exchange names, at least from a legal document standpoint. But I’ll be glad to call you Mister Sims all you want, Mister Sims.”

Martin turns and opens his mouth to say something about how he knows one reason Jon wanted to change his name was alphabetical convenience, but the words are washed away in the feeling of being called Mister Sims. It’s so much stronger than merely scribbling the name in a heartsick daze on a school notebook. It’s as real and wonderful as Jonathan Blackwood standing before him.

Jon cups Martin’s face in his hands, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Which do you think is better: Martin Sims or Martin K. Sims?”

Martin puts his forehead to Jon’s, laughing slightly. “The K sounds a bit unwieldy in there. Better keep it to just Martin Sims.”

Jon shrugs a little, moving to wrap his arms around Martin’s shoulders. “I don’t know. I think the K adds character.”

“Martin Kharacter Sims,” Martin suggests as he pulls Jon in his embrace.

Jon leans back with a full, deep laugh, and Martin takes the opportunity to kiss his husband’s neck.

What a thing for Martin to be able to do, to kiss his husband’s neck as much as his husband allows. He’s fortunate that it often causes Jon to laugh and tilt his head back and thread his fingers through Martin’s hair to keep him close, giving him the opportunity to keep it up just like now. Sure, in a moment he’ll have to do something about the whistling kettle. Sure, in another moment Jon will mention that Jessica is about to reach the door to their flat and they’ll probably have to stop kissing if they actually want to let her in before somebody with a lockpick gets there to assist. Sure, he still has a life and things that he wants to do that aren’t necessarily kissing his husband, so it’s not like a constant state of being or anything. But they are less than 24 hours into being married, less than 24 hours into being able to call Jon his husband in the first place, and he’s not sure when or if the novelty of this new normal will wear off. He hopes never, at least not entirely, and hopes the same is just as true for Jon.

So, for now, Martin enjoys the moment he has kissing his husband’s neck.

[hannahhook7744]

Why Clay Clayton is afraid of water;

Summary; a Clay Clayton centric fic that takes place at Mal's Hellraiser party at HellHall.

Trigger warning: Near death experiences, child abuse, attempted murder, slightly adult themes nothing too explicit, underage drinking, and drowning.

🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️����‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️

...One, two, three, four...

18 year old, Clay Clayton awoke up with a pained groan and quickly raised his arm keep the sun out of his eyes. Wincing as a sharp pain spread throughout his head.

"Uggggh. How much did I have to drink last night?" He asked aloud, despite knowing that there was no way anyone would be up to answer after last night.

'Man, Mal may be a brat sometimes but she sure knows how to throw a party' Clay mused, sitting up. Not moving his arm away from his eyes as he scanned the area around him.

...Empty bottles everywhere...

He let out a low whistle as he surveyed the damage. Shot classes, solo cups, cans, and bottles littered the floor, among knocked over snacks.

That was definitely gonna be a bitch for the de vil and Badun kids to clean up. And him of course. He couldn't leave Diego to suffer through it alone, after all. What kind of crew and band mate would he be if he didn't stick around to help clean up the mess?

...People sleeping on the stairs...

Clay carefully stepped over Rick and Maddy, who were passed out on the front steps.

Maddy's teal hair was sticking out all over the place as she slept peacefully away in Rick's arms, looking comfortable despite the loli pop stuck in her hair.

Rick also looked comfortable, despite having nothing separating him from the cold hard steps and everything that could crawl onto him.

His face was covered in Maddy's purple lipstick, which might have something to do with the smile on his face.

Clay snorted and shook his head, immediately regretting it as the pain returned. He quickly entered the Manor, in search of some Tylenol.

...Got something stuck in my hair...

Clay glanced into the mirror that was hung up in the hallway. Pausing to run his fingers through his hair-- his hair that was filled with confetti and glitter.

He winced as the glitter sprinkled onto his face and shoulders. Just knowing that it was gonna take him forever to get it off.

He was so gonna kick Bronze's ass for that.

...No idea how it got there...

Was Bronze even the one who put it there? Clay wasn't sure. Maybe it was actually Lee or Sammy.. or was it Diego?

The dark haired boy just sighed, moving forward. Knowing that he was probably not gonna find out who exactly thought dumping glitter on him was a funny idea...

'Hopefully no one got it on camera.'

...This is the morning after...

He walked passed Carlos and Diego who were fast asleep on a couch, and stopped to drape a blanket over them so they'd at least be a little comfortable. He knew from experience that, that couch was the most uncomfortable thing on the planet from the many nights he'd spent there when Cruella was away.

He raised an eye brow when he spotted a vaguely familiar blue haired girl sleeping next to them on the other couch before realizing that she must gave been that Evie girl the twins had told him about. He went ahead and threw one over her too, tucking her in like he did with his brothers all the time.

He hoped that they were having a good time at his aunt's house and that they hadn't been dropped off back home yet.

...The house is such a disaster...

Clay decided to get to work on cleaning up so the others wouldn't have too much to do when they woke up. God knows they needed the rest.

Hopefully Hunter, Ivy, and the Badun boys would be over to help the three of them soon.

He picked things up as he went along, trying not to puke at the overwhelming smell of mixed alcohol types and wet, wormy apples.

...But there's someone outside, that caught my eye...

The hunter stopped at the back door, frowning as he spotted something floating in the pool outside.

It kind of looked like a person....

Clay leaned forward, squinting out the door in hopes of making out what it was. His eyes widened.

It was a person!

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

Clay ran outside as fast as he could, hoping that he could help in some way. Even though that wasn't the isle way.

The person was floating upside down, unmoving.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

He got no response.

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

Clay swallowed, feeling ill as he moved forward. This couldn't be happening.

It just couldn't be.

But it was. He knew it was. And he had to do something because if he didn't, no one would.

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

He edged closer and knelt down, reaching out to the person. He shivered when his hands met cold skin, nearly jerking away before forcing himself to move forward.

Only to pause.

...I don't know what to do...

Should he be doing this? Was there anything he could actually do?

The guy's skin was already cold to the touch and stiff as a board. He was probably already dead...

But he shook those thoughts off. Knowing that it was the right thing to do. Knowing that it was what his aunt would do. What she'd want him to do.

He turned the guy over and jumped back in shock, biting back a scream at what he saw.

His own face was staring back at him.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his head. Sure that he was just mistaken. But no. It was undoubtedly himself that Clay was looking at.

Same gun wound scars. Same eyes. Same hair. Same nose and same grollia swim trunks.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

But, the hunter noticed as a shiver ran down his spine, his double didn't look quite right.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

His hazel eyes didn't look quite as mischievous anymore. In fact, they looked glassy and dull. Almost Cloudier.

He took a step back. And then another.

...I can't stop staring at my face...

The handsome face that Ginny had fallen in love with was gone. Replaced with an unmoving, blank one.

Clay felt sick.

...My summer tan has begun to fade...

He couldn't help but notice that he had a sun burn and that what little skin wasn't that rashy red color was paler than usual.

'Well, there goes my hopes of developing a tan...'

...Is this real or is this fake? A creepy dream I can't escape?...

The brunette let out a nervous chuckle, glancing around. Sure that his friends were gonna jump out and yell 'gotcha!' At any moment. But they didn't and panic began to set in.

He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing thickly as he counted to three in his head. Sure that it was only a dream.

But when he opened them, the body was still there.

...This is the morning after...

Clay couldn't stand it anymore and began to scream.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY!"

He knew that it was unlikely that anyone would hear him. Or help him if they did. But he was scared and didn't know what else to do.

...My mind is such a disaster...

Clay's mind was racing, making his headache worse, as he tried to come up with a way to fix this.

And that's when he heard the footsteps behind the fence. He ran over to it, heart racing as he prayed that it was someone who could/would help him.

...But there's someone outside, that caught my eye...

He hoisted himself up so he could see over the fence and felt his shoulders shag in relief when he spotted who was walking by.

It was little 8 year old, Hadie Olympian, on his way to school.

"HADIE! HADIE!" He called out frantic, hoping that the child had been telling the truth about being able to see ghosts.

The tiny demigod jumped, head whipping around towards him. A startled look on his face.

Clay couldn't really blame him seeing as he only ever really spoke to him when he was watching his brothers, who occasionally played with him.

He noticed how Hadie paled...

Meaning he had definitely figured out that Clay was dying.

"Hadie, go wake Rick up!"

"Why? What's wrong?"

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

"I'm drowning!"

Hadie paled even further, looking whiter than a peeled onion as he ran around the house. Hopefully to do as Clay told him.

...I don't know what to do...

Clay paced, unsure what to do now. He could feel his heart beat getting fainter and that only caused his panic to grow.

He began to tear up.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

Clay looked at the body and furiously wiped at his eyes, feeling weak in more ways than he could describe.

His hands began to shake.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

The hunter had never felt this scared before.

Not even when his dad was drunk and angry.

Not even when his dad shot at him.

Not even when his dad managed to get a hit in.

But how else was he to feel in this situation?

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

He grabbed at his hair-- hyperventilating-- and yanked on it. Trying desperately to calm himself.

It wasn't working.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

By the time Rick came running through the back door-- not even opening it-- Clay was a panicking mess.

It felt like hours had passed even though it had only been a minute or two at most.

...What the fuck is going on?...

Clay watched numbly as Rick yanked him out of the pool, not even paying attention to his now bleeding arms, hands, and face. Which had to hurt.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

At this point, Clay was 100% sure that he was gonna die. If he wasn't already. He wasn't really sure if he was or not, because how was he supposed to know?

He wasn't a ghost expert.

He didn't know anything at all about ghosts, actually.

...This is the morning after...

Everything hurt but Rick didn't care. Not when Clay was dying or already dead. He laid Clay out on the ground and checked for a heart beat.

...My mind is such a disaster...

Rick felt like jumping for joy when he heard the Lub-dub Lub-dub Lub-dub of Clay's heart.

He quickly got to work on giving him cpr, desperate to save his best friend.

Doing chest compression after chest compression, praying it'd be enough to save his friend.

... but there is someone outside, that caught my eye..

Hadie stood behind him, crying and some one from inside the house noticed what was going on.

"OH MY GOD, CLAY'S DEAD!"

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

Ginny came running out and screamed, falling to her knees hard beside the three of them.

Clay wished he could hug her. He wished he didn't drink so much. He wished he never went outside.

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

Diego ran out next, immediately covering his mouth to muffle a scream.

Sammy and Lee stuck their heads out to window, curious to see what was going on. Lee nearly fell out of the window when he realized what was going on, only to be caught by Sammy and a shell shocked Harriet.

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

Claudine ran out, dropped to her knees ,and started to prey over Clay's body. Begging God not to take her friend.

Big Murph was screaming from inside still.

...There's a dead boy in the pool...

Junior and Bronze were running about, looking for help. Losing their cool for once.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

Clay began to cry, unable to take the sight of his friends freaking out. He never wanted this to happen. He never wanted to hurt his friends this way.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

His cries worsened when he realized that his aunt and little brothers would probably react worse than his friends and girlfriend had.

And when he realized that his dad wouldn't even care.

He was never gonna get to live the life he had often dreamed of with Ginny.

He'd never get married. Never have kids. Never get off the isle.

He'd never sail the world or hit it big in his and Diego's band.

Then something unexpected and miraculous happened.

...I'm the dead boy in the pool...

Clay gasped and started coughing up water. His lungs burning.

Rick fell back, shaking but relieved "oh thank god it worked."

Claudine had a similar reaction.

And Ginny? Ginny pounced on him, hugging him tightly. Still sobbing.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, you asshole!"

[minshookie]

Pillow Fight.

Pairing |Bully!Jungkook x reader

Genre | smut, angst.

Summary | “Another day spent babysitting your bully’s little sister...you should really quit but the pay is just too good.”

!warnings! | 18+ mature language, bullying, mentioned sexual acts, mentions of past bullying, NON-CON,financial struggle, Jungkook is a really shitty big brother.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|

(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 1k.

A/N: I rewrote this so many times! Lmfaoo! Buuut get ready because some of requests yall sent in are 🥵🥵.

“Orange is your best color.” Aera chirped dragging the paint drowned brush along your pinky nail. “I think you’re just saying that because it’s your favorite.” The young girl giggles continuing to color your fingertips. “Uhm are you staying all night miss y/n?” Nodding you brushed back her wild strands of hair softly with your free hand. “Soooo like a sleep over?!” She squeals closing the bottle of nail polish, her eyes glittering as she gazes into yours intent for answers. “Yeah!” You matching her energy only made her more excited, “yay! And-and can Jungkookie Oppa come?!” She bounced on her knees smiling ear to ear, fumbling over her words.

“Oh...Jungkook huh... Hmm what about no boys aloud?” You planted the idea praying she’d take the bait as you started cleaning her toy makeup, giving her a chance to think it over.

“What? Jungkook isn’t a boy, he’s my brother!” Giggling she pounced from the couch striding towards his room. At this point all you could do is laugh at her innocent lack of logic. She looks so happy who are you to burst her little bubble, for all you know Jungkook might want nothing to do with the both of you and your little mock slumber party.

Closing the toy purse you hid it back away in the large toy chest she pulled from her room, leaving it open you cleared the floor of the multicolored blocks and dolls. A whisper of a laugh escapes your lips as you overhear Aera’s begs and pleas mixed with Jungkook’s refusals....but finally the door creaks.

Please no. “Y/n, guess what?!” She drags your name out as her small foot steps pitter the floor, Jungkook’s thudding. She comes down the hall pulling Jungkook by his middle finger. “As if you weren’t undesirable enough, neon nails really helped it out.” Grumbling he throws himself on the couch you just tidied up. “Nice to see you again too Kook.”Aera bounced on her toes watching us have confrontation, unaware of the negative connotations.

Truth is you hadn’t seen Jungkook since you left for college and you hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again...that is until relationships fell apart, your roommate left and things got hard to pay for, and you were two bills away from being homeless. the job up at university paid $9.50 an hour while the busy Jeons still offered $12.00 the choice was clear. Take a little break, live with family, get back on your feet, and try again. But little did you know Jungkook decided to stay local with his schooling.All this aside the work was easy since Aera had grown a bit, but the thought of dealing with the person that made your life hell for four years made you want to quit daily.

“Can I do your nails Too?!” “No Aera, now be cute and get me something to drink.” He orders putting his feet on the coffee table eyeing you up and down,disgustingly. “No Aera I’ll get it.” You grabbed her shoulder. “No y/n! I’ll do it, I’ll do it quickly!” Setting free she bolted for the kitchen.

“So, you went to college got broke and came back sniveling to my rich parents?” You rolled your eyes, looking in the direction of the kitchen for any sign of Aera. “I thought you would’ve out grown your asshole phase, that’s very high school of you Kook.” He scoffed defensively, “and you using babysitting as your main income is high school of you, what happened your little rapper boyfriend leave you high and dry?” “You shut the fuck up.” You snapped back my reflex. He held his hands up in defense, “Suga blew up and left you in the shit show not my fault.” We argued in hushed tones as Aera ran back into sight.

“Here you go kookie!” She handed Jungkook the can of Coke, heaving for air. “Aera this is warm, cold...I want something cold, go try again.” He handed her the can, “oh okay Oppa sorry!” And off she was back down the hall. He turned back to me, “why’d he leave you...couldn’t make him bust?” you tried to hide it but his words stung, you’d been avoiding anything to do with Yoongi since he’d ghosted you weeks before you left for college. Bigger things waited for him in the world of fame, and you weren’t in the blueprint.

“Fuck you Jungkook.” “Come try it bitch.” Smirking he was satisfied with himself as you stood almost defeated. “Oh I forgot you’re scared of sex.” “Leave the high school rumors behind...ran out a material? Maybe you should get out more.” He rolled his eyes scoffing, “shut up before I make you.” “You like to pretend I’m still afraid you...make me, little boy...since you insist on being one.”

Jungkook’s come back was cut short by the thumping of Aera’s feet. “Kookie!Kookie! Ice! I got it all by myself!” She gave the cup of ice to Jungkook and then the Coke. “Good job, now pour it.” He handed them back and you took it from her small clutches much to Jungkook’s disliking. You poured him the drink, pushing his feet off the small table and placing the glass. “She’s not your little slave Jungkook.” He kept eye contact picking up the glass, “you’re right she’s not, you...go get me a coaster now or you’re fired.” His eyebrow arched cockily, his free hand waving you away. “As if! You can’t fire me Jungkook.” He got Aera sitting her on the couch beside him as she caught her breath. “Is that so? Try me, my parents might have hired you but you work for us...now work.” His gaze alone told you he wasn’t playing with you anymore.

Angered you stormed to kitchen pulling a coaster from the table before swiftly Turing on your heels, almost jumping out of you skin as you met face to face with Jungkook. “What the fuck do you want now?” “You said some shit I didn’t like.” You threw the coaster back on the marbled table, “I wish you’d grow up already.” You atempt to go past him but his muscular arm halts your plans. “I have to go do my job-” “I put on her show she’ll be good for the next hour.”

You don’t remember Jungkook being so brooding he looked down at you, his new tall posture slightly off putting yet attractive. “What now, you wanna talk it out?” You walked away siting at the island, “I’ll leave you be if you leave me to do my job Kook.” He came behind you, trapping you in his arms. Tattoos, he’d change a lot but not enough to leave you alone.

“I see you came and got the coaster, scared of me now?” What an ass, “no I need this job.” He hummed from behind you, no sign of him letting you go. “You know y/n, you’ve grown quite a bit.” You became more and more uncomfortable by the second, his breathing became deeper. “I’m aware, so have you.” Rudely he became handsy, groping your breast earning a shocked reaction. “Jungkook please-” “scared of me?” He squeezed you with a little too much force making you give a Yelp, he had you trapped, you were nothing but a game to him. “Shhh shh don’t want to startle my baby sister while she rests...that wouldn’t be very babysitter like of you now would it?”

Silent what could you even say? He had you trapped, your position less than hopeless he’d made you feel small and that’s exactly what he wanted. He’s always wanted that ever since you’d met him, and he always succeeds. He intruded under your top, skating his chilled hand over your skin leaving cold bumps in his wake he held your bra covered breast.

You griped his unexposed wrist trying at escape, knowing fully how downhill this could get. “Oh is the brave girl afraid?” “N-no your hands are cold as Ice Jungkook...please stop.” You lied continuing to push his muscular arm. “Oh? Let me warm them for you.” He removed his hand from the island almost causing you to topple over. Reaching down he found himself with his hand now between your legs fiddling with the pant button. “Jungkook! Please no!” His hand along your chest he pulled you back into his sculpted figure.

“You must not value your job as much as you say, scream again and you’ll be broke and fucked over and to think I actually liked you a bit.” He came to your ear, sniffing your hair eerily. “Little did I know how much of a bitch you were, I loved you when you were shy.” He finally got through your button, getting to your panties he gave you a two fingered massage along your core, you strained not to react to the unwanted pleasure. “Look at you pathetic and wet I bet you’re so needy I could make you cum right here.” He began to focus his nimble fingers on your aching clit. “Fucking stop it.” You could only whimper. “Why should I, we’re old enough now and you’re sopping through your panties I know you want it.”

He invaded under your bra, fondling your hardening bud. “I loved you when you were weak and innocent...I know she’s hiding deep inside of you, the little girl that would cry over me-”

“Miss y/n! I’m tired!” Her voice softly called from the living room. Saved by an angel, finally Jungkook stoped his assault backing off of you with a groan. “You’ll meet me in my room when she’s in bed, or else.” He grumbled leaving you behind to collect yourself, how could bad get so much worse?

[amerrierworld]

You’ve Caught Me

for the request: Can you do an Au where Debbie flirts and seduces reader with witty and bratty banter, but then becomes a softy and takes care of the reader?

Summary: Everything is going perfectly until Debbie encounters you on a bad day.

Characters: Debbie x gn!reader, mentions of other friends and the crew

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: moping/uncertainty in the second half~

A drink appeared in front of you from the bartender. It was brightly coloured with a slice of fruit on top. Ice clinked as it was set down on the bar. You frowned in confusion.

“I’m sorry, but I didn't order this.”

“It’s from the lady by the window seat.”

You looked over and saw a brunette making eye contact with you. She sent you a bright smile, and toasted you with her glass. There was a small party of women sitting by the window with her, a few of them eyeing your interaction with the brunette. A blonde next to her nudged her with her elbow.

Then your own friends that you were with whistled and nudged you as well once you had all seen what the lady looks like. You took a sip of the freshly delivered drink, feeling the burn of alcohol and a sweet aftertaste. It was quite delicious, honestly.

You turned back to the brunette who looked at you expectantly, and you smiled and nodded, with a toast of the drink. She winked back, and then the both of you focused back on your respective friend groups, feeling giddiness crowd your emotions from the fleeting glance you had just shared.

-

“Hey, doll. You nearly forgot your purse.”

You looked to see the smokey-eyed brunette standing behind you, with your purse in her hand. You must have left it at your bar seat when you got up to leave to meet your friends at the door.

“Oh,” you frowned, the alcohol you already had making you a bit drowsy. “Thanks.”

You checked everything in your purse, confident that nothing was missing, and all your change was still there. The brunette hadn’t moved from her spot.

“What, do you want a reward or something?” you asked. She smirked a little.

“No, I’ve already got one.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that then?”

“An excuse to talk to you.”

Well alright, you weren’t expecting that. You allowed yourself to look the woman up and down as you thought about your reply. She was dressed very stylishly, with long brown hair that curled and fell in all the right places. Her nails were short, which was a very welcomed discovery. 

“Okay then, now you have the chance to talk to me,” you said, alcohol making you bolder than usual. “What do you have to say?”

She fully grinned this time and looked back around the bar as she spoke, “I would ask you to join me for a drink but I think you’ve already had your fill. How about some late take-out instead? On me.”

You contemplated, before saying, “I’d take the chance to go out with a hot stranger any day if I wasn’t a bit too drunk right now. Sorry.”

“Fair enough,” she replied. Then, “You think I’m hot?”

Oh, crap. Did you say that?

“Hmm.. I suppose I get very honest when I’m tipsy,” you answered. She chuckled this time, and you felt warm, and not because of the alcohol in your blood. 

“Yes, quite. Should I call you a cab?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got my friends here, and one of them is the DD. We’re headed to a small party, if you’d like to come?”

She quirked an eyebrow, not expecting another offer from your end. She looked at the front doors, where your gaggle of friends were eyeing you and whispering with gleeful smirks on their faces.

The stranger leaned forward, so much so that her perfume filled your senses and wisps of brown hair brushed your face,

“A bit early to go introducing me to your friends, don’t you think?”

You barked out a laugh as she pulled back again. “Oh, you wish. None of them would probably remember you by the time the hangover hits.”

She looked down at her phone for a moment and then back at you, as if she was waiting to put in her own passcode.

“What’s your code, honey?”

You frowned. Your code? But... wait. 

She was holding your phone, having nicked it from your pocket when she was so close.

“Hey!”

“Just wanna make sure you have my number. Don’t worry, I don’t steal from people I like.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Well, I said I liked you, didn’t I?”

You wordlessly put in your code for her, and she added herself to your contacts list as Hot Stranger. She smiled successfully as she handed you your phone, but a slight blush had creeped up on her cheeks.

“Careful with that. You never know who might steal it.”

You grinned and had a fleeting thought if she meant your phone or your heart. You pushed the sickeningly romantic thought away and quickly waved goodbye before hurrying back to your entourage.

-

Turns out Debbie was an unwavering flirt, in the beginning. She always managed to catch you off guard, and didn’t hesitate to compliment you when she felt like it. 

“You know other people would think you’re being way too forward, you know?”

“Does it bother you, doll?”

You sheepishly shook your head. You liked the devotion and attention, honestly. Who wouldn't? Debbie was incredible to you. On dates, through text and, yes, in bed as well. 

It all seemed like paradise. 

And then there was a shift. The expected but dreaded shift in any relationship.

One night, the both of you were put to the test. There was a knock on your door, and you grumbled under your breath, preparing to yell at whoever was stupid enough to show up at your place. It was super late, you had been busy, and if anything else came up now you’d blow your top off.

“Hey?” Debbie said, her chipper expression fading away at your stormy gaze when you opened the door. 

“Oh, it’s you,” you said, turning around and leaving the door open without another word. Startled, Debbie carefully stepped inside, watching you disappear into the kitchen.

“Why are you here?”

Debbie scoffed a little, “do you not want me here all of a sudden? How flattering.”

“No, of course not,” you grumbled as you grabbed a bottle of wine. Debbie came to stand just outside the kitchen, watching you as she took off her coat. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, now. Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you snapped. “Have some alcohol and just leave it, okay?”

You lifted one of the wine glasses to your mouth and were prepared to drink a mouthful. Then a firm hand gripped the base of it and pulled it down, spilling a bit of wine down your hand and on the kitchen floor.

Debbie’s eyes were glittering dangerously at you, and you relented in letting here take the glass away. She set it down on the counter.

“Don’t I even get a hello?”

Your eyes cast down to the floor and you muttered an apology. Debbie grasped your hand and squeezed your fingers reassuringly. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked again. Your shoulders slumped this time, and you glanced at your intertwined hands.

“I’ve had a shit day,” you grumbled. You hadn’t encountered a bad mood like this with your girlfriend yet, and in the back of your mind you worried about her reaction. “I’m exhausted but I can’t sleep properly. There’s so much crap to do. It’s been so busy and I hate it.”

Debbie nodded slowly as you talked on for a bit about the things that were irritating you and how annoyed you were by everything. She noticed the bags under your eyes and the firmness of your upper lip.

“Have you eaten?” she asked after you had finished. You half-shrugged. You had some take-out, that counts right? The last full meal you had was when she took you to that restaurant last weekend. 

She tutted at your non verbal response. The next few moments she rummaged through your fridge and whatever food you had lying around. 

Almost immediately after there was a plate of food under your nose.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” you commented.

“You learn to fend for yourself,” she replied, grabbing your wine glass from earlier and taking a swig.

“Hey, that was mine.” She blew you a kiss. It calmed you somewhat.

“Want me to stay the night?” she asked as she cleaned up your kitchen and washed the dishes. This was the first time that she asked, because usually she would stay the night regardless of anything else.

“Do you not want to?” you asked, interpreting her question as uncertainty on her end.

“What? No, of course not, baby. I’m asking because I want to make sure you want me around.”

“Of course I want you around. I always want you around,” you confessed. 

Debbie helped in tidying up your place, which mostly just consisted of her doing the work and you sitting at the table, still numb. She eventually pulled you up to your feet to get you in pj’s and then to crash immediately on the couch, curled around you. 

“You can turn on the tv if you need some white noise,” she suggested. It was a good idea, but the bright lights were distracting you from sleeping. So instead you turned over and burrowed into Debbie’s hold, her skin warm and soft. Now it really was paradise.

A/N: finally getting through super ancient requests yes i am here and yes i am slow :)

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

July 2nd - Daniel Ricciardo

Based on New Year's Day by Taylor Swift and this request by @spikejonzed

Fluffly, mentions of sex, banter, nothing graphic.

BTW, I don't know how I've never paid attention to this song, it's so so beautiful and honest. I've thought about this concept before though: the "Sunday afternoon effect", when all the excitement of the weekend wears off and you're just hanging out with your friends, laughing about silly stuff, or cleaning up the house after the party. The thing is, the friends that stay till then are the ones you wanna hold on to, and the same goes for lovers. I feel kind of bad... well not BAD but you know, must be hard... when you're famous and rich, to recognize the good ones from the beginning before you give yourself too much away and it's too late.

To be honest with you guys, I think Daniel must feel a bit lonely sometimes. We all do, but to think that people are only interested in you for your fame and money must be tough... something you worked so hard, that you keep dedicating your life to, to think that that thing is the reason for your heartbreak, to your loneliness... It's a two-edged sword, isn't it? Anyway, I wrote this little something with Daniel in mind, hope you guys like it. Hope he finds someone to be like this someday. Hell, hope I find someone to be like this someday. I think everyone deserves that.

Daniel woke up in his bed, no shoes, but jeans and party shirt still on. The light coming through the windows, shining directly on his face, threatening to make his headache even worse. He let out a groan and turned to the side. There's someone on his bed with him. Shit. He just remembered. Last night was the first time he was introducing (y/n) to his friends. His birthday "small get together" (or at least that's what it was supposed to be) was the perfect opportunity for testing the waters and giving the "next step" without making too much fuss about it, after all, they've only been going out for a couple months and with his tight schedule it meant a lot of facetime calls and weekends, but almost no weekdays and routine stuff.

Yet, he was absolutely smitten with her, she was fun and easygoing, passionate about her own work and friends, but still caring and interested in him. They had amazing chemistry, mind-blowing even. But Daniel had lived enough to know that hanging out with someone on the weekends and knowing their best side was one thing, living through daily and mundane stuff was a completely different thing. Where this could go was still a mystery to him and he didn't want to raise too many expectations before he was sure. Still, she looked so beautiful sleeping, a true vision. He tried to remember if something had happened last night, but judging by his clothes still on, and hers as well, he guessed not. As if on cue, she smiled, with her eyes still closed.

"Stop being creepy" she said smiling. "I can feel you watching me sleep"

"You're not even asleep anymore" he smiled and she opened her eyes. He was taken back by her eyes staring directly into his.

"Still creepy though" she laughed, getting closer to him. He held her and they stayed like that for a while.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?

"Aren't you hungover, or sick?" he asked again and she laughed.

"Not at all. I have this really weird superpower, you know, I don't get hungover. Ever, actually" she laughed.

"I don't believe you. I have the headache"

"No, it's true. We did drink a lot yesterday, though" she commented.

"Yeah, well, welcome to having Australian friends. No such thing as light drinking with those guys" he laughed but grimaced at the pain in his brain.

"I'll get you something"

"Huh?"

"For the pain" she explained getting up from the bed.

After a while she returned with a pill and a glass of water, passing them to him.

"Thank you, baby" he took the glass, finishing it. "Come back to bed now"

"Your house... like, I'm not even sure if I should tell you to take a look or just pack your essentials and abandon it" she smiled.

"Uhh" he groaned. "I'll call someone later"

"Like a constructor with a wrecking ball?" she laughed.

"It can't be that bad"

"It's bad" she started. "But we can manage it" He looked at her intrigued. "After a shower" she pulled his hand. "Join me?"

"If I ever say no to that question, just put me in an asylum" he said. "I need a kiss though, as motivation" he smirked.

"Noo... I have morning breath"

"What? Me too" he said pulling her down and kissing her anyway. "Uh, no. You're right. Yours is worst" he said laughing while getting up and walking into the bathroom.

"Asshole!" she laughed following him.

They stripped and got into the shower, taking turns in letting the water run through their bodies.

"Come here" Daniel said, putting some body wash in his hands and spreading them over (y/n) body.

"Hum... this feels nice" she said.

"You're so beautiful" he said kissing her shoulder.

"You're so wasted" she laughed lightly.

"Hey! I'm sober. I'm just too tired. Give me a couple hours to recover, and I'll claim my birthday privileges"

"Birthday privileges? It's not even your birthday anymore" she laughed.

"Okay, but first, it's the weekend of, and second, I didn't get any time alone with you yesterday"

"Fair. And what will be your requests, may I ask?" she asked teasingly.

"Humm... you're so creative" he said kissing her. "I'm sure we'll think of something"

They finished the shower after a while, enjoying each other's company and the comfortable silence.

"Did anyone crashed here?" (y/n) asked when they were stepping out of the shower.

"I have no idea" Daniel answered. "I just remembered going to take a nap and waking up this morning. Shit, we didn't... did we?" (y/n) laughed out loud at that.

"Wow! Really, Dan?"

"We did not. I would've remembered"

"Good save. Such a gentleman" she laughed.

"I drank way too much. Sorry. Don't be mad"

"It's fine. I'm messing with you, I don't remember anything either. To be honest, I don't even remember joining you on your 'nap'" she said making air quotes.

"We're the worst hosts" he said getting out of the bathroom and going into the closet to get some clothes.

(y/n)'s heart swelled at the thought of hosting a party with Daniel. There was something so intimate about that statement, so homey.

"You want a shirt?" Daniel asked from the other room, waking her up from her daydream.

"Yeah, sure" she took the shirt, some underwear, and some sweats. Then brushed her wet hair and looked in the mirror. Not a trace of makeup left. She sighed thinking about how falling into a routine with Daniel meant letting the barriers down.

"Alright, snap out of it" she said to herself, getting out of the bathroom and walking outside, to the living room where Daniel was standing rubbing his neck and looking around.

"This is bad" he said when he saw her joining him. There were empty beer bottles and cups all around the living room and balcony, pizza boxes (with half-eaten slices left behind) in the coffee table, party decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the kitchen was even worse, with liquid spilled on the ground and bottles everywhere. There was glitter all over the floor and the couch - someone had brought some of those party poppers, which looked so much fun yesterday, but no so much now. But the best part was the polaroids, left all over the house with the craziest poses.

"Pack your stuff, we're deserting this goddam hellhole" he said and she knew he was joking, he said that about everywhere, but she still shook her head and rolled her eyes, picking a polaroid photo from the ground.

"Everyone had so much fun" she showed it to him. "I loved meeting your friends"

He took the photo from her hand, it was one where (y/n) was sitting on the couch with two of his buddies from Australia, making funny faces while holding cups. He remembered the moment because he was the one who took the photo.

"How's the headache?" she asked him.

"Almost gone"

"Good. So you don't have an excuse. Move your ass, where are the trash bags?" she laughed going into the kitchen.

"Hey! That was very sneak of you" he laughed but followed her anyway.

They spent the next hour collecting bottles, vacuuming glitter, and just cleaning the whole house. Daniel complained the whole time, but in truth, he was very glad to have her there. Sure, he could just ignore the whole mess and hire someone on Monday to clean everything (he probably would still do that anyway, for the heavy cleaning like bathrooms), but it was really nice of her to just stick around, seeming unbothered by the housework. When she finished tying the last trash bag and putting it on the entry hallway she flopped on the couch besides Daniel, who had called it a day some good 10 minutes ago.

"Done?" he asked her.

"I feel like punching you for asking me that" she answered playing annoyed. He lifted his hand in defense.

"What? I did my part!"

"Men" she shook her head. "I'm surprised you haven't complained about being hungry yet"

"Well, I'm starving! Was just waiting to suggest going out, or ordering in"

"Ordering in, please. I don't want to get off this couch any time soon"

Daniel got his phone out to order some food. It was almost noon, so he thought about something like pasta, some carbs would be nice right now. Then he felt (y/n)'s head drop on his shoulder, her hand caressing his arm. It was such a sweet gesture, so understated, he just stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"What?" she looked at him.

"I'm really glad you're here. Thank you"

"It's nothing" she smiled.

"I don't mean the cleaning. Well, that too. But just, thank you for being you and wanting to hang out with me, you know, after the party"

"I'll always wanna hang out with you, partying or cleaning bottles" she said and leaned in to kiss him. "Happy birthday old man" this made him smile through the kiss.

"Thank you, young lady" he said still smiling. "Let's feed you now, yeah?"

"Please! Let's get some carbs on this house!" she smile.

"Hey, guys!" (y/n) and Daniel looked up to see Luke, one of Daniel's buddies walking out of the guest bedroom.

"Dude! I didn't know you were here" Daniel laughed.

"Yeah, just woke up. Definitely wasn't hiding in the bedroom waiting for the cleaning end to get out" he grinned making (y/n) and Daniel laugh.

"You know what? Just for that, you're going downstairs to pick up the food when it gets here, and taking out the trash!" (y/n) teased him, tossing a pillow from the couch at him.

Daniel just observed while his friend and his girlfriend joked and laughed. He thought about how right now he was enjoying a feeling of contempt that wasn't really natural or much appreciated by professional athletes, but this time felt right to indulge in it. He felt safe like someone's got him, finally. He took (y/n) hand on his and squeezed it three times, he knew this was already a good thing, something to last. She looked at him, she knew exactly what he meant.

[synthetickitsune]

Inseong (SF9) | Glitter fluff | 0.6k

It was hopeless. You warned him you didn’t feel like doing anything, safe for moping in the bedroom, maybe crying a little, yet Inseong insisted on trying to help you get out of your slump. You appreciated the effort, of course you did, just the fact that he cared enough about you to make the time for you and to actively try and help was enough to make you tear up. Then again, you questioned his thought process. 

He wasn’t that great at crafts anyway, so why would he suggest making pretty, decorated hand-written letters?

“Baby, I don’t think this is working,” you sigh, slumping in your chair as you failed yet again to steady your hands enough to place the flower sticker on the exact spot you wanted. Why was it so hard anyway? 

“You’re doing great, c’mon,” Inseong gave you a soft smile and as much as you loved it, your mood was too poor to smile back. He noticed and gently placed his hands over yours, pausing his own task to help out. He guided your hands gently and patiently, the sticker finally put to the perfect place. He squeezed your hands and whispered something reassuring but it was hard to focus. You wished you at least knew why you were feeling so down.

“I really appreciate this, Seongie, but it’s really hard right now,” you explained with an apologetic look. He only shook his head with the same gentle smile he always wore when you were feeling blue.

“It’s alright. Let me just do this and we can-” as he spoke, your boyfriend tried to pry open a bottle of glitter. The lid, however, seemed to be stuck and so he had to put more force into it - which resulted in what you’d expect. The lid came undone easily just as he decided to pull on it and the glitter exploded all over the table, you two, and, you guessed, better part of the living room.

Everything stilled for a moment. Your eyes met his and you bursted into laughter and tears. Inseong was pouting at you, his fluffy hair glittering like he was a pixie. You must’ve looked just as sparkly, but you didn’t care, struggling to breathe through the fit of laughter. Tears streamed down your cheeks all the while and you felt quite mad, not knowing whether you cried because of the laughter or to vent your previous depression and despair. You heard your boyfriend complaining and whining softly, and it only made you laugh - and cry - harder. Pouting, whining Inseong covered in glitters was just the perfect view. And in the end, he ended up laughing too, hugging your shaking form and ruffling your hair to get some of the sparkly pieces out of your hair.

“See? I told you it would help you feel better,” he chuckled, nuzzling into your neck. You buried your face into his chest, struggling to catch your breath.

“Hmm, you’re always right,” you giggled, “But I will really break down if I have to clean this up.” Luckily Inseong was quick to realize you meant it.

“This is a lost battle. There’s no way we’ll ever get rid of it. We either have to move or accept glitter-covered life, your choice,” he spoke seriously, although his lips curled upwards in a smile.

“I don’t really care as long as you’re with me,” you shook your head, leaning up to kiss him. It was a short kiss as you began laughing again, teasing him for looking like a Twilight vampire.

[valdomarxxx]

Another more recent recollection for today's @whataboutthebard prompt, on the subject of bedtime stories.

~

The initial few days at the Academy can be difficult, even for the most confident of students. To be extracted from your home - no matter the relationship you have with the place you hail from - and placed amongst a gaggle of strangers can shake even the sturdiest of foundations.

The first night is worst of all. They put us in shared accommodation, as they do with all first years; too unimportant and numerous to be granted the luxury of private rooms. And there you are, standing beside the bed next to mine. This is the first time we’ve met, both utterly alone in the world, bringing with us with only what we can carry.

(Later, I learn that you are a viscount, and the memory of that first meeting changes somewhat.)

The Academy fills slowly this time of year, and it can be two full weeks before everyone has arrived. We are early, and even the tavern which will become our regular drinking spot in six months time is empty aside from the two of us and a handful of professors.

We return to our room, quiet and unsure, and crawl into our beds. I listen to you breathing beside me. Finally, you speak.

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither," I say, and suddenly I am struck with how very far from home I am. "When we were children," I continue, willing my voice not to crack, "we used to tell each other stories. My brother and sister and me, I mean. When we couldn't sleep."

You sniff, and roll over, and we watch each other through the darkness and across the tiny space between our beds.

"We used to do something similar," you say. "My sisters and I, when father…"

You don't finish the sentence, but I can guess at the rest.

I go first, faltering initially but soon finding my flow. It feels logical. It feels right. We take it in turns - your stories are bawdier than mine, and mine are more sprawling than yours - and soon any attempts to impress or charm the other are abandoned in favour of absurdities. I'm halfway through a story about a dragon who kidnaps knights and the Princess who rescues them, when I am cut off by a loud, rattling snore.

You have fallen asleep. Tomorrow, you will insist you don't snore, and I will laugh at you.

We keep it up for a week, until the Academy finally begins to fill and we are tired and settled enough that sleep comes easier. Occasionally, we fall back into the old routine when beset by stress or heartbreak or simple anxiety.

We grow, we part, we go our separate ways. The stories stop.

And then, just over twenty years later, you reappear.

I should refuse you. The friendship we had has melded into rivalry, into something barbed. But you're desperate, and you're broken, and you're you, and I have a spare bed and even if I wanted to… I wouldn't refuse you.

We return to that tavern. It’s heaving this time of year, and the students know you. Everyone knows you. But I recognise that look on your face, and we huddle - us and the few people who still remain in the Academy - in a far corner, avoiding the crowd.

Much, much later I lead you back to my apartments. You’ve got only the sparsest of clothes with you, and I lend you some clean night things as your own are thick with dust and grime. We both know you’ve been sleeping on the ground, but we do not talk about it.

I am loath to leave to leave you alone. I sit by the spare bed, and muse about how both myself and the disused piece of furniture are finally good for something. We pass a bottle of Est Est back and forth until it’s empty. Your hand dangles from the edge of the mattress, just beside my shoulder, and I wonder how it would feel to lean against it; how you would react if it took it in my own, sliding our fingers together.

Finally, you speak.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” I reply. It’s a lie; I haven’t even tried to slip away yet. “I’ve this old friend,” I say, slowly. “We used to share stories with each other when we couldn’t sleep.”

I hear you shift in the bed behind me, feel your eyes on the back of my head. “That sounds nice.”

“It was,” I say. There’s a long, expectant pause. I trace my finger along the rim of the spent wine bottle, the place where both our lips were pressed. I take a breath, filling my lungs, a futile attempt to calm my heart. “When I was last in Toussaint,” I begin, “I heard of this great bastard dragon who had taken to stealing people away. But, the strangest thing, the dragon was kidnapping knights. On my way to see the beast for myself, I ran into the most beautiful woman, dressed head to toe in plate with a sword at her hip and a glittering crown atop her head. She told me she was a princess--”

It gets easier, the longer I talk. Occasionally, I hear you sniff or breathe or yawn. Your hand remains a steady inch or so from my shoulder, fingers twitching.

Before the story is over, I am interrupted by a window-shaking snore. In the morning, you will deny it, and I will laugh at you. I finish the story anyway.

Finally, I turn to look at you. Your face is obscured by shadow. Eventually I retire to my own bedroom, where I lay awake until the dawn chorus bursts in to life outside my window.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

And I Will Hold Onto You

Summary: They’ve never been apart for holidays since they started dating. That was until Spencer Reid found himself behind bars for a crime he’d never think of committing. Growing and healing, Spencer realizes that it’s not the holidays that matter, it’s the person. Because with that special person, who’s laugh he can recognize anywhere, even cleaning up the empty bottle the next morning is magical.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Author’s Note/Warnings: Body Image Issues (Male) nothing too descriptive, prison arc is mentioned/is central issue; loosely based of New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift

Also this is technically a part 2 to Drag Me Head First but it doesn’t have to be read that way.

And I Will Hold Onto You

There’s something special in the way that the first midnight of the new year feels. All that hopefulness and excitement packed into a 10 second countdown. The energy in the room slowly bubbles up, culminating as the ball drops. It fizzles out as loved ones share chaste kisses and friends hug. But all that remains are last year’s bottles and this year’s dreams. Maybe it’s something that Spencer always took for granted.

The cold midnight air is jarring, compared to his warm and cozy house. Spencer walks quickly, taking out the trash, filled with bottles of beer and wine. The snow crunches under his shoes and Spencer can see his breath in the air as he huffs to toss the bag in the black trash bin. Spencer, despite the way the cold air nips his nose, stops in his tracks and gazes up at the stars. It’s unfortunate living where he does, you can never really see all the stars. Maybe Y/N would like to take a trip in their cabin the next time he can get off? He could show her all the stars. But Spencer doesn’t need to go to the middle of the woods to see the stars; he can simply look into Y/N’s eyes and see all the magic the universe has to offer.

Spencer lets himself back into his house, just as Garcia and Derek are putting their shoes and coats on to leave. Y/N comes out of the kitchen carrying two trays of leftover food for their friends to take home.

“Penny, please kiss those sweet babies for me,” Y/N says, handing Luke the trays of food. She leans over to kiss Penelope on her cheek.

“They can only sweet when they are sleeping,” Penelope says, rolling her eyes and putting her coat on. It’s more of a cape in a spectacular plum purple color with cream colored faux fur trim.

“Don’t act so surprised, mi amor, look who their mother is,” Luke says, cheekily. He hugs Spencer and Y/N before grabbing Garcia’s hand with his empty one.

“Happy New Year!” Garcia and Luke call as they leave, shutting the door behind them. Spencer locks the door and heads back to the kitchen to help Y/N clean up. The plates sit in the sink piled high, with tall champagne glasses resting next to them on the counter. Glitter scatters on the floor, confetti in the shapes of “1s” and “6” lay littered on the tiles, remnants of the festivities just moments before.

Y/N stands over the sink, her hand rests on the ledge. She turns on the water and starts washing the dishes. Spencer walks up quietly behind her, nuzzling his hand into the corner of her ear and shoulder. He hums, the vibrations echoing into Y/N’s neck, causing her to giggle. He joins his hands together around Y/N’s waist, holding her tight.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Spencer whispers, his voice hardly audible above the stream of water. Even though Spencer can’t see Y/N, he can feel the way her cheeks grow against the side of his head. She’s smiling.

“It is a very happy, new year,” Y/N says, her voice strong, yet Spencer can tell it’s hard for her to keep it together. It’s not their first new year, far from it, it’s their 13th. But this time, it feels different to hold her in his arms and kiss her as the clock strikes 12.

They wash the dishes in silence, a comforting silence where certain things don’t need to be said. Like a well oiled machine, Y/N washes, Spencer dries. The sudsy dish soap smells like home and Y/N’s quiet hums sound like peace. Spencer really forgot how much he could love even the most mundane of tasks when Y/N stands next to him.

“Come on, Y/N we can do this tomorrow. Let’s just go to bed,” Spencer says, tugging on Y/N’s long sleeve of her thermal shirt.

“Hmm, I can’t argue against your cuddles, sweetheart,” Y/N murmurs tiredly, easily pushing the thoughts of clean up to the next morning. Her hand joins his, like a key finding it’s matching lock. They are cold from the water, but Spencer doesn’t really mind.

A tangle of limbs and hands, they make their way up the stairs to their shared bedroom. They pass the wall filled with pictures of their smiling faces or candid countenances in mismatching frames hung against the wall. It’s just a testament to how long they’ve been together, going back to their first date right before Y/N’s college graduation and Spencer’s fifth, leading up to their most recent Halloween. Each photo stuck in time, frozen with utter happiness and unadulterated joy. But there’s a gap in the collection, a gap that Spencer rather not talk about. A gap where, for the first time since they met, Spencer and Y/N were separated. Sitting in jail, all Spencer could think of was the personal mental prison that Y/N must have confined herself too.

They don’t like talking about the gap, but he knows they have too. Spencer knows that Y/N is proud of him, she tells him that everyday. Proud of him for keeping up with therapy, proud of him for letting go of the little things that he can’t control, proud of him for trusting her with his secrets and fears. It’s the strangest thing, to have someone be proud of you for just living.

“We’re going to need a bigger wall,” Spencer says, hoping that his attempt at referencing pop culture would land. Y/N stops to turn to Spencer, who in the moonlight that drips in from the window, looks much younger than he really is.

“Did you just make a pop culture reference that’s not from, like, 300 years ago?” Y/N says, her brow upturned in a quizzical stare.

“Come on, Y/N, you love when I recite all Sir Walter Raleigh to you,” Spencer says, reaching up to tickle Y/N sides, causing her to giggle and run up the rest of the stairs.

“Spencer! You know that I’m too ticklish,” Y/N says in between short laughs and gasps for air. She plops down on the bed, dragging Spencer down with her. He lays his head down on her chest and like a Rube Goldberg machine, her fingers come up and tangle themselves in his hair.

“Maybe our New Year’s Resolution should be to get some more exercise, Spence. Your heart is beating faster than mine and that run from the steps to our room is like a good 10 feet,” Y/N jokes as she continues scratching Spencer’s scalp lulling him into a peaceful, sleepy state.

“Two things, baby, one, we don’t exercise and two, that’s not why my heart is beating so fast, I think it has something to do with the beautiful girl laying so close to me,” Spencer murmurs quietly.

“Hmm, you certainly know how to charm a girl, even like 13 years later,”

“Actually it’s, 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 17 hours, 58 minutes and 31 seconds,” Spencer says with a quick glance at his watch.

“And I’ve loved every single minute of it,” Y/N says, reaching up to sneak a pillow under Spencer’s head. She moves to get out of bed, much to Spencer’s displeasure.

“No, no, Y/N you’re so warm and I’m freezing,” Spencer whines, shifting so he can look at his wife, who has shrugged off her thermal shirt and jeans.

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N chides. Spencer, almost bashful at her teasing, attempts to hide his blush with the pillow that rests under his head.

“I only turn the heat all the way down at night so we’re forced to cuddle for body heat,” Spencer says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“So you say,” Y/N tells Spencer, sitting down back on the bed. She pulls on Spencer’s legs, dragging him down the bed.

“Come on lazy boy, get your PJs on,” Y/N orders. Spencer, who under Penelope’s less than pure supervision, had enough shots to make up for all the college parties that he missed. There’s happy drunks, forgetful drunks, and then there're sleepy drunks.

Spencer stands in front of the mirror, inspecting his body. The low, yellow lamp light casts shadows on his naked torso. He’s filled out a little bit since they’ve started dating, especially within the last few months of Spencer’s healing. Y/N knew that it’s a sore spot for him, but there’s something about the way that Spencer’s dress pants sit tightly against his thighs or the way his shirt clings to his stomach that just makes him look so much older. Both of them, including their bodies, have changed so much since 13 years ago. Or 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 18 hours, 5 minutes and 12 seconds ago. They’ve grown up together, and now Y/N can’t wait to grow old together.

But the look in his eyes is not pride over his growth or confidence over his physique. It’s confusion. Spencer stares at himself like he’s an unsolvable puzzle. Y/N knows he must hate that; Spencer hates things that he can’t find an answer to. Y/N walks up behind him, lacing her finger together so her arms clasp against his waist. For a moment, Spencer flinches. Even her gentlest touches and softest kisses can’t wash away the fear of much harsher contact. Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Y/N can feel that Spencer’s not looking at her. After all these years, she can still see the terrified young man who brazenly kissed her in her car in the middle of a rainstorm. After all these years, Spencer is still the only man she ever loved.

“Spencer,” Y/N says quietly. His name off her lips is more tender than any pet name in existence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m being immature, it’s just,” Spencer closes his eyes, trying to focus himself in the present. It’s something that his therapist suggested. In moments of distress, find your anchor. Luckily for Spencer, his anchor has been his anchor for quite awhile.

“You can tell, I’m not going to judge you,” Y/N says, her lips leaving small kisses on his exposed shoulders.

“It’s just I thought this whole nightmare of prison was behind me. Therapy has been helping, I’m better on cases and I love teaching,” Spencer says, the pain in his voice leaking out.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, instead she guides Spencer to sit on the edge of their bed. She rubs her hand down his back, tracing his spine and around the freckles that collect on his right shoulder.

“I thought that the emotional healing would be the hardest part, I mean it is, but physically, I don’t recognize myself. I can imagine you don’t either,” Spencer says, he turns to lay on the bed, bringing his feet up to his chest in a textbook self-protective position.

“Spence, your body is gonna change, baby. God, mine has changed so much since we met,” Spencer gives Y/N a confused look, like he’s not thoroughly convinced by her explanation.

“It has Spencer. We’re not 22 years old anymore, we’re going to be like 35 in a couple of months. But you know, this is something we can work on together, I’ve gone my whole life not loving the skin I’m in. But being with you makes it easier, Spence.” Y/N says, running her fingers across the bridge of Spencer’s nose and down to his lips, that always a ridiculously gorgeous shade of pink. Spencer doesn’t say much, he’s still trapped deep inside his mind.

“I don’t know how you put up with me and all my antics, Y/N”

“You do my taxes every year,” Y/N jokes, making an effort to kiss every freckle and dipple on the expanse of Spencer’s back.

Spencer turns in the bed so he’s facing Y/N, he cups her face all the way from her ear to her jaw. It’s an intimate gesture that somehow is more loving and vulnerable than saying “I love you,”

“You know you make me fearless, Y/N,” Spencer tells her, not blinking because he doesn’t want to miss out on any more time looking into her eyes.

“You say that everyday Spencer Reid,” Y/N responds, letting herself melt into the touch. She grabs onto his wrist, physically telling him to not let go.

“I have a lot of days to make up for,” Spencer says, solemnly.

“It’s not making it up if it’s the rest of our life, Spencer. Besides, there’s no one I’d rather spend New Year’s Day cleaning up all those bottles with,”

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

**Taglist** (Comment to be Added or Send in An Ask)

@calm-and-doctor @shemarmooresfedora

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up. 

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years.   But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning. 

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course. 

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the  surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.” 

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said. 

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.  

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed. 

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him. 

You (9:43am)  Of course, send the details. I trust your taste! 

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself.   Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly… 

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you. 

Seokjin (9:50am)  The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30.  Seokjin 

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother). 

You (9:52am)  I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later! 

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it. 

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely.  He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back. 

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to. 

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again. 

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious. 

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. 

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea… 

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Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing. 

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man. 

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately. 

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly. 

“Hey,” you greeted back. 

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment. 

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“ 

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway. 

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” 

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous. 

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021